Loopholes
“It is in the center of confusion and agony that our true selves are revealed.”
Hermione blanched, but her shock was nothing compared to the look in Harry’s eyes.
They were frightening, his bright green blazing an almost visible path across the air, landing directly on Snape’s own cold, black irises.
“What are you doing here,” Harry said tersely, his voice a low rumbling growl.
Snape strode casually across the room, examining Hermione’s wand with feigned interest. “Preventing your uncanny knack for idiocy from interfering in what needs to be done,” he drawled composedly, assuming the same tone he used the many times he’d insulted the boy in class.
Harry released Hermione’s hand to take a bold step forward. His face was flushed red with searing fury and the space around him seemed to tremble with his presence. “You killed Dumbledore.”
A hush descended upon the four walls encapsulating them. Harry made no mention of the Horcruxes, no mention of Voldemort, or of their compromising situation. The ferocity with which he snapped straight to the point, straight to the root of their circumstances, caused Hermione’s blood to freeze.
“I did,” Snape responded, seemingly unphased.
But he said no more.
Hermione felt heat rising in the room. Her eyes were transfixed on Harry, then on Snape, as she struggled with her mind for coherent thought.
“Give me my wand,” Harry demanded slowly, quietly. The calmness with which he spoke was far more terrifying than if he had shouted.
Snape dropped all pretense of inspecting their wands, instead turning his unreadable expression upon Harry’s stiff form.
“No.”
Clenching his hands into fists, Harry barely managed to control his breathing. “Now,” he commanded.
Snape’s lips curled into a sinister sneer. “You are in no position to be making demands, Potter,” he snarled, tucking their wands into his long, black robes.
“And you’re in no position to live, coward that you are,” he whispered brutally, eyes trained in defiance, “but that doesn’t seem to stop you, does it?”
Snape’s jaw formed a rigid line. His utter stillness told Hermione that Harry’s particular choice of words shook him.
“If you will not respect my presence for remembering how I assisted your pathetic efforts to safe house Grimmauld Place,” he started coolly, “then you will respect my presence for remembering that I am currently in possession of three wands, and you, in possession of none.”
Hermione’s chest hitched. She did remember Snape sending the Order his patronus, warning Harry how to protect Headquarters. Her gaze flew to him now; his lids blinked, obstructing his green eyes for a split second, signaling that he was remembering too.
“Nothing,” Harry began with deadly calm, “nothing you have done or could do would make up for murdering Dumbledore.”
“Spare me your inane boasts of rectitude,” Snape spat, his eyes finally lighting with intolerance. “You are the last person to whom I would justify my actions, but if it will mollify that slow-witted mind of yours long enough to end your pitiful excuses for verbal affronts, rest peacefully in knowing that the old fool brought it on himself.”
Harry stiffened visibly before relinquishing all control over his emotions. “You filthy liar!” he shouted, smashing his fist against the wall, “at least have the guts to””
“Guts, Potter?” Snape rose warningly, his shadow towering as he brought himself taller, “and what would you know of those?”
Harry clamped his mouth shut and breathed heavily through his nostrils. But before he could retort, Snape had turned to address Hermione.
“My my, Ms. Granger,” he began icily, “I had always suspected you to be above the intelligence level requisite of association with such a petulant child.”
Harry flung himself in front of Hermione, blocking her view of Snape. “Don’t,” he said lowly, hardened hatred on every syllable, “ever speak to her like that.”
Hermione’s muscles tensed with anxiety at the following, daunting silence. Peering carefully over Harry’s shoulder, her mind still numb from shock, she could see Snape regarding him behind cool, expressionless eyes.
“It seems I have struck a nerve,” Snape finally commented, folding his arms across his chest. “The Weasley girl will be most displeased.”
Instantly, Hermione’s face reddened and burned with a mixture of hot mortification and loathing.
But she could only bring herself to eye Harry in surprise as she peeked at the side of his face and noticed the crimson rising in his cheeks, too.
“Ah,” Snape began once more, watching the pair with vicious pleasure, “a nerve indeed.”
