The holiday Cassie had demanded ended days later. A small, naive part of her hoped that nothing dire had happened in her absence. The letters that arrived at their little cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole proved her very wrong.
The first was from the newly minted Minister Khristina Baladin of the Magical Duma. She announced Sergey Gryzlov's death. Cassie knew there would be public repercussions. She would be surprised if Fudge didn't blame her for it.
"How did he die?" Severus asked as he lifted his steaming coffee mug to his lips. The Head of Slytherin had been drinking at least two cups in the morning since they had been home, as they were remarkably efficient at delaying sleep.
"Found in his cell," his wife said with a shrug.
"Hmm. I suppose being tangled in the bed sheets with me will not be a solid enough alibi for Fudge," he deadpanned.
Cassie snorted. "As if he would accept any alibi. But it's not like it matters."
"Meaning?"
"If I had gone all the way to Sol-Iletsk just to dispose of him, it's not really any of Fudge's business. He was my prisoner."
"Officially he was Khristina's," he pointed out.
"Yes," Cassie said, pouring her own coffee. "I'll be sure to point that out when the Ministry comes knocking." She took a few more sips before heading toward the staircase. Gone were the long, undemanding days that required nothing but whatever she and Severus desired. She would have to actually get dressed this morning.
She was in their bedroom pulling on a grey dress when the second owl of the day arrived. Severus recognized the Runespoor seal on the envelope. It would be from one of Cassie's more prominent Saints.
A third owl delivered the Daily Prophet not a minute later. The front page had moving pictures of an enormous collapsed tent. People were running in every direction as smoke billowed toward the sky.
Severus felt a pang of guilt. Suddenly, the smell of the breakfast he had begun preparing made his empty stomach churn.
Cassie eyed the sealed envelope as she returned to the small kitchen. After a moment's hesitation, she snatched it from the table and opened it. Her eyes widened, and her hand moved to cover her mouth as she read what was within.
"What is it, my love?" asked Severus. But he had a guess about what she was reading in that letter.
"Glastonbury," she started, then tore her eyes away from the parchment. The front page of the Prophet caught her eye.
Severus returned to the stove. He could no longer bring himself to watch his wife's reaction to the horror that had taken place the day before. Any semblance of peace would be a far-forgotten memory in a few short moments.
"Two thousand," she muttered.
"Hmm?" Severus turned with a plate of eggs and bacon in his hand. The smell continued to bombard his heightened senses.
"Two thousand Muggles." Her voice rose. "The Death Eaters - " something stopped her mid-sentence. It was only a split-second before Severus realized it must be something about his expression. "Did you know, Severus?" He wanted to tell her that he didn't know. To even claim that she had no idea what she was referring to. But deceiving his wife further would only anger her more.
He swallowed thickly before speaking. "The night the Dark Mark burned..."
She stared at him intently. So far, there were no obvious signs of anger. "That night-what?"
"That was the night of the festival."
"My father was summoning you to the festival," she said slowly, "to slaughter Muggles."
"Yes."
Next came the question he was dreading most. Everything within him wished he could transport himself to a different time, a different situation where he wouldn't have to admit anything to her. "Did you know that this was going to happen?"
"Yes."
His wife slumped into the empty chair beside her. Her blue eyes were staring past him as she processed what she had just learned. Severus stayed rooted to the spot in their kitchen, the plate of cooling food still in his hands.
Cassie moved suddenly. She got to her feet, stepped toward him, and snatched the plate from his hand. He didn't react as she hurled it into the sink behind him. With some of her fury dissipated, she was able to focus on him. He waited for her to yell, to scream, to curse obscenities at him. Instead, her blue eyes glistened as she stared at him.
"Why?" she finally asked. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I was commanded not to." He did not dare look away as he spoke to her. He owed her that much, at least.
"By who?"
"The Dark Lord. And after much discussion, Dumbledore."
Cassie hissed in anger as she turned away from him. "Both your masters. Well, I suppose there is no disobeying them, is there?"
"I must maintain my cover - "
"I don't want to hear it again!" she shrieked. Finally, she had surpassed her boiling point. Severus couldn't blame her. If she wanted to hex him, he would allow it. "How could you just stand by and let this happen? How?"
"The Dark Lord instructed me specifically not to inform you," he repeated.
"That hasn't stopped you in the past!"
