Even though the room was filled with portraits that would happily give their opinion on any subject matter with little provocation, it was silent but for the faint ticking of the strange-looking device on the desk. Severus supposed it was a clock of some description. Then again, knowing Dumbledore, it would be anything but. The office was teaming with items that couldn't possibly be useful, although probably performed some remarkable yet pointless feat, invented by the headmaster in a fit of boredom. If he had the energy, Severus would have gladly hurled the thing against the opposite wall, smashing it into a thousand silver pieces. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the empty chair in front of him, waiting. He had the energy for little else.

Since that awful night, when the rest of the wizarding world had exploded with joy and he had fallen apart completely, staring at things was all he could really do. There were undoubtedly poets and wordsmiths who could describe the hollow sensation inside of him. They would say the colour had drained from his world, the stars held a different meaning and the wind carried his apologies to the people for whom they were intended. Severus had no time for such redundant clichés. The world wasn't duller or quieter or blurred. It had stopped existing altogether.

For ten days he had sat in his house, surrounded by books he didn't want to read and food he couldn't bring himself to eat. He had lost all concept of day and night after spending three days in a row staring at his bedroom ceiling, barely able to tell the difference between being awake and asleep. In both his dreams and reality she wasn't there and yet took up every inch of space.

Severus gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles glowing white under his pale skin. It had been this room that he had first learnt the news. It had been these very portraits that watched him now that had witnessed his darkest moment. He could practically smell the grief still lingering in the air.

Dumbledore must have known this would be hard for him and yet he still kept him waiting.

Eventually, Severus heard the heavy door open and footsteps moving towards him. He didn't move until Dumbledore, dressed in robes of midnight blue, had taken the seat on the opposite side of the desk, when he inclined his head in greeting.

Unlike the last time he had seen the older man, Dumbledore seemed perfectly content. Ten days of peace had apparently been enough for him to lose the shadow that haunted his blue eyes, while all it had brought Severus was a heavier weight upon his shoulders.

"Evening, Severus," Dumbledore said brightly. "Sorry to keep you waiting. My previous engagement over-ran by an inconvenient amount of time."

"No worry," replied Severus. His voice sounded foreign to him having not heard it in over a week.

"How have you been since we last spoke?"

Though Dumbledore's inquiry had been polite, Severus merely gave him a sour look in reply. He wasn't about to discuss his feelings with the man he couldn't help but blame for some of them. While he knew the guilt ultimately rested with him, it felt easier to shift some of it onto the man who had sworn to keep her safe and had failed.

"As expected," Dumbledore murmured, his voice laced with sympathy that Severus neither wanted nor appreciated. "On the subject of your well-being, I must ask you to hand over the vial of poison you have on your person."

Severus started. How could Dumbledore possibly know? He had almost forgotten about the tiny vial in his inside pocket himself. It had been almost absentmindedly that he had taken out of his potion cabinet a few days ago, not really understanding why. Well, if he was honest with himself he knew exactly why, but he didn't like to be honest with himself. The thought didn't scare him as much as it should have done, or sadden him in any way. In fact, the tiny vial had become a great comfort. The knowledge in the back of his mind that it could all be over in a few seconds calmed him somehow. This pain didn't have to be permanent if he didn't want it to be. His future was his to decide.

"This curious trinket here," Dumbledore explained, gesturing to the ticking device that had annoyed Severus since entering the office, "detects when a concealed weapon has entered my study. Poison certainly falls into that category."

"The device lies," said Severus. His lips barely moved.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Having spent the well over a decade on top of hit list of a sociopath with no conscience, I assure you this device has been well tested and doesn't lie."

Infuriated by Dumbledore's light tone, Severus felt his lip curl. He had bared enough of his soul to this man, in this very room in fact. This one last, dark secret was his and Dumbledore had stolen it from him as well.

"Yet I have been allowed to enter this room with my wand?" Severus pointed out tonelessly, hoping Dumbledore wouldn't realise he was buying time. His mind wasn't as quick as it usually was.

Dumbledore smiled. "I am confident that you would be unable to harm me with your wand before I could disarm you," he chuckled. "While you are good, Severus, I daresay I am much better."

