After we decorated the tree I set about giving the house a quick run through to make sure everything was in ship shape while the boys went outside to burn off some energy. Draco had mentioned sliding on the frozen stream, or something along those lines. I didn't mind so long as they were out of my hair for me to do what I needed to. The house was alright, and the only thing I really had to do was dust a few things and pull down all the bedding from the closets and put it on the beds. It had been an extra precaution to avoid mice making nests in things, for it was easier to heavily charm a closet than a whole room and just lay down a few traps here and there in places less easy to protect. Despite the fact that there were not a lot of chores to do, I was very displeased while doing them, mostly because the attic was freezing despite the fact that the fire had been going steadily downstairs for a long time. So, naturally, I was even more grateful than usual for magic as I spelled all of the bedding onto the mattresses of Harry and Draco's beds, for it meant I had to spend less time shivering. The cold made me cough bitterly, my breath condensing in the air until it rose in puffs. I retreated down the attic stairs, feet fumbling with the narrow steps as my vision blurred briefly. My clumsy feet slipped halfway down. Hands scrabbling at the walls, I slid over a few steps, my feet coming out from under me. Luckily I managed to land, perched awkwardly, on a step a little way from the bottom. I took a deep shuddering breath.

"Keep going Severus, you're fine," I whispered to myself after a moment or two.

I pushed myself to my feet with conviction, and I carefully continued on my way down. I eventually made it down to the kitchen to brew a cup of peppermint tea to calm my nerves. I curled up in the armchair by the fire, hands wrapped around the mug as I took a few deep breathes and relaxed into the soft chair, watching the flames dance over the coals. I closed my eyes.

"Severus?" asked a careful voice. I jumped slightly and my eyes snapped open. I immediately saw Molly Weasley's head sitting in the fire.

"Yes?" I asked, straightening myself in my armchair.

"Would the lot of you like to come by for tea?" Molly inquired cheerfully. "I daresay the boys are missing each other already, and I made a new kind of square. It turned out very well. The boys will love it."

"Sure," I said, thinking that the boys would indeed like to go. "What time?"

"Oh, in about an hour and a half, I'd say." She smiled and I nodded. "Arthur and I would love to catch up with you as well."

"Thank you Molly. We will see you later then," I said, and she disappeared with a slight pop and a "You're welcome."

I was grateful for her invitation, as I had been hoping to ask her if any of her children had been bullied before, and if there was anything I could do to make it easier for Draco, or stop it altogether. To tell the truth I found it rather nice that the Weasleys seemed to accept me, and Molly was always interested in what was happening in my life and how it was going with the boys. I felt very lucky, and it had taken me a while to realize she had always been willing to listen, even before all of this. I just hadn't seen it and hadn't allowed myself to get close to anyone. I relaxed back into my armchair, putting my empty mug on the floor beside me, and I soon fell asleep. I was always tired these days.

I was woken rather abruptly by Draco stumbling through the door, his hair dripping wet and sticking to his white cheeks, his lips blue. Harry came in quickly behind, and gave me an innocent look.

"What in Merlin's name did you do?" I asked, immediately alert. I stood up quickly and grabbed the thick blanket that rested across the back of the sofa.

"He was sliding on the ice, and it broke," Harry said, barely holding back a laugh.

"Y-y-yeah," Draco said sluggishly as I pulled off his mittens and his cloak before wrapping him tightly in the blanket and sitting him down in front of the fire.

"That was very foolish!" I scolded, heart hammering painfully with worry. "You didn't think to check the thickness of the ice?"

"N-No. I-it was f-fine until we went d-d-downstream." He said it as though checking the thickness of the ice was the most absurd thing one could possibly do before sliding on it.

"Stay here," I said. "Harry, make him something hot to drink."

Without hesitation I dashed up the stairs and turned on the faucet in the bathtub, waiting for the water to heat up as it ran over my fingers. Then I went back downstairs, shaking my head. Draco's hands were blue at the fingertips. I took them in my own and I rubbed them to get the blood to circulate.

"Must every one of your actions give me heart palpitations?" I asked through gritted teeth.

Draco tried to shrug but instead it came across as some sort of odd spasm, for he was shivering too badly. By the time I had shut off the running water in the bathtub Harry had returned from the kitchen with a cup of hot chocolate for Draco. Draco had since warmed up a little, and was no longer quite so pale so I told him to go have a long bath and drink his hot chocolate, and to call me if something was wrong. He didn't protest, and went to do just that. Harry snickered a little at the whole situation, but one look from me and he stifled it, though he couldn't hide the slight twitch of his lips.

