More than relieved to be dismissed, Snape paced quickly to the kitchen. 

Cooking... stupid brat. Did he even check to see if these dusty cupboards contained anything to eat? Of course not. And a quick search confirmed his suspicions: pans, cutlery, oven... yes, there was everything necessary to cook with except for the food!

What had he expected? The house had been left empty after Kreacher's departure, and unless he went out shopping...

He groaned. No, that wouldn't be acceptable or wise right now. He would have to do what he could with what was available, and try using his potion skills to make it edible. He doubted Potter would appreciate the meal of dry lentils and salted meat he was going to serve, but he and his friends would just have to deal with it. Hopefully he wouldn't blame his new house elf for sabotaging the meal... Damn, he was really going to miss the Hogwarts house elves.

Thank Merlin, he apparently had an ally in the Granger girl, she hadn't allowed Potter treat his slave as he wished. He was reminded of Minerva, laughing and telling her colleagues about the young Gryffindor's crusade to free the house elves. At the time, it had occurred to him that her inclination for defending the oppressed in general and slaves in particular could be useful someday. He had refused to picture himself in that situation, and yet... it was a good thing he hadn't completely alienated this particular Gryffindor and given her the grades she deserved. One good grade in a class couldn't hurt, after all.

The smell wafting from the cauldron was becoming acceptable and he set the table with a few flicks of his wand.

"Dinner is ready," he shouted in the direction of the living-room.

His three former students arrived at once, clearly much more relaxed. The worst of the storm seemed to be past.

"What did you make? I hope you didn't try to poison us, Snape, that would be a very bad idea!" shouted Potter; the mere sight of his former teacher seemed to be sufficient to infuriate him.

"Harry, don't be stupid," the young woman said at once. "You know perfectly well that he can't hurt you in any way. Thank you, professor, it smells really good," she added with a compassionate smile.

Snape gritted his teeth. He didn't know what annoyed him the most: his master’s aggression, or Granger's pity. One way or the other, the sooner he could get away, the better.

Quickly piling food onto three plates with as much grace as he could muster, he nearly made it to the door before a voice stopped him.

"Professor, aren't you going to eat with us?"

Granger. Again.

"Thank you, Miss Granger, but I still need to ensure the safety of this house and disable the portrait. I wish you a good meal."

Politeness. Always. Well ingrained from an early age, even when his only wish was to spit at his so-called masters. Snape turned to the exit again, but he could feel the heavy stare of reproach the young woman was giving her friend.

"All right, all right," Potter groaned. "Snape, get a plate and go eat somewhere... in your room, I guess you have one?"

He nodded and helped himself a modest portion of lentils. Better not abuse the brat's forced generosity. The whole situation had spoiled his appetite anyway.

"Harry, he can eat with us!" the eternal defender of lost causes protested. "After all, he is in the same boat as us, whether we want to admit it or not."

The boy groaned through clenched teeth.

"Look, Hermione, be reasonable, it's enough that we have to put up with him all day, I would like to eat in peace!"

"A meal that he prepared, if you remember," Hermione replied drily.

"Yeah, well, considering the result, I'm not sure that’s really an argument in his favour," the young Weasley said, dropping a spoonful of lentils back onto his plate with a disgusted face.

"I am sorry, but there was nothing else available to eat," Snape answered. "If you intend to stay here much longer, it will be necessary to go outside for food."

"Well, you can deal with that," Potter said coldly. "I agree with Ron. This kind of meal is not acceptable. After all those years stressing over how a potion should be absolutely perfect, I am not impressed!"

"Harry!" Granger cried, horrified. "Professor, I am so sorry, we are all a bit nervous today, of course you did your best..."

A heavy silence stretched for a few seconds.

"May I leave?" Snape finally asked, still holding his plate.

"Yes, beat it, and do whatever you have to," Potter grumbled without looking up.

Which he did, refusing to let any emotion show. Like his former masters, Potter could take a lot from him... but not everything. His pride was his. And for these little things, life was still worth living, even at the hands of a capricious brat. At least, that was what Severus Snape told himself as he walked into his designated room, a knot eating a hole in his stomach.

