Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish Severus Snape was mine... But, alas, earwax.

Author's Note: First off, be warned that, at just under 4500 words, this chapter is shorter than recent chapters. But, it's for a good reason! What's to come should have a chapter (or chapters) all its own. *nods* That being said, please don't have apoplexy that it ends where it does. *hides* Deepest gratitude goes out to ladyofthemasque for always taking time to beta my stuff, even when deadlines for her PAID, ORIGINAL work (which you can purchase!) loom, and to ladyinthecloak for responding to my late night pleas for feedback and boosting my confidence when I wibbled. *hugs both lovely ladies* And thank you to all of you who read and review and make me enjoy the hell out of this whole endeavour. *hugs and chocolate to everyone!* :)


Chapter 71- Confrontation

The whole of the following week saw students either beaming in pride and relief at having received good marks on their exams or wallowing in despair at having not done well at all. Rumour had it that there were actually a couple of people who had “T”s on at least one of their exams, but—as no one was really going to furnish proof of such a failure—the wide-eyed gossip-mongers could only speculate as to who they were and which exams they had failed so spectacularly.

Early Friday afternoon, Snape was in his quarters separating items that were his personally from those that belonged to the school, packing last minute things before the performance that night. He wanted to have everything ready just in case he had to make a precipitous departure. He was surprised to hear a knock on his door and went to answer it with a frown at being interrupted.

“What is—” he trailed off, brows rising in astonishment to see Dumbledore standing in the corridor.

There was a long moment of awkward silence, until Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, “Good afternoon, Severus. May I come in?”

Snape blinked, eyeing the older man warily. His voice was frosty as he uttered a clipped, “Very well.” Dumbledore crossed the threshold and Snape shut the door, watching his employer walk slowly to the dining table, soberly taking in the boxes and packing paper.

“Looks like you haven’t much left to pack.” He turned to look at Snape, who was still standing by the door.

Snape merely nodded. There was another pregnant pause. Dumbledore began strolling through the room, pausing to drag a finger over an empty bookshelf or run a hand over the mantel. Finally, Snape snapped, “What is it you want, Headmaster?”

Turning mournful eyes on Snape, he sighed. “I was hoping we might have a chat.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “A chat? About what?”

Dumbledore gazed at him for a beat, then said, “Why don’t we sit?” He gestured to the two chairs before the hearth.

Snape stood, frozen. His gut was roiling with the lingering fury at how poorly his old mentor had treated him, and his jaw clenched, holding back scores of acid things he could have said in response.

Dumbledore’s face fell and he murmured, “Severus… please.” He lifted imploring eyes to Snape, and Snape finally tossed his head in resignation.

As the older man sank into one chair, Snape stalked over to his chair and dropped into it, immediately propping his feet on the ottoman and steepling his fingers in his lap.

Dumbledore offered a faint smile and whispered, “Thank you.” He gazed at Snape’s stony expression, then turned to look at the packing boxes again. Still facing them, he said, “Must you leave?”

Snape’s eyes widened in incredulity and he sucked in a shocked breath. Drawing his feet back and slamming them on the floor as he leant forward in righteous indignation, he echoed, “Must I leave? Must I? You made that pretty clear, didn’t you?”

Dumbledore turned to face the incensed man, his expression wistful. “You don’t have to go. Think about how you’ll be missed…”

His voice was a snarl as Snape retorted, “Missed? No doubt you’ll miss having someone to order about and control, forced to do your bidding.” He paused, sucking in a deep breath. “No. I’m not your puppet any longer.”

Dumbledore grimaced and shook his head. “Severus, I never thought you were my puppet! On the contrary, I see you like a son. We’ve been through so much together; do you really want to throw all that away?”

Snape, too, shook his head slightly, amazed. “It was not I who threw our relationship away, sir. You really don’t get it, do you?” He shoved to his feet, looking down at the older man bitterly. “You keep trying to stop me from leaving, but not once have you apologized!”

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed and he testily snapped, “Apologize for what? For caring about you? For trying to guide you? For keeping your arse alive for all these years?”

