The young man sat hunched in his chair, his head hanging, his black hair shrouding his face. It was impossible to tell, at a glance, if his bent form indicated acquiescence, devastation, or exhaustion.        "I've made arrangements for the baby."        Snape looked up.        "He'll stay with Lily's sister's family in Surrey," Dumbledore revealed from his seat behind his desk. There was no mistaking the weariness in his tone, the fatigue that deepened the creases in his face.        Snape made no reply. After a moment, he dropped his head again. From the far reaches of the castle came the grating sounds of children celebrating in the towers. Fools, Snape hissed to himself.        Dumbledore rose and moved quietly across the circular office to a window, one that faced Surrey, though not even a wizard as powerful as he could see the town from Hogwarts.        "I will need to leave shortly," he murmured, as if politely completing a social call. "Hagrid will be arriving at Privet Drive. I should be there to meet him."        Snape remained silent. After a moment, he nodded once and started to rise. Dumbledore held out a hand, indicating the young man should sit back down.        "I would like you to wait here, Severus." He gestured to a rumpled cot near his desk. He'd been sleeping in his office a great deal lately. "Try to get some rest."        Snape shook his head. "I've been here for hours," he reminded the old man, collapsing back onto the chair nevertheless. "I've told you everything."        Well, not quite everything. But there was no point in speaking of what he knew only in part. If he had proof, that would be different. But without all the facts...        "There's something else." Dumbledore turned to Snape, but he didn't continue. Instead, he asked a question.        "Where will you go?"        The inquiry took Snape by surprise. He'd given the matter no consideration whatsoever. For months, every thought in his head, every effort of mind and body, had been focused on the present, on current events, the outcome of which would shape the world forever. Now, in the face of failure, of defeat, of terrifying uncertainty...        No! That wasn't the case! He was away from the Death Eaters, and that made all the difference. The realization had a distinctly calming effect.        "I hadn't thought," he admitted slowly. "But I suppose... " He sat up straighter, an unexpected light coming into his eyes. I can go anywhere! he suddenly realized. I can do anything!        He had burdens, yes. He had terrifying, life-threatening burdens. But he could deal with them however he wished. It was the first time in his life that would be true. It was the first time in his life he would be...        Free.        Snape smiled just a bit.        He could sail the ocean blue, seeking out experts with whom he could study to strengthen himself for what lay ahead. He could sell the house and buy a broom to travel the world, performing reconnaissance, gathering information...        I could set up a lucrative business in Diagon Alley, he thought, inventing new potions, and spend my evenings developing a substance to destroy...        "I think it would be wise if you remained at Hogwarts."        Snape recoiled as if splashed by ice water. "Remain!... Remain at...!!!" He couldn't even repeat the words. After all he'd suffered here! After all he'd endured! He stammered with fury, righteous anger swelling his chest.        "I'm concerned for your safety," Dumbledore continued. "The Death Eaters will begin to speculate...to form theories...."        Snape sprang to his feet. "About what?" he snarled, rage twisting his features until he looked far older than his 21 years. "You speak as if we'd succeeded! The Potters are dead and Voldemort..."        He gasped, as if to suck the words back into his throat, but it was too late. Fear flooded his chest, making his heart pound. He sank back into the chair.        Dumbledore watched the younger man with sympathetic eyes, nodding at what neither of them wanted to put into words. "Habeas corpus," the old man murmured gently. "'Produce the corpse.'"        A long silence followed, during which both men entertained the myriad implications of their worst fears. Snape grew nauseous from the bile in his throat. When he finally spoke, it was of the Death Eaters, because he was not afraid of the Death Eaters.        "The Death Eaters..." His hands were still trembling. He shoved them into his pockets. "The Death Eaters did not prosper under... Voldemort." He paused to clear his throat, rather savagely, Dumbledore observed. "They will seek their own lives now. Very few pose a threat to me. Most will not wish to risk incarceration."        "There will be inquiries," Dumbledore reminded him. "You're a known member of a depraved organization. If you were here, working for me..."        Snape shuddered at the very thought. His anger was a blessed relief from the fear that had gripped him. "They won't be able to link me to anything criminal," he snarled. He rose to leave, tossing one last insult over his shoulder as he turned towards the door. "At any rate, I'm not afraid of Azkaban. I've attended Hogwarts."        He strode rapidly across the office and had just reached the door when a piercing question stopped him in his tracks.        "What will you do, Severus?" Dumbledore inquired. "Skulk around Privet Drive for 10 years?"        Snape froze. A flush crept up his cheeks, and to his fury, the portraits on the wall began to chuckle. They had been listening, of course, when he'd confessed the awful truth, the choice he'd made, condemning Harry Potter to a torturous future. Of course, it wasn't all his fault. It wasn't even fundamentally his fault. There were more people to blame than you could shake a wand at, Snape knew. You could trace the hatemongering all the way back to the four founders, if it came to that. But in the end, Dumbledore was right.        He would wind up skulking around Privet Drive for 10 years.        