Spring-Autumn, 1980

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born as the seventh month dies...."

That was four months away, fortunately, for Severus couldn't really make a judgement about what he'd heard. Or what he thought he'd heard. Fortune-tellers were frauds, and even when they weren't, their prophecies had double or triple meanings.

But whatever the meaning of what he'd heard, it wouldn't be safe to delay reporting it to the Dark Lord. The Lord was hard-headed, yes: one who, Severus thought, wouldn't be susceptible to the oily superstition peddled by most Seers. He was also self-centred. Nothing was more important than what was important to him. A prophecy predicting his possible downfall certainly fell into that category.

Thus Severus owled Lucius at once, to ask him to tell the Dark Lord ("our friend," in their code) that he had heard something in Hogsmeade which might be of value to him. The wording was perhaps too vague to convey the importance of his information, but Severus did not want Lucius to guess what that information might be. Further, he was using a post owl, and though that was safer than Floo-calling, he supposed it still might be intercepted.

He was thinking like a spy. Although spies, he reckoned, would at least own their own owls. If Dumbledore hired him, that would be his first purchase.

In a couple of days, owls returned from both Dumbledore and Voldemort. Severus read Dumbledore's first.

Dear Mr Snape:

Thank you again for taking the time to interview for the position of Hogwarts Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts. My considered opinion, I am sorry to have to say, is that the job would not suit you.

I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavours.

Sincerely,

A.P.W.B. Dumbledore, Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Severus nearly threw the letter into the fire in frustration. He'd wanted the job for himself even more than he'd wanted it to gain the Dark Lord's favour. And then he shivered, for what about the Dark Lord? Prophecy or no prophecy, how could he consider this anything but failure?

He crammed Dumbledore's letter into his pocket and opened the Lord's.

Come to Malfoy Manor tonight.

V.

He put Voldemort's letter in his pocket with Dumbledore's, threw Floo powder into the fireplace and stepped into the flames.

****

A hawk owl, hooting shrilly, flew at Severus as soon as he stepped out into the drawing room of Malfoy Manor. He threw up his arm to protect his face, and it closed its talons around his forearm.

"Don't worry. It's yours, so it won't hurt you," said Voldemort.

Severus lowered his arm and looked into the owl's blinking golden eyes. "It's ridiculous," Voldemort said, "for one of my Death Eaters to be communicating by post owl. At least when he communicates with me or mine. Darius was bred in Lucius's owlery, and I've seen Lucius's owls. They don't let themselves get interfered with. Make Darius your familiar, and you'll be safe."

Severus looked at Darius, who blinked back at him loftily. In childhood, he'd always wanted a familiar, but Mother could never afford to buy him one. "Thank you, my lord."

Darius flapped off to a perch in the corner. Severus would have to buy a perch for his flat, and a cage--

"Well?" Voldemort cut in. "What have you to say to me? Did Dumbledore hire you?"

"No," said Severus. Voldemort stared coldly. Severus could feel his anger building, like the oppression before a storm. "But that wasn't what I wanted to say to you."

"No, I should think not," said Voldemort softly. He began pacing the drawing room, his robes swirling around his ankles as he turned. The Malfoy portraits remained tactfully still and silent, just as the Malfoys themselves, it appeared, were tactfully absent. "Did you get as far as an interview, at least?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Did Dumbledore say why he didn't want you?"

"Not during the interview." Severus remembered Dumbledore's perplexed look. "He seemed undecided then." He took Dumbledore's letter from his pocket. "All I have is this."

Voldemort took it from him and read it. "Are you sure he doesn't know?"

"About what, my lord?"

"About you! What you are! That I sent you!"

What could Severus say? "I don't believe so, my lord."

"You don't believe--!" Voldemort looked ready to throw a curse at Severus, but then seemed to think better of it. "Oh, never mind. I can't spare the people, but I'll have you watched for a week or so, to make sure Dumbledore hasn't put the Order on your trail. What else did you have to say to me?"

