Thanks to Apple Blossom for beta reading.
And thanks to you for reading and reviewing.

In this chapter you will recognise passages from GoF ‘The Dark Mark’, ‘Unforgivable Curses’, ‘The Yule Ball’, and ‘Padfoot Returns’. I’m only borrowing.

Chapter XXIV: Despite All Your Flaws

Severus hissed angrily at the pain that had awoken him. He slipped silently out of bed, clutching his left forearm. This couldn’t be. The Mark could not be burning. Not after all these years.

He shook back his sleeve and examined his arm in the pale moonlight that was falling through the window. The contours of the skull and the snake were still visible, although they had faded over the years. So he had been dreaming. If the Dark Lord really was calling, the Mark would be clearly visible.

Severus shrugged and gazed up at the night sky, almost afraid that he would see the colossal green skull with the serpent protruding from its mouth suspended over the tree tops. But the stars shone peacefully, undisturbed.

‘What is it, Severus?’

Morgaine’s drowsy voice ripped him out if his thoughts. He had not meant to wake her.

‘Nothing,’ he lied. ‘Go back to sleep.’

He saw her stretch out her hand towards him and slipped back under the covers, pulling her into his arms, making sure that his sleeve was covering his forearm again.

He slept soundly the rest of the night. He didn’t even hear her get up. It was the smell of freshly brewed coffee that first awakened him. As he got dressed, his eyes lingered for some moments on his left forearm. The Mark was barely visible, it hadn’t been for years. The pain he had felt last night must have been a dream. But still, he felt uneasy and chose a long sleeve shirt. Just in case.

He found Morgaine in the kitchen. She greeted him with a radiant smile and placed a cup of black coffee in front of him. He couldn’t help but grin. She had finally given up on trying to feed him in the mornings. He notoriously hated breakfast.

He gazed at Morgaine from across the table. How long had she been here now? Two weeks? Three? He had already gotten so used to her presence in his house that he couldn’t tell.

She had scared the living daylights out of him when she showed up. He had been in the garden at the back of the house, tending his plants when he heard her voice.

‘I believe this is belladonna, sir. It’s a hallucinogenic.’

He had almost dropped the plant he had been holding and stared at her in utter disbelief. Nobody ever came to see him, and Morgaine had been one of the last people he expected that summer.

She had not been happy with him at the end of term. She had not said anything, but he had seen it in her eyes. And he couldn’t blame her. She had every right to be disappointed, but then again, so had he. And he had taken his revenge.

He could have lived with not being rewarded for his almost-capture of Sirius Black. But the fact that Dumbledore had made Lupin the hero had been too much. Lupin would have to pay, and making sure that he never again would be able to teach at Hogwarts seemed the perfect revenge. So Severus had let Lupin’s secret slip, right there at the breakfast table, just loud enough for everyone to hear. Yes, it had seemed perfect.

But he had, for a brief moment, forgotten about Morgaine. She loved Lupin dearly, Severus knew that, and when he had chosen to hurt Lupin, he had consequently hurt her.

At first, the cold fury in her eyes had made him duck. He had been convinced that she would hex him into obliviation right there at the breakfast table. But what he saw in her eyes just moments later, an instant before she turned her head away from him, made him wish he had held his peace: her eyes, her beautiful blue eyes which had always looked at him with understanding and love, had been filled with utter disappointment.

They had not talked to each other for the rest of the term, and Severus was not really sure who had avoided whom. All he knew was that he was unspeakably sorry that he, once more, had disappointed her.

Therefore, he had not expected her to show up at his doorstep. To be honest, he had not even dared to hope that she would make any kind of contact that summer. For over a month he had not received so much as an owl from her, and he had been too proud to write to her himself, too scared that she would not reply.

And then, that glorious afternoon, she had just shown up, unannounced. Suddenly, she had just been standing there, on the other side of his hedge, grinning at him. And he had been too perplexed to utter anything more intelligent than ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I guess you won’t believe me if I said that I was in the neighbourhood,’ she had replied, and he had shaken his head.

‘Well, then let’s say that I am here to buy you lunch.’

She had taken him to a dodgy Muggle pub down the road, and as they had been eating steak and kidney pie, he had repeated his question.

‘What are you doing here, Morgaine?’

‘I am visiting my best friend. Are you familiar with the concept?’

‘Of visiting?’

‘No, the concept of best friends.’

Then she had taken his hand and smiled at him, just for him. And he had realised that it really didn’t matter why she had come. All that did matter was that she, once more, had forgiven him.

After lunch, he had invited her to his house. It had felt strange. He never invited anybody in.

‘So, this is where you grew up?’ she had asked, peering around the living room. ‘Gloomy.’

‘It is home,’ he had replied.

