chiraldream (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lesyeuxverts) wrote2008-09-21 09:48 pm
lesyeuxverts) wrote2008-09-21 09:48 pm
Entry tags:
False Penance
Title: False Penance
Author: lesyeuxverts
Beta:![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-userinfo.gif)
who_la_hoop, angela_snape, and researchgirl
Word Count: 3700ish
Rating: R
Pairing: Draco/Blaise, very brief mention of Draco/Astoria
Warnings: AU, dystopia
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Originally written for![[insanejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/ij-community.gif)
hp_traditions, until I realized that it didn't exactly fit the prompt that I was given! Thanks to the slashchat girls for reminding me that I'd written it, and thanks to eeyore9990 for the title!
Severus Snape was no fool – he knew when one of the boys was lying to him. Compline had sealed off the day, and the lie hung on, heavy into the night. It fitted and twisted with the other lies that shrouded the castle, all of the lies that hid their world. Severus paced his cell as darkness closed tight around him.
Click, click, click - with every step he took, the beads of his rosary brushed against the smooth wood of his wand. The noise was not loud enough to escape through the thick walls. The clicking of his rosary, the sound of his footsteps, the whisper of his breath – Severus heard nothing more. He settled himself into the silence and waited for morning.
Draco Malfoy had lied to him, and Severus would have an explanation for it.
Severus sat in the confessional, his bones aching. He had knelt before Dumbledore and before Voldemort. He had done wrong, but he bore the weight of it himself.
"You can tell me anything."
"I've done nothing wrong." Draco rose without waiting to be absolved, and Severus heard his footsteps as he left, his shoes scuffing against the flagstones.
It meant nothing, but he said the words. "Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat; et ego auctoritate ipsius te absolvo ab omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti in quantum possum et tu indiges."
Draco had lied to him, had betrayed his trust, and the words meant nothing. Words meant nothing in this world.
Severus had seen it – the resurrection of the Dark Lord from the dead, the body rising out of the cauldron, a grotesque stitched together piecemeal. Bone of the father, flesh of the servant, blood of the enemy, and for all that – Voldemort was nothing more than a skeleton when he rose, bloodless and heartless and soulless. There was nothing that Severus could have done to stop it.
After the Dark Lord, there had been others. Body after body pried from the ground and reanimated, a parody of resurrection and a mockery of life. Wizards and witches with their mouths gaping and their eyes blank, they'd come after their loved ones. They'd wreaked havoc on the world, and the Muggles had seen them.
****
The boys met in the gardens after Vespers, and Severus followed them there, slipping away from the last of the service when they slipped out of the church. They fancied it a secret, but Severus knew – he had made his way into the deepest part of the labyrinth and hidden there.
He had found refuge there when it mattered most. Hogwarts had glowed, its shadows as red as embers, visible through the thickets and trees, and Severus's mind had been on anything but prayer. There was nothing that he could have done differently – he had followed Dumbledore's orders, and that was the end of it.
There were many entrances to the labyrinth, and all of the paths led to the center. It hadn't always been so – it had been the Quidditch Pitch once, not this maze overshadowed by the half-disguised castle, half-real monastery. Hogwarts had been grand, once, and nothing now could restore it to its glory. Nothing could undo that night.
Severus paused at the edge of the labyrinth, just outside the high hedges. The hem of his robe swished in the dust as he stopped, and he bowed his head. He sent out a tendril of magic, not enough to be noticed, and he stifled it as soon as he found the boys.
It was the lilac entrance, this time. Severus ducked under the drooping flowers, keeping clear of them and their thick, heavy smell. He followed the boys through the maze, keeping to the shadows and keeping his silence.
Hiding place after hiding place, cul de sacs and traps, he knew the secrets of the maze. He'd learnt these steps by heart.
Draco pushed Blaise into the hedge, fingers clenched on his shoulders. Their faces were close enough for a kiss. Swoops of tangling vines came down, swinging close to Blaise's face – honeysuckle entwined with Venomous Tentacula, flowers and stranglers threatening him. Severus reached for his wand just as Draco brushed the vines away.
Monsters had roamed in this maze, brought to life by the chaos and the battle. Potter had died on the tower, his body falling to the ground – Severus had not been in time to save him. Voldemort had risen from the ashes of his father's grave, had flaunted his power in front of the Muggles, and Severus had done nothing to stop him. He'd followed Dumbledore's orders, he'd done the Dark Lord's bidding, and this was the world that had been wrought from it. Honeysuckle twined with venom, hidden in the maze – far from prying eyes, kept secret from the Muggles, kept safe by their charade.
