"Lily," The headmaster muttered weakly. His glazed, depleted eyes slid from Lily's face to land upon Snape. "Sevrus, my… my boy." A small, relieved laugh escaped Lily as she looked up at Snape, then gazed back down at Dumbledore and brushed the stray, sweaty hair from his eyes. Snape's shoulders slumped and he ran a swollen hand over his face as strong emotion suddenly overwhelmed him.

"Albus," he choked, still trembling as the relief flowed through his body. "Thank Merlin… You're – you're alive. Thank God." But the short-lived relief was quickly replaced with self-righteous rage, and after a moment his dark eyes snapped back to the exhausted face that suddenly looked far older than he ever remembered seeing it. "What the bloody fuck were you thinking, old man?!"

"Severus!" Lily reprimanded quietly. "He's just been through a–"

"Don't," he admonished softly, gently cutting her off even though his eyes never left the headmaster's gaze. "That was dark magic we just experienced – very dark magic." After a long moment he went on, "I could have seriously injured you, headmaster. Or worse. I wanted to kill you. I would have, without even giving it a second thought." He let the words hang heavily in the air between them all. But to his credit, the older wizard never broke eye contact. "That spell… This curse…" Snape murmured quietly, motioning to the professor's rotting hand. "It has something to do with the Dark Lord."

It was a statement, not a question.

"I…" A single tear slid down the old man's face. "Severus, if only to protect you, you cannot know–" But his words were cut short as he grimaced in pain, moaning softly as his blackened hand gave an involuntary jerk.

Lily's eyes took on a protective glint as her gaze morphed from that of a concerned friend to that of a determined healer. "Whatever it is you need to say Severus, it can wait. He needs rest." And without another word, she conjured a stretcher and hovered the headmaster toward his private quarters.

She gets better by the day as I struggle to complete the simplest of spells, Snape thought almost bitterly as he struggled to get to his feet. But after a moment he shook his head to clear it of the sullen thoughts. He was happy for Lily, truly – she was loving, bright, and exceedingly talented. And she deserves a man that can love and provide for her the way she deserves, an ugly corner of his mind sneered hatefully. What she does not need is the pathetic excuse that I have suddenly become.

Snape was pulled from his dismal thoughts as he finally made it to the top of the stairs, which opened into the headmaster's large quarters. Lily had already tucked the man into the massive four-poster bed, and Snape's gaze lingered for a moment on the intricate carvings all along the white ash. The moonlight streaming through the large window made the wood glow like bleached bone, and Snape couldn't suppress the chill that ran down his spine.

After propping the headmaster up with pillows, Lily started a fire in the grate. Yet the fire did nothing to calm Snape's growing restlessness, and he couldn't help the anxiety and apprehension that kept trying to slither deep inside his bones.

Pulling him aside, Lily gazed worriedly up at him as she whispered, "I've learned a lot training in the hospital wing these past few weeks, but I… I've never dealt with such dark magic. He's obviously in pain, Severus. I think we may have to wake Poppy–"

"Poppy isn't equipped to deal with this," Snape sighed in resignation, wishing yet again that he didn't have to reveal this ugly, repulsive part of himself to the woman he loved. Looking intensely down at her for long, drawn-out moments, he couldn't smother the nerves fluttering in his stomach as he explained, "I'm the only one at this school who has enough experience in the Dark Arts to properly treat him."

There was a long pause as Lily stared up at him with a bewildered expression. "Experience? Sev, I know you have a history, but you can't possibly have experience with something like this… That was… Severus that was pure evil. It almost made you kill him–!"

"And what makes you think I haven't killed people before, Lily?" Snape growled low and menacingly as he glared down at her. "I was–" he paused, "I am the Dark Lord's right hand man, his most trusted servant. How do you think I obtained that most 'exalted' position?" He hissed, raging against a world that seemed so dead set against allowing him and his family to live in peace.

But she seemed to see past the protective barriers he was hurrying to erect in his vulnerable state. The way her eyes probed and penetrated his defenses only infuriated him further. She saw clearly what he worked so desperately to hide, and it made him feel raw and exposed. He couldn't handle those feelings right now, not after everything he'd just witnessed and almost been compelled to do.