‘Yes, I guess it is. Actually, I haven’t really been expecting pink wallpaper either.’

And then she had laughed. That, too, had felt strange. Nobody had laughed at Spinner’s End for ages. But it had also felt incredibly good.

She hadn’t stayed that evening but taken a room at the local inn. But she had come to visit again the next day, and the next. And one evening, they just hadn’t said goodnight. She had fallen asleep in the armchair in his living room, and he had only woken her up lead her into his bedroom.

And again, this had felt strange. Strange but wonderful.

He remembered the first night they had spent together. He had been in control then, and she had been shivering under his touch. This time, it had been her who had made him shiver. The warmth of her touch had seeped through his skin and right into his heart. She had touched him in ways he had never allowed anyone to touch him before. She had made him give up control.

He hadn’t slept that night. He had been too afraid that she would once again be gone in the morning. But she had stayed all night, and seeing her wake up and smile at him the first thing in the morning had been bliss.

‘Are you going to pay the owl, or will you continue staring at me for the rest of the morning?’

Her voice had a slightly mocking tone, and Severus smirked at her. He had indeed been so absorbed in his thoughts that he had not heard the delivery owl arrive with the Daily Prophet.

He saw the headline before he even go a chance to pay the owl: Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup, complete with a photograph of the Dark Mark over the tree tops.

He felt all the blood leave his face. If the Death Eaters dared to attack right under the nose of the Ministry, that meant that they were sure that the Dark Lord would return soon. And that in its turn meant that he hadn’t been imagining things last night. The Mark had burnt after all. Instinctively, he pulled down his left sleeve a little more. Then he sensed her standing behind him, peering at the Prophet.

Don’t ask, Morgaine. Please, don’t ask. Not now.

He sent out a silent plea towards her, hoping that she would hear. He couldn’t talk about it. Not yet.

He felt her hand on his shoulder and saw her taking the paper out of his hand. Then she directed him towards the table.

‘Your coffee is getting cold.’

That was all she said, and Severus was grateful for it. She sat down opposite him, and as he drank his coffee, he noticed that for the first time in three weeks, she wasn’t eating any breakfast either.

Two and two equals four, even in the Wizarding world. And it is not hard to put two and two together. I had seen Severus clutching his left forearm that night, and as I read about the Death Eater attack, I knew why. He had sensed the Mark.

He didn’t talk about it, and so I didn’t ask. I never did. The Mark was part of who he was, and thus not mine to mention, nor mine to judge.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

‘Then you have felt the Dark Mark burning?’ Dumbledore asked. He was still gazing out of the window, just as he had done since Severus had entered the office.

‘I might have been imagining things, headmaster. The outlines of the Mark are just as faint as they have been since the day the Dark Lord disappeared.’

‘Harry’s scar has been burning as well,’ Dumbledore said, as if he had not even heard Severus’ comment. ‘This can only mean one thing, Severus. Voldemort is on the rise again.’

Severus nodded, clenching his jaw. He head been dreading this day for thirteen years.

‘We have to protect the boy,’ Dumbledore went on. ‘The day Voldemort returns, he must not get his hands on Harry Potter.’

The old wizard turned around, and his blue eyes locked onto Severus’ dark ones. And Severus realised that Dumbledore could read him just as well as his great-granddaughter did.

‘Tell me, Severus, when Voldemort returns, what will you do? Whose side will you stand on?’

Severus straightened.

‘I have sworn to protect the boy, Albus. I have sworn to bring the Dark Lord down. And I will keep my oath, whatever the price.’

‘Whatever the price, Severus?’ Dumbledore’s eyes seemed to see right into his very soul, and Severus felt his knees go weak. But he held the headmaster’s gaze steady.

‘Yes, Albus. Whatever the price.’

Dumbledore nodded and turned towards the window again.

‘Then you will have to prepare yourself, Severus. You will have to decide how much you are willing to give Voldemort this time. If you need any assistance, you know where to find me.’

Severus nodded, and as Dumbledore neither spoke nor turned from the window, he considered himself dismissed and left for the dungeons.

What was he going to give the Dark Lord the day he summoned him?

Thirteen years ago, when the Ministry had held trials against the Death Eaters, Dumbledore had publicly vouched for him, had told everybody that Severus Snape had turned from the Dark Lord and become a spy for the Order. It wouldn’t take long for the Dark Lord to learn about this, and Severus knew that he would have to use every trick in the book in order to convince his old master that he, despite what Dumbledore might believe, never had left the Dark side.

And then there was Potter. The Dark Lord must never know that he had sworn to protect the boy. But then again, Severus hated James Potter’s son enough to present the picture of an insolent, mediocre brat without even batting an eyelid. The Dark Lord would never know that this boy actually held the power to bring him down once more.