The words came easily to Severus now, the rosary beads smooth and worn under his fingers. "Ave María, grátia plena, Dóminus tecum..."
He found no solace in it.
He watched Draco pluck a bloom from the honeysuckle vine and brush it against Blaise's lips, offering him the single drop of nectar before leaning in for a kiss. He watched them as the shadows around Hogwarts lengthened – the night grew colder, and Severus could use no magic to ward or warm himself, but he stayed to watch over the two boys.
****
There were three of them, in the end. The rain had washed away the fire, and Hogwarts stood like a ruin, a smoking black hulk that crouched over the scar that split the world in two. Dumbledore had raised his arms, his ruined hand lifted to the sky, and had sealed them off from the world with a clap of thunder – Voldemort had fled, leaving Potter's body in the mud. Rain had washed the dirt from his face, leaving it bloodless and pale, and Severus had seen him lying there, wreathed with ghosts. His mother and father, shimmering and silver, had come to take Harry away.
Fire had followed him, making Hogwarts into his funeral pyre.
"Sicut erat in princípio, et nunc, et semper, et in sæcula sæculórum."
The world had ended, their magic washed away that night with battle and blood, and it was covered with a façade of sin and prayer. No one noticed a monastery, no Muggles thought to look for wizards and witches here. The world burned around them, fear and hatred mounting as the Dark Lord continued his reign of terror, killing Muggle after Muggle. They killed wizards in return – the Muggles killed anyone they could catch.
Hogwarts was safe in its web of lies.
There were three of them in the garden now, tracing the maze to its center, Draco and Blaise and their shadow. Astoria Greengrass had been sent to Hogwarts for safety when her family was killed in the witch hunts. She snuck out of the nunnery every night after Compline, and flirted with Draco in the labyrinth.
Severus couldn't move from his hiding place in the labyrinth – he couldn't be seen by any of them. There was no telling if they were the Dark Lord's eyes and ears – there was no telling if they reported back to him. Severus pulled the cowl closer around his face, pressing himself back into the darkness until the thorns in the thicket pricked through his robe, scraping down the length of his back.
Draco had lied to Severus when he last made confession, and he lied still. His letters to his father, full of Astoria's praises – his lip service to Dumbledore and the secrecy that kept them hidden here – his prayers and genuflections before the altar, they were all lies. Severus had seen the truth, forbidden letters smuggled out of Hogwarts on silent owl wings, forbidden spells practiced in the cloisters, forbidden love in the labyrinth.
Even now, Draco turned from Astoria and kissed Blaise on the lips.
****
The chapel was cold, and Severus knelt at Albus's feet. The cold seeped through his robes and through his body, creeping up his spine until he shivered.
"There's nothing that you could have done differently," Albus said. He'd told Severus time and again that it wasn't his fault.
The light cracked as it came through the glass windows, falling in splintered rose patterns on the floor. There were flecks of red and gold and green on the gray flagstones, and they were no match for the beauty of the Great Hall as it had been. The charmed ceiling was gone, and the rose window was not enough to replace the magic that had been there, once.
Dumbledore wore his biretta like a wizard's hat, slightly askew. The purple silk caught the twinkling lights that came through the stained glass, and held each ray's reflection. He put a hand – his good hand, firm and strong – on Severus's shoulder and rose to leave, beckoning for Severus to follow him.
They walked out into the garden, past the pond full of frogs and past the climbing, twisting roses that ran up the iron lattice of the front gate. Albus stopped in the shadow of the castle, and it flickered – the spire of the monastery came in and out of focus, the shadow of Hogwarts coming through the illusion. The shadow of the cross fell over Dumbledore's face, and he raised a hand to touch his biretta, adjusting it until it was straight and proud on his head.
"We have more visitors this week," he said. "Potential students are coming to see the school, their families with them. Brother Filch will take care of their room and board, Severus, but I hope that you will be their guide while they are here."
Severus bowed his head. "Your Grace."
Pulling him away from the gates, Albus brought him up to the wall of the monastery and came close, whispering in his ear. "Persevere, Severus. The wards will keep us safe for now, and if we bide our time, we'll gather our forces and strike back at Voldemort. Have patience and faith."
They were reduced to whispering in the castle that had been their home – they were reduced to hiding among the Muggles, they had no way to fight against the Dark Lord. There was no reason or faith in the world. Severus shook his head and pulled away from Dumbledore, ducking away from the long shadows of the church. "Yes, Your Grace."
****
After the rain had drenched the fire and washed away the char, Dumbledore had rebuilt Hogwarts in its own image. Stone was piled on top of stone, the ghosts and dust of centuries returned to their rightful places, and the weight of the wards covered it all.