"Before he interviewed me, Dumbledore interviewed a Seer for a Divination teacher's position at Hogwarts. She gave him what I'm fairly certain was a true prophecy about you."

Voldemort stopped in his tracks. "Tell me more."

Severus repeated every detail surrounding Miss Trelawney's prophecy. When he was finished, Voldemort resumed his pacing, his muttering of the prophecy weaving in and out of the slap of his feet on the flags.

"'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies....' And then the barman dragged you away from the door."

"Yes, my lord."

"So you didn't hear everything they said." Slap, slap, slap. "But you heard enough. This baby, born as the seventh month dies--at the end of July--to parents who have thrice defied me...." The Lord stopped again, to look at Severus. "Why, it must be killed, that's all."

This baby. "Are you sure it's a baby, my lord? The prophecy could refer to an adult enemy, one not yet known to you, perhaps."

"No, no Severus. Born as the seventh month dies, not died. In the future, not the past. Born to those who have thrice defied me--was that conceivable before Dumbledore formed his Order? Although Dumbledore could be the father, I suppose, if he weren't a dried-up old--well, never mind. I am sure that this one with the alleged power to vanquish me is not yet born, will not be born for four more months. That gives me time."

Time to find the baby and kill it. Time to find the mother and kill her, before the baby was born. Two birds with one stone. After all, she had defied the Dark Lord thrice. "I see, my lord."

"Too bad you don't work at St Lovechild's Lying-in, instead of St Mungo's Hospital. You could keep an eye out for expectant mothers at the right time without attracting much attention. As it is, since I'll have to divert people to find the child.... No." Voldemort shook his head. "I've trained you in Occlumency, but with you working in a place crawling with Legilimentes, with Meed, the strongest of them all, as Head Healer... it's too risky. If Dumbledore won't take you, I can't use you. I don't want it getting back to him that I've heard about this prophecy. I want him to go on believing that I don't know."

What happened to a Death Eater whom the Dark Lord couldn't use? "Is there no way I can serve you, my lord?"

"I'll keep you in reserve. Why not? Not everyone flies out on midnight raids; leave that to people like Bella. I'll play you as I need you. And I'm sure I'll find a need."

****

After that, weeks passed. Except for the occasional tingling on his inner arm, Severus was forgotten by and occasionally even forgot Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Not often, though. Far more frequently, when he undressed at night or bathed in the morning, he found himself staring at the death's head tattoo on his inner forearm. The snake emerging from the skull's mouth seemed to writhe with the changing colours of the Mark.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters left Severus alone. They did not leave their enemies alone. As the days lengthened and the air warmed, A&E filled with the Dark Lord's victims. Not a few of them were victims of Sectumsempra, and from time to time Severus saw Healers casting Textum as deftly as he, its creator, had ever done.

The Aurors' victims piled up too. Severus was the only one at St Mungo's who wasn't surprised, but then he was the only one there who had worked on Barty Crouch's project in Azkaban. He'd had the qualifications, personal and professional: Barty Crouch, come to think of it, hadn't judged him so differently than Voldemort had done. Dumbledore alone didn't want Severus working for him.

Severus would have enjoyed the relative peace and quiet if he weren't dogged by the feeling that there was a shoe waiting to be dropped. And then one mild evening in May the shoe fell.

He was home, sitting by his open window, his dinner eaten, the sun setting the sky above the city aflame. He looked up from his evening paper to see a shooting star headed straight toward the window.

He threw down the paper and stood up. A shooting star before nightfall, flying so low that it practically skimmed the rooftops? And then the star shot through the window into Severus's sitting room, where it billowed into a ball of silver flame. Severus sprang back with a cry. Just as he pulled his wand to conjure a jet of water, the fiery ball resolved itself into a magnificent, regal-looking bird, swan-sized, with a long, flowing tail.

A phoenix, but without the phoenix's colours. Severus crept forward a step and saw that the bird was not flesh but mist. Silver mist in the shape of a phoenix: a Patronus.