After some time I heard the bathtub draining, so I went upstairs and pulled a warm pair of flannel pyjama trousers and a long sleeved shirt from my suitcase, and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Draco?"

"Yes?" he called through the door.

"I had intended to give you these pyjamas on Christmas, but I think you are in greater need of them today," I said, unable to keep from sounding mildly amused.

"Thanks," said Draco gratefully as he reached around the door for them, which he had opened a crack. "Oooh, nice." I heard him say through the door. I had thought he would like them, as, of course, he had grown a ridiculous amount as of late and so all of his pyjamas were way too small. He was probably glad for a pair that fit.

When he finally emerged he settled down on the sofa with a warm blanket. I read my book while Harry and Draco played a game of exploding snap. After a while, I told them of Molly's invitation to tea. Harry was in immediately, though Draco looked reluctant.

"If you want to stay you can," I said. "You should be fine here, if you are alright with being on your own that is. I suspected you would probably want to stay."

"I don't feel like going outside again," Draco muttered, looking at the frosted windowpanes. "I think I'll stay. You two go ahead though, and say hello to everyone for me."

I nodded. "We'll be back in an hour or so then. You know where to find us if you need us."

Draco said goodbye to us and so Harry and I departed, making sure to lock the door behind us.

"You should have seen the look on his face Dad," Harry said, holding back a laugh as we walked to the edge of the wards.

"I'm sure he looked very pleased," I said sarcastically as we stopped just before the edge of the wards and I held out my arm. Harry grabbed it. "Ready?"

Harry nodded, and we stepped through the wards, and then I apparated, dragging us both through blackness until we materialized in front of the Burrow.

Ron Weasley ran out to meet Harry, going on about some crazy thing that Fred and George had made, as usual. They soon disappeared up the long staircase and I joined Molly and Arthur in the kitchen for tea. Arthur could not stay long however, as he had an evening shift with the Order.

It was a pleasant visit. Most of the talk was light, such as what all of the kids were up to these days. Both Arthur and Molly had some advice on bullies, as Percy had been made fun of frequently when he was a child. In short, they said that they really didn't think there was much more I could do besides continue to punish the students for what they were doing and make sure that Draco knew I was supporting him and that none of it was his fault. I appreciated her advice, and filed it away in my mind as we moved on to less pressing matters such as the mayhem of Fred and George. I had to admit it was rather amusing hearing Molly rant on about the twins and their joke shop. She was simultaneously impressed and mortified by it.

"Well, I could tell they were doing well," I said, grimacing, "seeing as strange new pranks are popping up all over the place. Somebody went and used a portable swamp up in Trelawney's tower. She droned on for days about the pranksters clouding her ‘seeing eye'." The last part I thought was pretty funny actually, in all honesty.

"I would not be surprised if Ron had a hand in that; you should have heard him go on about her the summer after his third year," Arthur said. "He was ready to start predicting her death, after all of those nasty predictions about Harry dying."

"As if Harry didn't have enough to worry about that year!" Molly said, looking highly disapproving of it all.

"That's just Sybill's way," I said rolling my eyes. "I am another person she enjoys predicting the cause of death for. Surprisingly, as of late she's been getting closer." I frowned, contemplating her last prediction that I would die of the black plague.

"What do you mean?" Molly asked suspiciously.

I froze. Now you've done it. I had forgotten they didn't know.

"It's a rather long story ..." I stirred my tea, trying both to deter them from asking while looking casual.

"Well, I'll have to wait to hear it then," said Arthur, checking his watch and getting up reluctantly. "Good to see you. Say hello to Draco for me."

"I will. Good luck," I said, wondering where Dumbledore wanted him stationed tonight.

Molly gave him a hug and kiss and as soon as she had waved him off she rounded on me.

"What is the meaning of this?" she hissed so suddenly I almost jumped. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Well ..." I said, rather taken aback and feeling like a schoolboy caught skiving off a class. "Trelawney took a wild guess and predicted I was dying of the black plague."

"That's ridiculous. You aren't though, are you?"

"No, not ... really." I hastily took a gulp of my tea at the look on her face. I sighed, frowning. "The truth is, she was more right than she knew, even if she was miles off with the black plague, of all things."