“Shut up,” Harry spat, shooting him a death glare. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Snape raised an eyebrow. “From the flustered look of Ms. Granger, I daresay I do.”
Harry whipped around to glance at her, the barest hint of a humiliated apology evident in his expression. Hermione hung her head, helpless to the entire situation.
“Explain to me again why you’re here,” Harry drawled darkly, “without the sarcasm.”
Snape folded his arms across his chest. “I have a Horcrux.”
Hermione inhaled a sharp breath.
Had she heard properly? Surely the stunning presence of Snape was intoxicating her ability to think or hear clearly.
But she sensed, and saw, Harry’s shoulders go rigid, his back straight as a board. His arms hung stiffly by his side, and he made no move, yet the absence of his steadied breathing signaled his momentary disbelief.
“What?” he finally croaked, his voice hoarse.
“A Horcrux, you dimwit. Or can you not manage your breathing and listening functions simultaneously?”
Harry moved deeper into the room with mechanical motion and Hermione followed. She watched in astounded silence as Harry regarded Snape with hesitant, skeptical eyes.
“What are you playing at Snape?”
“Play?” he questioned bitterly, his eyes narrowing on Harry’s face. “I assure you, I do not play, Potter.”
“Why should I believe you?!” Harry snapped, unable to control his temper any longer. “You can’t be trusted! You murdered Dumbledore, you betrayed””
But he was cut off, as Snape had tossed him a tiny, shining object. It was a silver and glass compass that fit securely in the palm of Harry’s hand. Confused, he looked up and fixed Snape with a look before opening his mouth.
But he was interrupted once more.
“Dumbledore’s,” Snape explained dryly, beckoning to the object. “I presume the Dark Lord stole it from his office during his youth.”
Harry’s eyes widened; it did look familiar. Among all the trinkets Dumbledore kept on the various tables in his office, he could scarcely begin to recall it explicitly, but the faint memory of seeing it sitting beside a pair of intricately decorated scales rushed to mind.
In the pensieve, Harry thought, abruptly remembering. When Voldemort came to him asking to teach Defense class… it was there.
When he looked up at Snape, he shook from his reverie with the realization that the Potions Master was regarding him with a self-satisfied smirk.
“This doesn’t” I don’t understand,” Harry confessed, momentarily forgetting that he wanted to kill him.
“Don’t you?” Snape leered. “The Dark Lord is fastidious in selecting which objects will harbor his soul; surely, this does not surprise you.”
“No, but””
“Then certainly you understand the significance of choosing one of Dumbledore’s prized possessions? Everything he has selected, he has done so with utmost deliberation.”
Hermione was winded, her heart still pumping and straining achingly within her” and from the creases in Harry’s forehead, she knew he was experiencing similar effects.
“Think, boy,” Snape spat, “knowing the Dark Lord as you undoubtedly do, how fitting would it be for him to mock Dumbledore in such a personally scornful gesture?”
Hermione knew, that if nothing else, Snape was indisputably right about that. But Harry would not be deterred.
“It’s just a bloody compass,” he said, his voice regaining its frosty tone, “it doesn’t prove anything!”
Snape scoffed loudly. “Relentless,” he murmured. Then he walked towards them. Harry defiantly stayed rooted to the spot. Snape clutched Harry’s arm painfully, but Harry didn’t wince as Snape took the compass back.
Raising a hand, Snape threw the fragile sphere against the wall with great force. Harry instinctively jumped back, but to Hermione’s surprise, it didn’t shatter.
It should have. It was only glass. But it was perfectly intact, and what’s more, it was suddenly glowing with soft yellow light.
“Touch it,” Snape commanded.
Hesitantly, Harry bent over and reached out a hand to put his palm to it. But immediately, he snatched it back with a pained hiss.
“My apologies,” Snape sneered mockingly, “did it burn you?”
Harry looked up and flashed the man a vengeful glare.
“Does that satisfy your misplaced curiosity?”
