Severus was very pleased with himself on that particular evening. Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley had found the diadem of Ravenclaw in the Room of Requirements, with the help of several house elves and the eccentric Luna Lovegood, and said diadem was now resting in a heavily warded velvet case in Severus's office, awaiting transportation to Gringotts to be cleansed. Not only that, but one of his contacts in Knock Turn Alley had gotten back to him about the locket- it would seem that it was currently in Dolores Umbridge's possession, and Severus felt sure he could get her in trouble for having it in her possession. To improve matters still further, he had spoken to his account manager about the chalice, and the news was heartening- while it was by no means a done deal, Grimstock had agreed to have it investigated, with the agreement that if said chalice was found the fine for possession of a horcrux would be taken from the Lestrange vault (although Severus had had to bribe him with a very good pay raise). All in all, the only thing he had left to do that night was attend a staff meeting that Dumbledore had called earlier that day and do some grading- no torture, horcrux destruction or occlumensy lessons planned.

A rare smile hovered over his lips as he sat, grading defense essays (which seemed, unusually, actually relatively cogent...was he going soft?) and enjoying a glass of red wine.

At last, Severus cast a tempus, wondering why his alarm hadn't gone off, and with a shock, realized that he had not actually set the aforementioned alarm, and that he had three minutes to get to the staff room. So he rose from the armchair he had been working on his 3rd year essays in and left his chambers, locking and warding the door behind him, and headed to the staff room.

He was late, and Dumbledore was already speaking. "There will also be a Halloween masquerade, open to all years. I would like Professors Sprout and Flitwick and anyone who wants to volunteer to chaperone."

"The Inner Eye sees that that is a fabulous idea," said Trelawny dreamily. Severus managed not to roll his eyes, but only just.

"And now that we're all here," Dumbledore continued, his voice going grave, "I have a very important announcement to make."

A shiver ran down Severus's spine. He had a horrible feeling that he knew what that announcement would be, even though it couldn't be what he thought...

"This summer I was cursed with languesco mortis."

Severus made a low choking noise which he would later fervently deny. Septima's hands flew to her mouth, and Babbling, who was the most proficient of all of them in Latin, gave a little gasp as she figured it out.

"As there is no cure accessible, my original plan was to keep it quiet so as not to cause the students to panic or word to reach Voldemort, and it was agreed between Severus and I" (all eyes flew to the youngest staff member) "that should I be cornered by Death Eaters he would kill me himself to rise in Voldemort's good graces and prevent someone who preferred the more...messy curses from doing the job."

Severus shrank back, hearing Albus reveal the plans that he had forced on him, and knowing the conclusions that his colleagues would jump to.

"But now that he is no longer a spy, I felt that the secret no longer needed to be kept from you, although I trust that it will go no further. The fact remains that I will die before the year's out."

"There is a cure," Severus protested, desperation in his tone, remembering the arguments that he had had with his mentor. "Or the salve- if you would allow me to prepare it..."

"No," Dumbledore replied. "It would be useless to waste so much phoenix ash on an old man like me, and I would still be dependent on it for the rest of my life. I'm simply not that valuable."

Tears shimmered in several of the witches' eyes, and Severus himself could feel his throat choking up, his body trembling. A strange warmth was filling him, but that could have had to do with the emotion he was suppressing, or with the fact that Harry, listening in on his thoughts, was attempting to comfort him. Hagrid was crying unashamedly from his usual seat.

"But you have Fawkes!" protested Charity Burbage. "Couldn't he give you the ash?"

"He does not burn more than twice a year," the headmaster responded. "And I would not selfishly ask him to give me more than he already is. He already burned twice this year, and I know how painful it is. Besides, Severus was forced into an unbreakable vow. He would die if I did not. I simply tell you this now so that you will understand when the time comes, and so that you will not condemn him."

Severus stared numbly at the man, as his most shameful duty was revealed to the staff who had once trusted him. Something seemed to flutter within him, struggling to escape. "No. I will not do it," he rasped at last. "Not when there is a cure. I would die, if I had to."

"But your Unbreakable Vow-"

"Is broken," Severus responded forcefully, as though something were tugging the words from him. All of the other staff stared at him, disbelieving.