Severus inhaled shakily. "And the times you intervened with his plans, he grew suspicious. Dumbledore and I both agreed that whether or not I leaked this information to you was a test - "
"Do you realize what you're saying, Severus?" she demanded. "That the deaths of thousands outweighed the need to maintain your cover?"
He could not admit that that was exactly the truth. Instead, he said, "There will always be sacrifices in war, Cassie."
She scoffed bitterly. "And who are you to decide whose deaths are warranted and whose aren't?"
Severus blinked several times, carefully weighing his response. He knew better than to answer her while she was this angry. He also knew that avoiding the question would only make matters worse.
"I suppose I have just as much right to decide as you, Mistress Snape," he answered icily. "Do you truly believe that every person who was killed at Valaam deserved to die?"
He had seen Cassie angry countless times over the years. He had witnessed her rage at injustice, at cruelty, at the Ministry, at Death Eaters, and even at himself. But this was something different. Her teeth were bared, her nostrils flared, and her blue eyes burned with an intensity that made even him instinctively brace himself.
He was profoundly grateful that Machado had taught her to control her power during moments of extreme emotion. Otherwise, there was a very real possibility that the cottage would have imploded around them.
"Don't you dare try to change the subject—"
"The deaths at my hands versus the deaths at yours seems a fair comparison," he snarled.
"Fuck you!" She surged toward him, and Severus caught both her wrists before she could pummel his chest. She tore herself from his grasp, her hand flying toward her wand. For one tense moment, Severus thought she might actually curse him. Instead, she merely gripped it tightly at her side.
"Go ahead," he sneered, though there was no real challenge in his eyes. "Curse me. But it will not change what has happened. I need to maintain my cover."
"I can't stand it!"
"Our feelings are not relevant."
"But they are!" she cried. "How am I supposed to look my followers in the eye and ask them to risk their lives when the wizard I married may one day have to face them on a battlefield? Knowing that he withheld information that could have saved lives?" Her voice cracked on the final words. That, more than the shouting, struck him.
Severus knew she was angry. He knew she was hurt. But beneath both was fear—the terrible fear of one day standing across a battlefield from him, knowing that neither of them could afford to hesitate.
"You would not have been able to stop it," he said softly.
"How do you know?"
"It was a heavily coordinated attack. The Dark Lord recruited supporters from overseas and planted them within the grounds before the battle ever began. By the time anyone understood what was happening, the damage was already being done."
"So?"
"So your involvement would have resulted in only more losses among your people."
She stared at him. "You don't know that."
"I do."
"You don't get to decide that for me!"
"No," he admitted. "But I am intimately familiar with the consequences of allowing emotion to dictate one's actions in the midst of battle." Her expression hardened. He continued before she could interrupt. "Your power is at its greatest when you are permitted to unleash it. The grounds were packed with combatants and Muggles alike. There was little distinction between friend and foe. Any spell powerful enough to stop the attackers could just as easily have struck a bystander or one of your own."
"That might be true—"
"It is true."
Cassie threw her hands up in exasperation. "I would have been able to save people!" she insisted. "Anything would have been better than what happened! Death Eaters were running rampant and murdering people as they saw fit!"
"Cassie."
"No! Don't—"
Severus stepped forward and gripped her shoulders, turning her gently but firmly until she was forced to face him. "I am not justifying any of this." His voice had lost its sharpness. "What happened at the festival was a terrible loss. It was a tragedy. I mourn the innocent people who died."
"Then why not do everything in your power to stop it?" The question landed with enough force to silence him.
Because I was doing everything in my power.
Because every piece of information he obtained, every confidence the Dark Lord placed in him, every moment he endured among monsters was part of a larger war that Cassie still could not see. And because if his cover failed, the consequences would not end with his death. They would reach her.
Their arguments had circled this same impossible subject countless times over the years. Each time, they arrived at the same conclusion: there was no conclusion to be reached.
Cassie wanted him to choose the lives immediately in front of him. Severus had learned to sacrifice those lives for the chance to save countless more. Neither of them could make the other understand.
He hated the way she looked at him now. Hated the accusation in her eyes. Hated that she could look at the silver mask in his hand and see not the man she loved, but the possibility that he might one day become the very thing he had spent years pretending to be. Most of all, he hated knowing that she was not entirely wrong.
"As I have told you before," he said quietly, "you cannot save everyone."