"You are naïve, Lily," he spat. "Completely useless in this fight. I refuse to be responsible for your corruption. Just – just leave."

"Severus–" she murmured in a wounded tone, gazing at him as if he'd slapped her.

"I said GO!" And for the first time ever, she seemed to shrink before him. Her eyes filled with moisture, but the tears didn't fall. With her full bottom lip between her teeth, she glanced indecisively over her shoulder at Dumbledore. But as her eyes flicked back up to him for a long moment, the hurt he saw in their depths almost made him apologize. Snape suddenly found himself torn between wanting to wound her further and wanting to kiss the sting away. But before he could make up his mind, Lily spun on her heel and hurried down the stairs to the office below. He ran to the head of the stairs but heard the floo roar to life a second later.

"Dammit!" he growled, embracing the pain that flared within his hand as he turned his back on the stairs and speared his fingers through his hair.

"Severus," Dumbledore called weakly. "Do not push her away–"

As Snape whirled to face him he cried out, "What the hell else can I do, you foolish, stupid old man?! I love her!"

"And she loves you, my boy. You take too much upon yourself. Allow her to help you–"

"Help me? Help me?!" Snape snarled menacingly, stalking toward the prone headmaster and barely able to control the violence that threatened to spill out from his rage. But as he approached, the older wizard simply continued to look calmly up at him. He watched him patiently, as if they were only having a friendly chat over afternoon tea, even though Severus was wavering back and forth between slaying him right there in his bed. His chest heaved with loud, enraged breaths as he stood over the old man, glaring at him.

With a roar, Snape spun away and began to frantically pace the length of the room. "God damn you, Dumbledore!" he sneered as he passed the foot of the bed. "God damn you! You meddling, manipulative– Do you not realize the danger we're all in?! The enemies you have made throughout this God forsaken fight? Are you stupid enough to underestimate the lengths they will go to kill you?"

"I am aware," Dumbledore murmured quietly, his gaze never wavering.

Snape gave a derisive snort as he continued his frantic pacing. "And yet you continue to maneuver and manipulate people like pawns on a chessboard, like the Almighty Being who can do no wrong…" He suddenly spun to face the headmaster. "We trust you, God dammit! And we need you! For Merlin's sa– You're our leader! You can't just forget that fact whenever it is convenient and allow yourself to be led astray like a lamb to slaughter!"

"You're right, Severus," Dumbledore replied calmly. "And I will die for my mistakes."

Snape whirled to face his mentor. "YES, YOU'RE GOING TO DIE YOU STUPID, GOD DAMNED FOOL!" The headmaster didn't even flinch, and Snape found himself charging toward him again, even though he'd told himself to stay away – far away – from the man. He wanted to hurt him, break him, smash his calm, detached features so that he would begin to understand the agonizing horror and raw anguish that Snape was experiencing.

With a deadly snarl, he was able to force himself to turn away – but only just – before he lashed out at the headmaster. Instead he directed his rage toward the lunascopes and other delicate instruments above the fireplace, and without a second thought swept his arm across the mantle to send the entire collection crashing to the floor. "You went up against the Dark Lord, and YOU LOST! We've failed, it's over, don't you see that?! I'm not strong enough to beat this curse – I've only succeeded in slowing the inevitable. I CAN'T SAVE YOU!"

"There was nothing you could have done, son–"

"OF COURSE THERE WAS! But I couldn't protect them, I'm not strong enough! IT'S MY FAULT!" Snape kicked a small table next to the armchair in front of the fire, smashing the spindly wood into pieces and sending the books that were stacked neatly atop it crashing against the wall next to the bed. "I had to make an Unbreakable Vow, damn you! My family – Bellatrix and Narcissa, if I hadn't sworn to assist, they would have–"

"Severus, I know," Dumbledore interrupted calmly. "I know. Draco sent word to me the same night that Spinner's End caught fire."

Snape was brought up short, the shock of hearing the headmaster admit that he knew of the Dark Lord's most secret and protected plan jolting him from his rage. Stunned, dark eyes connected with exhausted, sorrowful blue.

"You – you know?"