It was overlaid with illusion and shadows before a month had passed. The last spell that Dumbledore cast, the last major magic that any of them did, it was nothing better than a lie.
Rough cloth wore on Severus's skin, abrading his elbows and his knees. He pushed back the cowl of his robe and scowled at Draco. Passing students fled, their heads ducked as the bells rang out, deep and brassy tones filling the air.
"There is nothing that can be done about it," Severus said, guiding Draco out into the gardens. They went to the heart of the labyrinth and stood in the sunlight there – it soaked through Severus's coarse robes, it sank into his bones. He had not felt warm since the burning of Hogwarts.
When he was sure that they were alone, he turned away from Draco. "Listen to me," he said. "Right now, there's nothing that can be done. To be caught is to be killed, and the Muggles will not be impressed by your bloodlines or your family's money, do you understand? It is best that we stay in hiding now."
"You don't –"
"Enough." Severus pushed his way past Draco, heading for the maze. The quiet space at the center of the labyrinth was not for him – he had other duties. "Do not question me on this, Draco. If Potter had lived to complete the prophecy, the world would be a different place, but he died and this is the world that we must live in. Your petty rebellion will do you no good."
Nothing had ever been said. Severus knew that Draco had failed and succeeded, that he had faced Dumbledore on the top of the tower and both of them had emerged from it alive. No mention of it ever crossed Draco's lips, not when he spoke to Snape and not when he made his confessions. Albus never spoke of it, and Severus knew better than to ask.
The dust scuffed up into tiny clouds under his feet, and the pebbles ground under his soles as Severus shifted his weight from foot to foot. He knew when one of the boys was lying to him, and he knew that Draco had not told him the truth.
"Your parents expect you to marry Astoria, produce heirs, and make a contribution to the war effort."
"They expect me to contribute my heirs to the war effort, more likely." Shoulders hunched, Draco didn't meet Severus's gaze. He broke a thorn off one of the branches and used it to trace the lines in the palm of his hand. All lines met in the center.
"They expect you to be less than a fool, Draco. Being caught and killed by the Muggles for the sake of a bauble from Hogsmeade or a fling with Zabini –"
Draco flicked the thorn off his palm, sending it arcing through the air. It landed in the dust at Severus's feet. He left the labyrinth without saying another word, and the thorn stayed on the ground, dusty and blunted.
Neither thorns nor words did any good, magic was beyond his use, and there was nothing that Severus could do – but he would have the truth from Draco.
****
Severus found Draco in the last magical room in the castle. There was a crucifix nailed over the door, and yet when Severus ducked his head to go through the doorway, it was like stepping back into Hogwarts. Magic sparkled and sang in the room, real and pure. Phantom figures floated in the air around Draco, visions of his parents, friends and childhood toys – Blaise was there, and Astoria. Draco touched them both before the phantoms disappeared.
He didn't look up at Severus's approach. "I wanted to be alone."
Chimes rang out through the room with Severus's every step, like the bells that rang to call them to chapel, and Severus stood still behind Draco. The last vision disappeared with a faint pop, and the room was silent.
Severus put a hand on Draco's shoulder. The rosary clinked in his pocket, beads brushing against his wand – wood, only wood and nothing more. "What troubles you, that you come here?"
Draco tossed a glance over his shoulder, baring his teeth at Severus in a false grin. "A need for privacy."
"Draco ..."
"My parents will not agree with my choices, Dumbledore will abandon me if I am caught by the Muggles because of my foolishness, and Astoria's family will be broken-hearted at losing their chance at the Malfoy gold, I know. You needn't remind me."
Severus kept his hand on Draco's shoulder, rubbing uneven circles on his collarbone. "What is it that you are trying to accomplish, then?"
"I want the same things that you want," Draco said. "Freedom, peace... you won't find them here, trapped in this Muggle farce, Severus."
He turned and, lightning-quick, pressed his hand to Severus's pocket, tracing the outline of the wand that was hidden there. "You won't use this again if you play Dumbledore's game."
Severus pushed his hand away. The silence rang out after Draco spoke, and the glimmer of magic in the room was not enough to sustain him. There was no magic left in his life.
"You don't know what you're doing," he said, and the words fell into the silence like stones dropped into a deep well. Severus turned to leave without looking at the expression on Draco's face. He was done with lies. "You know where to find me if you need me."
****
Severus was a spy, and had never pretended otherwise. The school was his safety and his responsibility – Hogwarts that had been, the monastery that was. Professor or priest, it made no difference. He kept the students safe.