Her eyes flashed. "You didn't even give me the chance to try!"
"Because Dumbledore requires my absolute commitment to maintaining the Dark Lord's trust." His voice hardened as he forced himself to remain composed. "Without it, we will truly be ignorant of his plans. I would lose access to the information we need. I would become useless to the very people you are trying to protect."
Cassie stared at him. He had repeated those words to her so many times that they had become almost ritualistic. Yet somehow, saying them never made them easier to hear.
"I hate it," she whispered. The fury drained from her almost as quickly as it had appeared. Her shoulders sagged, and she looked suddenly exhausted.
Severus flinched. It was subtle. Almost imperceptible. But Cassie noticed.
Her anger had never been directed at him—not truly. She hated the circumstances. She hated the war. She hated the choices that had been forced upon them. And she hated that loving Severus meant accepting that there would always be pieces of him she could not protect.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. The words were barely audible. Something inside her broke.
Cassie closed the distance between them and threw her arms around him. Severus stiffened for half a heartbeat before his arms closed around her, pulling her tightly against him. She buried her face against his chest, gripping the fabric of his robes as though she could somehow anchor both of them to this moment.
I don't hate you.
She didn't say it aloud. She didn't need to. Severus knew.
He felt it in the way she held him, in the trembling of her body against his, in the desperate strength of her embrace. And yet, despite knowing that, the word hate continued to echo through his mind.
He had spent years convincing himself that he could endure anything. The hatred of strangers. The contempt of allies. The suspicion of enemies. The possibility of death. But the thought that the woman he loved could ever truly hate him was different. That, he was not certain he could survive.
His hand moved slowly over her back, drawing her closer. Neither of them spoke. There was nothing left to say.
They were still angry and frightened. Still fundamentally opposed on a matter neither could surrender. But Cassie held him as though she needed him just as desperately as he needed her.
And for the moment, that was enough.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
The atmosphere inside Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, was eerily reminiscent of the Prince family home. Every room Cassie and Severus passed through seemed unnaturally dark, despite the countless floating candles illuminating their path. The house carried a heaviness that seemed to seep from the walls themselves, as though centuries of secrets, grudges, and family misery had settled into its foundations.
The sweet, sickening smell of rot still lingered in the air. Molly's tireless efforts had gradually improved the house's condition over the past several weeks. Still, there were some odors that even her formidable homemaking abilities had yet to completely eradicate.
A blur of feathers suddenly shot toward them. Pigwidgeon flapped his tiny wings as quickly as his little body could manage before making an abrupt landing on Cassie's shoulder. His claws dug into her flesh as he struggled to steady himself, and he immediately began clicking his beak enthusiastically beside her ear.
"Hi, Pig," she said with a giggle and a grimace. Despite the talons currently embedded in her shoulder, Cassie reached up and stroked the owl's tiny, feathered head. Pigwidgeon hooted happily before hopping across to Severus.
"Oi! Where has that menace gone off to now?" Ron's irritated voice carried down from the second floor. He appeared halfway down the staircase a moment later and stopped dead. His precious pet was sitting contentedly in the hands of the Potions Master.
Severus gave the owl one final stroke along his beak before extending his arms. "Back to Weasley, Pigwidgeon."
The little owl obediently flew back to his owner. Ron caught him against his chest and gave Severus a suspicious look. "Professor Snape."
"Weasley."
The exchange was as cold as ever.
Laughter drifted from somewhere beyond the hallway, presumably the dining room. Almost every time Cassie had visited the Black ancestral home since it had become headquarters for the Order, the place had been filled to overflowing with people. Somehow, despite the size of the house, there never seemed to be enough room for everyone.
"Oh," Hermione's voice came from the staircase. "Hello, Cassie. Hello, Professor Snape."
The married couple greeted her, then continued toward the dining room. Severus stepped through the swinging door, and Cassie was right behind him. She had barely crossed the threshold when Hermione caught her sleeve.
"I've another letter," the younger witch whispered.
Her eyes darted toward the doorway through which Cassie's husband had just disappeared. Cassie maintained a perfectly straight face, though the corners of her lips threatened to betray her. "Brilliant. I'll be sure to get it to him." She slipped the letter into her pocket and gave Hermione a quick wink. Hermione couldn't use owls to communicate with Draco. If Lucius or Narcissa discovered what she was doing, there would be hell to pay. Cassie had no intention of being responsible for getting either of them caught. "Have any of them noticed yet?" Cassie whispered.
