InsaneJournal

“Thank you for your time given and effort made in order to evaluate our situation,” said Dumbledore with a humble bow.

The centaur nodded, and crossed his arms. “Remember, it is not often that we disclose the secrets of the stars.”

“I know,” said Dumbledore, wearing a small smile full of bitter-sweetness. “I know. Thank you.”

And when they were out of earshot, Dumbledore put on a too-positive tone, or at least Snape thought it was too positive. “You see, Severus, it is our destiny.” He said it like he had a choice, Snape noticed with hidden aggravation. “Perhaps we should retire back to my office for a cup.”

Snape snarled silently, stunned when a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Severus. I am not a young man. My card will be called one way or another. This needs to be done.”

“No,” he said shortly. “No.”

“You cannot deny the words of the centaurs, Severus.”

“I can and will!” His voice raised, “You are taking too much for granted. Maybe,” he seethed, his voice sounding surprisingly normal however, “maybe I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“Severus.”

He tore the invading hand from his shoulder. “Headmaster,” he said in a challenging reply.

“Listen to me.”

“No, listen to me!” said Snape more quietly, obviously getting angrier. “There should be another way.” He spoke in a dead whisper now, and was speaking a bit quickly, almost frantic. “See, Headmaster, I promised only to carry through his task if I deemed it necessary.”

“Which it is.”

Snape surprised even himself, staring at Dumbledore’s bleeding, wrinkled cheek as he gripped the offending wand in his hand.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said firmly, a bit loudly even, as he gently collected a few drops of his own blood on his fingertips and pressed them to Snape’s angrily-trembling lip. “You made an agreement. That is that, so I suggest you move on with your life and leave it be.”

“You ungrateful bastard,” he hissed. He didn’t voice what Dumbledore knew, that going through with this plan may very well screw up the rest of his life, may cause him to die, to have no reason to continue beyond his practical use and so therefore he may end up hanging from the rafters in his ratty house, or out cold on the floor, rotting before anyone cared to look in on him, or even surrounded by a pool of red with pretty patterns carved into his arms.

“Now,” said Dumbledore, watching as the tongue lapped gently at his own blood, the eyes fit to burn pleading fires into the horizon beneath the blue sky of Dumbledore’s own, “you are going to explain how your investigation has been going.”

There was a slight tremble in the chin, though the words did not waver as they began to walk again and he said, “I have been watching. I have inquired as to what plans are, time and time again. And still I have found nothing.”

“And the necklace, you still have no confirmation?”

“No admittance, no. I wish the new darker influence in his life, since the breakout, was no longer around.”

“Don’t we all,” he said, silently voicing his own disgust with Bellatrix’s choices.

“Dumbledore,” he said, pausing. “Albus . . . .”

“What have I told you? It will be, for me, the next great adventure.”

“Very well,” he said coldly. “Then I shall see you in Hell.”

The man started to walk away, but Dumbledore tightened grip around his dark-clad shoulder. “Do not make me repeat myself,” he said sounding effectively annoyed. “You promised that you would! Do not deny it. That ‘darker influence’ and her sister,” he almost saw Snape flinch, “Stop hiding from the truth of it all! You promised!” This last word echoed a bit around the forest. The voice dropped again. “You knew what you were saying when you made the Vow.”

“Yes,” he said, sounding hoarse with hidden emotion.

“You will kill me, when he—”

“If.”

“—when he fails. Because you will, won’t you?”

There was no voiced answer, his shoulders slumped in submission, but his eyes still looked full of unvoiced objections. The old wrinkled hand unclenched, arm curving around the younger man’s body as he leaned in.

“You will do this for me.” The black eyes lost some of their resolve. “You love me and will do as I say. I love you and I give my life to give you a chance. You know all plans of deception in this matter are tricky at best. This I do for you, for Harry, for Draco and all like him, like you were.” He lowered his voice again, his blackened hand gently tracing Snape’s cheek. “But mostly for you.”

“I know,” he said, sounding choked.

“You’d do well not to forget that.”

“I know.” He leaned forward into the old man’s chest.

“Splendid.” His voice was decidedly neutral. “Now that’s settled, let’s get you to bed, shall we?” He pressed a gentle kiss to Snape’s temple.

“You’re just as damned as I am, you fool.”

“And yet it seems people still doubt it when I make claims to that effect. Come on.”

Snape followed, dragged inside by hands that should, surely, be less strong. Dumbledore tucked him into a bed—Dumbledore’s own bed, which had sheets that were not entirely free from still-wrapped, forgotten lemon drops.