"How-"

To all those watching him, the Potion Master's thin face seemed to be suddenly almost luminous in the guttering torchlight. "Never mind how. All you need to know is that you needn't die out of some mistaken obligation."

Dumbledore stared at him, blue eyes wide.

"I will cure you," Severus said forcefully, almost not aware of what he was saying with the sudden warm, peaceful fire rising in his chest. "There is no need for this." And then he took a step forward, and then another, not even aware of anything but the need to help. Though he was not aware of it himself, the other staff members, and Dumbledore himself, felt a sudden rush of awe, for the normally hate-filled or anguished black eyes were flecked with a sort of celestial silver, and a pale, swirling silver haze, like the mist of a half-formed patronus rose around him, arcing about him on both sides like the wings of Isis. Or of a phoenix.

Still trembling from the weight of that instinctual power, Severus took the old man's hand in his own, fingers running over that blackened flesh. And then something seemed to surge within him, tearing through him with it's overwhelming power, and silver fire gushed from his hands as surely as the low moan torn from him at the pain of the wild magic bursting through his skin. Silver haze shimmered around him, and stars and blazing geometric shapes written in white fire swam in his vision. He could distantly hear Dumbledore's screams as the fire sank into his skin, could, as if I'm a dream, feel the hands tugging at his robes as one of his colleagues tried to pull him away from Albus.

The world was spinning. A strange sort of blissful clarity washed over him in waves, even through the pain, his consciousness fading in and out. And the he felt something snap, something give, and he could almost feel the curse that had taken hold of his mentor's hand give way under the onslaught of the pure magic, ruthlessly rooted out and destroyed. And then the heat, which had already been sizzling uncomfortably hot inside him, burst into agonizing but pure silver fire, leaking out through his pores in little dribbles of pure light, and he collapsed into nothingness with a little gasp of pain.

Harry was, for once, in the library. Ron and Hermione were going around the castle looking for the Ravenclaw horcrux, as well as using said horcrux hunt as an excuse to snog, which was why Harry had tacitly uninvited himself when the sexual tension was getting a bit too much. Now, he was curled in the spot he usually claimed when he went to the library (usually to be alone more than to actually read as it was a nook at the very back, concealed by a blind of bookshelves like trees in a forest) distracted only by the occasional murmering of voices from the pair of Hufflepuffs studying in the alcove nearby and the occasional trickle of rare contentment from Professor Snape, as well as from the illusory taste of wine in the back of his throat.

He abstractly scribbled something about temperature charms for Professor Flitwick and sighed, unable to really focus on the dry textbook and the lukewarm topic, and found himself, instead, listening in on Snape's rambling thoughts:

Dear Merlin, an I going soft or has Miss McKinnon actually written a proper essay? Ahh, that's more like it. There's no mugwart in Shrinking Solution, as it is a reactive herb. Still, the theory would be sound if thistle flower didn't react in the way she postulates...

What is that idiot thinking! In third year and he doesn't know a bezoir from a besoin...

Did I just give Miss Granger an O?

And then: Oh, Morgana's underpants, I'm late! I did set that alarm- why didn't it go off? I did, didn't I?

Harry smirked and refocused on his assignment with some difficulty, talking about the differences in the tonal qualities and pronunciation of the incantations for freezing charms and cooling charms, while meanwhile Snape rushed through the halls, on the way to a staff meeting.

Harry was abruptly startled out of his studying by a flash of apprehension from Professor Snape. Harry straightened, putting down the Charms text again. It seemed Snape was having difficulties blocking him- again- and he couldn't study like this, so he might as well make sure the man was ok. With that in mind, he focused more closely in on the staff meeting, feeling a secret sort of guilty excitement for listening in. He was rather curious.

"This summer I was cursed with languesco mortis," Dumbledore was saying. So that was the name of the curse. Harry could feel the rush of anguish and fear and pain rushing from the Potions Master at this and tried to calm him. There was nothing the man could have done better.