"No," Hermione replied quietly. "They wouldn't be able to keep their mouths shut if they had."
That finally broke Cassie's composure. She smiled.
The thought of Harry and Ron's expressions if they ever discovered Hermione's secret correspondence with Draco was almost enough to make the entire situation worthwhile. Almost. She only hoped that, should they find out, the two boys would eventually learn to accept it.
Cassie reached into her other pocket and produced a crisp, silvery envelope. "And this is for you."
Hermione's eyes widened. She snatched it eagerly and immediately bounded up the stairs two at a time, barely able to contain her excitement about whatever awaited her inside. Cassie shook her head fondly before entering the dining room. Flailing arms immediately bombarded her.
"Cousin!" Tonks threw herself at Cassie and squeezed her so tightly that Cassie wondered whether this was finally the time Tonks managed to crack one of her ribs. "Did you hear about what happened in Seaton?"
"Vaguely." Cassie carefully extricated herself from her cousin's embrace. "Romily wasn't there, so she didn't have all the details."
At the mention of Cassie's emissary, Sirius shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It doesn't matter what the details are," he said. "Our home has been compromised, as we assumed."
"All the more reason to tidy this place up," Molly said sternly. She set down the platter she was carrying and immediately approached the newcomers. She pulled Cassie into a tight hug before moving on to Severus.
Cassie caught Sirius's eye as Molly embraced her husband. He rolled his eyes. She glared at him. He responded with a sarcastic smile.
Apparently, some things would never change.
"This place isn't so bad once you get used to the portrait of Sirius's mum," Harry offered. His godfather patted him affectionately on the arm, his expression softening into a genuine smile.
"She's been in a particularly foul mood," Sirius said, his eyes shifting pointedly toward Severus, "since he joined the family. If even a thread of that curtain is touched, she goes on and on about him being etched into the family tree."
"You know you're on the right path if Walburga wants to burn your face from the tapestry," Tonks said knowingly. "Too bad she can't from her place on the wall."
"Yes, wonderful that she'll haunt us here forever," Sirius quipped.
"As entertaining as it is to hear you complain about your privileged standing yet again," Severus drawled, "I believe we are here for a meeting."
"Shove off, Snivellus. You're lucky I allow you and your greasy nose to enter my home!"
Remus, seated beside Sirius, immediately kicked him beneath the table. Sirius grimaced and shot his friend an offended look. Cassie and Remus exchanged a knowing glance before she turned toward her hostile cousin. "Enough, Sirius. Or I'll banish you from the meeting like the other children."
"You can't—" But Sirius's protest was abruptly cut off as Molly announced that dinner was ready. Cassie smirked. For once, Molly had impeccable timing.
Hermione joined them several minutes after everyone had begun eating. She was conspicuously unable to look at Harry or Ron while the three Gryffindors discussed how they were going to rid the house of the last few doxies. Cassie didn't miss the unusual pinkness spreading across Hermione's cheeks. She hid a smile behind her glass. Apparently, whatever had been written in that letter had been particularly interesting.
As soon as dinner was finished, Kreacher cleared away the plates, and the underage witches and wizards were promptly ushered from the room. Only after Arthur had finished casting several layers of sound barriers did the meeting finally begin.
Severus stood near the end of the table, his posture rigid and his expression impassive as he began informing the Order of the Dark Lord's latest activities. "He has recruited the giants currently inhabiting the Furth Monros," Severus explained. "However, he has instructed them not to pillage the surrounding cities until a later date."
"And the Fomorians?" Remus asked. "Have they declared allegiance yet?"
"Not at this time," Severus replied. "The Dark Lord intends to meet with them next week to receive their final answer."
Sirius's gaze shifted toward Cassie. "You're going to meet with them yourself, yes?"
"I can't," Cassie said simply. "The Nordic vampire clan would disavow me."
Sirius scoffed. "So explain to them why you need to get the Fomorians on our side."
Cassie's expression hardened. "It's not that simple, Sirius."
"It is! They offered their loyalty to you, so tell them how it is!"
"Sirius—"
"They're already under your command!"
"No," she said firmly. "They are loyal to me. That does not mean I can order them to violate their own alliances and traditions."
Sirius waved dismissively. "Then convince them."