Harry didn’t answer because Hermione took a step nearer and responded for him. “Yes,” she said, “but why is our curiosity misplaced?”
Looking down his nose at her, Snape smirked. “Because,” he said lowly, “you presume I have countless hours to dedicate to your piteous accusations, and such presumptions will result in a much-welcomed parting before other issues of equal or greater importance can be discussed.”
“All right, then,” Hermione quipped angrily, glad to have found her voice, “why are you helping us?”
For the first time, Snape seemed to have to actively think of how to respond. His pale face remained impassive, but the pause he allowed to take over insinuated his temporary cognition.
“How’s that for ‘issues of greater importance’?” Hermione jabbed.
Finally, Snape remembered himself and shot her a condescending glare. “Hardly relevant,” he commented, “and even less so considering your predisposed decision to doubt my every word.”
“Point taken,” Hermione conceded, finding Harry’s eyes and begging him to not strangle Snape with his bare hands” yet. “But we’re listening now.”
Snape folded his arms across his chest and surveyed the couple beneath heavily lidded eyes. “I trust you will pass this information on to the Order.” It was not a question.
Hermione nodded stiffly.
“Who is leading it now, in Dumbledore’s stead?”
“Professor Lupin,” Hermione answered.
Snape’s face immediately morphed into a furious look of hatred. “That fact alone is almost enough to make me rethink my loyalties.”
Harry started forward angrily but Hermione caught him by the elbow; Snape looked amused.
“You keep a short leash, Ms. Granger,” he mocked.
“Are you going to tell us or not?!”
The Potions Master leaned back against the wall, crossing one booted foot over the other. “Dumbledore’s death was the fool’s own fault. The only reason the old man trusted me was because he had forced me to take the Unbreakable Vow the night I decided I no longer wished to partake in the Dark Lord’s agenda. Essentially, the Vow described three conditions: I must ultimately be loyal to none but the Order, and I must always do what is in the Order’s best interests, and I must obey Dumbledore’s instructions.”
Hermione gaped openly. Her head worked to keep up with the information, but Harry wasn’t so patient.
“Unbreakable Vow? What the bloody hell is””
“It’s a magical bond, Harry,” Hermione breathed, still transfixed on her former teacher. “If you take it, you must abide by it. Refusal to follow it through completely results in””
“Death,” Snape finished for her. Hermione gulped.
Harry was shaking his head, fury buried just beneath his carefully trained expression. “How should we believe that? How do we know you’re not lying?”
“Are you truly that idiotic?” Snape leered. “Look what’s in your hand, boy.”
Hermione glanced at Harry’s hand, now clutched tightly around the Horcrux.
“If I was loyal to the Dark Lord, why, pray tell, would I provide you with that?”
A thought struck Hermione. “But” Dumbledore’s dead. I read that the Vow no longer applies once the bonder or the participant passes away.”
Snape quirked an eyebrow, seeming to be marginally impressed by her knowledge. “This is true,” he allowed, “which makes my helping you all the more noble, does it not?”
Hermione bit her lip, tasting a metallic liquid burn her tongue. “Let’s just assume, for time constraint reasons, that you’re telling the truth. It still doesn’t explain why you told Voldemort about the Prophecy.”
“I didn’t tell the Dark Lord anything, you foolish girl,” he said scathingly. “What would I have to gain by serving him? Has it never occurred to you that, as unfortunate as it may be, we both live in the same world and therefore we would both experience the same negative effects of a megalomaniac’s rise to power?”
“Oh don’t play off like we’re stupid,” she hollered angrily, “we know he rewards his followers!”
“In order for something to qualify as a ‘reward,’ Ms. Granger, it must be given. The only reward he assures us of is life. Something we are born with. Something that is not in his right to give or take.”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “You get power.”
“From whom?” he laughed hollowly. “You should know by now the Dark Lord does not share power.” He paused, searching Hermione’s face before snapping back to glare at Harry. “It would prove just as detrimental to me if he ascended as it would to you. Life would be lifeless, if your meager brain capacity can register such a notion.”
