Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

"Lost Bastion" (1/?)
by Christine Anderson
aka Lilly Malfoy

The fools still though that they could win. And for once, the man who had mocked them all, forced them to endure his ridicule and cynicism, who had let them believe that he hated all of them because it was easier than letting them care- for once in his life that man wished very much that they could have been right instead of wrong.

Such faith. They had such faith. And he knew on that darkest of nights, that they were about to lose it. The one bit of strength that might have seen them through, and they were going to lose it.

And what else were they to lose, along with their faith, their hope? He had tried to learn the answer, tried and tried again, but the man he must for now call Master was ever fond of surprises, and after these long years it was little shock that the Dark Lord kept his own council.

He had done as they asked, knowing the price he would someday have to pay. Voldemort had never been one to let a betrayer pass unscathed; now more than ever he knew that was true. He had not kept his secret as well as he might have hoped. And now, they were lost. Lost because he had failed them. Lost because they had foolishly trusted him to get it right this time...and he hadn't done it. Perhaps no one could have done any better, but to his mind that was no justification, only a poor excuse. It had been his duty to save them all, somehow, to find a way, and he had not been able to.

The face in the mirror before him was careworn and haunted, too tired, having seen too much, but with no choice but to go on.

Even if it is my death, he thought, even then, there can be no turning back from this. The thought could have troubled him more than it did, and once, it would have. Now, it was simply a truth he was unable, unwilling even, to deny. He had lost too much himself, given of himself too much, to argue with his reflection over such small things. The deaths he should have been able to prevent made his demise trivial in his own eyes. It was a poor penance, but it was all he had to offer them.

I must do what I can. Though it will not be enough, though it will never be enough, I must... He shook his head. What was the use? He had betrayed the others as surely as he had betrayed Voldemort.

They had trusted him to learn the secrets, to discover where and when the next strike would come, that they might stand against the dark, once, and again and again, on until the end, to success or to failure. He had sworn that nothing would stop him from reaching them, but it was only one more promise he had been unable to keep.

Voldemort had looked to him, saying nothing, doing nothing, but in that moment he had known. The Dark Lord knew, had always known, what he had done, and here now, at the last, was Voldemort's wrath made manifest.

Knowing it for what it was made no difference. It was still his weakness which had brought them to this point. For all the days of his life he would think of it so.

Unable to stand the sight of his reflection a moment longer, Severus Snape's clenched fist shattered the glass.

He kicked aside the nearby chair and turned his back upon the broken mirror. With a hoarse cry he slid down along the wall towards the floor.

Snape buried his face in his hands, and the salt of his tears burned upon his bloody hands as he wept.

---

He was aware of very little else until the door slammed open against the wall, and a robed figure stood framed in the now open doorway. Snape raised his head slowly, gazing upward with dull eyes. Who it was hardly seemed to matter; He found he couldn't summon the curiosity necessary to wonder.

The figure shook its head, and the hood fell back, revealing long dark hair framing a woman's face set with determination and anger. She was resplendent in that stubborn fury- not beautiful, for she had never been that, but something deeper and ultimately more important, and in that light she was instantly recognizable. He shied away from the thought of her name, even as the faint candlelight glinted off the square-framed glasses she wore.

His throat was suddenly dry as he tried to speak. "Min..." Snape found it impossible to say any more.

Minerva McGonagall nodded slowly as she stepped into the room.

He reached for the glass of water upon the table and took a long swallow. "I thought I'd warded this place rather well."

"You did. Pity you haven't changed your spell keys in years." Minerva kneeled beside him and took the glass from his hands.

Snape watched her as she set the glass aside. He reached out to catch her hands in his own, stained by blood and dried tears. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked sharply. "You shouldn't have come."

"I had to. You were rather conspicuously absent tonight."

He sighed. "I couldn't come. Voldemort made quite sure of that."

She ran a carefully assessing hand along one side of his face, and he trembled. After all the pain, after the bone-deep sorrow, the touch was almost too much.

Slowly the hand drew away. "Imperius?" she asked softly.

"Yes. I'm sorry." His shoulders shook with the weight of his words, and he bowed his head. "Merlin's ghost, I..."

"Hush," Minerva said, holding tightly to his hands. "Hush. We knew something was wrong when you didn't come, and we met Voldemort's forces before they were ready."