Cassie felt familiar frustration rising in her chest. It wasn't simply Sirius's refusal to understand. It was the assumption behind his words. The assumption that power meant she could simply demand obedience. That because the Nordic vampires had pledged themselves to her, she could use their loyalty however she pleased.
Her followers were not weapons. They were people and magical creatures who trusted her and whose lives she was responsible for.
"You are oversimplifying something you don't understand," Cassie said quietly.
Severus glowered at the Animagus. "Leave it to you, Black, to completely misunderstand the delicate intricacies of warfare."
"Shut it, Snivellus—"
"Knock it off, Sirius!" Tonks snapped.
"Oh, shove off, Dora! Do you really want to continue listening to him anyway?"
"You have demonstrated your aversion to logic enough," Severus intoned. "Perhaps you should leave the details to those of us who possess more than a handful of functioning brain cells."
Sirius shot to his feet. Remus and Tonks moved almost simultaneously, each grabbing one of Sirius's arms and forcing him back into his chair. He glared across the table at his archenemy, visibly grinding his teeth.
Cassie slammed her palm against the table. "Are you quite finished?" Silence fell. Her eyes remained fixed on Sirius. "Let me reword my phrasing so there can be no misunderstanding. I will not be negotiating with the Fomorians." Sirius opened his mouth. "The topic," she continued sharply, "is closed."
Arthur opened his mouth to speak, apparently hoping to redirect the conversation. Before he could say a word, Severus raised one finger. "Quiet."
The effect was immediate. Much like his dungeon classroom, the entire room fell silent at the simple instruction.
Severus rose from his chair and took two graceful steps toward the swinging door. Then he slammed it open.
A cry of pain followed. The door had struck Ron squarely in the nose.
"Weasley!" Severus seized Ron by the collar and hauled him upright. "Granger! Potter!" The three teenagers stared at him in horror.
"You don't get to speak to my godson that way!" Sirius shouted. He rounded the table, his limp barely slowing him, and reached Severus in an instant. Before anyone could stop him, Sirius shoved the Potions Master backward against the wall. The three horrified Gryffindors scrambled out of the way.
Sirius drew his wand and thrust it toward Severus's face.
Cassie's blood ran cold. "Put that down," she hissed, but Sirius didn't even glance at her. Before he could fire a hex, a bolt of blue electricity crackled through the air and struck his hand. Sirius cried out, and his wand clattered onto the floor. Cassie stood at the end of the table, her hand still raised. "Sirius." Her voice was dangerously calm. "Unhand my husband."
For several seconds, Sirius simply stared at her. His eyes dropped to her outstretched, empty hand. Slowly, reluctantly, he released Severus and took a step backward. But his narrowed eyes remained fixed on Cassie. "Power has clouded your judgment, Madam Snape."
Cassie snorted. "So I should allow you to harm him?"
"I think he's a master manipulator," Sirius replied bitterly. "And you've fallen victim to his game."
"And what game would that be, Black?" Severus sneered. He brushed nonexistent dust from his robes as though Sirius's hands had somehow contaminated them.
"I don't know," Sirius spat, "but whatever the endgame is, it's to your benefit, I expect. Having Voldemort, Dumbledore, and Cassie's trust? What else could it possibly be?"
Cassie's stomach twisted. For all his anger, Sirius had struck at something that had been bothering her since the massacre at Glastonbury. She hated that he had managed to voice it aloud. But there was a crucial difference between questioning Severus's actions and attacking him. She could question her husband. She could argue with him. She could be furious with him.
But Sirius did not get to put his hands on him.
"You've made your opinion perfectly clear," Cassie said coldly.
Sirius's jaw tightened. "And you've made yours."
"Yes," Cassie replied. "I have."
Severus looked at her. For the briefest moment, something passed between them—an acknowledgment that neither of them needed to put into words.
They were leaving.
Neither Cassie nor Severus said another word. They simply gathered their things and walked toward the door. No one attempted to stop them. If the meeting continued after their departure, neither of the Snapes knew—or particularly cared—what was discussed.
By the time they stepped outside Grimmauld Place, the cold night air struck Cassie's face. She inhaled deeply.
She was angry.
Severus was angry.
And beneath her anger was something else she couldn't quite name. The last several hours had forced her to confront too many uncomfortable truths at once.