Dumbledore hushed the figures on the wall and spoke soothingly to Snape. "I can assure you, he's quite safe. It's only after he comes to Hogwarts that we will need to be concerned. And he must come to Hogwarts, Severus. He must learn."        Snape hesitated, then shook his head. He reached for the doorknob.        "I realize it will be difficult," Dumbledore speculated. "For both of us, I imagine."        Snape's lips curled with contempt. What do you know of difficulty, old man? He gripped the doorknob so tightly his flesh mottled. He thought of James Potter, admired by all as he fought the Dark Lord from his cushy berth. No doubt the son's experience would be the same. The baby, when grown to school age, would enter a Hogwarts where his every triumph would be heralded and his every misdeed sanitized...        A jolt of pain shot up Snape's arm. He was squeezing the doorknob so tightly he was damaging the muscles in his hand. He let go, reaching over with his good hand to massage his pale, aching, flesh... and that's when an image popped into his mind. He saw a baby... not a dark-haired infant but a pale, difficult baby with blonde hair and a thin wail...        What will his experience be? Snape wondered. What will Hogwarts be like for...        He let his mind drift to the future, when Draco Malfoy would come to study at Hogwarts alongside Harry Potter. Would it be difficult for Draco? In his mind's eye, Snape saw himself striding powerfully to the rescue, interceding on behalf of all those for whom attending Hogwarts posed bitter, unique difficulties...        Then another fantasy took hold of him. He saw himself as a teacher... not just a teacher, but a master, training up students for an army, an army powerful enough to defeat...        He pressed his lips together, steeling himself against the pain that accompanied any thought of the past three years. Agony. Degradation. Terror. Torture. No, he realized. It would not be enough to merely defeat the Dark Lord. He would train up an army to help utterly humiliate and annihilate him, through an unspeakable brilliance at the discipline Voldemort despised...        "Defense," Snape whispered, completely forgetting there was anyone else in the room, until a firm voice insisted,        "No."        Snape jumped and spun around to face Dumbledore.        "I do not need a defense instructor," the headmaster explained. "I need a potions master."        Snape's eyes flew open in surprise. "A potions master? He..."        "Fled," Dumbledore nodded, pressing the advantage of catching Snape off guard. "If you will take the position, Severus, I will be happy to testify on your behalf before the Wizengamot."        Potions? Snape almost smiled. Here, at last, was a source of pleasant memories. The potions classroom was the last place he'd felt truly powerful, in control. I could teach potions with my wand tied behind my back, he smirked, musing on the abundance of free time, not to mention income, he would have at his disposal to address the more pressing burdens he faced. At Hogwarts, he knew, he'd have access to all the best information about the Dark Lord... evidence of his survival, his whereabouts, his activities...        Someone was staring at him. Snape could feel it. He whirled around and found Phineas Nigellus studying him from the wall. The sight of Sirius Black's great great grandfather released a tidal wave of memories; hatred, injustice and anguish washed over him. What was he thinking? He couldn't stay here! He couldn't stay here another minute!        He lunged for the door and jerked it open. But before he could put one foot across the threshold, it slammed shut with a force that rattled the portraits and shook the floor. Snape whirled to face Dumbledore, his wand drawn and tightly clutched for battle.        "Forgive me," the old man smiled, sincerely hoping Snape would never be foolish enough to threaten a staff member that way. "There's something else."        A chair slid across the stone floor and banged into the back of Snape's knees, knocking him into a sitting position. Dumbledore pulled up a chair across from him, leaned forward, and, before Snape could recover and try to bolt from the room again, reminded him earnestly,        "The House of Slytherin is without a head."        Snape blinked. He blinked again. Then he sat silently, waiting for the headmaster to continue.        Gazing at the young man he'd rendered speechless, Dumbledore wondered how Minerva would react to his hiring a Death Eater... an extremely young Death Eater... for such a responsible position. He'd considered running the idea past her, but she was nowhere to be found today, and he didn't think it necessary to wait.        If he'd known how much suffering the sharing of his scheme would have saved, he'd have thought twice. It was a lesson he was never to learn.        "I have every confidence in you, Severus," Dumbledore now insisted. "I've told you that before."        Snape remembered. He remembered something else, too. 'I will have my revenge for this moment, Severus Snape!' the old man had promised. 'Some day, I will put you in charge of a large group of children, and we'll see how you fare!'        Is it a trap? Snape wondered. Is it a punishment of some sort?        Dumbledore smiled at the apprehension on the young man's face. Clearly, he still saw himself as subject to Hogwarts authority, not a potential source of it.        "People are thinking of many things tonight, Severus," the headmaster murmured. "Some are thinking of Voldemort's demise, others are thinking about poor little Harry Potter."        Snape flinched; Dumbledore wasn't sure which named caused it.        "Many are thinking of the Death Eaters," he went on, "of an end to their reign of terror, of imprisonment and ruin and just desserts. But do you know what they're forgetting? Do you know what everyone is forgetting?"        Snape shook his head.        "The Slytherins," Dumbledore announced simply. "What is to become of the Slytherins?" Suddenly Severus