"I know what you are," said the phoenix-Patronus in cold, hollow tones, in a voice Severus could not mistake: Dumbledore's. "You have given yourself to Lord Voldemort. You are a Death Eater."

Severus froze. "Who--who told you that?"

"You don't doubt your new friends would betray you? You betrayed yourself. I examined the memory of our last meeting, for I felt something strange in you then. I found half-learnt Occlumency, a Mantle thrown over your intention to spy for your Master as a teacher at my school."

Severus stared at the shining phoenix, into its glittering black eyes. Shaking with fear, he couldn't speak.

"Voldemort sent you to me, you of all people..." the phoenix murmured softly. Then it reared up, spreading blinding white wings, and Dumbledore's voice rang out from his Patronus. "I will never let you near my students. Never set foot in Hogwarts again, Severus Snape, or you will not be safe from me."

The phoenix flew to the ceiling and bent its head toward Severus, as if it meant to stoop on him. Severus threw himself back against the wall, but the phoenix veered toward the window instead of diving at him. It condensed itself into the pebble of silver fire that Severus had mistaken for a shooting star and zoomed out the window, into a sky alight with the colours of sunset.

It was only then, still trembling, that he remembered that he had never heard of a Patronus harming anyone.

****

Severus lived a week in terror, expecting the Aurors' knock on his door at every moment, sure that he would be dragged back to Azkaban as a prisoner instead of a Potioner. Warden Reid would give him a fine welcome, no doubt.

But nothing happened. He went to work every day. No one there seemed any the wiser. If anyone followed him home, he wasn't aware of it--which meant that whoever the Dark Lord had assigned to watch him was very skilful indeed.

Two weeks brought him to another Death Eater meeting, which ended once again with no assignment for him.

"Still not risking your poxy hide, Snape?" Bellatrix hissed in a vicious aside. Severus sidled away, giving her a wide berth as she filed out to the broom shed with the rest of Lucius's friends. He'd got to a shadowy corner when a bony hand touched his arm. Heat seeped through his sleeve. Starting, he met Voldemort's eyes, two embers glowing in the dimness.

"My lord."

"Just to let you know, Severus. What we spoke of last--seems safe. No one has followed you, and none of my sources in the Ministry has heard so much as a whisper on the subject. I'll be stepping up my search." Voldemort's needly teeth caught the firelight. "It won't be long now."

He gestured to the fireplace. With a whispered "Yes, my lord," Severus stepped into the grate and Flooed back to his flat.

****

Spring eased into summer. Leaves thickened on the trees and rumours grew as fast as the flowers in the little park across from Severus's mansion block. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named... the Death Eaters... be careful what you say, be careful what you do, choose your friends carefully, and are you sure they are your friends? For Merlin's sake don't write that letter to the Prophet complaining that the Ministry aren't doing enough about those Muggle-baiting hooligans.... Unless you want them coming round to your house late one night...."

Severus did little but work, had little to do with anyone outside of work, even Mother. In no time the summer also began slipping away; in no time July crossed into August.

On the morning of the second, Severus was stocking potions in A&E when Harding came up. "We're taking a collection for Lily Potter. Want to contribute?"

Severus nearly dropped the bottle of Skele-Gro he was putting into the cabinet. "Lily Potter? Why, what's happened?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's good. She's had her baby."

Potter's baby. Relief washed through Severus nevertheless. "Oh."

"It's a boy, born the thirty-first, mum and baby are doing fine," Harding recited. Then he eyed Severus. "You don't have to give if you don't want to."

"I don't have to sign anything, do I? A card, anything like that?"

Harding's eyebrows rose slightly. "Like I said--not if you don't want to."

"I'll give." Severus patted his pockets distractedly. "But my wallet's upstairs. I'll send something down in a paper aeroplane, all right?"

Harding shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Severus half-turned to the cabinet, then turned back. "I suppose that means she'll be coming back to work?"