Molly looked at me pointedly, worry etched on her face.

"I ... I'm dying of something else," I said hastily, my hands clasped together under the table to keep her from seeing them shake.

Molly gasped. "What?"

"Something called Lethifold Syndrome," I replied, not meaning to sound so depressed. "I probably won't make it past June, according to the healers."

"Do the boys know?" she asked predictably, sounding dazed.

"Yes, and that wasn't much of a picnic, I'll tell you."

I felt the numbness surround me as it had as of late. Sometimes it can be helpful not to have any emotion running through you; at least that was how depression made me feel often. By now I understood that the questions were always the same, the ones people asked when they found out. It made me grow weary. I was tired of having to tell people, of having people find out. Their looks never changed. Disbelieving, shocked, then despairing. Despite it all Molly was holding together admirably, and quite likely for my sake. I thought perhaps she sensed I'd had this conversation too often as of late. Yet I wished no longer to be at the Burrow; not after this. I checked my watch, surprised to see an hour had passed. I was glad, for that meant it would be easier to make a retreat. I simply did not know how to carry on after speaking of such topics. Talking of one's impeding death is a bit of a conversation killer, or so I had learned from experience.

"That's what you were telling Sirius, that night," she said softly.

I nodded.

"How are the boys taking it?"

"As well as can be expected," I said. "They're pretty shaken about it."

"How are you taking it?"

I laughed bitterly. "It's easier some days. But every time something starts to worsen you start to listen for death knocking on the door. I never expected to die slowly like this. I always thought the Dark Lord would do it. Should have known I wasn't that lucky."

"But you are Severus," Molly replied. "It won't be on his terms, it will be on yours."

I nodded. Perhaps she was right.

"Thank you for the tea Molly," I said. "I should be going."

"You're welcome," she said with a sad smile before glancing out the window into the back garden, where Harry, Ron and Ginny were now having a snowball fight. She sighed softly. "The kids look like they're having too much fun. I'll send Harry back when he's ready, if that's alright with you."

"He can stay. It's good to see him getting his mind off things."

"How have his lessons with Dumbledore been going?" asked Molly curiously as I pulled on my cloak.

"It's hard to know, but I think he's starting to truly understand just how dangerous a game he is fighting, that ... he might have to give what he never wanted to, just to have a chance at victory." I gazed out the window sorrowfully. "It's in his eyes, now and then."

"I wish we could do more." Molly wiped her eyes.

"I wish I could too ... Goodbye. Thank you for tea." I suddenly felt bad for how much of a damper I had put upon the day for Molly. I knew she had enough burdens to deal with already, let alone mine.

"Do take care of yourself," she said.

I promised her that I would as I opened the door. I stepped out and glanced over the hill in the direction of our house, eager to get home. But something made that pull increase exponentially, for what I saw above the snowy hilltop nearly made my heart stop. Molly let out a sharp gasp. Why now, of all times? I frantically thought to myself.

"Call Dumbledore, now!" I yelled as I ran to the edge of the wards to apparate, fear like I had never felt before electrifying my senses. I spun on the spot, but as blackness met my eyes the shining imprint of the dark mark remained in my mind, hovering like a ghost as my breath was sucked away. It was only then that I remembered that upon our return from the school I had not checked up on the wards to make sure they were as strong as they were when I had left them back in the summer. It had completely slipped my mind.

I arrived where the wards should have been and immediately saw the house, its protection gone. The Death Eaters would only have had to find a single, small crack in the enchantments to break them. This thought poisoned me with guilt and fear as the mark hovered sickeningly over the house, adding to the shadows created by the falling sun, which was throwing waves of red over the snow. I heard a crack and someone appeared on the roof, at very top where the two sides began to slope. It was Bellatrix and she had Draco around the middle with one arm, a knife held to his throat with the other. He shot me a look of pure terror, and relief flooded me at the sight of him alive, and then unholy terror once more. But what was I supposed to do? I couldn't fire a spell for fear of hitting him, and there was no time to set up anything to stop her from apparating.

Without even time for a breath I tried something downright dangerous. I twisted on the spot and tried to apparate onto the roof as well. I landed with a dull thud and almost lost my balance because of the incline, but against all odds I managed to stay put where I had landed, crouched down. For a moment she was there before me, startled. My cold hands fumbled with my wand, and then she disapparated, taking my son far away from me and leaving nothing but two pairs of footprints on the snowy roof.