Though his voice was relaxed, Severus felt the air in the room change. After all, this was no ordinary elderly man. This was Albus Dumbledore. This was his office. Even when he was at his best Severus would have to work hard to match him in the verbal battles that so often took place in here. Of all of his considerable talents, the one that impressed and worried Severus the most was Dumbledore's ability to win a duel without raising a wand. A subtle reminder of the awesome power he could wield was enough to make most men back down and Severus had no intention of starting a fight.

"Please give me the vial, Severus," Dumbledore said steadily. "You will have no need for it."

Although he knew his mind was sealed, Severus still felt uneasy under the stare of the headmaster. Something about his eyes was telling him that he would not need Occlumency to break into his thoughts. Still, he met Dumbledore's gaze and held it while considering his options. He still had no idea why he had been asked to come to Hogwarts. Playing Dumbledore's game would probably be the wisest thing to do until he did.

Without breaking eye contact, Severus calmly reached into his pocket, removed the vial and silently handed it to Dumbledore. The moment it left his hand, a surge of ice went through him, causing him to panic. His escape route had been closed off and now he had to face the world regardless. It was a ridiculous notion -- he could easily acquire more -- but the expression on Dumbledore's face told him it would not be needed. It wasn't a comforting or daunting thought, merely a fact.

His pulse gradually returned to its normal rate as he watched Dumbledore lock the vial in one of his desk drawers.

"So," he began, looking up at Severus, his smile betraying none of the conversation they had just had, "what have you been up to recently?"

Severus took his time in answering, using the spare seconds to stroke his unshaven chin. Something told him this question was not about his well-being for that had been established already.

"Settling into unemployment," he eventually replied. Dumbledore's mouth twitched, but otherwise he didn't react. The sight of a smile did nothing but repulse Severus so he decided to relent the information that would likely lead to his dismissal. "I received an owl from Lucius. It was a rather tedious letter, the core purpose of which was to inform me that he is pleading coercion and to promise me great pain if I do anything to contradict this."

The information was met with raised eyebrows.

"I would prove this," Severus continued in a bored voice, "but Malfoy's bird proceeded to snatch the parchment from my hand and drop it into my fire."

"Clever bird," remarked Dumbledore.

"Do you expect Malfoy will be successful?"

With a sigh, Dumbledore rested the tips of his fingers against one another. He seemed oddly amused by the question. "I don't doubt it for a second."

Severus nodded. He didn't either, yet he couldn't muster any kind of reaction. It didn't matter to him. Nothing much did.

"I've heard whispers of a small group attempting to locate the Dark Lord," Severus said, noting that Dumbledore nodded slightly. "Or what's left of him at least."

"That doesn't sound too promising," Dumbledore commented airily. "Even the Ministry has Aurors on the case. I can see them being just as successful."

It was Severus' turn to nod. It made sense, after all. While most of the community were deliriously happy and behaving like idiots, those closely involved knew that no body meant no proof of death. The Dark Lord had undeniably disappeared against his will, but that wasn't enough for them. It wasn't enough for Severus, at least. Since Dumbledore had first disclosed his theory that the Dark Lord would one day return, the idea had imbedded itself within him. While he had as good as turned his wand on her, the hatred of the man who physically had was something Severus had never felt before. While the desire for revenge had yet to manifest itself, he knew it would arrive eventually. He couldn't remain broken forever. Not while the Dark Lord continued to have some form of existence.

Lost in his thoughts as he was, Severus didn't notice how long he had been silent until a small cough from one of the portraits brought his attention back to the conversation he was supposed to having. Dumbledore didn't appear to mind. He looked upon him as serenely as he would a pleasant painting.

"While I find all of this information fascinating, if not at all surprising, Severus, I must ask - why are you giving it to me?"

Puzzled, Severus frowned a little. "I thought that was what I did now," he answered in a bored voice. "Give you information."

"I already have people for that," dismissed Dumbledore. "Most of the remaining Death Eaters are becoming sloppy in their desperation so this is all as good as public knowledge. You are under no obligation to tell me, unless you believe it is of utmost importance." He peered over the top of his half-moon glasses, giving Severus the piercing glare he had hated since the moment he had first seen it. "Given your unkempt appearance, I am led to believe that you probably haven't seen natural light since we last met and any news you hear is not particularly useful to anyone."