Snape raised his head, a glimmer of hope flickering within his mind. If they had caught Voldemort by surprise, if he truly had not yet been ready to face them... But there was such sadness in the eyes of the witch before him, and he knew that it had been as he'd feared. Something had gone terribly wrong, more wrong than even the rest of this madness.

"What did it cost us?" he asked.

"Dumbledore," Minerva whispered. "It cost us Albus Dumbledore." Her voice shook as she answered him, and she seemed torn between grief and anger.

Snape knew that she had always looked to the Hogwarts Headmaster as a mentor, and she had loved him in place of the parents she had never really known, in place of the family that had rejected her. His loss wounded her deeply, but it would not break her. Another witch, perhaps, but not this one.

Snape turned his head away. It seemed more than he could do simply to process the information, to take it in and to grasp it with the painful hands of understanding.

"Why?" he whispered. "Why? The Order of the Phoenix needs him, not me! I should have died before I allowed this to happen."

When she answered, her voice was cool, almost...detached. "Which is why," Minerva said, "we were all allowed to live." The words seemed to mean nothing to her, but Snape knew better. He could do nothing about it, but he did know better.

He nodded. "Yes. So that we have time to become better acquainted with our suffering before Voldemort destroys the rest of us." Then, "I'm sorry, Minerva. I know how much Dumbledore meant to you."

The words sounded hollow and meaningless. She had loved the old man, had been the daughter Dumbledore never had, and his words could never have been enough comfort, enough condolence, to soothe that pain.

"I suppose you do, if anyone does," she replied.

Snape looked back to her. "Tell me... How did he die?"

Her hands shook. "I don't know if I can-"

Now it was he who steadied her. Idiot. Why did you have to say that? "That was thoughtless of me. I don't really need to know, and I-" Snape paused, but her expression clearly said she needed to hear it, and that need was more important than his pride, the pride he so stubbornly clung to even now. "I apologize."

"Never mind," she said softly.

"Min. Think, if you will. When was the last time I apologized to you, for anything?"

She shook her head. "Never."

"Not even when I should have. I am saying I'm sorry now. For Merlin's sake, don't throw it away."

Minerva nodded slightly. "Thank you." She paused, looking thoughtful. "We should have expected what happened next, but we thought perhaps, this time... We went to meet them before they were ready to strike, but somehow they had warning. The other Aurors and I did what we could, but we were no match for them. Albus saw that almost immediately, and he decided to guard our retreat. He swore he would be right behind me, and I believed him." Minerva buried her face in her hands. "May all the old gods forgive me, Severus, I believed him."

"What choice did you have?" he asked. "If you and the others had stayed as well, you'd all be dead. The Headmaster knew that. And if you both fell, who would carry on and look after the children? Certainly not me." She said nothing, and gently he reached out a hand, raising her head. "You did what you had to, Minerva. What he wanted you to do."

She looked up. "And I don't hate myself any less for it."

"No," Snape replied. "You wouldn't. Believe me, I understand."

But she shook her head. "I don't think you do, Severus."

"Then tell me."

Why did he ask, why did he care? What did any of it matter to him? Snape didn't know, could not find the words to explain, but he knew that it did matter, that he did care.

"That dear, sweet old man..." Minerva whispered, and a sob shook her body. "I never told him that I loved him, do you know that? Not in all those years. He was all the family I ever knew, and I never said..."

"And you think, because you never said it, that he didn't know? Others might not have, but he was- He was Dumbledore, Minerva. Remember? He always knew everything. Where we'd been, what we'd done. What guilty little secrets we were keeping..."

"You were the only one with guilty secrets, old friend," she said.

He laughed softly. "Oh, my dear, I don't think so. But it doesn't matter. If he knew all of that... He knew." His endearments were, as always, sardonic, but Minerva McGonagall had years ago gotten used to her old friend's sense of humor, such as it was.

She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "I could never tell him, could never tell anyone what I felt."

Snape held out his arm. "Here, use mine. It's already a bit of a lost cause. There's no reason for you to ruin your favorite robe."

Minerva sniffed, a hoarse, stuffy sort of sound, as she gazed down at her emerald sleeve. "You remember that?"

I remember everything about you, he thought, and he was stunned by the clarity of that thought, and the longing that trailed behind it like a shadow. I remember all there is to know, all you have ever told me. I remember... Snape shook his head, but could not shake free of the path of memory. I remember how you felt in my arms all those years ago, when some fool of a Gryffindor had broken your heart, how I held you and swore I would always be there for you, that I would always be your friend...because it was beyond me to promise you anything else.