He had gotten spoiled. Fifteen years of semi-freedom... it was more than any slave could hope for. But the return to normality was a bitter pill at the age of nearly forty. And furthermore, Weasley had been right, the mixture he’d brewed was vile. He would probably pay for that later, but for now, he had more urgent matters to tend to. Quickly finishing his portion, he proceeded to track down each and every trace of dark magic in the house. The building, of course, was full of it; what else could you expect from the Blacks? But none of the spells seemed to be either recent or dangerous, and he finally resolved to get to the more difficult task: silencing the infamous portrait of Walpurga Black. It hadn't stopped screaming since they’d left the hallway, but when the old harpy saw him approach, she finally stopped to inspect him from top to bottom.

"Severus Snape. Well well... is this a step up? In the hands of a half-blood, after being the valet of a mudblood. What is the next step, slave?"

Unmoved, Snape casted a diagnostic spell on the painting. The curses were strong... this game would be a long one. Long and tiring, if the painting kept talking the entire time.

"To think I tried to convince Abraxas to sell you for years... you would have been perfect for my son," the witch whispered, her cold stare gauging Snape, who couldn't help but shiver. 

"But oh no, he would only rent you, to hell with his soul. And now that I’ve got you here, Snape, you are going to answer me... what happened? What happened to my son?"

"Crazy old bat..." the wizard muttered, attacking the spells protecting the portrait.

"I may be old, but I am certainly not senile! Who killed him, Snape? I know something terrible happened and Kreacher wouldn’t say a word about it!"

"How can that matter now? He’s long dead, and so are you. Go and ask him, I have no doubt he will have plenty to tell his old mummy," Snape retorted.

"Insolent vermin!" Walpurga shrieked, claws out. "Answer me, slave! I paid enough money for your services to Abraxas Malfoy, I demand to know! Why did Regulus need you so much? Potions? Potions for the Dark Lord?"

"At first, yes," Snape said absentmindedly, concentrating on the spells.

"So?" the portrait said, losing patience. "What else? How did he die? I know you have the answer, stupid creature! What happened?"

"How well did you know your son, Mrs Black? Your sons, actually. In so far as the infamous Sirius can be considered as such, after all your efforts to repudiate him."

"Don't say that name," Walpurga hissed. "That renegade... I should have given you to him! That would have been a pleasant task, wouldn't it have? To entertain my traitor of a son! He who liked so much to flirt with mudbloods and half-bloods, he certainly would have find nice ways to use you!"

"Not that Regulus lacked imagination for that," Snape said ironically, changing his angle of attack, trying to find a flaw in the layers of intertwined spells.

"My son would never touch an inferior creature in that way! He was no betrayer of his rank; one black sheep is quite enough for one family," the witch barked. "The truth now, I want the truth!"

"You might be surprised," Snape mused. "Regulus certainly didn't have the same appeal as his brother with the witches, high rank or not, did he? But then, why not? The truth, Mrs Black? You want to hear he truth about your son’s tragic fate?"

Walpurga Black examined the slave’s sly half-smile for a moment before nodding stiffly.

"The young Regulus... certainly didn't lack enthusiasm for the cause," Snape started, without pausing his intricate wandwork. "He desperately wanted to please his master. Potions. Spells. Adequate training, efficient assistance on his assignments. Everything I could provide him, really. And it was so tempting, after all, to keep on renting my services even after I changed hands, and by the same token, changed sides. Did he have your approval? Probably not. But he still did it. James Potter was only too happy to get a chance to redeem a Death Eater, and his best friend's brother at that."

"Traitor," the witch hissed in her portrait. "You vile, disgusting traitor..."

"Traitor, me?" Snape barked a laugh. "Absolutely not. Eternally committed to the cause of my master, whoever that may be. That is what my condition implies, remember. That was what delighted you so much, once upon a time. A dangerous game for Regulus, yes... but he was confident in his abilities. And actually, he didn't have much choice. He may well have been a good and well-mannered lad, but he certainly wasn't Merlin's heir, was he?"

Without wasting a second, Walpurga started up the insults and curses, which Snape answered with a cool chuckle.

"Anyway, he apparently wasn't such a good son, in the end. At least not according to his dear family’s ideals. He had, it turned out, more brains that I’d given him credit for. When the reality of his Death Eater vocation sank in, he backed off in horror. Ironically, his sense of honour prevented him from doing the only thing that could have saved him at that point: running to his brother and turning his back to his dear pureblood family."