Severus had no idea if he was meant to be insulted or not. He had already been in the study for longer than he had anticipated and was eager to return to his solitude. Being summoned all the way to the Highlands to be insulted seemed an entirely pointless exercise. Besides, it wasn't like he needed assistance. He could hate himself at home. After a few moments of waiting for Dumbledore to continue speaking, in which the headmaster simply watched Severus with polite interest, Severus sighed.

"Why am I here, Dumbledore?" he asked, making no effort to hide how bored he was.

"We had an appointment."

"Yes, I am aware," Severus bit out impatiently. "And now I am here and would like to know why."

"No, I'm speaking of an appointment we had in the summer," Dumbledore explained. "The one you were unable to make. I rearranged for today."

In the time between Dumbledore speaking and Severus putting together what had just been said, one of the portraits became restless and tutted, only to be shushed by another one. Severus could only think of one meeting that they had had in the summer that he hadn't showed up for. Well, he did show up -- he was just escorted from the premises before the meeting could take place. But Dumbledore couldn't possibly-

"Are you telling me, Dumbledore, that this is a job interview?" Under the revelation, Severus was surprised to hear a touch of his old self in his voice.

Dumbledore nodded as though nothing about the conversation was at all strange. "What else did you expect?"

Severus frowned. He didn't appreciate the mocking tone. "I thought I had missed my big opportunity," he remarked sarcastically.

At this, Dumbledore shook his head with a slight chortle.

"I hope you weren't expecting me to bring in references, Dumbledore," Severus said, leaning back in his chair, feeling considerably more at ease now he knew the purpose of this meeting. "My only previous employer is currently unattainable and even if he were, given the circumstances of my leaving his employ, I doubt he would speak favourably of me."

"That is a pity," replied Dumbledore, that all-knowing smile still playing about his lips. "Although I doubt his approval would gain you any favour with me."

Beginning to think that this was some sort of joke to the other man, Severus sniffed and glanced out of the window. He caught a glimpse of the Quidditch pitch before turning away. Those six hoops reminded him strongly of a certain Gryffindor Chaser, cementing the idea in his head that he would, under no circumstances, be returning to the school.

"I despise children," he told Dumbledore, curling his lip in disgust.

"No less than they will despise you."

Severus regarded Dumbledore for a moment. He seemed entirely unfazed by the confession. In fact, it appeared as though he was faintly amused by it.

"I only applied in an attempt to betray you," Severus continued smoothly.

Dumbledore shrugged. "I've made friends in weirder circumstances."

"I've killed."

"So have I."

It was more than the words that shocked Severus; it was the calm manner in which they were spoken. Completely taken aback, the clever retort Severus had been planning was lost. The kindly lined face of Albus Dumbledore showed no signs of anything extraordinary happening, while he was reeling.

Against his better judgement Severus allowed himself to peer into Dumbledore's mind for any hint of truth behind his statement. Before he could gather anything interesting the thoughts and memories of Albus Dumbledore faded to black before they could become anything stronger than blurs in Severus' mind. He suspected that he could easily break through Dumbledore's protection, but found that he didn't particularly want to. While he was undeniably curious, he didn't like the idea that the man in front of him, the hero that had imprisoned Gellert Grindlewald, had ended another person's life. If anything, the idea was more terrible than his own wrongdoings.

"I must say, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, "you aren't very good at this. I'm surprised you managed to obtain another job."

"Believe me, the process was much less painful than this," Severus forced out through gritted teeth.

The moment he had spoken, Dumbledore arched his eyebrows. "I doubt that somewhat," he said sternly and Severus had to repress a shudder. Dumbledore's entire face had darkened, his eyes, icy. After everything he had seen, done and regretted, no one could quite make it hit home as hard or as effortlessly as Dumbledore could.

"Forgive me, but isn't the position I applied for filled?" Severus asked, unwilling to dwell on Dumbledore's words.

"Yes. Professor Trouton is a doing a marvellous job with Defence Against the Dark Arts," nodded Dumbledore. "Though I do worry about her safety as she has taken to snorkelling in the lake every morning. The lake's current residents aren't very happy with her," he added almost as an afterthought. Severus caught the knowing glint in his eyes. Both men knew of the job's reputation.