He followed Draco down the corridors, followed him when he disappeared into a room, dank and dark. Draco's feet splashed in a pool of water on the floor, and he left footprints on the dark stone.
Hidden in the doorway, Severus watched him. Draco leaned against a wall, his forehead pressed against silvery stone. It had been a mirror once – this had been the girl's bathroom.
Severus had found Draco here, bloody and gasping from the effects of his own spell. Perfect Potter hadn't been perfect then.
The ghost that had haunted this place was gone, Banished like all the other ghosts. There was no sign of magic left for the Muggles to find ... all of the spirit of Hogwarts was gone.
Draco lifted his head, staring straight at Severus. "Come in, Father."
Lifting his cassock, Severus stepped over the puddle and crossed the room to stand next to Draco. With a spell, he could have Banished the dampness in the bathroom, added warmth and light and removed the puddle, but as it was, there was nothing that Severus could do.
Without looking at him, Draco said, "I came here often, last year."
"I found you here."
The gleam of the flickering electric lights on Draco's hair, the curve of his neck – he was Lucius and Narcissa's child. Severus knew when not to press him.
"The ghost – Myrtle was her name," Draco said, his forehead pressed against the wall again. Severus reached out to touch it – cool stone, wet with mildew, and nothing more. "She listened to me when no one else would – she understood me."
Severus reached out to touch him but stopped short, his fingers poised midair. Draco had sent forbidden owls, and he had broken all the rules of the school and the monastery, but he was Severus's student still. "I would – Draco, you can always talk to me."
Draco walked through the puddle without answering him, and turned back only at the door. "There are things that can't be said here."
Severus had seen him kissing Blaise in the center of the labyrinth – he had seen the two of them splashing in the lily pond – he had seen them whisper secrets, sharing them from lips to ear, from throat to heart. He had seen Draco leave, summer after summer, going from Hogwarts to his home, but this was his home now, his one refuge. The world had no space in it for wizards, and Draco risked everything.
He left without looking at Severus, and there was nothing left in the room – the drip-drip-drip of water and the smell of mildew and stone, but nothing more. The girls who had chattered together, the ghost who had lived here, the boy who had confided in her, everything was gone. There was no time for dawdling. Severus stepped over the puddle and out into the corridor just as the bell began to ring for mass.
****
There were no secrets at the heart of the labyrinth – everything was stripped away and laid bare. Potter had vanished here, going to face Voldemort. A maze had grown here, part of the guising and warding of the new Hogwarts. Severus had hidden here, time and again, and he'd seen the boys under his charge do the same. They hid from the Muggles and they hid from their own world and they hid from themselves, here in this place that the Dark Lord had touched.
Severus knelt there at the center, his knees aching with the poke and prod of the sharp gravel, and he didn't resist when Draco came to draw him away, pulling him out of the maze without a word.
"There's something that you want to tell me," he said.
Nestled into the confessional, they could not see each other. Severus had a glimpse of Draco in the darkness and then that too faded away. He had seen Draco here before, had heard his confession when they were inundated with Muggle tourists and playing the part to escape detection, but this was different. Draco put his hand up against the barrier and Severus felt him there, saw the shadow of his hand and heard the sound of his breathing.
"It was me," Draco said, his voice no more than a whisper. "I let Voldemort into the castle last year, and I watched him kill Potter on the Tower."
Severus bowed his head. There was nothing that he could say for Potter – there was nothing that he could do.
Draco's hand moved against the barrier, changing the play of shadows in shadows. In the darkness, Severus could barely see it. He heard the rasp of skin against wood and caught glimpses of the shadows, but that was all.
"You don't understand," he said, his voice rising from a whisper until it rang in Severus's ears. "You can't understand. I had to –"
Draco had a life – he had Blaise and Astoria, he had his secrets and his intrigues. He would survive the world that he had wrought, but wizard after wizard had died because of what he had done.
"Go into the world and make it right if you can," Severus said, though it felt empty. Some penance was required – some effort at reparation. "Wed Blaise, if you must. Fight against the Dark Lord."
Severus's hand shook. He raised it to make the sign of the cross. "Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
He said what was expected, and the lie felt heavy – in his throat, on his tongue, on his lips, it weighed him down. For some sins, there was no absolution and no penance would be enough.
Severus left the confessional, blinking in the bright light of the chapel. He rubbed the pain from his forearm and he walked away from Draco.
Author: lesyeuxverts
Beta:
who_la_hoop, angela_snape, and researchgirlWord Count: 3700ish
Rating: R
Pairing: Draco/Blaise, very brief mention of Draco/Astoria
Warnings: AU, dystopia
Disclaimer: Not mine.