"After a maternity leave, I reckon." Harding shrugged again. "Not that I'd know."

Nor I, Severus thought, turning back to his work.

****

Potter's brat, he thought ill-temperedly, later, when he had the time.

****

Summer slid into autumn. Severus heard nothing more of Lily, beyond what Harding had told him. He heard little of anything else, but that didn't bother him either, he emphasised to himself. The Dark Lord never had trouble getting hold of him if he wanted him. And Mother was fine. She had been fine for months.

Then he heard from the Dark Lord. Or rather he felt him on one day in October, burning in the Dark Mark on his arm. Fortunately he was at home, for he cried out with the pain of the Dark Lord's demand.

Even Flooing wouldn't be fast enough. Gasping, Severus rose from his chair and Apparated to Malfoy Manor.

****

Under the circumstances, he was lucky not to have Splinched. As it was, when he popped into existence in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor, Severus had to grab a chair (ornately carved and, luckily again, heavy enough to hold him) to keep from stumbling. He straightened and looked around.

It was a meeting, he took it, but much smaller than usual. There was Evan Rosier, cool and unruffled as usual, if slightly bemused. Rodolphus Lestrange was there, looking tense, but that meant nothing, since Bellatrix was at his side. Her jaw was tight, her colour high and her eyes were wild with barely-contained madness. Rabastan was with them, his eyes glittering with interest. There was Dolohov with his accustomed sneer--really, Severus couldn't ever remember seeing either that or fear on his face.

Then there was Lucius. And although it might be typical of Bellatrix to look mad, to see Lucius with face flushed, breathing short and eyes ablaze was something quite unusual.

Finally there was the Lord, seated with his back to them in a chair by the fire. He rose, and all eyes went to him.

He too had a fire, an intensity in his eyes. Severus noticed it mainly because it provided a life he hadn't realised was lacking before. Before this, the Dark Lord had been dead. Now he was alive.

In his way. A way of living unlike any Severus had seen before.

Severus glanced around. Lucius and Rosier, perhaps, shared his amazement. Perhaps. The others, as if the Lord had cast an enchantment on them stared at him with unmitigated worship.

The Lord cast his fiery gaze over them. "My Inner Circle."

His Inner Circle. Severus's heart warmed, in spite of the tension humming through his brain.

"You are here," said the Lord, "because I have something very important to tell you." He looked around again. "I have decided whom I will kill."

Around him Severus heard shifting and tiny sighs. Some, evidently, feared they had drawn the short straw.

"You remember the prophecy I told you about," said the Dark Lord.

There was palpable relief. "Why, yes, my lord," said Rosier.

So they knew. "I have decided," the Dark Lord repeated, "whom I will kill."

"The Longbottoms," said Bellatrix. "Alice whelped at the end of July."

"Patience, Bella," said Voldemort. "Do you not wish to hear my reasoning?"

She sensed the danger. "Oh--oh, yes, my lord."

"It is true that your cousins have given me trouble." The Dark Lord lifted his gaze again to the rest of the group. "Frank and Alice Longbottom have made the defence of Muggles their specialty. In their official capacity as Aurors who formed and lead MLE's Muggle Protection Squad, they have better contacts among the Muggles than Dumbledore himself. Connections, of course, which Dumbledore has scurried to put to use. Do you remember that hunting expedition we went on outside Glasgow last winter, Dolohov?"

Severus slid a glance toward Dolohov. He was grinning with animal fury. "Oh, yes, my lord."

"Yes. Well, Frank and Alice wouldn't have got away, along with half the wedding party, if it hadn't been for that pesky Muggle woman and her shrieking daughter. I was distracted. Still, the Longbottoms are very powerful. Distractions or no, I can't think of many others who would have escaped me. That was the first time they defied me. I can see you won't be happy to learn, Antonin, that there were two others. That accident at St Pancras's last April, where a train jumped the tracks. The Muggle newspapers were astounded that no one was killed and only a few were hurt. That was the Longbottoms' fault," said the Dark Lord with peevish resentment. "I cursed the engineer from the concourse; I wasn't even on the platform. I'm still wondering who saw through my Disillusionment and called MLE." He cast a dangerous look around his Inner Circle, as if he expected to find the guilty party there. Dolohov and Bellatrix looked furious; the rest looked uneasy. No one seemed as curious as Severus.