"And I take it the Seer is still here?"

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly. "I have little choice in that matter, as you well know."

"Then what?" Severus bit out. "Are you suggesting I am needed in the kitchens? I worry I may be a little too tall," he sneered.

Dumbledore chuckled. "You do amuse me, Severus. Perhaps I could interest you in joining Peeves?"

"Peeves would be the least of my worries. I've told you I've killed and you still want to employ me?" Severus pointed out, ignoring the shiver of self-loathing that went with the sentence. "I'm scared of what I will face in the staff room."

"I promise you will the jewel of my rogues' gallery, Severus," Dumbledore said. "Although ,Professor Dias was once fined for drinking and flying. Perhaps you could start some sort of gang if either of you is feeling particularly criminal."

His eyes were twinkling with amusement as he spoke, which only infuriated Severus further. How dare the headmaster sit there and belittle him? His past may be a joke to Dumbledore, but to him it was his nightmares that never quite stopped upon waking.

Severus rose to his feet and glared down at Dumbledore. "So if there is no vacancy-"

"There isn't," Dumbledore interrupted simply.

"Then I shall-"

"Yet."

Severus arched a brow in mild surprise. He wished to leave and Dumbledore's attempts to keep him here were growing tiresome. There was no real desire to hear what he had to say anymore; just an impatience that he didn't bother to hide on his face.

"A member of staff has been affected by recent events and will be retiring after Christmas," Dumbledore informed him as if this was of great interest to him.

"How unfortunate," he sardonically replied. "My heart bleeds for them."

Dumbledore observed him for a moment and Severus didn't need Occlumency to know that there was still an ace hidden up one of Dumbledore's ridiculously flamboyant sleeves. He leant forward and offered Severus his hand to shake.

"I will inform Horace of your sentiments."

In spite of himself, Snape's brow quirked with interest. He quickly wiped his face of emotion before replying. "Horace?"

"Horace."

Dumbledore's eyes flicked to his still extended hand as though waiting for Severus to shake it and leave the room. Severus wondered why he bothered. It was clear the old man was playing a game, a good one, but a game nonetheless. As formidable as his magic could be, Severus knew his real strength lay in his ability to use words to manipulate, lie and intimidate. He could spot a worthy opponent when challenged by one.

"Potions?"

"Potions," nodded Dumbledore, finally retracting his hand. Though his expression didn't change, the air of triumph around him was palpable. "I remember you being rather adept at the subject."

Severus twisted his mouth into the closest thing to a smile his face had seen in a long time. "I remember being rather adept at all of them."

"Ah yes, but I remember you enjoying Potions."

The man's confidence was sickening. By offering him his second favourite subject in school he thought he would take the job he didn't want? In a castle, filled with the ghosts he wanted nothing more than to run from? To work for him, the man who knew his secret? Though he trusted it would remain untold, Severus despised the look of sorrow that Dumbledore gave him. His love for her did not make him a better person. It did not make him worthy of second chances.

It was part of the reason he had loved Potions though. There was no one to hit him with 'wayward' curses, no partner to endure… Just him, his cauldron and her. It was the one subject he could still be close to her after that dreadful day out in the grounds. Potter hadn't taken Potions for NEWTs so he could watch her through the coloured steam that filled the room, away from him. It hurt to be reminded of the times they had sat next to each other, racing to finish first, but nowhere near as much as it did to watch her fall for Potter.

"There are few more talented potioneers in the country," came Dumbledore's voice, bursting into his daydream.

Focus snapped back to the present, Severus smirked. "This is all very flattering, Dumbledore, but passing on my knowledge to the oiks you call students will be quite difficult from a prison cell."

"Oh?"

Rather than the shock Severus had expected, Dumbledore appeared wholly unbothered. If anything, he was supressing a laugh. He wasn't undeterred though. The ace he had been saving up his sleeve was far more impressive than the promise of a poorly ventilated dungeon and idiotic children destroying cauldrons.

"You haven't heard?" said Severus silkily. He took his time sitting back down and straightening his creased robes. "I'm due in court next week," he finished nonchalantly.

"No, you're not."

