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.

"Standing Stones" (3/?)
by Christine Anderson
aka Lilly Malfoy

After that night we made the mirror room our place of sanctuary. Within those rooms we lived as we wished that we could live in the world beyond them- we laughed and danced, we let our guards down at last. In the mirror room there was no secrecy, no conspiracy of silence. The relationship of the outside world, carried out in seemingly meaningless gestures and in the words between words, became what we had always wished that it could be.

There were many moments in that place that I recall fondly, many I held onto in the days of Voldemort's ascension, when we all were left wondering if we would ever make it. But the night I remembered most then, and the one I recall again now, came a handful of years before Voldemort met the wizard he could not defeat in Lily and James Potter's infant son.

October 31. Harry Potter was three years from being born, my family was barely six months dead, and I stood in the mirror room, waiting for Severus.

He stumbled through the mirror, washed out, faded somehow. He looked for all the world as if he had descended into hell and could not find the way back. I had never seen him suffer so, not in all the years I had known him. It was as if suddenly the world had proved right all his years of cynicism and bitterness, as if it had shown itself to be that cruel, that heartless.

He was clutching his left forearm, his right hand clenched like a vice around it. His robes hung in tatters, which he seemed to have given up trying to hold together.

His expression was beyond horror, beyond shame. Beyond everything, save only raw, bleeding torment.

I rushed towards him, and he stumbled into my arms. Tears streamed down his face, and the way he held his arm out to the side told me it must have been agony. "Severus," I whispered as I held him. "Oh, Severus... What is it? What's happened?"

"Min..." he said, in a voice I hardly recognized as belonging to the man I loved. "Don't, don't... You don't know, you can't know- can't know what you're doing."

I stroked his face, his hair, tried to sooth him. None of it did any good. Severus began to tremble, and I grasped his shoulders, holding him up. His shoulders shook beneath my hands, and after that, for a long time I just held him.

At last he raised his head and looked at me. Something in his eyes, a spark which had always flickered to life when we were together, had gone cold and dark. "Don't," he whispered. "You don't know yet... You won't want to touch me once you know."

"Rubbish!" I whispered fiercely. "I love you, Severus. Nothing in the world is going to change that. Nothing."

He winced, as if I had slapped him. "Here, then," he said. "This- this changes everything." And he pushed up his sleeve.

There, burned into the skin of his left forearm, was a brand- black, ugly, a skull devouring a hissing snake. The skin around it was swollen and red. I wept when I saw it, and my tears steamed when they fell onto that horrible brand.

"Oh, Severus..." I swiped at my eyes with one hand, and pulled him to me with the other. I felt his legs buckle and give out, caught him as he fell, drew him down upon the carpet. "Oh, my poor darling..."

I do not know what it is, how it came about- perhaps the Veritaserum was stronger than we'd thought, but since that first day I have known many things he has never had to say, have known things for the truth before he said them. Since that day he has never had to explain, anything. I have known it all exactly when I needed to know it, and I have never doubted any of it.

Nor did I doubt him then. I knew that despite the Dark Mark upon his arm, he had not betrayed me- that he would not, perhaps even could not. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name. What he had done was no betrayal, not of me, nor of Dumbledore. And the way that he suffered then for what he had done- it nearly broke my heart.

"Lucius," Severus said in that same broken voice, slowly beginning now to return to its natural state, "finally asked me. I had proved myself at last, to him, to Voldemort. I killed a man tonight- another wizard, who...could not meet the requirements. That was my initiation. I killed him, and Voldemort put his mark upon me. I am one of them now. I belong to Voldemort. It- was necessary. It had to be done by someone, one of us had to go, and who better? But I never knew- Good lord, I hated that man, and for what I had seen him do, he certainly deserved death. But I never imagined- oh, God, Minerva, I never imagined-! I will never be free now... Never. I belong to him."

I held him tightly, weeping still, and rocked him gently as if he were a child. "Shh, darling, shh. You're wrong. He does not own you, Severus, and he never will."

He touched the Dark Mark, and winced. I knew it was more than the pain of touching the wound. "This says different."