"Yes," he said, his voice thick with remembered things. "I remember."

For a long time she made no reply. Then she said, very softly, "You look like hell, Sev."

"I feel little better." He paused. "Minerva..." Snape shook his head. "Never mind. You shouldn't stay here much longer. It's far too dangerous. Voldemort and the others know where I live."

"You don't live here," Minerva countered. "You exist here, and sometimes you hide here. But you don't live here."

"Touché," he agreed. "But you still can't stay. They will come looking for me soon enough."

"You'll have to come with me, then."

"Will I, now? Why?"

"Because," she sighed. "If it is dangerous for me, it can't be much safer for you."

Snape nodded. "Your point being?"

"We have already lost far too much, Severus. I will not allow us to lose each other as well."

"Oh?" he asked. "Stubborn and brave... You are a true Gryffindor, my dear, but how can you stop it?"

"I can't," Minerva said. "Together, we can. Come with me now, Severus, and we have a chance. Without you, we haven't much of anything."

"You don't need me, Minerva," Snape all but sneered at her. "You never have."

"You don't know what I need," she replied, her voice quiet but almost harsh.

"I know too much."

"Yes," she replied. "I know. And it doesn't change anything."

"It should. You are a fool, Minerva."

"Then so help me," she whispered, "I am a fool. And you are a bastard, as always- And none of it matters. Damnit, none of it does, not now!"

"And you don't want me that close to you or your secrets, either," he went on as if she hadn't spoken at all.

"Yes," she said, leaning towards him. "I do."

Snape pushed her away. "Go," he snapped. "Go. Gather those foolish children, huddle your Aurors about them, close your eyes, and hope it's over very quickly. I can't help you."

"You selfish bastard," Minerva snapped at him, "Albus died for you, and this is how you repay him?"

"My debt is paid," he snarled back. "It was paid in full the night I returned to Voldemort, when I nearly went mad from the pain of the Dark Lord's welcome."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, taken aback. "I didn't know that."

Snape wanted to hate her then, for the kindness, for the pity, but he remembered too well his old school friend, the girl who had stood by him when no one else would, when even her own housemates raised their voices in disapproval. And that girl had grown into this woman, who would not leave him now, no matter what he did. No matter how he tried to drive her away, no matter how he tried to keep her at a distance and thus keep her safe, she would not be deterred.

"Why would you have known?" Snape asked. "I'm not in the habit of sharing things of that nature. I can't see where it would matter to anyone."

A look of concern crossed her face, as if she were deeply saddened by what he had told her. "It matters to me, Severus," she whispered, "and the rest of the world can go and-"

Snape shook his head. "You can't let it matter. You know that."

"You have no right to tell me-"

"I have every right!" he interrupted. "I have every right. As usual, you risk too much for too little gain."

Her concern faded, replaced with that same mask of anger she'd worn since her arrival. "Oh, go to hell, Severus! I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this right now. This can't wait while you storm off to your dungeons to sulk. I need your help, and I need it right now." He didn't answer. "Did you hear me? I need you."

"I heard you," he whispered harshly, grasping her shoulders.

She made no reply, but raised her hands to cover his. He wanted to pull away, but suddenly he didn't have the strength to run anymore. Suddenly all the years of running no longer seemed worth the effort they had taken.

"I heard you," he whispered again, and kissed her.

The kiss was bruising and harsh, and Minerva's eyes flew open in surprise as his lips touched hers, but she did not pull away. Her fingers locked around his, and slowly she pushed him back against the wall. She raised her head long enough for a quick gasp of breath, then sank down to him once again.

She whispered his name, and his arms wrapped tightly around her. There was so much he wanted to say, but his throat closed up, and he couldn't think with her body pressed so close against him, her cool, gentle fingers running through his hair, and in that moment he would rather have died than pulled away.

His words, whatever they might be, could wait.

She gasped softly, struggling to catch her breath, and he trembled, exuberant and terrified. What he felt, he could hardly bear; a pleasant ache so deep it touched his very soul.

"Severus."

He turned away, resisting her efforts to turn him back to her. Still he felt her hands on his shoulders, slim and delicate and yet so very, very strong... "No," Snape whispered. "No! You shouldn't have come. Don't you understand? You should never have done this."

Snape felt Minerva's grip tighten. "I had to. I need..."

"Nothing and no one, as usual."

"Are you still under the Imperius Curse?" she asked. "Because you're being more of an idiot than usual."