"As there is no cure accessible, my original plan was to keep it quiet so as not to cause the students to panic or word to reach Voldemort, and it was agreed between Severus and I" (all eyes flew to the youngest staff member) "that should I be cornered by Death Eaters he would kill me himself to rise in Voldemort's good graces and prevent someone who preferred the more...messy curses from doing the job."

fear/guilt/self-flagellation/grief

"But now that he is no longer a spy, I felt that the secret no longer needed to be kept from you, although I trust that it will go no further. The fact remains that I will die before the year's out."

"There is a cure," Snape protested, and Harry could feel his desperation, see glimpses of memories of trying his hardest to save him, to develop a cure. "Or the salve- if you would allow me to prepare it..."

"No," Dumbledore replied. "It would be useless to waste so much phoenix ash on an old man like me, and I would still be dependent on it for the rest of my life. I'm simply not that valuable."

Tears welled in Harry's eyes, though he could sense that the emotion was not entirely his own- indeed, Snape was nearly beside himself. Harry hastily began to send him waves of peace, compassion and comfort, trying to calm him and ease his suffering, at least a little. It was at that moment that he began to sense the warm, powerful, healing phœnix magic what he had recently become familiar with. What now? There was no one around to be healed, unless...Dumbledore?! Harry felt, for the first time, the stirrings of hope. Maybe there was something they could do with phœnix magic that would work where nothing else did.

"But you have Fawkes!" protested a woman whom Harry vaguely recognized as the Muggle Studies teacher, Professor something Burbage. "Couldn't he give you the ash?"

"He does not burn more than twice a year," Professor Dumbledore responded. "And I would not selfishly ask him to give me more than he already is. He already burned twice this year, and I know how painful it is. Besides, Severus was forced into an unbreakable vow. He would die if I did not. I simply tell you this now so that you will understand when the time comes, and so that you will not condemn him."

anguish/gratitude/anger/numbness

Professor Snape was afraid, afraid of what his colleagues would do to him for accepting that duty, and Harry almost began to cry again on feeling that. Snape's sense of self worth, at least when his impeccable mental shields were down, was next to nothing, and the irrational thought of being only tolerated by his colleagues, especially in an otherwise rational man, was heartbreaking.

Besides that, Harry could feel the wild magic rising, sensing the healing magic throbbing through his veins, invisible insects fluttering in his chest and stomach and magic collecting just under his skin. But something was different. The magic did not feel like his at all- his phœnix magic felt, at least to him, like warm, slippery green growing things in a forest canopy, vast, vibrant, self-regenerating, and very, very alive, carrying a spicy tint, too. This felt more like coffee and cream, or hot chocolate by the fire, or the warm darkness of one's own bedroom at night. What was going on?

But Snape was speaking again. "No. I will not do it," he rasped at last. "Not when there is a cure. I would die, if I had to."

Dumbledore seemed to be incredulous, as well he might be. "But your Unbreakable Vow-"

"Is broken," Snape responded forcefully, as though something were tugging the words from him. All of the other staff were staring at him in bewilderment.

"How-" Dumbledore began.

The magic churning in their connected cores began to rise, washing the room in warm, rich magic. Harry felt something deep within his core give a little twist as Professor Snape went on. "Never mind how. All you need to know is that you needn't die out of some mistaken obligation."

Dumbledore stared at him, crystal blue eyes wide in disbelief.

"I will cure you," Severus said forcefully, and Harry was almost overcome by his emotions and the rich phœnix magic bubbling just under his skin."There is no need for this." and then Harry felt that little twist and tug in his core again, and magic began draining out of him through the bond. Harry was alarmed. He tried to fight it, but Snape didn't even seem to notice his resistance, much like when Harry himself was overcome by his phœnix instincts. And so Harry slumped in his chair.

Magic drained out of him, and all he could feel was Snape's frothing emotions, peace and panic at one and the same time, and all he could hear was Dumbledore's screams ringing in his ears and it hurt so, so much...

And then the world was spinning as more and more of his core was siphoned off by the bond, and the searing pain, worse than the crucitus, had taken over his body entirely. .

The world was spinning. A strange sort of blissful clarity washed over him in waves, even through the pain, his consciousness fading in and out. And the he felt something snap, something give, and he could almost feel the curse that Snape was trying to break give way. And then the heat, which had already been sizzling uncomfortably hot inside him, burst into an agonizing flameless burning sensation, and he fell into darkness, having no more magic to support himself.