AN: Originally written for
hp_traditions, until I realized that it didn't exactly fit the prompt that I was given! Thanks to the slashchat girls for reminding me that I'd written it, and thanks to eeyore9990 for the title!Severus Snape was no fool – he knew when one of the boys was lying to him. Compline had sealed off the day, and the lie hung on, heavy into the night. It fitted and twisted with the other lies that shrouded the castle, all of the lies that hid their world. Severus paced his cell as darkness closed tight around him.
Click, click, click - with every step he took, the beads of his rosary brushed against the smooth wood of his wand. The noise was not loud enough to escape through the thick walls. The clicking of his rosary, the sound of his footsteps, the whisper of his breath – Severus heard nothing more. He settled himself into the silence and waited for morning.
Draco Malfoy had lied to him, and Severus would have an explanation for it.
Severus sat in the confessional, his bones aching. He had knelt before Dumbledore and before Voldemort. He had done wrong, but he bore the weight of it himself.
"You can tell me anything."
"I've done nothing wrong." Draco rose without waiting to be absolved, and Severus heard his footsteps as he left, his shoes scuffing against the flagstones.
It meant nothing, but he said the words. "Dominus noster Jesus Christus te absolvat; et ego auctoritate ipsius te absolvo ab omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti in quantum possum et tu indiges."
Draco had lied to him, had betrayed his trust, and the words meant nothing. Words meant nothing in this world.
Severus had seen it – the resurrection of the Dark Lord from the dead, the body rising out of the cauldron, a grotesque stitched together piecemeal. Bone of the father, flesh of the servant, blood of the enemy, and for all that – Voldemort was nothing more than a skeleton when he rose, bloodless and heartless and soulless. There was nothing that Severus could have done to stop it.
After the Dark Lord, there had been others. Body after body pried from the ground and reanimated, a parody of resurrection and a mockery of life. Wizards and witches with their mouths gaping and their eyes blank, they'd come after their loved ones. They'd wreaked havoc on the world, and the Muggles had seen them.
****
The boys met in the gardens after Vespers, and Severus followed them there, slipping away from the last of the service when they slipped out of the church. They fancied it a secret, but Severus knew – he had made his way into the deepest part of the labyrinth and hidden there.
He had found refuge there when it mattered most. Hogwarts had glowed, its shadows as red as embers, visible through the thickets and trees, and Severus's mind had been on anything but prayer. There was nothing that he could have done differently – he had followed Dumbledore's orders, and that was the end of it.
There were many entrances to the labyrinth, and all of the paths led to the center. It hadn't always been so – it had been the Quidditch Pitch once, not this maze overshadowed by the half-disguised castle, half-real monastery. Hogwarts had been grand, once, and nothing now could restore it to its glory. Nothing could undo that night.
Severus paused at the edge of the labyrinth, just outside the high hedges. The hem of his robe swished in the dust as he stopped, and he bowed his head. He sent out a tendril of magic, not enough to be noticed, and he stifled it as soon as he found the boys.
It was the lilac entrance, this time. Severus ducked under the drooping flowers, keeping clear of them and their thick, heavy smell. He followed the boys through the maze, keeping to the shadows and keeping his silence.
Hiding place after hiding place, cul de sacs and traps, he knew the secrets of the maze. He'd learnt these steps by heart.
Draco pushed Blaise into the hedge, fingers clenched on his shoulders. Their faces were close enough for a kiss. Swoops of tangling vines came down, swinging close to Blaise's face – honeysuckle entwined with Venomous Tentacula, flowers and stranglers threatening him. Severus reached for his wand just as Draco brushed the vines away.
Monsters had roamed in this maze, brought to life by the chaos and the battle. Potter had died on the tower, his body falling to the ground – Severus had not been in time to save him. Voldemort had risen from the ashes of his father's grave, had flaunted his power in front of the Muggles, and Severus had done nothing to stop him. He'd followed Dumbledore's orders, he'd done the Dark Lord's bidding, and this was the world that had been wrought from it. Honeysuckle twined with venom, hidden in the maze – far from prying eyes, kept secret from the Muggles, kept safe by their charade.
The words came easily to Severus now, the rosary beads smooth and worn under his fingers. "Ave María, grátia plena, Dóminus tecum..."
He found no solace in it.
He watched Draco pluck a bloom from the honeysuckle vine and brush it against Blaise's lips, offering him the single drop of nectar before leaning in for a kiss. He watched them as the shadows around Hogwarts lengthened – the night grew colder, and Severus could use no magic to ward or warm himself, but he stayed to watch over the two boys.
