My Secret Shadows

《Chapter 20》

Snape's POV:

My fingers curled into fists as my breath fogged the glass of Greenhouse number 3. Lillian was kissing Kaimyth. I watched in revulsion as she buried her fingers in Kaimyth's hair and he returned her kiss. I felt the urge to harm something. Anyone. Anything.

I had thought, for the merest instant and perhaps a blink in time, that Lillian had cared for me.

It was all a carefully crafted lie.

She, Lillian Grindelwald, was guilty of  seeing Kaimyth behind my back. How could I have been so stupid? I was too distracted by her flaming hair and mystical gaze that I missed the obvious. My ideas of her affections were, as I could see, convoluted. I turned away in disgust and made my way back to my office.

The familiar gritty, earthy smell of the dungeon walls did little to soothe my agitated conscience. I didn't feel in the mood to organize my potion ingredients or brew any elixirs. I picked up a spellbook a lazy student had left behind and hurled it at the wall. Leather and parchment hit stone with a satisfying Thwap!

I was seething. My insides churned with hidden rage as I cleared my desk with a sweep of my arm. Vials and bottles shattered into a million glass fragments. Lillian Grindalwald had tantilized my senses far too long for my liking.

My chest heaved as I tore a black curtain away from a portrait. Dust churned up in a cloud as the fabric slipped to the ground.

The portrait of Lilly Evans smiled down at me, her green eyes sparkling with laughter. "Reparo." A concerned voice rang from the open dungeon door. I fixed my steely gaze towards the intruder and reached for my wand on instinct.

"You seem to be in a bit of a mood." Dumbledore commented, his purple robe dragging as he glided towards me. The vials and bottles he had repaired were lined neatly back on my desk.

I didn't answer. My chest was still heaving and a tendon in my neck twitched. Why was it always me? Why did I always end up broken and alone? Why did my romantic endeavors always end in torment? I slammed my fists onto the edge of the portrait.

I stood quietly for a moment, then felt a solid hand on my shoulder. Dumbledore's voice was grave. "I know you have something you wish to discuss. As do I. However, I feel it would be best to discuss our dealings in a more private setting. I will be in my office when you are ready."

Dumbledore paused and looked up at Lilly Evans. His beard twitched. "She was a noble woman, and she did care for you. I do not think she would be very proud of how you are acting."

I straightened and raked a hand through my jet black hair. "Who are you to judge me, the Half-Blood Prince? You do not know pain."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something more, but I regarded him with a look that could freeze a human heart. He nodded briskly and whistled a tune on his way out of the dungeon. I hissed and rubbed my swollen knuckles. Dumbledore was right about one thing; banging on a dusty portrait wasn't going to get me anywhere.

I caressed the edge of the picture and Lilly Evans blew me a kiss. I flinched as if she'd thrown a stunning spell. With a frustrated growl, I gathered up the thick black cloth and carefully, almost lovingly, tucked it back around the frame.

Time could heal wounds, but my scars could still fester.

My breathing slowed as I pointed my wand at my bruised knuckles and muttered, "Episkey." My hands became smooth and blemish-free again. I cast one last glance at the covered portrait.
There was no denying Lilly Evans was a noble woman, but she was dead to me. Literally and figuratively.

I scoffed and exited the dungeon with a dramatic flourish of my cloak.

The normally bustling halls of Hogwarts were barren as it was past curfew. I purposefully strode straight to the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. It leered at me and leapt aside as I spat the password.

Dumbledore liked to spontaneously change his password each week, and today the password was, "Bubbles."  He claimed you could not help but feel happy when you said the word "Bubbles."

Clearly he was not referring to me. The silly word did nothing to lighten my mood. 

Dumbledore was waiting in his velvet chair, pouring himself a cup of tea. "Severus, I am concerned about you." He stirred three lumps of sugar into his cup. "I know you have taken the Unbreakable Vow for Draco. Indeed, not much goes on at Hogwarts without my knowledge."

I folded my arms and drawled, "Good for you. Now, are you going to waste more of my time, or are you going to tell me something of importance?"

Dumbledore removed his starry Wizard's hat and sipped his tea. "I know Draco is a good boy." As an afterthought Dumbledore added, "Deep, deep down. Therefore, I can assume when the time comes to kill me face-to-face, he will falter. Draco has already made three failed attempts at my death."

I regarded Dumbledore cooly. "Was it not I who suggested you triple counter curse security measures? You don't seem to want to prevent the boy from performing your death orders." Dumbledore finnished his tea. "True. I find the dead often enjoy more peace than the living. This is where you come in Severus. I want you to be the one to kill me."

I stared incredulously at the Head of Hogwarts. "You want me to kill you....?"

Dumbledore calmy removed a silk glove from his left hand. The flesh was charred and black. Tendons were red and raw and visible under the charred tissue. I inhaled sharply. "The Arida Mortem Curse."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Yes. Quite painful, I'm afraid. It was a consequence of my actions. I was tempted by this." He placed a seemingly ordinary ring onto his desk.

"The ring of Marvolo Gaunt. Marvolo was a very nasty relative of Voldemort. I was very sorely tempted to try this ring on, and I gave in." He continued speaking, his voice softer. "All choices have consequences. How long do I have left to live?" I examined the wounded and gnarled hand with an expert eye.

"You were fortunate. I can slow the spreading of the Curse, but death is inevitable within a year."

Dumbledore serenely poured himself his second cup of tea as if his limited life expectancy was normal. "Excellent. Watch Draco closely this week, as I fear he will attempt my death soon. I would rather gamble with a Forbidden Curse's quick death than this slow and painful Arida Mortem Curse."

I sneered. "You would trust your fate in the hands of another?"

Dumbledore peered at me curiously from behind his half-moon glasses. "Do you know Professor Lillian Grindelwald holds the fate of everyone in her capable hands?" My sneer widened and I paced to the large window opposite Dumbledore's desk. The moon was a mere sliver now, soon to be a new moon. "Severus." Dumbledore's tone was a warning.

"Do not tell me you've grown to care for the girl. She could be a Savior or a Terror for Hogwarts. She must be watched-" I called over my shoulder sharply and cut him off. "Lillian Grindelwald should not be sacrificed in your grand scheme of the greater good. Do not presume she is like Harry Potter, a disposable pawn dying to prove herself."

An amused chuckle was my answer. "I will do what I believe is best for Hogwarts. Now, I ask again. Have you grown to care for Lillian Grindelwald?" I clenched my jaw and returned my gaze to the window. My cloak stirred around me like a shroud. How to answer the very question that plagued my thoughts?

My lips were still curved in a sneer, but my eyes were pools of passionate sorrow. They reflected exquisite pain as I spoke my answer.

"I cannot deny it."