She had defended Severus even as she struggled with his decision about the festival. She had defended the boundaries of her own leadership. And she had watched Sirius cross a line he had no right to cross. For once, she wasn't certain whether she wanted to scream at her husband, her cousin, or both of them.
She glanced sideways at Severus. He stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched. Neither spoke as they walked on together.
For the first time since Grimmauld Place had become a headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, Cassie found herself wondering whether she would ever willingly attend another meeting there again.
-------------------
Rita Skeeter, it seemed, was spoiled for choice when it came to sensational stories that summer.
The Daily Prophet had already published several articles about the Glastonbury massacre. Predictably, none of them acknowledged the truth. The thousands of Muggles who had died were attributed to a series of unexplained natural phenomena, with the Ministry insisting that there was no evidence whatsoever of magical involvement.
There were articles in the following days announcing the death of Russian Minister Sergey Gryzlov while incarcerated. Skeeter, naturally, did not waste the opportunity. She gleefully detailed Cassie's involvement in the overthrow of the Magical Duma and painted her actions as something between a coup and the beginning of a personal campaign for power. Thankfully, the details surrounding the newly appointed Minister Khristina Baladin's connection to Cassie remained murky at best. Enough speculation fueled the Prophet's readership, but not enough concrete evidence to expose the full extent of their relationship.
Arthur kept Cassie informed about the flood of letters arriving at the Ministry. Some demanded her arrest. Others demanded that she be forbidden from returning to Hogwarts as a professor's assistant.
About a week after the hysteria began, Dumbledore himself traveled to Ottery St. Catchpole. Cassie had been expecting a conversation about the Ministry.
She had not expected to be fired.
"What do you mean, I'm sacked?" she demanded after Dumbledore calmly explained his decision. "You're really going to fold, Albus?"
"Think of it as a reprieve," Dumbledore replied serenely.
Cassie folded her arms. "A reprieve from what?"
"Public scrutiny, if nothing else. We all know that you will be plenty busy with other activities."
She narrowed her eyes. "And how exactly do you expect me to help protect Harry and the other students if I'm not allowed inside the castle?"
"Your position is forfeit," Dumbledore clarified. "I did not say that you were banned from the castle." There was a distinct twinkle in his blue eyes as his gaze moved between Cassie and Severus.
Cassie immediately understood. "You're being deliberately vague."
"Perhaps."
Severus had remained silent throughout most of the conversation, but now he spoke. "Who do you intend to hire for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?" His voice was quiet. Too quiet.
Cassie glanced toward him. She knew that tone. He didn't actually want to know the answer.
Dumbledore's expression became almost apologetic. "Sirius Black."
The silence that followed lasted approximately two seconds. Then Severus exploded.
His voice rose to a deafening volume as he demanded to know what sort of insanity Dumbledore was contemplating. He swore. He shouted. He questioned the Headmaster's judgment, his sanity, and eventually his intelligence. Dumbledore remained seated throughout the tirade.
Cassie had to give the elderly wizard credit. He appeared almost entirely unfazed as he absorbed the full force of her husband's fury. It took quite some time before Severus finally exhausted himself. Dumbledore rose.
"I believe," he said mildly, "that I have delivered all the information I came to deliver."
Severus muttered something distinctly uncomplimentary. The Headmaster gave Cassie a knowing smile before taking his leave.
The moment Dumbledore crossed the threshold and Disapparated, Cassie reached for her husband's elbow. "Come on."
He allowed her to guide him into the sitting room without protest. She poured him a generous goblet of wine and placed it firmly in his hands.
Severus drank. Then he began ranting again.
Cassie listened. She refilled his glass whenever necessary and made no attempt to interrupt him.
"We would have been better off with Lupin!" Severus finally declared. Cassie nearly laughed. She wanted to argue.
Of course they wouldn't have been better off with Lupin. They would have been once again stuck with a werewolf who needed babysitting every month, and who was unfortunately in love with her, too.
But Severus was angry. And sometimes, she had learned, a person needed permission to be irrational. It was good for the soul.
"It will be good for Harry," she pointed out gently.
"Yes, whatever is best for Potter!" Severus snarled. Cassie tapped her wand against his goblet. The red liquid rose magically from the bottle on the table and filled it to the brim. "Fuck everyone else!"
She hid a smile. "That's the spirit." Severus gave her an irritated look over the rim of his glass.