Snape fell back a pace, as if slapped. His voice was hoarse as he rasped, “Alive? What kind of life have I had? I existed to do your bidding, and risked that existence repeatedly—on your orders! I deserve a life, Albus, and you had no right to sabotage my attempt at building one.”

Dumbledore huffed, shifting in his chair in irritation. Glaring up at Snape from under lowered brows, he said, “All right, I’m sorry about Slug and Jiggers.”

“Sorry you managed to force me out of here because of it, more like.”

At that, Dumbledore shot to his feet, closing in on Snape and grimacing. “Dammit, Severus, I’ll miss you!” He paused and they glared at each other until Dumbledore averted his gaze, rolling his eyes and passing a hand over his brow. His eyes were shaded by his hand as he mumbled, “I’ve grown rather fond of you over the years.”

Snape swallowed, the tiny pang of warmth at hearing that admission submerged under the cold disdain for the man’s manipulative ways. His whisper was icy as he said, “Until a few months ago, nothing could have pleased me more than to be told I was loved… by you, Albus. But now, it’s all just words. Actions speak louder than words, old friend, and yours have proven how little you truly love me.” He gave a harsh bark of humourless laughter. “The funny thing is, though, that now that you see fit to claim such regard for me, I no longer need it. I have friends now, Albus. Real friends who really care for me—“

He was interrupted by Dumbledore bursting forth with, “I am your friend, Severus! I do care for you!” His hand dropped and his expression was pained.

Snape locked gazes with him, seeing that the old man’s eyes were bright with moisture, not twinkling. A flash of hot shame washed over him at hurting his old friend, but he firmed his resolve and shoved that unwieldy emotion away, behind the simmering anger that was always there whenever Dumbledore was, of late.

After a long moment of charged silence, Snape murmured, “Then prove it.”

Dumbledore blinked in dismay. His voice was nearly a wail as he said, “How?”

Snape tossed his head, his expression once again stony. “That’s up to you to figure out. Platitudes are meaningless.”

Dumbledore’s head drooped and his shoulders sagged in defeat. Slanting another mournful look up at Snape, he turned to shuffle toward the door. Once there, he paused and spun, saying, “I shall see you at the Feast.”

Snape nodded sharply and Dumbledore left, softly shutting the door behind him.

***** *****

All day long, everyone was in high spirits, bustling around, packing, and discussing plans for the holiday. The seventh-years were alternately more boisterous—having finally finished school—and more subdued—having to finally head out into the real world as adults. Hermione was one of the minority who had her next steps lined up, as most were still in the limbo of waiting to hear back from applications now that their N.E.W.T. marks were in.

That evening, the whole of the castle’s inhabitants filed down to the Great Hall for the Leaving Feast, raucous and cheerful. The cast, however, was even more excited than the rest of the student body, as they were looking forward to their final performance.

The food was delicious as always, and when the puddings appeared, Dumbledore stood, drawing every eye.

“Do feel free to continue enjoying your dinners. I merely wish to make a few announcements.” He paused, waiting for the buzz of conversation to die out. “Don’t forget: when our meal is over, the Ministry will be here for our trophy presentation, after which we will be adjourning to the corridor while I get the Hall ready for the final performance of scenes from the play that made Hogwarts the winner of the inaugural Tri-wizard Musical Competition.” He beamed about the Hall at the scattered cast members. “Those of you who will be returning next year will have another chance to partake of the fun of performing, as Fine Arts will be added to the curriculum. And, those programmes will be developed by none other than our very own Miss Hermione Granger!”

Down at the Gryffindor table, Hermione choked on her éclair, Dumbledore’s announcement taking her completely by surprise. Ron grinned as he helpfully pounded her on the back while applause rose around them. Her friends were beaming at her, and McGonagall was clapping with fierce pride at the High Table.

Hermione managed to clear her airway and nodded at the applause, waving limply as she tried to smile, even though she knew she was bright red.