"Never!" Walpurga shouted, nearly managing break Snape's concentration. "Liar, untrustworthy slave! I demand the truth, I refuse to listen to these lies any longer! Go fetch to your master and tell him to come and talk to me!"

"Oh, but I'm not done with my story," Snape continued, a slight smile on his lips. "Regulus, then. He didn't have time to find out what his family would think of his loyalties, actually. Our dear Regulus had rather... radical ideas. Once he decided to leave the Death Eaters rank, he immediately set on a course to destroy his master. Say whatever you wish, inbreeding in pureblood families..."

"Shut up, slave!" the witch screamed again, foaming from rage. "I ordered you to get your master! Obey!"

Snape shot her an annoyed glance.

"Would you please stop ruining my only bit of pleasure for the day and let me finish my story? A story that you yourself requested, if you’ll remember. Please note that I am under no obligation whatsoever to obey a damn portrait, especially one that my master ordered me to destroy. Where was I? Ah, yes, Regulus. Regulus and Horcruxes. A wonderful quest for a wizard with such pathetic academic skills."

In her frame, Walpurga Black was spewing threats and insults, clawing at the canvas in a frantic effort to throttle the former professor, who was now displaying a distinctly satisfied expression.

"At any rate, I helped your son. Not that I had any choice in the matter, of course... but I did help him. Until the day that your spawn found himself confronted with something stronger than him. He wouldn't listen to my warnings... in fact, as I owe you the truth, I think he was tired. Of you, actually. It was more complicated than that of course, but that gives the general idea. To cut a long and pathetic story short, the brave Regulus sacrificed himself in the depths of a dark cave filled with Inferi, for a cause that he believed was worthy although his family would not have agreed. A rather nasty death, but if it’s of any comfort, he was too weak to scream by that point. He seemed rather resigned. Yes, resigned."

Face displaying clearly her feelings, Walpurga stared at Snape, her gaze as venomous as any basilisk's.

"And as for your other son, he died idiotically, because of his upbringing, because of his stupid values and his complete inability to adapt to the world around him. If you have any other questions, Mrs Black, I suggest you ask them now. You have exactly ten seconds, before the spell I just cast takes effect and forces you into permanent silence, to the tremendous satisfaction of the living."

For a second, the portrait seemed to panic. Testing the wards on her frame, Walpurga only wasted a second to run her own diagnostic. Lost... she had lost for sure this time. Baring her yellowed teeth, she turned to glare with hatred and contempt.

"Damn you."

"Oh, no need to worry about that," the wizard quietly answered. "I already am."

The next moment the frame was on fire, devouring the portrait in an instant and leaving only a dark shadow on the tapestry. With a sigh, Snape leaned against the wall. It was done. He’d never liked Walpurga Black, either alive or as a painting, but at least the witch had respected the pact established with Abraxas Malfoy: his sons had not known of his station until it was public knowledge. Merlin knew his existence could have become a lot more complicated if Sirius Black had had that kind of power over him... but to educate a slave at Hogwarts was a serious offense to pureblood etiquette, and the Malfoys would have never agreed willingly to let that be known.

If they hadn't been desperate for a spy in Hogwarts... if the Dark Lord hadn't forced them... he shook his head. All this belonged to the past.

"Are you finished?"

The peevish voice was impossible not to identify. Snape straightened, repressing a curt reply, and nodded. The young man inspected the wall appreciatively.

"Good job," he said.

The professor was almost surprised.

"Now, I'm wondering why you didn't do it sooner," the brat added acidly.

Snape shrugged, too weary to explain Dumbledore's complicated motivations, may the devil have his soul. But Potter was obviously not in the mood to be satisfied with that.

"You could answer when I talk to you!" he snapped. "If I had answered you that way at Hogwarts, you would have taken points from Gryffindor and probably given me detention, wouldn't you?"

"Probably," Snape admitted, straightening a bit more.

"Well, your turn to live to your own rules. Either with me or with the others. I don't care what Hermione says, you are not my professor anymore and I don't owe you any respect. You scared me, you know, when I first came to Hogwarts..."