Eventually, the ranting became muttering, and the muttering became silence. Cassie coaxed him upstairs. By the time the bathtub was full of steaming water, Severus seemed to have forgotten why he was supposed to be undressing. His thoughts slowed, but they didn't stop.
Cassie gently removed his robes herself. He climbed into the tub with a weary sigh, and she knelt beside him. Before he could protest, she poured shampoo into his raven hair and worked it into a thick lather.
His eyes closed. Her fingers moved slowly across his scalp, massaging away some of the tension gathered there. Gradually, the rigid set of his shoulders began to loosen. "There," she murmured. "Better?"
A low hum was his only response. Cassie smiled.
She reached for the sponge and trailed it gently over his collarbone, across his chest, and down the pale expanse of his torso. The sparse black hair covering his chest was familiar beneath her fingertips. So was the long, silvery scar that stretched across his pectoral muscle, catching the light beneath the droplets of bathwater.
She paused. There was something strangely comforting about seeing him like this. Not Professor Snape. Not the spy or the Death Eater. Not the man who had just spent twenty minutes shouting himself hoarse over Sirius Black.
Just Severus. Her husband. The man she knew better than anyone.
She reached out and traced the scar with the tips of her fingers before letting them drift lightly over his skin. Severus hummed contentedly and sank farther beneath the bubbles.
Cassie smiled to herself. Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to remove her own clothes and join him. She had barely begun considering the logistics when Severus suddenly cried out.
Her head snapped toward him. His left forearm was glowing as the Dark Mark seared itself to life.
"No." Cassie instinctively reached for him, but Severus was already climbing from the tub. "Sev—"
"I must go."
"You don't know what he wants."
"I know that ignoring him will not improve the situation."
Cassie grabbed a towel and threw it toward him. He caught it, dried himself, and reached for his wand. The Dark Lord would not be pleased that Severus had ignored his summons once already. Whatever Voldemort wanted tonight, it was in Severus's best interest to respond as quickly as possible.
Cassie followed him downstairs. He was already reaching for his silver mask when she caught his arm. "Please." He looked back. "Please, please be careful, Sev." The words came out smaller than she meant them to.
She hated watching him leave like this. Every time he walked through that door wearing the silver mask, some small part of her feared it would be the last time she saw his face.
Severus's expression softened. He turned fully toward her and caught her hand. For a moment, he simply looked into her eyes. Those familiar blue eyes that had become home to him in a way he had never expected was possible. "You know I will."
"I love you."
"I love you, too." He kissed her forehead. Then he put on the mask. Cassie watched him disappear through the door.
The moment he was gone, the cottage seemed unbearably quiet.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Riddle estate had become Severus's personal nightmare fuel months ago.
He had crossed the grounds at his master's command countless times, yet the sight of the gnarled trees and neglected flower beds still caused his heart to race.
He hated this place and what it represented. Hated what he was forced to become every time he entered it.
He raised his wand to the front door and unlocked it with a whispered charm. The moment he stepped inside, his expression changed. Whatever fear had existed beneath the surface disappeared. His face became impassive and his posture rigid. He was once again the cold, calculating Death Eater that the Dark Lord expected to see.
The Death Eaters who had arrived before him were already scattered throughout the dining hall. Most had removed their masks so they could drink freely. Laughter echoed through the room, accompanied by the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of drunken conversation.
Severus kept his mask on. He would not remove it until the Dark Lord gave him permission.
"Ah, Severus!" Barty Crouch Junior greeted him, his face flushed from the alcohol he had already consumed. "Good of you to join us, for once." The sarcasm was deliberate. A warning.
Severus ignored it.
The Dark Lord had not summoned him since he had missed the genocide at the Glastonbury festival. Tonight, he would have to answer for it. And Severus knew better than to expect mercy.
The Dark Lord was not in the dining hall. Severus ascended the main staircase, his feet following the familiar path toward the master suite.
He found Kalina seated beside Lord Voldemort in her customary place. Severus kept his eyes fixed on the wall behind them as he approached. He dropped to his knees.
"My Lord." He bowed deeply.
"Severus," hissed his father-in-law. "You've bothered to show up. How splendid."
"I apologize, my Lord."
"So you answer to her now?"
"On the contrary, my Lord. She tried to prevent me from coming here tonight."