"No ... NO!"

A sharp, wheezing cough took a hold of me, the taste of blood filling my mouth as the crimson sunlight flooded my vision. I knew I had to stop coughing, for my position was unstable, but I could not and so the tremors that shook me made my feet shift. I started to slide on the icy roof, and suddenly I was scrabbling for something to hold onto. I slid down, down until I felt my feet go over the edge. Then I was watching the siding of the house go by as I fell through the air, terror coursing through me once more. I came to my senses only a moment before it was too late, and I apparated to the first place I thought of.

I landed in the sitting room, heart still fighting to free itself from my chest, my feet on solid ground once more. But I still felt like I was falling. Everything around me seemed to do so, even things built deep down inside me as I glanced around the room where Draco and I had last spoken. The fire was only coals, the pot of floo powder untouched. The blanket Draco had been curled up under when Harry and I left was on the floor, a ways from the sofa and close to the stairs. The front door was wide open and a few snowflakes drifted along the floor in the wind. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to, but I could see it all; how it happened. And it played inside my head like nightmares did when I awoke in a cold sweat. Draco, who had looked tired when we left, had fallen asleep, finally having gotten warm. The wards fell silently while he was sleeping, and she had been coming through the door when, at last, he  awoke. I walked over to the staircase and looked up, noting the blanket lying at the foot of it. Perhaps it caught on his pyjamas. Draco must have gotten up when he saw Bellatrix coming through the door, and then he ran to the stairs, for his only way would have been up. I took a glance at the marks on the wall by the door. He probably shot a few spells at her. He had defended himself, that was for sure. Halfway up the stairs there were pieces of broken brick. He had conjured up a wall between himself and her. She blasted it apart with her wand, and pursued him. Shaking, I went up the stairs. There was a skid on the wall where the small staircase to the attic was. He had gone up, and Bellatrix shot a spell after him, probably not missing by much. I passed the mark on the wall, and began my way up the attic stairs. The trapdoor was blasted off its hinges, the wood nowhere to be found, scorch marks around the edges. I rose up through it and into the attic, where Harry and Draco slept. It was a mess (more than usual, to be specific). The beds were overturned, and the feathers from the pillows strewn about. I found the remains of the wood trapdoor, and the pieces were half burned, as though the thing had literally been blown apart. Draco and Harry's trunks were off to the side of the trapdoor, parts of them scratched and burnt, though only just. Draco must have put them overtop the trapdoor, and naturally Bellatrix responded spectacularly. I caught sight of Draco's broomstick, on the ground below the round attic window, which had been smashed from the inside. The paint had been scratched off his broomstick at the top of the handle, and the window would have been just the right size for him to squeeze through. Draco had broken the window with the broom, intending to jump out to fly away.

"Clever boy," I muttered. He knew he could not best her in a duel. But his actions had been too late. She had come closer then. I bent down to pick up Draco's wand, which was lying on the floor nearby. I looked at his bed, pushed over and resting on its side, the sheets torn, a hole gouged out in the mattress. He had backed up and used it for cover, having propped it up on its side after he was disarmed. It looked like he had been just in time by the way the skid marks of the spell appeared upon the sheets. She must have cast the mark out the window at that point, for he was cornered and without a wand, and she knew I would come at the sight of the mark. Then she grabbed him, and as I appeared she apparated onto the roof, just to torture me further after seeing me arrive through the window.

I took a deep shuddering breath, and unable to stand anymore, I sunk to my knees, suddenly weak. It was then that I looked up, and saw something on the attic wall I had not seen before. It was a message, burnt into the wood.

The traitor's life for his

HE is waiting

There was an old newspaper clipping stuck to the wall beneath the message, and I did not even need to read it to know what it meant. The picture was enough, and immediately I knew where they took him. I could almost smell the smoke when I looked at the old picture of Malfoy Manor, its wreck smouldering like it had on that night, a year ago, when I pulled Draco out of the flames.

My eyes stayed glued to the message, to the picture, and the next thing I realized was that half the Order of the Phoenix had filed into the attic and was now standing around me, so big compared to how I felt there on the attic floor. But I could not even fully care; all I could do was try to breathe as I examined every inch of that message as though I hoped against all odds it was just another well executed prank of Draco's. But I knew Draco would never do this, and the Dark Lord knew what I would never do. Thus all that was left for me was to speed up the inevitable, and walk to my death. And that, He knew I would do.