Dumbledore continued, “Miss Granger has been chosen to spearhead the new Department of the Arts at the Ministry and will be working closely with the Department of International Magic Relations and the Department of Magic/Muggle Relations to determine what will be taught and how future competitions will be constructed and judged. I would like to take this opportunity to thank Miss Granger for her invaluable help in leading Hogwarts to victory this year and congratulate her on her success.” He bowed toward her, and she nodded again, blushing even more.

As the applause faded, Dumbledore went on. “I must thank someone else, however, for going above and beyond the call of duty to lead us to excellence, setting an example to which we all could aspire.” He paused, looking down for a moment before saying, “It is no secret that Hogwarts will not be the same without him, as he is retiring from teaching to pursue other prospects.” At that, a murmur rippled through the Hall as people caught on to what he was saying.

Snape gripped his spoon tightly, staring hard at Dumbledore from his seat at the headmaster’s side.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, “As you well know, not only has Hogwarts benefitted from his dedication, but so has the wizarding community. I would therefore like to thank none other than Severus Snape for his tireless work to make this school, and this world, a better place.” He turned to Snape and proffered his hand, gazing wistfully down at the stunned Potions Master.

Snape was too shocked by Dumbledore’s stunt to notice right away that at least half the student body had not only begun applauding but had got to their feet. Snape glanced from Dumbledore’s sad eyes to those cheering him and felt a jolt that brought a lump to his throat as he stood. Eyeing the older man in disbelief, Snape realized he’d have to shake hands with him, lest he invite curiosity about why he wouldn’t.

Snape gripped Dumbledore’s hand briefly, but when he made to let go, Dumbledore held onto him with surprising strength. Snape’s eyes bored into Dumbledore’s, and he could tell by the man’s faint smile that he thought it was enough to bury the hatchet. But that hatchet’s been buried square in my back, and more pretty words—no matter how public they are—won’t undo what you did.

Snape tugged his hand free and turned to nod graciously to the crowd still applauding, taking note of Dumbledore’s disappointed expression as he did so. He lifted his hands and flashed a smile to quell them. When the noise abated, he merely said, “Thank you,” and bowed before taking his seat again.

Dumbledore turned back to the students and said, “Very well then. Enjoy the rest of the Feast. The Ministry should be here soon.”

Snape, trying to recover from the unexpected attention, shook his hair forward and focused on brewing tea with honey and lemon, hoping that the ritual would soothe him before they had to perform.

Down at the Gryffindor table, Hermione was accepting congratulations from her House-mates who had not already known about her new position. She, too, still felt rather stunned that Dumbledore had made such a production over it, and when she looked up to see Snape with the tea service, she sucked in a breath of recognition, hastening to make a cup of her own.

When Snape took his first sip, he looked over the rim of his cup and saw Hermione almost finished brewing her tea. He smiled, the warmth of the tea travelling down his throat mixing with the warmth of their love suffusing his chest.

Fortunately, the Ministry officials arrived not long after Dumbledore’s announcements, ushered in by Filch, wearing his mouldy tailcoat in honour of the occasion. They joined Dumbledore on the dais before the High Table, and one of them opened a large case and withdrew the trophy, placing it on the centre of the long High Table, in front of the headmaster’s place. Another official carried a bulging bag which looked very heavy.

A muted buzz swept through the Hall as everyone exchanged furtive murmurs and whispers about the bag, faces alight with curiosity. When everything was situated, Dumbledore clapped once and a hush fell over the assembled.

“I would like you to give a Hogwarts welcome to Mr. Allery Tilworth, who is here on behalf of the Ministry’s new Department of the Arts.”

As everyone applauded politely, Hermione beamed, whispering to her mates, “He’s the one in charge of my department for now. A really nice fellow!”

Tilworth nodded graciously, smiling as he surveyed the crowd. When his gaze fell on Hermione, he blinked in recognition and his smile widened. He gave her an extra nod of greeting as she rippled her fingers at him. When the applause died down, he said, “Thank you all for such a lovely welcome. It is my honour to be here tonight to celebrate your success. Before we present your winnings, may I invite the cast that made this all possible to join me up here?” He looked to Dumbledore, who spread his hands and nodded, allowing Tilworth to beckon the cast forward.