Voldemort scoffed. "And you think that absolves you of consequences? The festival was a tremendous success." His voice became colder. "But not thanks to you."
"I apologize, my Lord."
"I could have used you there." Voldemort had still not given him permission to rise. Severus kept his gaze lowered. "Did she command you to remain behind because she knew what was coming?"
"No, my Lord. I did not tell her of your—" He paused deliberately. "—our plans." Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "In fact, she is quite upset that I did not inform her beforehand."
The Cruciatus Curse struck him before he could prepare himself. Pain exploded through every nerve. Severus collapsed onto his back, his body twisting violently against the floor. He bit down hard on his tongue to prevent himself from screaming.
Blood filled his mouth.
Above him, Lord Voldemort leaned closer. "You cannot stand it, can you?" he hissed. "You pathetic, miscreant half-blood." The curse intensified. "You cannot stand the thought that she might lose her trust in you." Severus's vision blurred. He heard Kalina make a small, frightened sound. She covered her mouth as she watched her former master writhe on the floor. She knew better than to look away from someone being tortured. If she did, Voldemort would simply turn his wand on her next. "I suppose I cannot blame you," Voldemort continued.
Then, mercifully, the curse stopped. Severus lay motionless for several seconds, fighting to regain control of his breathing. He swallowed the blood pooling in his mouth. He did not dare return to his knees.
You cannot stand the thought that she might lose her trust in you.
Severus squeezed his eyes shut. The bastard knew.
Perhaps not everything. Perhaps not the depth of it, but enough.
Voldemort had always been extraordinarily perceptive when it came to identifying weaknesses. He had spent years studying the people around him, learning precisely which wounds to press when the Cruciatus alone wasn't sufficient.
And he knew where Severus was most vulnerable. Cassie.
"My heir is magnificent," Voldemort said, almost fondly. "Even if she is headstrong and ignorant." He motioned for Severus to stand. Severus obeyed. He prayed that his shaking legs would hold his weight.
Voldemort reached out and abruptly ripped the silver mask from Severus's face and tossed it into Kalina's lap. She startled so violently that she nearly dropped it. "And tell me," Voldemort said, "does my Cassiopeia have a taste for power yet, Severus?" He turned toward the door. Severus and Kalina followed immediately. "I would think removing Gryzlov from his seat would have whetted her appetite by now." They walked through the corridor and descended the staircase.
Raucous laughter already drifted up from the dining hall below. "We have discussed her overtaking the Ministry on several occasions, my Lord," said Severus. They reached the dining hall. Every Death Eater immediately bowed as their master entered.
"And?" Voldemort ignored them completely and turned his attention back to his son-in-law. "Will she do it?"
"I am still uncertain, my Lord."
"Why?" Voldemort motioned for his followers to resume their festivities. A door leading into the kitchen opened. Severus caught movement in the corner of his eye as a bound figure was dragged into the room.
"She wrestles with the implications," Severus continued. "Much of the magical community already fears her—"
"A marvelous thing!" Voldemort gave a sharp, delighted laugh. "A pity she does not see it."
"I am encouraging her," Severus said carefully. "To the best of my abilities."
The Dark Lord nodded. His attention had shifted entirely to the prisoner now being dragged across the floor. Whether the conversation was finished or whether Voldemort intended to return to it later, Severus did not know.
He was no longer concerned. His attention, like Voldemort's, had been captured by the Death Eaters' newest victim.
Barty Crouch Senior was forced to his knees. Terror was written plainly across his face as he looked around the room, his eyes landing on each figure in turn as he realized what was about to happen.
His son circled him, wand drawn and a sickening smile stretched across his face.
Whatever Barty said to his father, Severus did not hear. His attention had suddenly been drawn across the room.
His breath caught. Standing among the Death Eaters was Darragh Prince. He wore black robes, and a silver mask was in his grip.
For several seconds, Severus simply stared. His mind struggled to reconcile what his eyes were telling him. A member of the Prince family standing openly in the Dark Lord's inner circle.
Severus's stomach dropped. He forced his expression to remain completely impassive. No one could know that the sight of Darragh had shaken him. No one could know what was racing through his mind.
And, most importantly, no one could know that somewhere in a little cottage in Ottery St. Catchpole, Cassie was completely unaware that her husband's carefully constructed world had just become considerably more dangerous.
Someone else had just entered the game.
And Severus had no idea whose side he was on.