"Excuse me?" Severus snapped.

He watched, infuriated, as Dumbledore reached across his desk for a small bowl of sweets, chortling to himself.

"I expect when you get home you will find an owl from the ministry waiting for you -- poor thing must be bored, we have been chatting for a while, haven't we?" he noted, unwrapping the sweet and popping it into his mouth. "Chocolate lime?"

He offered the bowl to Severus who declined with an impatient shake of his head. Apparently unoffended, Dumbledore placed the bowl back in its proper place, before sitting back in his chair again.

"The letter it carries should inform you that your court date has been postponed indefinitely."

"What?"

"All charges against you have been dropped."

Severus glared at the Dumbledore, unwilling to believe him. This was more important than a job, after all; this was his freedom. Since receiving the court summons he had fully accepted the idea of spending time in Azkaban. In fact, he was lucky to even get a trial given Crouch's reputation. This was the escape route he didn't think could possibly exist, coming from the man he owed nothing to.

Aware that he hadn't taken breath since Dumbledore's bombshell, Severus attempted to pull himself together and loosened his grip on the arms of his chair -- something Dumbledore definitely noticed.

"You got me a pardon?" he whispered through numb lips. Dumbledore nodded. "But I'm guilty," said Severus, his voice stronger this time. If anything could get him acting like his usual self it was a reminder of who his usual self was.

"Yes," conceded Dumbledore, "but you are also guilty of acts of bravery that helped end the war."

Severus' blood ran cold. Not just because he disagreed with his actions being described as brave -- all he had done was run and tell a teacher like any weak child would have -- but because he knew what must have happened for him to have been cleared.

"One thing," he growled through bared teeth, slamming his fist on the desk. "One thing, Dumbledore. You gave me your word that you would tell no one and-"

"And I haven't," Dumbledore cut in, seemingly unfazed by Severus' rage. "I merely informed them your allegiance had changed and that you provided information that proved highly beneficial to us."

"The Ministry let me off on the promise that I had been a good boy?" scoffed Severus. There was no way Crouch would allow a Death Eater to walk the streets. The man had sent innocents to prison without much hesitation. One redeeming act wouldn't have been enough for him to be saved, especially if Crouch didn't know the details of it.

"I do have quite a bit of influence in London," replied Dumbledore, the corner of his mouth twitching. "It was no easy task though. You were accused of some grave acts, Severus," he added sternly.

Though he supposed he should have been relieved, Severus could feel nothing but shame. Under Dumbledore's gaze he received more judgement than the entire Wizengamot could dream to bestow upon him. The old saying of disappointment being worse than anger had never felt truer.

"You're welcome," Dumbledore said pointedly.

Severus ignored it. After spending ten days almost catatonic with grief, he had gone through anger, confusion and shock in little over twenty minutes. This conversation had left him mentally drained and his desire to leave, to crawl back into bed and hide from it all, was trumping any other emotion.

"So you rescued me from time in Azkaban in order to blackmail me into a teaching position?" he asked, wishing Dumbledore would cut to the chase. The sooner he explained his true desires, the sooner Severus could reject them and leave.

"Much more than a teaching position, Severus," Dumbledore said cryptically. With a sigh, he slowly raised himself out of his chair and moved to look out of the window. Severus watched his progress, noting that the portraits were doing so as well. Apparently they were more interested in this conversation's outcome than he was.

"You promised me," Dumbledore began gravelly, looking down upon the Hogwarts grounds, "that you would do anything in return for me attempting to save the Potter family and keeping your secret, both of which I have done. Regrettably one better than the other," he added solemnly.

Severus swallowed with difficulty, his mouth drier than his eyes. With Dumbledore's back to him he was able to roughly swipe at them, destroying any evidence. It appeared he wasn't the only one affected by the statement. Dumbledore had bowed his head and seemed unable to continue speaking. For a fleeting moment Severus considered offering some kind of comfort, to pass blame onto himself, the Dark Lord or even the traitor, Black, but he couldn't bring himself to. He was barely holding himself together and he wasn't prepared to embarrass himself like last time. Besides, knowing someone else felt part of the maelstrom he did, that she was missed and loved, gave him more comfort than anything else had so far.