Exchanging delighted smiles, the students rose from their tables to join Trelawney, McGonagall, and Snape in a line along either side of the Ministry officials and Dumbledore. The rest of the school clapped politely as they made their way up, stopping when Tilworth clasped his hands and beamed around at them.

“As was dictated at the beginning of this competition, the winner receives a trophy—“ and he spun, gesturing for one official to lift the trophy and brandish it, presenting it to the school at large, “—and a prize of 5000 Galleons, for use in building the new curriculum!”

The trophy was bright gold, with an engraved base and a sleek barrel leading up to what looked like two masks side by side. One had eyes and mouth cut out in the shape of a laughing face, and the other in the shape of a crying one. The happy one was enamelled in white, and the sad one in black.

The official set the trophy back on the table and Tilworth gestured at the bag. The other official lifted the heavy bag, opening it enough to show the glint of Galleons within. A brief cheer rose from the students, but subsided quickly at Tilworth’s wave.

Gesturing at the trophy, Tilworth added, “These are the traditional masks of comedy and tragedy, harkening back to the plays of Ancient Greece, and a recognized symbol for theatre worldwide.” He paused and beamed at the students again. “On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I would like to congratulate Hogwarts on so brilliantly heralding the dawn of a new era in wizarding education!”

He bowed deeply to the cast on either side of him and then to the student body at large before edging back and gesturing for Dumbledore to take over again.

Dumbledore lifted his hands to quell the cheering, his smile wide. “Thank you, Mr. Tilworth. We are pleased to have been able to participate in such a worthwhile endeavour.” He shook hands with each official, then turned to face the Hall again, beaming. “Now, I must ask all of you to vacate the Hall for a short while. I will call for you when it is time to come back in.”

A rush of noise punctuated his statement as benches scraped and robes rustled. The cacophony of excited conversations faded as the Hall emptied, leaving the cast to trail after everyone else. The Entrance Hall soon was full of chattering students and staff, the cast staying close to the now closed doors. Snape sidled up to Hermione and said, “Miss Granger, one last time…”

Hermione smirked up at Snape and said, “Of course, Professor.” She glanced back at her mates and said, “Back in a bit.” They all nodded and smiled at Snape in greeting before he and Hermione Disapparated.

Arriving in Snape’s quarters, Hermione voiced a startled cry, gazing about at the bare shelves and remaining boxes. She stood rooted to the spot while Snape retrieved the hair products from the bathroom and sat down.

Eyeing her with concern, Snape said, “Hermione? Are you all right?”

Hermione’s eyes had gone glassy and her chin trembled. Blinking rapidly, she looked at Snape and croaked, “It really is all coming to an end. Everything is going to change now, isn’t it?”

Snape shot to his feet and rushed to embrace her as the first tear fell from her lashes. Stroking her hair, he said, “Shhh, it’s all right. There’s nothing to cry about, love.”

Hermione sucked in a shuddering breath and forced herself to back out of his arms. Dashing the tears from her eyes, she swallowed and said, “You’re right, of course. I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s silly, really.” She sniffed deeply and gestured for them to cross to the chair.

Snape watched her, brow creased with worry, as she took her place behind him and wiped her face. As she gently turned his face forward, he said, “Hermione, are you not looking forward to the future?”

“Oh, no! I am! It’s just—it all sort of hit me at once, and I just remembered all the lovely moments here, and… I’m going to miss it.”

Snape grunted in agreement. “Are you all packed for tomorrow?”

“Yes. I just have the last few things I’ll need for tonight and tomorrow morning out, but they’re easy to pack away when I’m done. It looks like you’ve only got a little bit left here. Have you already moved everything else to Spinner’s End?”

“Yes. Other than what you see here, I’ve only a few important things in my bedroom to move.” He paused, a thrill racing through him at the thought of the ring still secreted in the pocket of his trench coat.

Hermione smiled. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with the place, now that everything’s been delivered. It’s so exciting!”