Meanwhile, as he mulled over being thwarted, the Dark Lord grew angrier. "I couldn't even put a few Dementors into Bethlem Hospital. Dumbledore put Frank and Alice Longbottom on patrol in Bromley that night, and they linked their Patronuses to drive my Dementors away." He turned a burning glare on Severus. "I thought only you and Potter knew how to do that."

Those eyes. Severus's stomach clenched with fear. "Why--no, my lord. It's rare, but it's an established aspect of the charm."

"It is now. Perhaps Potter taught it to them. Another reason for selecting his family, not Frank Longbottom's."

Murmurs arose. "My lord?" said Lucius.

"No, Lucius. I am leaving aside the old enemies for now. There are new enemies, a blood traitor who has betrayed his lineage even more than the Longbottoms have done, if that is possible. One who married a Mudblood and had a child with her at the end of July." The Dark Lord fell into singsong. "'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches.... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies....' They also have thrice defied me in Dumbledore's service. The feat isn't as rare as I'd like it in the Order of the Phoenix, unfortunately. I really shall have to do something about that Order, once I dispose of James and Lily Potter and their son."

Severus began to tremble. He quelled it at once. The mental mantle rippled across his mind.

"Lily Potter!" said Bellatrix. "That paltry witch?"

"No, Bella," said Voldemort. "Paltry is one thing she is not. She makes very good use of the magic she shouldn't have, that she doesn't deserve. Mudblood she may be, but she's very powerful. Why, I even thought of inviting her to join us. She said no."

"And you let her go?" said Bella.

"Not without cracking her bones first, to remember me by. But yes, I let her escape. I thought I might try again later." Voldemort smiled slowly. "I see you think I made a mistake, Bella."

"Why, no--no, my lord," Bellatrix said quickly. "You never make mistakes."

"I'm flattered, Bella, but no. Sometimes I do make mistakes. I perhaps should not have let Lily Potter live." Voldemort went cold. "I won't make that mistake again, with her or her husband. They are Dumbledore's favourites, the most powerful, the most dangerous of his Order. They must be. Living on after I have killed their son, they will be all the more dangerous. They will seek vengeance. So no, I will not permit that. All three must die, and by my hand, do you understand? I will kill them myself."

He let his gaze travel from Bellatrix as he spoke, to rest on each of the others in turn. Severus felt sick with the effort of controlling his terror, but, like the others, he said, "Yes, my lord," when the snake's eyes reached him. His mind's invisibility cloak, his mental mantle lay undisturbed. The Lord did not know it was there. The Lord did not perceive what he felt.

There was a short silence when Voldemort was finished. Then Lucius said, "I don't question you, my lord, but--are you sure it's the Potters you want? They're not even Aurors."

"Potter couldn't hack the training programme, I heard," said Rabastan. "He dropped out. He's living off his father's money now."

"No, no," said Voldemort. "The prophecy does not refer to the Longbottoms. The Longbottoms oppose me, and for that they'll die. But they're almost--good enemies, if you understand me. Pure-bloods from the best families, highly-trained professionals, an able witch and wizard...why, you can respect yourself facing an enemy like that. It's like fighting Dumbledore. While the Potters...the wizard's a parasitic fop; I wasn't living off my father when I was his age! The witch is a climber of a Mudblood, scheming her way to a rich pure-blood husband. Their son, if the prophecy is true, and I know it is--their son is a half-blood of immediate Mudblood heritage, rising up to mock us. Compare that to facing a shining pure-blood youth. As much as we may deplore the Longbottoms' politics, we can respect ourselves in fighting their son."

