The End of the War: Part Three

Warning!  This story does not currently, but will eventually, contain yaoi/slash pairings.  This means male/male.  This story will also eventually contain eroticism, please pay attention to the age when reading.    On a further note, the pairings are going to be Snape/Harry possibly some Draco/Harry.  If any of this does not interest you, please do not even bother reading.  Also, there are likely spoilers, as I have read the first 6 books, and that is reflected in my stories.  You’ve been told, if you’re still here, enjoy.

These characters don't belong to me, more's the pity, they belong to J.K. Rowling, lucky her.


The End of the War
Part Three: Define Insane

“You are crazy.”  I said this firmly, resolutely, completely believing the statement.

“I don’t think so Professor,” Mrs. Weasley said to me, a rather infuriating smile playing on the edge of her lips.

“I’ve not suffered that title for years, Mrs. Weasley, I would prefer it if you would use my name.”

“In that case, I expect you to call me Hermione.  Only the day care center workers call me Mrs. Weasley.”  She was still smiling at me.  Were my wand near me, I might have seriously toyed with the concept of hexing her.

“I’m sorry to hear you are helping the Weasley’s procreate.  You seemed like such an intelligent young lady to me,” Weasley turned to me with a frown on his face, but… Hermione… simply continued to smile.

“Well, even intelligent young ladies must become women, and in that moment they might not be using all that sense they have.”  I raised my eyebrows, she had become very good at word battles since I knew her last.

“I suppose one mistake won’t ruin you, I trust the progeny is well loved?”

“Yes thank you, she is.  I would have to remind you that your other option is to go yourself, face the same likely sentence and die.”

“We shouldn’t have extended the invitation ‘Mione, he’s a lost cause.”  I snorted.

“If this were found out, you could lose your hospital, your reputation, your child, and possibly your life.  You fully understand the consequences correct?”  Ron Weasley glared at me, but Hermione lost her smile and looked down at her hands.

“I know that.  Don’t you think he deserves peace Professor, sorry,” she glanced up at me apologetically, “sorry, Snape, don’t you agree?”

“So I perform slave labor in exchange for my life, and possibly Potters?”  The infuriating girl nodded, that smile returning to her lips.  “I still think your barking mad.”  I considered her proposal.

Apparently Potter had a very large problem.  Unfortunately, it had to do with me, just my luck.  It seemed he had some kind of unhealthy obsession with killing me, I couldn’t imagine what I did to deserve that.  Mrs. Weasley was proposing for me to allow someone else to go to the Ministry disguised as me so he would have to “deal with his emotions”.  Why would they do this for me?

Hermione seemed to think I was innocent, how nice of her, of many of my crimes, and she wanted me to remain in her hospital to brew potions in exchange for my life.

Honestly, it seemed like a good deal on my end, except for one thing.

“What if they don’t have me sentenced to death?”  Although it would be beneficial to my continued, rather normal, mental health, I did not truly think the Ministry was that blood thirsty.

However, as I watched the two Weasleys exchange looks, it seemed as though some things had drastically changed.

“Well, since the end of the war, the Ministry made some changes to its policies involving Death Eaters,” Hermione broached the subject carefully.  I raised my eyebrows at her.  She shrugged, “anyone found to be a Death Eater, or confirmed of being in league with Voldemort, are charged with the death sentence, a kiss from a Dementor.”  I blinked at her.

“Only Death Eaters?” I said blandly.  They both nodded.  “How fair is the trial?” I tried to keep my tone as neutral as possible, however the flesh on my left arm was prickling.

“Terribly unfair, sir,” Ron said it rather meekly, looking away from me.  I glanced at him fidgeting, then back to Hermione.

“I don’t stand a chance, do I?”  Hermione met my gaze.

“Is the Dark Mark still on your arm Snape?”  I put a hand to it and nodded, “Then you won’t even be able to speak at the trial, they’ll check it and sentence you right away.  I’d give you 30 seconds speaking time, if that much.”  I found that a sliver of ice was running through my body.  Surely they hadn’t become that barbaric?

“But if you don’t believe us,” Ron shoved a paper at me, it was dated one week ago.  I looked down at the title.

“Five More Confirmed Death Eaters Receive the Dementors Kiss!”  I looked down the list of names, and I felt myself start to shake.  Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Hanna Abbot and Justin Finch-Fletchley, I blinked at the list.


“Certainly Justin wasn’t…” I looked up at them, Hermione nodded.

“He chose to die.  We offered him a similar option to what we’ve offered you, but he took the kiss.  You see, he was certain he could convince them he was innocent, even though he knew how unyielding they’ve been.  Hanna Abbot as well, they were going to get married this summer.”  Hermione still looked disturbed, and I waited.  It was Ron who spoke.

“They don’t know what they’re doing!  What kind of fool believes those two were involved in dark magics?”  He burst out savagely.  There were tears at the corners of his eyes, but I was uncertain whether it was from anger or sadness.