"Lover," I said quietly, "if I had to face Voldemort alone I would probably lose the battle. I know that. But there are a great many things he does not know- and one of them is this. He may think he owns you. He may even believe that, and better by far if he does, much as the thought horrifies me. But listen, my love- listen, because this is important. Voldemort can think what he wants to, believe whatever he damn well pleases, but I- I was here first." I reached out through the shreds of his robes, placed my hand against his chest, over his pounding heart. "My mark was here first, Severus. If you belong to anyone, it bloody well isn't Voldemort."

He smiled then, or at least tried to. "I..." His hands shaking, he placed them over mine. "Thank you."

I returned the smile, knowing mine was shaky, knowing it was enough, anyway. "No thanks necessary, my love." I kissed his cheek.

He smiled again- this smile was roguish and a bit dangerous, and probably meant trouble. Just then, I didn't care.

I should have been expecting it, though, I suppose- but it came as a total shock when he seized me by the shoulders, his long fingers digging into my back, and pulled me to him.

"Severus, are you-?" But what was I going to ask? Was he alright? Of course not. After what he'd been through, there was no way that he could be.

"Knowing you were here- was the only thing that brought me back tonight," Severus told me quietly. "The only thing that made me think life was still worth living."

I nodded, unable to speak. Which was when he leaned forward and kissed me, quick, hard, desperate. The kiss was insistent, needy- but still somehow gave me room to back away. I didn't. I couldn't. Not when he needed me so badly... not when I needed him almost as much.

I had thought to be his anchor, and now I was- and at that moment, I was the only thing standing between him and the abyss. If he had to cross into that darkness, I would go with him as far as I could.

I grasped his arm and ran my fingers along it, carefully skirting the Mark. "Will he feel-?" I asked.

Severus shook his head. "Pain and summoning, and that is all. Voldemort punishes, and Voldemort calls. Nothing else."

I kissed the mark, very, very gently. It burned my lips like hot coal, and I wanted to scream, but I could only weep. My tears fell upon the brand again, burned into it like acid. The Mark, though, seemed to absorb them, and whatever of it was eaten away by the tears, it only came back.

Severus hissed between his teeth, but not all of it was pain. "Gods, that burns..." And he pulled me into his arms again. "Min-"

"Yes?"

He shook his head, brushed hair out of his eyes. "Nothing."

"Good..."

As we kissed again, I felt his hands reaching up, still shaking, to pull the pins from my hair...

It was not the first time we had made love, only the first time it had been like that- furious, desperate, the two of us scrambling for one moment in that darkness where we were not alone. It was beauty as much as anguish and pain, and for both of us a way of letting go- of things that we couldn't say, or didn't have the strength to.

In the moments after, I lay with my head against his chest, my ear to his heart. I closed my eyes, and my world became that heartbeat, and Severus's voice beside me.

"Are you alright?" he asked, running a hand gently over my shoulder. He seemed to touch me like that sometimes, as if he were afraid I might break.

"Mmm," I said. "Yes. Are you?"

"More right than I thought I could be tonight. I- I am glad you are here."

I smiled. "And I always will be." I took a breath. "I'm glad you came to me."

"I... Minerva."

Very gently, I kissed his lips. "You don't have to say it, Severus. I know."

I felt him nod. "I know. That's why I came to you."

We wrapped ourselves in my cloak, and a blanket purloined from one of the couches, and fell asleep where we lay, there in each others' arms.

I have never slept so peacefully as I do in Severus Snape's arms. I have never felt so safe...or so very close to home.

And I realized, just as I was drifting off to sleep- I was not close to home, after all. I was home.

And I always would be. Wherever he was, wherever we were. That was home.

---

It was only later that we realized- the Dark Mark, born of pain, born of darkness and evil, could not abide my tears, my touch, because I loved. Because I had loved him before the mark, because I loved him after. Because I hated Voldemort with every fiber of my being, but I loved Severus, and I did not give a damn for the mark. I did not fear it, not upon my lover's arm.

My tears were love and faith.