Like the others, Severus kept his eyes fixed on the Lord. For a very different reason than they did, perhaps, but his rapt attention taught him something: the Dark Lord did not want Potter's son dead because he thought the boy didn't deserve to be his enemy. He thought that Potter's son, not Longbottom's, was the one he should fear, his true equal, capable of destroying him if he did not destroy him first. The Longbottom child's pure blood didn't matter to him in the least.

The Dark Lord was lying to his prized followers, his Inner Circle.

Severus glanced around. No one else looked sceptical, but they could, like him, have been hiding their true feelings.

"If you wish to kill them, my lord--" Rosier began.

"All three of them. With my own hand."

"How can we help you?" Rosier asked.

"Yes, my lord," said Bellatrix. "How? I could have flushed the Longbottoms out for you. Shall I find the Potters and bring them to you?"

"If you can." Voldemort's voice fell to the edge of a whisper. "They seem to have disappeared. Again."

"Again?" said Severus.

"Why, yes. You didn't notice your colleague was absent from work?"

"We work in different departments."

"Wait." Bellatrix turned toward Severus. "Lily Potter. Lily Evans. She was your little friend at Hogwarts; she came from the same cesspool of a mill town you came from, didn't she? I heard Narcissa and Andromeda talking one Christmas. You and Evans spent the summers together, you rode in the same compartment on the Hogwarts Express back to school every September, you hung about together at school. You were a prefect then, remember, Lucius? Narcissa said you ought not to let him spend so much time with a Mudblood Gryffindor."

"She was my friend," Severus cut in. Bellatrix ignored him.

"Did you know that, my lord?" she demanded.

Voldemort stared at her, but she was so wrought up she very nearly didn't quail. "I have not forgotten your service to me," he said after a moment. "That--alone--stays my hand. But you would do well to stop questioning my judgement."

Bellatrix's lip quivered.

"She married Potter, for God's sake, Bella," muttered Rodolphus. "I hardly think that makes her Snape's friend."

"You were telling us how we could help you, my lord," Lucius said smoothly, after a pointed look at Bellatrix and Rodolphus.

"Thank you, Lucius. You will look. Your father is a trustee of St Lovechild's as well as St Mungo's. Perhaps Lily Potter delivered there; if so, perhaps you can find out the Potters' address. Rodolphus, you work for the Ministry Inland Revenue. Few sources of information, I find, are more accurate and up-to-date than the tax rolls. You can check them; perhaps there you will find out where the Potters live. The rest of you," Voldemort said, "will spread out across the land, Wizarding and Muggle. You will use every connection, every resource you have to find the Potters. Any of you who capture an Auror or a member of the Order will interrogate him for the Potters' location before killing him. And see to it you do kill him afterward. The last thing--the very last thing I want is for Dumbledore to find out that I've discovered his secret."

The mental mantle blanketed Severus's brain. Beneath it, his mind raced. He'd find Lily, he'd warn her, that was all right, it wasn't disloyalty, the Dark Lord wanted Potter's child, not her--

"Except for you, Severus."

Voldemort yanked him from the spinning panic of his thoughts. "My lord?"

"You'll stay right where you are, go on as you have done at St Mungo's. Lily Potter doesn't know she's your enemy, does she? She'll still speak to you?"

"Yes, my lord."

"If she returns--why do they say she's out, by the way?"

What did he want? "Maternity leave," said Severus.

"Oh, yes, of course. Perhaps she has friends, co-workers, who know where she's living now. They must have sent her baby gifts. Christening gifts by now, if her baby was born at the end of July."

As the seventh month dies...

"Whoever did so must know her address."

"We're taking a collection for Lily Potter. Want to contribute?"

Harding.

"Or at the very least a forwarding address. You see where I'm headed, Severus. The rest of us have to go looking for Lily Potter. You're surrounded by people who may well know where she is. Her co-workers, her friends, her supervisors. The St Mungo's personnel department."