****
There were three of them, in the end. The rain had washed away the fire, and Hogwarts stood like a ruin, a smoking black hulk that crouched over the scar that split the world in two. Dumbledore had raised his arms, his ruined hand lifted to the sky, and had sealed them off from the world with a clap of thunder – Voldemort had fled, leaving Potter's body in the mud. Rain had washed the dirt from his face, leaving it bloodless and pale, and Severus had seen him lying there, wreathed with ghosts. His mother and father, shimmering and silver, had come to take Harry away.
Fire had followed him, making Hogwarts into his funeral pyre.
"Sicut erat in princípio, et nunc, et semper, et in sæcula sæculórum."
The world had ended, their magic washed away that night with battle and blood, and it was covered with a façade of sin and prayer. No one noticed a monastery, no Muggles thought to look for wizards and witches here. The world burned around them, fear and hatred mounting as the Dark Lord continued his reign of terror, killing Muggle after Muggle. They killed wizards in return – the Muggles killed anyone they could catch.
Hogwarts was safe in its web of lies.
There were three of them in the garden now, tracing the maze to its center, Draco and Blaise and their shadow. Astoria Greengrass had been sent to Hogwarts for safety when her family was killed in the witch hunts. She snuck out of the nunnery every night after Compline, and flirted with Draco in the labyrinth.
Severus couldn't move from his hiding place in the labyrinth – he couldn't be seen by any of them. There was no telling if they were the Dark Lord's eyes and ears – there was no telling if they reported back to him. Severus pulled the cowl closer around his face, pressing himself back into the darkness until the thorns in the thicket pricked through his robe, scraping down the length of his back.
Draco had lied to Severus when he last made confession, and he lied still. His letters to his father, full of Astoria's praises – his lip service to Dumbledore and the secrecy that kept them hidden here – his prayers and genuflections before the altar, they were all lies. Severus had seen the truth, forbidden letters smuggled out of Hogwarts on silent owl wings, forbidden spells practiced in the cloisters, forbidden love in the labyrinth.
Even now, Draco turned from Astoria and kissed Blaise on the lips.
****
The chapel was cold, and Severus knelt at Albus's feet. The cold seeped through his robes and through his body, creeping up his spine until he shivered.
"There's nothing that you could have done differently," Albus said. He'd told Severus time and again that it wasn't his fault.
The light cracked as it came through the glass windows, falling in splintered rose patterns on the floor. There were flecks of red and gold and green on the gray flagstones, and they were no match for the beauty of the Great Hall as it had been. The charmed ceiling was gone, and the rose window was not enough to replace the magic that had been there, once.
Dumbledore wore his biretta like a wizard's hat, slightly askew. The purple silk caught the twinkling lights that came through the stained glass, and held each ray's reflection. He put a hand – his good hand, firm and strong – on Severus's shoulder and rose to leave, beckoning for Severus to follow him.
They walked out into the garden, past the pond full of frogs and past the climbing, twisting roses that ran up the iron lattice of the front gate. Albus stopped in the shadow of the castle, and it flickered – the spire of the monastery came in and out of focus, the shadow of Hogwarts coming through the illusion. The shadow of the cross fell over Dumbledore's face, and he raised a hand to touch his biretta, adjusting it until it was straight and proud on his head.
"We have more visitors this week," he said. "Potential students are coming to see the school, their families with them. Brother Filch will take care of their room and board, Severus, but I hope that you will be their guide while they are here."
Severus bowed his head. "Your Grace."
Pulling him away from the gates, Albus brought him up to the wall of the monastery and came close, whispering in his ear. "Persevere, Severus. The wards will keep us safe for now, and if we bide our time, we'll gather our forces and strike back at Voldemort. Have patience and faith."
They were reduced to whispering in the castle that had been their home – they were reduced to hiding among the Muggles, they had no way to fight against the Dark Lord. There was no reason or faith in the world. Severus shook his head and pulled away from Dumbledore, ducking away from the long shadows of the church. "Yes, Your Grace."
****
After the rain had drenched the fire and washed away the char, Dumbledore had rebuilt Hogwarts in its own image. Stone was piled on top of stone, the ghosts and dust of centuries returned to their rightful places, and the weight of the wards covered it all.
It was overlaid with illusion and shadows before a month had passed. The last spell that Dumbledore cast, the last major magic that any of them did, it was nothing better than a lie.