Eventually, Dumbledore revolved on the spot so that his tall frame was outlined by the dying orange of the sun as it set. He looked older than Severus could ever remember seeing him.

"As I told you the last time we spoke," he said quietly, "Lord Voldemort will return, I am sure of it." Suddenly, his face hardened and Severus felt himself lean away from him slightly. "We must be ready when he does."

"Because Potter's brat needs protection?" spat Severus bitterly.

"And Lily's former friend would be one of the best people for her son to have at his side," Dumbledore said, looking at Severus from over his glasses. He moved back behind his desk and sat down, his hands forming the trademark triangle.

"Hardly a compliment given that his father's friends are either insane, dead or wild animals," remarked Severus with a sneer.

"And your friends are much better?" replied Dumbledore delicately.

Severus scowled at the desk. "I would've been able to protect her from them."

He wasn't sure what made him look up, but when he did Severus was shocked by the look on Dumbledore's face.

"In which case," he said in a cold voice, "it is shame that she chose the man who believed his friends wouldn't attempt to murder his wife."

The only other time he had seen him look at him like that had been on a hillside in the middle of storm. It was the kind of look that could strip you of all pretention and leave just the bare bones of who you were there for all to judge. While Voldemort could make you afraid of him with a simple look, only Dumbledore could make you scared of yourself.

"Imbecile," muttered Severus, unable to think of anything to defend himself. It felt natural to fall on his old back up of insulting James Potter.

"A better man than you," contradicted Dumbledore in the same icy tone.

Severus' eyes snapped to meet Dumbledore's. "That - that man was nothing more than a bully," he spluttered indignantly.

"And you are nothing more than a murderer."

The anger faded as quickly as it had flared up, leaving a strange emptiness in its place. Dumbledore's expression indicated that this was some kind of test, but Severus couldn't work out how he was supposed to do. All he knew was the man he believed may have been on his side apparently hated him as much as he did.

"You believe that of me, Dumbledore?" he murmured, barely moving his lips.

"Not in the slightest." This time his voice was almost kind, though his expression didn't alter. Dumbledore sighed heavily before continuing. "Say what you will about James Potter -- though admittedly I will agree with none of it," he injected with a stern look, "the fact remains that when it was needed you both put yourselves between her and Voldemort. The only difference is you lived to tell the tale."

A chill joined Dumbledore's words in the room, both of them finding their way into Severus' chest. If anybody in this sorry tale had to survive, he would have given everything he was for it to have not been him. In fact, he had. He had only asked for the Potters' safety, after all. Dumbledore was under no obligation to protect him if the Dark Lord had discovered his treachery, which he surely would have.

No, thought Severus, being sure to close his mind lest his thoughts betray him, I accepted my death the moment he refused to save her. It was that moment he realised that although he was respected by his fellow Death Eaters, he had just as many friends as he had in school. He had fallen further than he even thought possible and had nothing but a heavy conscience and ugly scar on his arm to show for it.

But maybe if she had lived, she could have at least partially forgiven him. Severus wasn't naïve enough to believe she would befriend him again, but a sliver of forgiveness from her would surely have been enough for him to die knowing he had done the right thing. Instead, he would die alone and be wholly to blame for it.

This was a tale he would never tell, letting it become lost to the ages along with him.

Even though Severus knew there was no way Dumbledore could see his thoughts, the look he was giving him was enough to make him suspect that he knew them anyway.

"You're a better man than this," he said quietly.

"The man whose only good deed," Severus replied tonelessly, "was acted out of pure selfishness and lost him everything?"

"No." Dumbledore shook his head slightly. "The boy who brought Mary MacDonald's unconscious body to the hospital wing after she was attacked, thus saving her leg."

Severus twitched. "No one knows who that was."

He met the older man's searching gaze with a blank one of his own. All MacDonald could remember was leaving the library and being attacked from behind. A school filled with students, teachers and ghosts and not one of them could account for how she had ended up two floors up on the other side of the castle. Madam Pomfrey claimed she had heard a loud knocking on the door before she had found the girl, but no one had come forward. It had gone down in Hogwarts' history as one of thousands of mysteries that would be retold and twisted by future generations.

The twitch in the corner of Dumbledore's mouth, however, told Severus that he knew exactly what had happened.