“Answer the question, Snape!” hollered Harry, fury pulsating past reason. “How did Voldemort find out what the Prophecy said?”
“The Dark Lord commandeered my memories,” Snape uttered coolly. Hermione could tell by the tense lines of his face that his patience was quickly waning. “He didn’t want my version of it; he wanted to hear it himself. So he found the memory of my hearing the Prophecy in Dumbledore’s pensieve and finally had what he’d long been searching for.”
“But why would you even go through the trouble of listening to the Prophecy in Dumbledore’s pensieve if you weren’t working for Voldemort?!” snapped Harry. “You did it without Dumbledore’s orders! You did it in secret! So if this rubbish about an ‘Unbreakable Vow’ with Dumbledore was true, you’d be dead right now, just as you should be!”
Snape took two furious steps forward. “Do you think for a moment,” he began in icy calm, “that the Dark Lord would trust me so thoroughly had he not also placed me under an Unbreakable Vow?”
Hermione felt her heart contract. Was what she hearing possible? Could it be that, all this time, her Potions Professor had been magically tied to both Voldemort and Dumbledore?
“How” how is that” ?”
“The difference,” Snape cut off, “is that Dumbledore knew of my vow to the Dark Lord. The same could not be said in reverse. As such, every time the Dark Lord gave me an order, Dumbledore and I would have to discover the loophole in the phrasing.”
Hermione struggled to keep a clear line of thought while also clasping to Harry’s arm in an attempt to soothe his visibly infuriated nerves. “How could you possibly manage that?” she piped questioningly, brow knitted in concentration.
“As I have no doubts you are aware, Granger, the vow only binds the taker by direct order. Both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore would have to explicitly map out exactly what it was they expected me to do. So when the Lord told me to ‘keep my alliance to him quiet,’ I did. When I went to Dumbledore, I never uttered a single word.”
Harry’s eyebrow rose defiantly.
“I wrote it down,” Snape finished. “Such has been my existence. The Dark Lord gives me an order I find a way around it. With Dumbledore’s help, it was trying, but… manageable, nonetheless.”
Hermione took a moment to catalog this new information. She felt if she didn’t, her head would explode with the complexities of it all.
“All right, we get it,” Harry spat, “you had to listen to Voldemort because of the vow, but you found ways around it since you had Dumbledore in on the charade. Pretending I’m willing to believe a single thing you say, none of this explains why the bloody hell you were sneaking around Dumbledore’s office to listen to the Prophecy!”
“Actually, Potter, if you had been paying attention, you would already have deduced the answer,” fumed Snape, his black eyes freezing on Harry’s face. “Young Mr. Malfoy, as you may or may not know, was instructed by the Dark Lord to repair a cabinet stationed in Hogwarts. This cabinet’s brother was located outside the grounds. You may recall a certain student falling prey to this scheme,” he reminded them. “Since the Dark Lord could not instruct his Death Eaters to act until Malfoy had completed the task, and since it was impossible to discern when that would be, no one was aware of the date on which the attack would occur until the date was already upon us. I was summoned to the Dark Lord and informed that the assault would transpire in less than one hour. During this private meeting, he directly ordered me to plant myself in Dumbledore’s office and use his pensieve to search for the memory of him first hearing the Prophecy. When he dismissed me, I rushed to the Headmaster’s office to inform him of the situation.”
Snape paused, his gaze lifting from Harry and focusing hotly on the wall opposite. “It was a turning point in the war,” he divulged calmly. “Yet I was rendered largely helpless. For among the order to try and obtain the Prophecy’s words, I was also ordered to ‘make no moves which would alert any of the staff as to the coming attack.’ By this point, I had perhaps half an hour before the assault, and no readily available loophole by which I could inform the Headmaster. My only hope was for Dumbledore to use Legilimency to read my thoughts, to see the impeding situation. Yet when I spoke the emergency password to enter his office, he was not there. I was met only by an empty chair. I spun around, attempting to think of what move to make next. Five minutes later, however, it was of no more use. I heard the commotion issuing from below. It had begun.”