Snape laughed softly as he lifted her up. "No." He produced a handkerchief and brushed at the tears streaking her face. "What was it you needed, again?"

"You," she whispered, and a blush swept across her face, but she wouldn't- quite- take the statement back. "Your help..." Minerva sat back on her heels. "Come with me. Please."

"What are you up to?" he asked, handing her the handkerchief. "What can possibly be done by us to make a difference?"

"We can to kill the Death Eaters, Severus. All of them."

"Oh?" he asked, intrigued despite himself. Of all the foolish, insane ideas- And yet it might work. It truly might.

Damn, he thought. Damn, damn, damn... You fool, why did you even touch her?

The answer was obvious. Because he had wanted to, because he had always wanted to...and because she had seemed so desperately lonely.

And because she wasn't the only one.

"I think we've been going about things in the wrong way," Minerva said.

"Cut off the head, and the body dies," Snape said. It had been their plan for so long, it had seemed to make so much sense...and yet it had cost them so very much, for such precious little gain.

"Yes. But we can't get at the head. What would happen if we took out his support structure instead? If, at the end, Voldemort stood alone? We can't touch him, we can't even get close. So long as he has those loyal followers to stand between us and him, to-"

"To look after the incidental murders and acts of terror?"

Ignoring his sarcasm, she nodded. "Exactly. And that's where I need you, Severus. You know the Death Eaters. You know where they hide when they go to ground, but more importantly, you know who they are. Of them all, who-?"

She left the question hanging, but he understood, and nodded. "Who serves best, and whose loss would cause him the most trouble?" She nodded. "There are two. Lucius Malfoy, and Peter Pettigrew."

"Where do I find them?"

"You don't," Snape said flatly.

"Severus-"

"No, Minerva. Have you forgotten who commands the Order now?"

"Bastard," she whispered.

Snape ignored that. "They need you. You can't let them down."

"No, of course I can't. But I want-" Minerva paused. "It doesn't matter what I want, not anymore. But I won't have you taking foolish risks, Severus. If you need backup, I expect you to call for it, and not to do anything rash until it arrives."

"Concern for my safety. How touching."

"Severus." She still, it seemed, didn't care for his habit of mocking her when she was being serious.

He nodded. "Very well. So long as you promise not to be the backup they send."

"Don't trust me?" she asked, seeming amused by the notion.

"I don't trust easily, Minerva. You know that. But you haven't done anything to lose my trust, not yet." Of course I trust you, Min. I... But he would not even let himself think it, not yet. Perhaps when it was over...if it was ever over.

"Then why?"

Damn you, Snape thought. Damn you for making me say it. Merlin help me, I don't know if I can.

"The Order needs you," he said again, in a voice gone rough and hoarse.

"They needed Albus, not I. We've had to take some heavy losses, as we knew we would. What's one more, more or less?" Her tone, if not the words, said clearly that his response was, in fact, no answer, or at least not enough of one for her. She seemed to know that he was close to the breaking point, and that if she nudged him just enough, he would admit to what he was holding back.

Curse her anyway- for daring to be right.

"If I didn't give a damn about you, I'd encourage you to tag along," Snape said at last. "But as it is, I wouldn't want you to get yourself killed keeping me company. I'm not worth it." He shook his head. "I... Oh, hell. I can't, don't you see? I can't."

"I never thought I'd hear you say those words," Minerva said quietly. "You can't? You? You do as you please, you always have. If there was something you wanted to say to me, you would say it, and damn the consequences."

"Perhaps I've grown up."

She gave a short, harsh laugh. "Oh, Severus, please. You don't really think that you can fool me, do you?"

He sighed. "No, I suppose not. Have it your way, then. But I don't think it would be prudent to for me to say what is on my mind right now."

He saw the thought of several quips cross her face, and then she discarded them. "You can go whistle for prudence, Severus."

Snape tried very hard not to smile. He truly did. But he really couldn't help it. She wasn't kidding, which only made it that much more amusing. "I swear to you," he said, "if we survive the next few days, I am going to tell the Gryffindors the truth about you."

She laughed. "Oh? And what truth is that?"

"That you are incredibly unfair, and that you have a sense of humor a Slytherin could have been proud of." Snape paused. "I can't do what needs to be done if you're with me. Promise to send someone else if I call, that's all I ask."

She nodded. "Alright. Done, and done. You will call for help if it's needed?"

"Of course. But I wasn't planning to go alone."