Rough cloth wore on Severus's skin, abrading his elbows and his knees. He pushed back the cowl of his robe and scowled at Draco. Passing students fled, their heads ducked as the bells rang out, deep and brassy tones filling the air.
"There is nothing that can be done about it," Severus said, guiding Draco out into the gardens. They went to the heart of the labyrinth and stood in the sunlight there – it soaked through Severus's coarse robes, it sank into his bones. He had not felt warm since the burning of Hogwarts.
When he was sure that they were alone, he turned away from Draco. "Listen to me," he said. "Right now, there's nothing that can be done. To be caught is to be killed, and the Muggles will not be impressed by your bloodlines or your family's money, do you understand? It is best that we stay in hiding now."
"You don't –"
"Enough." Severus pushed his way past Draco, heading for the maze. The quiet space at the center of the labyrinth was not for him – he had other duties. "Do not question me on this, Draco. If Potter had lived to complete the prophecy, the world would be a different place, but he died and this is the world that we must live in. Your petty rebellion will do you no good."
Nothing had ever been said. Severus knew that Draco had failed and succeeded, that he had faced Dumbledore on the top of the tower and both of them had emerged from it alive. No mention of it ever crossed Draco's lips, not when he spoke to Snape and not when he made his confessions. Albus never spoke of it, and Severus knew better than to ask.
The dust scuffed up into tiny clouds under his feet, and the pebbles ground under his soles as Severus shifted his weight from foot to foot. He knew when one of the boys was lying to him, and he knew that Draco had not told him the truth.
"Your parents expect you to marry Astoria, produce heirs, and make a contribution to the war effort."
"They expect me to contribute my heirs to the war effort, more likely." Shoulders hunched, Draco didn't meet Severus's gaze. He broke a thorn off one of the branches and used it to trace the lines in the palm of his hand. All lines met in the center.
"They expect you to be less than a fool, Draco. Being caught and killed by the Muggles for the sake of a bauble from Hogsmeade or a fling with Zabini –"
Draco flicked the thorn off his palm, sending it arcing through the air. It landed in the dust at Severus's feet. He left the labyrinth without saying another word, and the thorn stayed on the ground, dusty and blunted.
Neither thorns nor words did any good, magic was beyond his use, and there was nothing that Severus could do – but he would have the truth from Draco.
****
Severus found Draco in the last magical room in the castle. There was a crucifix nailed over the door, and yet when Severus ducked his head to go through the doorway, it was like stepping back into Hogwarts. Magic sparkled and sang in the room, real and pure. Phantom figures floated in the air around Draco, visions of his parents, friends and childhood toys – Blaise was there, and Astoria. Draco touched them both before the phantoms disappeared.
He didn't look up at Severus's approach. "I wanted to be alone."
Chimes rang out through the room with Severus's every step, like the bells that rang to call them to chapel, and Severus stood still behind Draco. The last vision disappeared with a faint pop, and the room was silent.
Severus put a hand on Draco's shoulder. The rosary clinked in his pocket, beads brushing against his wand – wood, only wood and nothing more. "What troubles you, that you come here?"
Draco tossed a glance over his shoulder, baring his teeth at Severus in a false grin. "A need for privacy."
"Draco ..."
"My parents will not agree with my choices, Dumbledore will abandon me if I am caught by the Muggles because of my foolishness, and Astoria's family will be broken-hearted at losing their chance at the Malfoy gold, I know. You needn't remind me."
Severus kept his hand on Draco's shoulder, rubbing uneven circles on his collarbone. "What is it that you are trying to accomplish, then?"
"I want the same things that you want," Draco said. "Freedom, peace... you won't find them here, trapped in this Muggle farce, Severus."
He turned and, lightning-quick, pressed his hand to Severus's pocket, tracing the outline of the wand that was hidden there. "You won't use this again if you play Dumbledore's game."
Severus pushed his hand away. The silence rang out after Draco spoke, and the glimmer of magic in the room was not enough to sustain him. There was no magic left in his life.
"You don't know what you're doing," he said, and the words fell into the silence like stones dropped into a deep well. Severus turned to leave without looking at the expression on Draco's face. He was done with lies. "You know where to find me if you need me."
****
Severus was a spy, and had never pretended otherwise. The school was his safety and his responsibility – Hogwarts that had been, the monastery that was. Professor or priest, it made no difference. He kept the students safe.
He followed Draco down the corridors, followed him when he disappeared into a room, dank and dark. Draco's feet splashed in a pool of water on the floor, and he left footprints on the dark stone.
Hidden in the doorway, Severus watched him. Draco leaned against a wall, his forehead pressed against silvery stone. It had been a mirror once – this had been the girl's bathroom.