Heart palpitating restlessly, Hermione’s eyes watered with the quietly told tale of that night. For the first time in nearly seven years of knowing Severus Snape, not once had she ever heard pain in the man’s voice” until now. Even Harry was standing still, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
“With Dumbledore missing from the castle, undoubtedly on one of his improvised excursions,”” Harry’s stomach lurched as he remembered their trip to the cave” “and me being magically bound as I was, I was left no choice. I hurried through his pensieve, searching for the memory. Dumbledore must have been reviewing it a lot in the days prior, for it sprouted up instantly. Once I had the memory myself, I stormed from the office and into the battle. The rest, I’m sure, you already know.”
Before Hermione could react, Harry had pulled himself from her grasp and lunged forward, nearly pushing the former professor back against the wall. “So you did it to save your own skin!” Harry shouted irately, the veins in his neck swelling with anger. “You could have chosen to die! You could have broken the vow, but instead you risked everything and went prattling back to Voldemort! That’s why you’re a coward, Snape! Because you’d sooner keep your own sodding self alive than do what’s right!”
In one fluid motion, Snape had grabbed Harry by both shoulders and shoved him roughly against the bed’s solid footboard. Hermione gasped and started forward, but Snape already had his face an inch from Harry’s and was speaking in a dangerously low whisper.
“You listen to me, boy,” he said in a soft, menacing voice, pressing his wand into Harry’s jugular. “I would obliviate you myself this very instant if I weren't certain I would be irreparably damaging your mind” something you can ill afford, given your current lack of intellectual prowess. However,” his grip tightened around Harry’s collar, and Snape drew his lips up next to his ear, “if you dare to call me a coward just once more, I may conveniently forget that you dearly require both of your brain cells.”
Harry pushed Snape off of him with unexpected strength. The two stood, chests heaving, glaring hard at the other. A solid minute of silence ensued.
Finally, Snape relinquished his glare and brushed off his robes; he straightened to face the two teenagers, looking disturbingly composed. “Again, you failed to pay adequate attention, Potter. The second term of Dumbledore’s vow was that I do what was in the best interests of the Order. Do you think it not to be in the Order’s best interest to keep me alive? Is it not in their interest to have a spy among the Dark Lord’s inner circle? My very presence commands such respect and value that you should be grateful to even experience it.”
Harry’s teeth were clenched and his knuckles grew white as they balled into fists. But he did not speak, could not speak, for Snape had changed directions as top speed.
“I cannot stay,” he asserted. “The Dark Lord expects me to be at the meeting which is to commence in approximately fifteen minutes.”
Hermione realized her jaw was hanging slightly agape and made to shut it hastily. Swallowing to wet her dry mouth, she shot Harry a look which clearly expressed, please don’t kill him yet, before speaking.
“Quickly, then,” she started, surprised by how calm she sounded even to herself, “this Horcrux you’ve given us. Where did you find it?”
Snape sniffed and peered at her down his crooked nose. “Here, at this forsaken orphanage. You were, surprisingly, right about its location. But when the Dark Lord sent me to retrieve it, I instead pretend it had already been found so that I could ensure its destruction.”
“How did you manage that?”
The Potions Master smirked widely. “Loopholes. He ordered, ‘find the Horcrux and bring it to me,’ which I did. I found it and brought it to him. None of his instructions, however, entailed handing it over. It was sitting idly in my pocket when I lied and informed him it must have already been found.”
“And how many others know about the Horcruxes?”
Snape’s dark eyes glinted smugly. “To my knowledge, myself and the Malfoy family are the only Death Eaters aware. Lucius and Narcissa were only informed because Draco has been sent on a mission to find a replacement Horcrux, an object to bear another part of the Dark Lord’s soul now that the one here is, supposedly, missing. Naturally, to obtain a suitable object, he sent Draco to””
“Hogwarts, yeah, we know.” Harry was tense and on edge and burning a hole into the side of Snape’s head with his eyes, but Hermione could tell, somehow, that even if he didn’t forgive this man, he was beginning to believe his story.