Snape’s hand snapped up to stop her ministrations, and he twisted to face her, gazing soberly into her surprised eyes. “Hermione, I need to clear something up.” She blinked curiously at him. Licking his lips, he said, “To where will you be going tomorrow when you leave the castle?”

Hermione froze, eyes wide. Swallowing, she took a deep breath and said, “Well, uh… I had originally planned on going home to my parents, but…” She paused, staring into Snape’s carefully neutral face. “…when I think of home now, I think of you.” Her expression melted into a tender smile. “You said Spinner’s End was my home—our home—if I wanted it.”

Snape’s stalled heart began beating again and he sucked in a deep breath of relief. Lurching to his feet and turning completely around in the chair, he framed her face in his hands and kissed her, joy on his lips. When he broke away, he pressed his forehead against hers and whispered, “It is. Our home. Our future. My love.” He kissed her once more before pulling back and spinning to sit in the chair again.

Hermione beamed as she finished his hair. When she was done, she tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Come, Phantom, we have one final performance to give.”

Snape stood and smiled at her. Eyes burning with love and desire, he murmured, “One moment,” and disappeared into the bathroom.

Firmly shutting the bathroom door behind him, he dashed into his bedroom and fished the ring from his trench coat pocket, tucking it into the pocket of his robes with an exultant grin. Pausing to glance at his reflection on his way back through the bathroom, he saw the suppressed excitement glowing in his eyes and smirked. Everything is going to change now, indeed. You have no idea how much.

Emerging from the bathroom, he found Hermione standing by the open packing box. She looked up immediately as he strode over to her and offered his arm, Summoning his mask. “Shall we, my dear?”

Hermione threaded her arm through his and smiled up at him, saying, “Yes, let’s.”

They arrived in the corridor to see that the cast had already entered, leaving the rest of the school waiting. Exchanging a sheepish look, they hurried to enter as well, bustling down the aisle to join the rest of the cast onstage.

Dumbledore nodded at them as they arrived and said, “There you are. Very well then. Everyone take your places backstage while I open the doors. The Ministry officials will be front and centre, and everyone else will fill in around them. Now then, just as we’ve done so many times over… Places!” The cast melted into the wings, casting their costume spells as they went, and Dumbledore retreated to the doors to let everyone enter.

The curtain was closed in front of the Phantom’s Lair, and Snape and Hermione moved to their spots centre stage in front of the boat where Snape would begin his song. While they waited, listening to the noise of the audience taking their seats, Snape slipped his hand into the pocket of his costume trousers, checking that the ring was secure. Exhaling slowly to calm his jolt of excitement, he allowed a tiny smirk to quirk his lips.

Beyond the curtain, they heard the noise ebb, followed by Dumbledore saying, “Thank you all for your attention. We are pleased to present the following scenes to you tonight, in celebration of Hogwarts’ win. First will be Music of the Night in the Phantom’s Lair, then we have the Masquerade, and finally we will be taken to the Point of No Return.” During his pause, they heard a faint rumble of chuckles at his words. “Now, with no further ado, let us listen to the Music of the Night.”

Onstage and in the house, lights went out. They heard the curtain opening, and then the lights came up again, ushering in the music. Snape began, “I have brought you to the seat of sweet music’s throne…”

Hermione reflected that she would definitely want to introduce Snape to more songs so he might sing for her in private. Considering that she had naught to do but listen and react in the entire scene, she enjoyed it immensely, even when she pretended to faint, as she then had the opportunity to feel Snape’s strong arms lifting her and carrying her to the boat before tenderly caressing her hair from her face.

As his final note died away, the lights went out and the curtain closed, and Snape gripped Hermione’s hand, deftly pulling her to her feet so they could rush offstage while Dumbledore changed the sets for the Masquerade. In the wing, they both hurriedly changed costumes.

When the set was ready, everyone raced to their places. The music began and the curtain opened again on the opulent staircase and dazzling costumes for the Masquerade. The cast launched into their song and dance with great gusto, clearly enjoying it for all it was worth. Then, when Snape appeared, startling in red and emerging from a cloud of smoke, their collective gasp of horror and shock collapsed the ebullient mood at once, leaving the tension at Snape’s menacing approach to weight the very air.