And to Voldemort they were poison.

---

The next day began a flurry of activity, from which we had fewer and fewer opportunities to escape. Along with the great and secret battles against Voldemort- like Severus I refused to speak of him with the euphemisms already coming into fashion out of fear- there were still appearances to be kept up, students to teach, house points to award and take away. I both pitied and envied the children at the school in those days, for there were none who knew what was going on all around them, the secrets we were all forced to keep. I envied them their ignorance, their innocence. I had days- and nights- in which I greatly missed mine. But then, an innocent woman would probably not have lasted so long, or been able to help Severus as I had. An innocent woman would never have gotten close enough. Perhaps, then, it was worth it.

Yes, I envied them their innocence, but I pitied them for it as well, knowing that they were most likely destined to lose it in some tragic fashion.

Severus was always trying to be two places at once, two men at once. He was the head of Slytherin, and still all of the things that had made the others hate him back in our school days. He was a Death Eater, a spy, and my lover, and always at terrible risk for one or another of those things. He was Dumbledore's subtle left hand as I was his strong right, moving in darkness while I was able to move in the light of day- no less Albus's second than I, but unable to show it. Unable to show anything.

Severus cut staff meetings the way he used to skive off classes, daring anyone to say anything, and not giving a damn if they did. I tried to cover for him when I could, but mostly I couldn't, and so he gained a reputation for being bitter and lazy, disagreeable, and standoffish. Since he was most of those things, there wasn't much either of us could say about it.

And one day he asked me to stop trying.

"It is easier if they hate me, all of them," Severus said, his hands slowly working the knots of tension out of my shoulders. "It is not so different from the way things were, only more dangerous."

"Severus-"

"I wish you wouldn't tense up like that," he said, sounding as if he wished nothing of the sort. "I'm going to have to start over, now..."

Yes, we had our good times, our little stolen moments. For the rest of that day I felt the echo of his touch, and tried to hold onto that memory, not knowing when I would see him again, really see him, in a time and place where we could let the walls come down.

I wanted to take his hand and lead him out of the dark, out of the cold, into the light. And I wept because I could not.

Playing the part of the loyal Death Eater made Severus irritable, more so than was usual, and even the Slytherins suffered for it. While the things he was forced to do- the horrific crimes that could not be set right, the tortures and murders, sent him running to me. I never knew how much of it he told Dumbledore- not everything, I expect, but I imagine that telling him wasn't really necessary. He was Dumbledore, so he knew- and one look at Severus, if you truly looked at him, told everything.

Few looked that hard. Few wanted to. Some of them must have suspected, and others more than suspected- Moody had been giving me odd looks whenever I saw him, which wasn't often- he was up to something as well, and only turned up at odd moments. But aside from Alastor, I don't think any of the others really wanted to know. I suppose I couldn't blame them, although I wanted to. Before Lucius betrayed my family, I doubt I would have wanted to know the truth either. The woman I pretended to be certainly didn't.

And I hated her for it. Oh, not all the time, just now and again, when the charade got under my skin and began to seem pointless, useless- or when I was reminded by Albus, by Severus, sometimes just by the cruel hand of fate, that I might be keeping up these appearances for a very long time- that no one could say when it might be over.

Necessary as it was, the constant vigilance which Alastor would later rant to his students about, and which he was even then ranting to us about, was very wearing, and difficult to keep up. We would have weeks, even months, when almost nothing happened- and a few Muggle killings wasn't much, then, compared to what Voldemort and the others could have done if they'd been of a mind to- and we would have to fight against the apathy. When we would have to forcibly remind ourselves that it would get worse, that it always did.