And for the first time since the entire sickening conversation began, Snape detected something other than calm acceptance in Dumbledore's gaze. Apprehension…? "The boy has been initiated as a Death Eater to punish his father's failures, and his mother is being kept as Voldemort's concubine." Snape was already aware of these facts, but still couldn't help himself from wincing at the Malfoy family's current plight. But Dumbledore continued, "That night an unknown patronus came bounding into my office telling me of your injuries, and that I was desperately needed at Spinner's End. Hours later, after you and your family had been transferred to St. Mungo's, I received an owl. It was a missive from Draco Malfoy, admitting everything and begging for my help to aid his parents. Although his mother is being kept close by Voldemort's side, she was somehow able to send word to Draco that you had made an Unbreakable Vow to assist him in his mission.

"It was then that I came to believe that it had been Narcissa Malfoy that sent the patronus. I cannot presume to know if she still supports Voldemort in his quest for domination over our world. However, I do know that Draco has seen exactly the kind of world that Voldemort wishes to bring to pass, and no longer wants any part of it."

"So… what are you saying?"

There was something in Dumbledore's gaze that Snape couldn't quite identify. "I think you know what I'm saying, Severus," he murmured.

They gazed at one another for a long, silent moment before the headmaster's meaning hit Snape with enough force to knock him back a few paces.

"No." The word was automatic, harshly forceful in its finality.

"You must. The Vow has been made, the curse set in motion. There is nothing more to be done other than make my death mean something. Use it to our advantage for the greater g–"

"You – you can't be serious?!" Snape cut through, aghast at what the man was asking him to do. Even after all he'd seen and done in his life, the thought was revolting. "Do you hear yourself? Do you even understand what you're asking me to do?!"

"I'm asking you to save the Malfoy boy's life. Possibly even his soul."

"What about my life?! My soul?!With all that goes through that brilliant mind of yours, you had to of realized that you are the only father I've ever truly known!" At these words a single tear leaked from the corner of Dumbledore's eye, trickling over the wrinkled face to drip onto the plush down comforter. The sight did nothing but caused Snape's to be even more severe as he hissed, "I cannot kill you! I won't! You'rethe only one strong enough to defeat the Dark Lord! If we don't have you with us – If Harry doesn't – I can't–"

Snape's chest heaved as the ice cold truth sliced through his blistering rage. The unbidden tears that sprang to his eyes threatened to choke him. As his face fell into his gnarled hands, he finally broke. "I cannot kill my own father, Albus. And I can't save Harry without you…" Tears racked his frame. Snape no longer had the strength to stand, and he sank to his knees beside the bed.

Long moments that felt like hours passed, with his soft weeping and the crackling of the fire the only sounds to fill the large room. Snape felt as if all the air had been sucked from his lungs and he could no longer draw breath. It is not Albus who is cursed… It's me, and all who I hold dear.

Suddenly there was the feeling of a soft touch on the crown of his head. He felt the weight of Dumbledore's uninjured hand stroking him, unsure and hesitant, as if doubtful that Snape would accept him in his most vulnerable moment.

Without realizing what we was doing, Snape rose to the bed as the older wizard opened his arms. He wrapped Snape in a tight embrace, rocking gently, and Snape could feel the headmaster's tears fall upon his own skin. "Oh, my boy… My dear boy. My son…"

They sat in silence for a long while, each taking comfort in the other's presence and embrace. Eventually the tears slowed, and even amidst the embarrassment that was attempting to creep into his brain, for this small moment in time… Snape was at peace.

But he broke slowly away as the headmaster began to chuckle, gazing at the older wizard and wondering if he'd finally lost his mind. However, the twinkle was back in Dumbledore's clear blue eyes as he returned Snape's gaze and murmured, "I can't help but see certain… similarities between you and your son." He laughed outright as Snape looked around the room at the destruction he had wrought, and realized the man was referring to the day that all of this had started – that evening in the office below, when Harry had done much the same thing as Snape, wreaking havoc all over his office.

Snape looked at the older wizard out of the corner of his eye, a rueful half-smile playing against his lips. "Humph," was all he decided to say.

. . . . .

The first thing that Snape's gaze fell upon when he rose from the floo in Lily's tower was Harry. The boy was sitting on the couch with his knees drawn up under his chin, biting his lip and staring nervously out into space. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he hadn't even heard the roar of the flames only a few feet away.