For his part, Snape was doing little to mask his shock. “How did you”?”
It was Harry’s turn to look smug. “Because we overheard your little get together in the mountains,” he said, one corner of his lips quirking upwards. “Hermione figured it out. She said that’s where you’d likely have one of your meetings. We flew to the mountains and hid in a cave until we heard people Apparating. Sure enough, there you were, doling out some rubbish about a ‘change in plans.’”
Snape almost looked angry, but then his thin, pale mouth twitched convulsively. “Perhaps you possess three brain cells, then.”
Harry glared.
“Didn’t Wormtail tell you?” asked Hermione. “Harry fought with him after everyone else had left.”
The creases around Snape’s eyes wrinkled. He shook his head. “I have not spoken with Wormtail since that night. In fact, he was not at the last meeting.”
“Could that mean he told Voldemort about dueling with Harry and he’s being punished?”
Again, Snape appeared highly skeptical. He turned away from them, letting silence stream through the air. Hermione glanced nervously in Harry’s direction, but he seemed equally clueless.
Finally, the man whipped back around to face them. “I must go.”
“What?” Hermione screeched. “What about Peter Pettigrew? What do you make of it?”
Hermione could see the concern in Snape’s eyes when he focused them on her. “If you overheard our conversation that night, then you must also have heard that the Dark Lord is convinced there is a traitor in his ranks. He never divulged his precise suspicions, but if he is not telling me about others’ encounters with Order members…” he trailed off suggestively.
“He suspects you?” Hermione muttered quietly, distress in her voice.
Snape’s face remained impassive. “I do not know. But knowing that he does not trust me enough to tell me of Pettigrew’s encounter Potter indicates that he is watching me closely. More closely than I had previously realized.”
With a swirl of his black robes, Snape unsheathed Hermione’s and Harry’s wands. He fingered them briefly, seeming averse to returning them, but eventually tossed them back to their respective owners. Hermione noticed Harry's fingers twitch around his; she knew it must be taking a painful amount of willpower for him not to use it.
“I must arrange a meeting with McGonagall. Tell her to meet me at The Bloody Viridian pub in London. Exactly one week from today, at nine o’clock in the evening.”
Harry was shaking his head before Snape had even finished his sentence, fingers still grazing his wand in indecisive contemplation. “No one’s going to meet you alone, Snape. Just because I haven’t killed you yet doesn’t mean I trust you. She’ll be there, but don’t fool yourself into thinking the whole Order won’t be watching in the shadows.”
Narrowing his eyes on Harry, Snape mumbled, “Very well,” before latching the top button of his cloak.
“And by the way,” Harry continued, “Draco’s already been to Hogwarts. Just a couple nights ago. He brought his mom, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Gregory Goyle. They didn’t make it far. But Hagrid”” Harry swallowed the burning lump that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat. “”Hagrid was killed.”
Snape was completely motionless for several consecutive moments. He blinked once, a sign that he was registering the information. After a long, extended pause, he offered a stiff, curt nod in Harry’s direction.
Then, walking to the corner, he seemed about ready to Apparate. Harry's wand lifted an inch higher; Hermione took in his creased brows and concentrated eyes. He was warring with himself.
If he was going to act, it would have to be now; Snape halted, though, and slowly pivoted around to face his two former students.
“Remember, Potter,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse with warning, “to win this war, you cannot simply play defense.”
With that, Severus Snape spun on the spot and disappeared with a muted crack.
In the empty silence of the room, Hermione’s heart slowed to a normal pace. Her breathing remained strained, however, as she faced Harry and met his eyes.
His emerald gaze flickered with a flurry of emotion. The now-familiar unidentifiable one was still pressed beneath the layers, watching her with a fervent intensity.
But it was the emotion that was perceptibly deflating his façade that made her want to envelope him in her arms.
A single whispered wish, laced in a single agonizing plea.
Please let me have done the right thing by letting him go.