Yes, Severus knew what he was going to present the Dark Lord. And the day he was called back into the fold, he would be prepared.

When he entered his study, Morgaine was waiting for him, and with a bang he realised that there was no way he would be able to hide his beloved from the Dark Lord.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Once again, the sound of a glass phial crashing against the stone wall echoed through the dungeon. The rational part of Severus’ brain was calculating the costs of the phials he had smashed this year, but then again, he had every right to smash things. It had surely been a dreadful year so far.

First, there was this blasted Triwizard Tournament. The Tournament per se was a pleasant enough distraction, but the fact that Potter had somehow managed to become a champion meant that Dumbledore had once more called upon Severus to keep an eye on the boy. Ruddy easy job that was! The little brat loved to be in the centre of attention and seemed not to care how much danger he was in or who had to drag him into safety.

And then, there was Mad-Eye Moody. Severus could live with yet again not being given the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, but why had Dumbledore to hire Moody of all people? Moody had been an Auror and an original member of the Order of the Phoenix, and with that he knew about Severus’ past. And he made sure that Severus would not forget it. More than once this year, he had made it very clear that he did not trust him, and Severus had deemed it wisest to simply avoid Moody’s eyes, both magical and non-magical.

And last but not least, there was Igor Karkaroff. He and Severus knew each other well, far too well. They had both been Death Eaters, and they had both avoided being sent to Azkaban: Severus because he had spied for the Order, and Karkaroff because he had turned in some of his fellow Death Eaters during the trials. Karkaroff was now headmaster at Drumstrang and with that an honoured guest at Hogwarts during the Tournament. He had been easy enough to bear in the beginning, but ever since the Yule Ball he had become jumpy. He, too, had the Dark Mark burnt into his flesh, and he, too, had noticed that it was getting darker. And, as a traitor, he was scared to death of the day the Dark Lord would return.

Severus was scared, too, oh yes. And he wished nothing more than that the Mark would stop getting darker, but he knew that the day of the Dark Lord’s resurrection was getting closer. And he knew that when this day came, he had to be prepared and calm. And Karkaroff’s panic attacks did not help at all.

Earlier that day, Karkaroff had actually had the nerve to confront him in the middle of class. The idiot had pulled up his left-hand sleeve in a classroom full of students just to prove that his Mark was getting darker. How could he be so stupid? Did he really think that Severus did not know this already?

Ignoring the broken pieces of glass on the floor, Severus let himself fall into his armchair and pushed up the left sleeve of his own robe and started staring at his forearm. Yes, the Mark was more distinct than it had been in many years. And whatever he had told Karkaroff, he only knew too well what the darkening Mark meant: the Dark Lord was on the rise.

Severus dreaded the day when the Mark would burn. On that day, he would have no other choice than to answer the call, fall to his knees and kiss the hem of the Dark Lord’s robes. He shivered. He had long known that this day would come, but he had dearly hoped that it wouldn’t.

When he heard the door creak, he didn’t need to turn around. He knew it was Morgaine. She was the only one who knew how to get past the protective spells he had cast around his quarters. And she knew about the Mark on his arm. She had known about him being a former Death Eater for more than eight years, and on the night of the Quidditch World Cup, the night she had for the first time seen him clutch his left forearm, she had put two and two together. But she had never asked him about it, not once.

He felt her hand softly brush his shoulder as she settled down on the armrest of his chair. He didn’t look up, but he could feel her eyes upon him. Instinctively, he shook his sleeve over the Mark.

‘He’s approaching, isn’t he? The Dark Lord is on the rise again.’ Severus could hear her voice tremble. He knew that she was looking for answers, but he hadn’t any to give.

‘I have seen the signs, too, Severus. I have heard the whispers. And I know why you woke up that night the Death Eaters attacked those Muggles at the Quidditch World Cup.’ She reached out and touched his left forearm. ‘You sensed it.’

He tried to pull his arm away, but she had a firm grip around it. And he knew that she wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

‘You should not be here, Morgaine. You should not care.’ His voice sounded tired. And he still avoided her eyes.

Then he felt her fingers tighten around his arm.

‘The Dark Mark is part of who you are, Severus. It is part of your past, and your past has made you into the man you are today. This is nothing new to me. I have known for years.’

Yes, she had. And still she was there by his side, still she cared. And still Severus did not understand how he had deserved her affection.

He let his head fall against her shoulder and gratefully accepted her embrace. Tonight, she would help him forget. For some blissful hours, the Dark Mark would not exist, and the only thing in the world that mattered would be the woman in his arms. Yet he knew that when the morning dawned, he would start wondering if she would still be there for him the day he had to return into the fold.