We lived our lives, then and now, dancing upon the edge of a razor- and needing that perpetual danger as much as we despised it. I suppose it gave us at least a sense of motion- at least we were doing something. But that dance was still perilous, and I never forgot it- never forgot that at any moment Severus and I might be discovered, found out by those who would never understand, or want to, that he might be found out, by Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

There was a very good reason Severus and I kept our relationship as much of a secret as we could, even leaving aside the probable reactions of our old classmates. In this age of Slytherin ascendant, Voldemort would bring Gryffindor as low as he could. Perhaps it was because he was Slytherin's heir, and held his forefather's animosity for Gryffindor; perhaps it was because many Gryffindors followed Dumbledore's example and were sympathetic towards Muggles and those not of "pure" wizarding blood. But whatever reason, Voldemort hated my house, and would abide no traffic with it. If he knew one of 'his' Death Eaters had so sullied his blood, lowered himself to the point of taking a Gryffindor lover... Well. Pure blood, if tainted, was of no further use to him.

Which, of course, did nothing to debase me of my notion that loving someone put them in danger- that love was danger. Even before, I had always thought it a risk, and a great one. But now...

Now, our love was one of the things that brought Severus into danger. But neither of us was willing to even entertain notions of giving it up. We couldn't- we needed too desperately something of our own, something to hold onto, and in our hearts, at least, we knew Dumbledore was right. It was love, and not to be casually set aside. If there was danger, well- I was not Gryffindor for nothing, and Severus had no choice but to excel at not getting caught.

But the danger was not something we could will away, and because we never knew if we would see the dawn, we lived each night, each instant, each breath as if it were our last.

We tried not to talk about the future, tried not to think of it. But when you love so deeply, it is no easy thing not to think of it. I wanted to, and I could sense that Severus did as well. But it wasn't practical, and we were both cynical enough to not be able to forget that. What was the point in wondering where we might someday like to live, if we were uncertain even our present home at Hogwarts would continue to stand?

A bit of welcome news the year before Voldemort met Harry Potter gave us a scare, and served to put us in mind of the cautions we needed to take.

When Severus was out in the field with the Death Eaters, his contacts were a pair of Aurors, Frank Longbottom and his wife Melyssa. Good friends, good people. That year Frank and Melyssa became the parents of a little boy they called Neville.

I couldn't think of many people who would have made better parents, but Melyssa's pregnancy had been unexpected, and was something we all worried over. Neville was so small, so defenseless... And wouldn't the son of two Aurors have been a tempting target for those parents' enemies? The idea horrified us all, of course, but Severus assured us that the Death Eaters would not hesitate to harm the child, the fact that several of them were parents notwithstanding, of course.

And if Neville Longbottom could become such a target, what of any child Severus and I might have? I had thought of this in a vague sort of way, knowing it wasn't the time, and taking precautions against pregnancy. But seeing Neville in Melyssa's arms, a tiny boy with his father's eyes... it got to me.

In the interludes between nightmares recalling that night at my brother's house, I began to have new, darker dreams- dreams where children with Severus Snape's nose and silky black hair screamed in pain, and I could only stand there, powerless to help them.

Nothing was worth having to face that every night. Not even the rest that I really did need.

So Severus wasn't the only insomniac prowling the halls of Hogwarts in those days, and after a while the lack of sleep made us all a little crazy. And Severus- Severus dealt with it in his own way, because I couldn't be seen to be acting oddly. He came to my office one night- I looked up from grading papers and there he was, steaming goblet of tea in his hand. He kissed my hand and was altogether charming, an attitude I was relieved to see, as it usually meant we were in the clear for a little while longer.

As I watched he pulled a flask out of his cloak and poured a bit into the goblet. Severus waved his wand, and it stirred itself in. He told me it was Ogdens Old Firewhisky. And it was.

He simply...neglected to mention that he'd mixed a bit of something else in.

I drank half the goblet before I figured it out. "Sleeping Draught?" I asked, my eyelids already starting to droop. He nodded. "Damnit, Severus, I-"

"Need to get some rest," he interrupted. Before I could protest, he walked around the desk, and as I slumped in my chair, Severus picked me up.

"Really, Severus..."

He kissed me lightly, then touched a finger to his lips. "Shh."

So I rested in his arms, safe, content. How I wish that moment could have lasted forever.

I fell asleep before we reached my room, but in the morning I woke to find myself in bed, my shoes set off to the side, glasses on the night table exactly where I was accustomed to putting them.