Severus got to his feet. This had gone on long enough.

"So you're offering me a job in order for me to possibly spy on a dead man at some undisclosed point in the future?" he summarised with disgust.

Dumbledore smiled, unfazed as ever by Severus' mood. "And because I need someone to get my seventh years through their Potions NEWT, yes."

"Then I politely decline," he said shortly. "Good day."

His robes swishing as he turned sharply on the spot, Severus marched towards the office door, not feeling remotely sorry for his rudeness.

"Severus?"

He froze with his hand on the door, closed his eyes and begged for the strength to ignore him and walk away.

"Yes, Dumbledore?" he growled, still not facing him.

"Two things." Severus looked over his shoulder and saw that the headmaster was on his feet as well. "Self-loathing, while I'm sure it keeps you company at night, is otherwise highly unproductive and, to be quite honest, boring," he said conversationally.

"I'll keep that in mind," Severus answered wryly. "Your other piece of advice?"

The look on Dumbledore's face instantly made Severus regret his tone.

"You promised me anything," he reminded him. Severus nodded and waited. Slowly, Dumbledore came to stand in front of his desk.

"I want you teaching at this school so you will move into the castle on Monday and sit in on Horace's lessons. He will familiarise you with the curriculum in time for next term when you will take over. You might even be able to wrangle an invitation to his Christmas party," he added with a smile.

The smile only lasted a split second, however. As Dumbledore took a step forward and Severus gripped the door handle so tightly it hurt, it became apparent that there would be only one winner here.

"While I am willing to admit that I have more influence over the Minister than possibly anyone else in the country, it was still very difficult for me to save you from the Dementors." Dumbledore paused as Severus tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He knew this. Even if he had been willing to tell the full story, he knew he was going to Azkaban with Black and all the other faithful servants. He belonged there a lot more than he did at Hogwarts.

Or did he? These past weeks he had come to see the differences between him and the other Death Eaters. They wanted power, supremacy… readily available victims. Severus wanted none of that. Although, he didn't know what he wanted anymore.

Dumbledore took a step forward and, despite being the same height, Severus felt as though he was looming over him.

"I won't stick my neck out for you again, Severus," he almost whispered. "If I catch wind of you -- ah -- slipping into old habits so to say, I will not hesitate to use my influence at the ministry in ways that will not benefit you in the slightest. Understand?"

This time there was no warmth or fury or even a threat in Dumbledore's voice. There was only a promise; one Severus knew he would keep. Dumbledore was a man of his word after all.

Severus could only nod.

And then the dark cloud suspended above them dispersed and Dumbledore was smiling widely as he clapped his hands together and rocked on his heels.

"So I will see you Monday?" he asked brightly.

"Yes," breathed Severus.

"Ah, excellent!" Dumbledore cried. He turned to go back to his desk but stopped. "Do remember to bring a cloak. The weather forecast for next week is painting an atrocious picture," he added cheerfully. "Good day, Severus."

"Dumbledore."

He gave the headmaster one final nod before quickly leaving the room. As Severus worked on putting as much space between him and the office, he realised he would have no choice but to become a teacher. If he didn't like it then it was tough. It was much preferable to a stint in Azkaban, but this would mean re-joining society after so long of being separate from it. He'd be surrounded by people who were happy that the war was over, who were glad they would no longer have to read of the horrors that were taking place daily.

It wasn't that easy for Severus. Ending the war had cost him the only thing that had ever made him a decent person. Living through the war had ruined any chance of redemption. He had nothing but the nightmares he had put in his own head and no possibility of the forgiveness he didn't deserve. Leaving and starting over again, a different name, a different country was his only plan.

But now he couldn't even do that. Now he had to stay and atone, surrounded by memories. It was as if he had simply escaped one life of servitude for another. This time he would be on the right side, where no one would accept him. He couldn't go back to the Death Eaters even if he wanted to. There was no mark on his arm, but what difference was there?

It was as Severus made his way across the school grounds, below the overcast sky, that he realised that he would never gain any form of acceptance from anyone and would always be alone. The rest of his life would be lived out in the grey area between good and evil that no one could ever properly define, his fate in no one else's hands but his own.

And Dumbledore's, of course.