Snape yanked the chain from Hermione’s neck and broke into maniacal laughter as he disappeared in another cloud of smoke, leaving the rest of the cast to flee in fright as they were plunged into darkness once again, the curtain swooping closed.

As Dumbledore set the stage for the Point of No Return, Snape was seized with another flash of nervous energy, and he had to swallow hard, taking deep breaths and gripping his hands into fists to still the anticipatory tremors that had overtaken him.

The rest of the cast took their places on the new set, and the curtain opened as the lights came up on this final scene, the music swelling as they sang. Snape changed his costume for the last time, hiding his heated cheeks within the hood before Apparating into the bed alcove by Draco.

Patting his pocket, he emerged onstage to perform the sensual duet with Hermione, his love. A recklessness possessed him, and his caresses and touches were more intimate and sincere than they had ever allowed before, in the name of propriety and secrecy. He could see and feel Hermione’s surprise and delight at his abandon, and everything else seemed to fade into unimportance as they came to the end of the duet.

As he began singing, “Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime…” he fished the ring from his pocket and dropped to one knee, gazing up at Hermione. She didn’t notice anything different until he reached up and pushed his hood back himself, wordlessly ending his glamour as he continued, “Lead me, save me from my solitude…”

At that, Hermione blinked, confused at his change in business and wondering why he had ended his glamour. She looked down at the ring he was sliding onto her finger and her eyes went wide. That’s not the same ring!

Snape was still singing, “Say you want me with you, here beside you…” He pushed his mask off, revealing his face, eyes burning as he watched her. “Anywhere you go let me go too—“

All breath left her body at once, leaving her feeling dizzy as an inkling came crashing down on her. She lifted her stunned gaze to Snape’s, his expression a mixture of exultation, triumph, apprehension, and determination. Her inkling blossomed into full-fledged realization at the next words out of his mouth.

“Hermione, that’s all I ask of you.”

A ringing silence fell, shock, bewilderment, and disbelief robbing everyone of coherent reaction. Hermione stood, frozen, wide eyes staring desperately into Snape’s, searching for an anchor to grasp within her sea of confusion.

The deafening quiet gave way to a susurrus of furtive whispers, and Hermione blinked, reeling back to herself as she heard the noise and felt Snape squeeze her fingers still clasped in his.

Looking back down at the ring, she saw the gleam of fire in the heart of the stone, brought to brilliance under the stage lights. A rush of heat washed over her as the full weight of its significance settled in her numb brain. With it came the prickle of tears and a lump rising in her throat. On the heels of that consciousness, she felt the ring shifting, shrinking to her finger and giving a pleasantly warm, snug sensation.

Snape watched the play of emotion on her face—and the tears welling up—with his heart in his throat. He had been so sure, but now… She hadn’t said anything, and she was about to cry… His racing heart skipped a beat and his gut clenched. What do I do now? Then he glanced back at the ring he had placed on her finger and saw it move. His stuttering heart felt about to burst from his chest in triumph, and relief swept over him, leaving him trembling.

Hermione lifted her gaze back to Snape’s and said, “Severus…”

The raw emotion in her voice cleared up any lingering doubt anyone may have had about what exactly was transpiring onstage. The resulting gasp sounded like a hurricane with the magnitude of hundreds of throats reacting at once.

Tears spilled onto her cheeks as Hermione smiled joyfully at Snape, and Snape’s expression altered to one so beatific that the majority of the gaping crowd were stunned anew at the transformation.

It was only when their tableau was broken by Snape lifting Hermione’s ring-clad hand to his lips for a reverent kiss that the transfixed spectators were able to react, and a tide of voices rose around them.

The sudden tumult snapped the lovers from their connection. Snape shot to his feet, pulling Hermione into a protective embrace as people emerged from the wings and climbed onto the stage from all directions, clamouring for explanations and exclaiming in outrage. Hermione clutched at him, and when her squeak of fear reached his ears, he held tight and Disapparated.