"You hid it well," Snape replied soberly.

"I didn't have much else to defend myself, did I?" Harry retorted. "No parents to complain to... I didn't know anyone... but things have changed. And now, I want to see that respect you talked about so much. As for me, I will show you as much as you showed me... turnabout is fair play, isn't it?"

"You’ve become rather vindictive, Mr Potter."

The brat smiled, a smile he didn't like.

"I had a good teacher."

With that, he turned around to go back to his friends, leaving behind a thoughtful Snape. The wheel of fate was really turning very quickly; only a few months ago, even Potter’s sly smile would have earned him a very long session scrubbing cauldrons.

Yes, the wheel was turning quickly now... and the boy should probably learn a lesson out of that. Because whatever fate had in store for him, Severus Snape harboured no illusions that the times would prove to be cruel to his young master... and to those around him.

"Professor?"

The small voice snatched him out of his thoughts.

"Yes Miss Granger?"

"I'm sorry about Harry. He doesn't understand yet... he is tired and nervous. He will adjust," the young witch tried to apologize awkwardly. "Do you have everything you need in your room?"

"Yes, thank you. How can I help you?" Snape answered courteously.

"Well..." Hermione hesitated. "You are going to think I am absolutely terrible, but I can't help but being happy that we have a teacher with us. I wouldn't have left Harry and anyway, Hogwarts... nevermind. But I had enough time to pack some books and I was wondering if you could help me on some subjects?"

"Potions, I assume?"

"Amongst other things, yes," Hermione agreed with a relieved smile.

"Of course. I am at your disposal," Snape said.

"Thank you, professor, really," she said in a grateful voice. "I left my books in the living room, over there."

One minute later, she got out of the bag an impressive number of books of all kinds and, after a long dilemma, chose a Defense Against Dark Arts volume.

"I think you know as much as any teacher we’ve had about that," Hermione hinted.

"Probably more, actually, considering the string of complete incompetents you’ve had."

"Good, good... actually I had a question about..."

In the next room, Ron let out a groan.

"Merlin, they’ll be at it for hours. We might as well go to sleep, Hermione will come later. I'm starting to think I'm going to be jealous of this guy..."

"There really is no reason," Harry snarled. "Have you looked at him? He probably hasn't showered in a month."

"Well at least not in the last two days; he didn't have a chance at the Burrow," Ron answered philosophically. "But I understand why Hermione’s happy, I am rather relieved too, to be honest. Snape on our side, it's quite something."

"What is it with you all?" Harry said, frowning. "I know he is a slave. I do feel sorry for him, but honestly, if anyone deserved it he does, don't you think?"

"I don't know," Ron answered, avoiding his gaze. "Bill told me a bit about it... look, it's not that simple, Harry."

"Not that simple? He killed Dumbledore, I saw him!"

"I know, I know, no need to get so upset! What I mean is, he certainly didn't have a choice. Slaves don’t have much choice from their birth, it’s like... a punishment in itself already. It's a pretty awful curse, from what Bill told me. You should talk to him about it, Harry, really."

"Not tonight," said the young man as he walked to the stairs, downcast. "I don't want to think about him. I don't care what he did, who he obeyed... it's Snape, dammit! Snape! He hates us, we hate him... nothing has changed!"

Behind him, Ron shrugged.

"We'll see. For now, I mostly want to sleep... should we take the same room as before?"

It seemed to Hermione that Harry was agreeing, but their voices were lost in the upper floor. Satisfied, she closed the book she’d just opened.

"Professor, there is something else we need to talk about. You are bond to secrecy, aren't you? Even with me?"

"No," Snape said, narrowing his eyes. "But my master's interest clearly goes along with yours. I'm listening."

"Well, don't tell anyone about this because that’s what Harry would want," the young witch told him, leaning forward intently. "I heard what you said to the portrait earlier... I would like you to tell me everything you know about Horcruxes," she dropped the bomb.

Taking a deep breath, Snape leaned back in his armchair.

"So, that’s what this is about? Destroying the horcruxes. Voldemort's Horcruxes. This is the mission Dumbledore entrusted you with?"

Hermione nodded gently without averting her eyes. Releasing his breath, Snape closed his eyes. 
This was it. He was officially back in hell.