"Harry?" His son visibly flinched, but jumped to his feet a moment later as his mind registered his father's presence.

"Dad! What happened? How's Dumbledore? Were you able to heal him? Is he going to be alright?" The boy didn't even take a breath during the rapid fire questions.

"He's going to be fine, Harry." For now. "Did Lily not explain?"

"Well, she said something about… about dark magic," he muttered. "She mentioned a curse before she left, but she seemed kind of–"

"Left?" Snape interrupted. "Where did she go?"

"She… um… said she was going to her office to work," Harry answered, suddenly not meeting his eyes. Snape gazed down at his son; the boy's discomfort could not be more obvious.

"Harry," he said softly. "What?"

Harry looked up at him from beneath his fringe. Was that accusation he saw reflected in his eyes? "It looked like she'd been crying."

The implication was obvious. Snape almost smiled at his son's indignant, protective tone and what it suggested. The boy sees her as a mother…

Harry was still frowning at him and expected an answer, he realized. Although Snape knew he had been unduly harsh to Lily and had all intentions of making it up to her, he suddenly realized that the hot, prickly sensation he was feeling under Harry's intent gaze was shame at how he'd treated her.

"I…" Snape cleared his throat as he tried again. "Well, I was…" He trailed off.

"A git?" Harry provided bluntly as he raised a brow, and Snape could almost see himself in the expression.

"Yes," he sighed in resignation, still looking down at the perceptive boy. "I was most definitely agit."

The two continued to gaze at each other. Snape, for once in his life, was at a complete loss for what to say.

"Well?" Harry finally asked.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to apologize and bring her home?"

Harry gave a small yelp as Snape reached out and snatched his son to his chest, hugging him fiercely. After a moment, the boy's arms wrapped firmly around his middle as he settled into the embrace. Gently cupping the back of his head, Snape rested his cheek against the top of Harry's dark mop of hair.

"I love you, son," he murmured. His voice tightened dangerously over a lump in his throat as he considered the perilous path that Harry would be forced to walk very soon.

"I love you too, Dad," Harry's muffled voice near his shoulder responded.

"I promise I will explain more about what happened tonight. But for now, just know that Dumbledore is alright, and is resting." He gently extricated himself and held Harry at arm's length, "As you should be. It's very late. Go to bed. I'm going to get your mother and beg her forgiveness for being a git."

Harry's eyes shone with pleasure at his words. Snape smiled down at him, running his swollen fingers through the boy's hair before he sent him to his room.

"Night, Dad." Harry called softly from his doorway.

"Good night, son," Snape called back, hearing the quiet snick of the latch settling into place.

Lost in thought, he turned and made his way through the tower door, down the spinning spiraling stair case, and past the massive suit of armor seated on the equally massive armor of his war horse, which together guarded the bottom entrance to the tower.

As Snape made his way to the small office just down the hall from the hospital wing entrance, he suddenly realized that the peace and stillness he'd felt in the headmaster's quarters had lingered. Although he knew that the start of the biggest challenge of their lives lay only a few weeks ahead, somehow a warm awareness had settled in the pit of his stomach and without his notice, gently flooded every cell of his being. He understood in that moment exactly what, "The power the Dark Lord knows not," referred to, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that it did indeed give them unimaginable power over the darkness they were about to face.

Whatever the Dark Lord throws at us, we will get through it together…

He looked up, surprised to be face-to-face with the hand carved wood of Lily's office door.

Feeling calm and sure in his love for the woman on the other side, he pushed it open and quietly slipped inside.

Lily stood before a small cauldron, a mortar and pestle in her hand and random ingredients littered across her workstation. Her movements were jerky and frantic, and many of the jars were on their side spilling their contents across the table. It was only as he saw her shoulders shake, as if she were crying, that he finally spoke.

"Lily…"

Her movements stilled, but she didn't raise her head, nor did she turn to face him. Instead she continued grinding the ingredients in the bowl before her. "Severus. I… I'm working. I'll come back when I'm done."

Even from the doorway Snape could feel the tension radiating off her body, quivering nervously and reminding him of a small animal surrounded by a pack of hungry lions. Not wishing to cause her any further anxiety, he slowly moved to stand behind her and softly placed his hands on her arms to still the agitated movements of her mixing and grinding. Snape felt goosebumps form along her skin as he ran his ruined hands slowly down to cup her elbows, then continue to her wrists. No words passed between them, but some of the tension drained from her body as Lily allowed herself to slightly relax into his embrace.