Severus had found Draco here, bloody and gasping from the effects of his own spell. Perfect Potter hadn't been perfect then.
The ghost that had haunted this place was gone, Banished like all the other ghosts. There was no sign of magic left for the Muggles to find ... all of the spirit of Hogwarts was gone.
Draco lifted his head, staring straight at Severus. "Come in, Father."
Lifting his cassock, Severus stepped over the puddle and crossed the room to stand next to Draco. With a spell, he could have Banished the dampness in the bathroom, added warmth and light and removed the puddle, but as it was, there was nothing that Severus could do.
Without looking at him, Draco said, "I came here often, last year."
"I found you here."
The gleam of the flickering electric lights on Draco's hair, the curve of his neck – he was Lucius and Narcissa's child. Severus knew when not to press him.
"The ghost – Myrtle was her name," Draco said, his forehead pressed against the wall again. Severus reached out to touch it – cool stone, wet with mildew, and nothing more. "She listened to me when no one else would – she understood me."
Severus reached out to touch him but stopped short, his fingers poised midair. Draco had sent forbidden owls, and he had broken all the rules of the school and the monastery, but he was Severus's student still. "I would – Draco, you can always talk to me."
Draco walked through the puddle without answering him, and turned back only at the door. "There are things that can't be said here."
Severus had seen him kissing Blaise in the center of the labyrinth – he had seen the two of them splashing in the lily pond – he had seen them whisper secrets, sharing them from lips to ear, from throat to heart. He had seen Draco leave, summer after summer, going from Hogwarts to his home, but this was his home now, his one refuge. The world had no space in it for wizards, and Draco risked everything.
He left without looking at Severus, and there was nothing left in the room – the drip-drip-drip of water and the smell of mildew and stone, but nothing more. The girls who had chattered together, the ghost who had lived here, the boy who had confided in her, everything was gone. There was no time for dawdling. Severus stepped over the puddle and out into the corridor just as the bell began to ring for mass.
****
There were no secrets at the heart of the labyrinth – everything was stripped away and laid bare. Potter had vanished here, going to face Voldemort. A maze had grown here, part of the guising and warding of the new Hogwarts. Severus had hidden here, time and again, and he'd seen the boys under his charge do the same. They hid from the Muggles and they hid from their own world and they hid from themselves, here in this place that the Dark Lord had touched.
Severus knelt there at the center, his knees aching with the poke and prod of the sharp gravel, and he didn't resist when Draco came to draw him away, pulling him out of the maze without a word.
"There's something that you want to tell me," he said.
Nestled into the confessional, they could not see each other. Severus had a glimpse of Draco in the darkness and then that too faded away. He had seen Draco here before, had heard his confession when they were inundated with Muggle tourists and playing the part to escape detection, but this was different. Draco put his hand up against the barrier and Severus felt him there, saw the shadow of his hand and heard the sound of his breathing.
"It was me," Draco said, his voice no more than a whisper. "I let Voldemort into the castle last year, and I watched him kill Potter on the Tower."
Severus bowed his head. There was nothing that he could say for Potter – there was nothing that he could do.
Draco's hand moved against the barrier, changing the play of shadows in shadows. In the darkness, Severus could barely see it. He heard the rasp of skin against wood and caught glimpses of the shadows, but that was all.
"You don't understand," he said, his voice rising from a whisper until it rang in Severus's ears. "You can't understand. I had to –"
Draco had a life – he had Blaise and Astoria, he had his secrets and his intrigues. He would survive the world that he had wrought, but wizard after wizard had died because of what he had done.
"Go into the world and make it right if you can," Severus said, though it felt empty. Some penance was required – some effort at reparation. "Wed Blaise, if you must. Fight against the Dark Lord."
Severus's hand shook. He raised it to make the sign of the cross. "Deinde, ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
He said what was expected, and the lie felt heavy – in his throat, on his tongue, on his lips, it weighed him down. For some sins, there was no absolution and no penance would be enough.
Severus left the confessional, blinking in the bright light of the chapel. He rubbed the pain from his forearm and he walked away from Draco.
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The quiet bleak desperation and need to survive, even if it causes them to do things that would have seemed impossible before that point comes through very nicely. I loved the understated menace here. Usually, when I think of dystopia stories, I expect to read something with lots of torture and pain for Harry and his friends. This, however, shows us that dystopia can exist anywhere, and in any form. It gives an entirely new meaning to the saying, "Life is what you make of it."
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Trippy! ;p
The Draco/Blaise honeysuckle imagery was very compelling. ;)
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