“You see, they remained neutral during the war, you might remember, and someone convinced the Ministry that they were selling information to Voldemort about our side.  The Ministry didn’t even want to hear what they had to say, someone said they saw them pass information to Malfoy, and Lucius said that was true,” Hermione glared at nothing in particular, “and that was it, there was no more investigation.  So you see Snape,” I cut her off.

“Severus,” I said simply, she stared at me confused.

“What?” she asked finally.

“Severus.  If you and I are going to work together in any context, you should call me Severus.”  I turned to Ron, “and I suppose you should as well,” although I felt a different internal feeling about extending that invitation.  It tasted like disgust.

He seemed floored by the concept.  He was looking at me as though he thought I might deserve to be in this hospital.  Hermione, I was beginning to think of her as “that dreadful girl”, was beaming at me.  Personally, I thought she deserved to be in her own hospital more than I did.

“Then you’ll accept our offer?” She sounded positively pleased.  I shook my head.

“Not so fast,” I said, returning my gaze to her.  “I refuse to accept this agreement until I know who is taking my place.”

“No one,” she exclaimed in pleasure.  I blinked at her, was she daft?  I looked at Ron, who had a small smile on his face.  Honestly, and they thought *Harry* was the crazy one?

“Oh, I see,” my sneer was common place again, “no one is going in my place.  Well, so long as it’s perfectly clear, I wouldn’t want anyone to not be in on the joke.  Or is it stupidity?”  I looked between the two of them, “Griffindor stupidity maybe?”  Ron turned a glower at me, Hermione remained smiling.

“Not at all Severus.  We’ve managed to create constructs,” she said simply.  I shook my head.

“That knowledge has been lost for thousands of years, and even if you could create a construct in my image, it would take hours of preparation, and it would also have no soul to suck out by a Dementor.”

“I told you he’d catch on more quickly than Malfoy.”  I turned my eyes sharply to Ron.

“Malfoy?  One of them still lives?” I hissed.  Hermione nodded.

“One of them still lives.  As for the soul, any soul works so…” she pointed to a potted plant on the table near my bed.  I continued to stare at her.  The smile never wavered.  “Every living thing has a soul.  A flower is planted in the center of each construct, that’s the soul that is taken by the Dementor.  An incredibly unsatisfactory dinner, I’m sure, but they haven’t caught on yet.”

“Draco,” I said, and her eyes got a bit wider.

“In one, I’m impressed,” she said simply.

“You wouldn’t have offered it to Lucius, and Narcissa would have told her husband.”  My deduction rarely failed me.

“He’s working for us too.  He and Harry seemed to have hit it off, not sure I approve,” Ron muttered the end to that sentence, but I heard it none the less.

“So Potter knows about this little… game you are playing?”  I tried to keep the surprise from my voice, but I suspect Hermione heard it anyway.

“Yes, he approves of our efforts.  He was the one that asked us to extend the invitation to Draco.  He had a hard time convincing Ron.”  I nodded.

“I’m sure.  Do you mean to tell me that you already have a construct in my likeness made?”

“Yes, that’s why we didn’t arrive at the same time as Harry.  We were finishing up the construct.  Does this mean you’re accepting the invitation?”  I stared at her, really studied her features, her bushy hair, the way her eyes shone in her face, the cast of pinkness to her cheeks, and finally nodded.

“On one condition.  I keep my wand.”  I would prefer to be facing down a Dementor than be around a bunch of Griffindors with no wand.  Things were strange enough as it was.  Hermione handed me my wand, Ron was making a noise behind me.

“How do you know I won’t try to use this to escape now?”  I asked, feeling the grip of the handle in my hands.  I had never expected to get a chance to actively use magic again.

“Well, it’s a token of faith, isn’t it?  Oh Ron, shut up,” she turned her eyes on him.  “He has to trust us, and we have to trust him.”

“How can we trust him?” he said angrily.

“Because I’ve nothing to lose if I trust you except my freedom,” I turned to look at Ron myself, he had been watching me as soon as I had started talking.  “As I haven’t really had freedom in over twenty years, that’s no real loss, and I have everything important to me to gain, which is my life.  So you see Weasley, I really shouldn’t say no to the proposal, and I shouldn’t attempt to hex you to escape.  I dare say living here is likely to be more comfortable than living in the muggle world.”

“Excellent, so, we need to move you as quickly as possible, can you stand?”  I nodded and carefully stood up from the bed.  I put on the large fluffy slippers that were next to the bed, and took a tentative step forward.  I was a touch wobbly, but not to the extent that I was unable to walk.  I took another small step towards the door.

“No Professor Snape,” came a voice I had not heard in years, “you’ll need to come this way.”  It was coming from behind me.  I turned my gaze back to see Draco Malfoy standing in an opening in the wall, behind which was a large room filled with cauldrons.  He had a wide grin on his face, and looked healthier than I had ever seen him.  His dark grey robes were simple, so unlike a Malfoy, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, which exposed the Dark Mark on his forearm, and he was wearing another pair of the fluffy slippers I had on.  I looked him up and down, and shook my head, as I turned to walk towards him instead.

“Perhaps you are crazy as well,” I said as he entered the room to help me walk.  His smile only got wider.

“Well Professor, that depends on your definition of insanity.”