"Lily," he whispered at her temple, and he felt her shudder. "I'm sor–"

"I – I've been working on something for your hands," she hurried to override him, suddenly shaking him off. "It was Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes that gave me the idea. I've been considering it for a while now, and I think it might really help. I made a cream, but it could work even better as a potion–"

"Lily–"

"It's the properties of the phoenix itself that really got me interested. Their tears have healing powers, don't they? And there must be restorative components throughout their bodies because they die and are reborn through the ashes. There's got to be something there that can h-help your hands," she rambled. "I'm sure I could – All I have to do is work harder, figure it out, I knowI can do it, I know I can–"

"Lily, stop." The words were spoken softly, but she flinched and stiffened within his arms as if he'd screamed them at her. Her loose hair covered her features as she bowed her head before her.

Snape couldn't stand to see her like this. Spinning her around, he couldn't think of the right words to say when still she refused to raise her head and look at him. "I'm sor–" he began again, but once more she cut him off.

"Can – can I show you? Please…?"

With a resigned sigh he muttered, "Of course." Is the woman deliberately refusing to hear my apology?

Reaching for a small jar of cream the color of orange poppies, she unscrewed the lid and Snape was suddenly hit with the spicy smell of sandalwood and the woodsy aroma of frankincense. It was rather rich and pleasant.

The cream itself had a silky heat to it, and after all of the extra abuse that his hands had suffered that night, it felt wonderful. A small sound of pleasure was torn from him as Lily's fingers massaged the cream masterfully into his skin, bending each hand up at the wrist and working it into the palm of his hands. There was something sensual in her touch, and although she still refused to meet his gaze, he stared hotly down at her.

When she pinched his index finger at the base of his knuckle and slid her fingers firmly down along the entire appendage, he was unable to suppress a deep, guttural moan. At the sound her gaze finally met his own and held, as she repeated the motion on his other fingers. A deep moan was torn from him with each firm, suggestive touch. Her lips parted and her cheeks took on a rosy flush as she continued to stare up at him.

"Oh God Lily," he panted. "That feels so good. The pain…" His murmured words fell away and his gaze darkened upon her own as she continued to massage his hand with seductive motions. His other hand found its way up to cup her cheek against his palm. Bending his head, he could feel her warm breath fan across his face as he whispered, "The pain is gone."

Meeting her lips with his own, he gave a satisfied groan when Lily immediately melded her soft curves against his front, winding her arms around his neck to hold his body firmly against her. Using his now pain-free hands he lifted her small frame easily, and she wrapped her long legs frantically around his waist as he pushed her roughly against the wall.

He kissed her fiercely, desperately trying to tell her without words just how much he loved her – needed her – in order to survive the coming war. He used his hands to lavish her with the kind of attention her luscious body deserved, bringing her to the brink only to hear her beg for what he'd been unable to give her since his sustaining his injuries.

Her soft mewls of pleasure was more than he could handle. For the second time that night he swept the table free of everything and sent it smashing to the floor. Lily clambered to sit on the table's surface, and both of them eagerly pulled at the other's waistbands. Their need was too great to do more than push their clothes aside, and within moments they were crying out in ecstasy together.

When it was over, Snape ran his fingers through the hair at her temples, resting his damp forehead against her own. Their panting was loud and raspy in the sudden silence as they tried to catch their breaths. Lily suddenly clenched her hands in the fabric of his robes.

"I didn't want to be useless," she whispered quietly against him, "And hearing you apologize… I just… I want to be strong for you." Snape's heart lurched.

He leaned down and kissed her softly. "You're the strongest person I know," he whispered, cupping her cheek and kissing her again. "And I'm sorry for what I said."

She smiled shyly up at him through her lashes. "Don't be," she murmured, glancing down at where the two of them were still joined. He couldn't help but chuckle at her brazenness.

But later, after the mess was put back to rights and they were turning off the lamps to leave for the night, Snape couldn't help but look back over his shoulder as the tiny flicker of an idea began prickling at the back of his mind.

Phoenix properties…