He'd have to give her to the Dark Lord.

"Because where she is, there will her family be also. There will be the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord."

If and when she came back to work (After a maternity leave, I reckon), he'd have to hand her over. And if she didn't come back, he'd be expected, like a good Death Eater serving his Dark Lord, to exert himself, among her co-workers, her friends, her supervisors, the St Mungo's personnel department, to find out where she'd gone.

"So you'll go on just as you are, working at St Mungo's. Because I'm sure, sooner or later, you'll be able to assist me there."

"Yes, my lord," Severus said numbly.

"Very well, then," said Voldemort. His cold eye swept over the wizards closest to him, his most trusted associates. "You have your assignment. Find the Potters. And no, Bella, don't bring them to me. Just tell me where they are. I'd like to surprise them."

The Inner Circle laughed. Severus laughed with them. He had once loved a woman the Lord wanted dead, but he didn't want any of them reminding themselves of that just now.

****

Or he loved her now. How else to explain what he did next?

Severus hung back, allowing the others to file or Floo from Lucius's drawing room. He approached the Lord from behind and touched his inhumanly hot arm.

He shouldn't have done that. The Lord whirled, a blur, and pointed his wand at Severus.

"Merlin's beard, Severus, what do you think you're doing!" Lucius exclaimed.

"Yes," said the Dark Lord, his wand unwavering. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'd like to speak to you, my lord," said Severus. He glanced at Lucius, who was the only other one left in the room. "Alone."

Voldemort stared at him for several painful moments, but the mental mantle had never been more snugly wrapped around his mind.

The Lord lowered his wand. "Leave us, Lucius."

Lucius looked from Voldemort to Severus, frowning. "Yes, my lord," he murmured, and with a slight bow to the Dark Lord he left.

"Very well, then," said Voldemort. "What is it?"

"Lily Potter." For no other reason would Severus have borne that oppressive attention. "I wish--I ask you to spare her."

"Spare her?" Voldemort asked softly. "Now why would I want to do that?"

Why? Why? "Because I want her." Severus lifted a corner of the mantle. Memories oozed out from underneath like greasy smoke. Lily's breasts swelling her robe as she'd bent over the moon-shifting mushrooms, Lily stepping through the portrait hole on the night after O.W.L.s, dressing gown flung over her shoulders, her face flushed with sleep. The dreams he'd had of her on the torturous path from boy to man, the waking to sheets clinging damply to his belly and hips.

"You want her. What makes you think you deserve her?"

"I don't. But you've sought her as a Death Eater." Where did this courage come from, this giddy invention? "With Potter and the child dead, I could give her to you."

"You were supposed to give me Dumbledore's secrets. You don't seem to have managed that." The Lord looked at him and smiled contemptuously. "Really, to see you of all people in the throes of lust, asking me for another man's wife... I always thought you protested your hatred of her a little too loudly.... But tell me. She's bound to find out you're the one who betrayed her. With Potter and the boy dead, do you really think she'll want you?"

Severus allowed his answer to be true. He hated Potter and anything that was of Potter enough for that.

"Does it matter?"

Voldemort's eyes widened. Then he threw back his head and laughed. Severus did not think he had ever heard mirth so devoid of delight. "Really, this could be amusing. After all I've asked of Bella, to name only one--well, I do owe her some entertainment. And I can guarantee that she would find you and Lily Potter entertaining." He eyed Severus, then added, "Or should I say Lily Evans? There will be no Potter about her then."

She would be alone, as in the old days on the shadowed river bank, when he had been the only wizard she had known.

"It is real, isn't it?"

"It's real for us. Not for her."

It's real for us. Not for anyone, anyone else.

"Lily Evans," Severus whispered, uncaging his longing for the Dark Lord to see.

Voldemort laughed at him softly. "You did bring me the prophecy. That's something. If she doesn't give me trouble, I'll consider it. Now go."