I have had a little break as the academic year has finished for my students, and now I am back with something of a fiction writing vengeance. Thank you for your patience. ~ Professor SS19

Bumblebee Blood
Chapter 27

Severus felt the gentlest flare of petty amusement at the way Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed, just slightly, at his response – but even as Voldemort glanced to where a new voice greeted them, he knew that neither he nor Tobias were safe yet.

"Good evening, Tom. You seem to have stumbled upon something of mine." Albus greeted genially, clearly still a good distance away but coming ever closer. Severus looked again to his fallen wand before returning his gaze to the Dark Lord. He needed, perhaps, six seconds to reach his weapon. Six seconds was still a long time, but he trusted Albus to afford him that opportunity, as long as he did not miss it.

"Yours, in far more ways than we first thought, Dumbledore." Lord Voldemort considered his prisoners, as if the nearing Dumbledore was no threat, as if he was not worthy of his attention. Severus sensed there was some calculation here; could the newly resurrected Dark Lord, untested in this new form, best the greatest wizard of all time? Of this even Severus himself was not sure. It had been considerable time since Albus had duelled anyone, and even if he had conquered Grindelwald, that had been several decades ago. The thrill of triumph was being quelled, quickly, into something that bordered on concern. He would not kneel, here, unarmed and defenceless, while Albus battled for his life. That was not how this was going to continue. He needed though to be patient.

"Perhaps, though I have held Severus in very high esteem for a number of years now." Albus' voice suggested he had now stopped, close enough that Severus felt reassured, far enough away to suggest that Albus too was judging the situation. His arrival had put him at a disadvantage, for Severus was between him and Lord Voldemort, and this was something that would not have escaped Voldemort's notice. Severus was aware that at this moment, he may well be the greater prize and therefore remained in greater peril. Lord Voldemort may not be able to defeat Albus, but he most certainly outmatched Severus.

Again, Severus was reminded that timing was everything, timing was always everything, timing would always be everything, and while Albus was finding time, Albus would talk. He would bait Lord Voldemort and in that ensuing conversation there would be a moment and Severus would do what Severus did best; he would use that moment to his advantage. He glanced over his shoulder to Tobias, still cowering, "Stay still. This is not over." His voice was nothing more than a hiss but Lord Voldemort understood the language of hissing more than most others.

"Severus seems particularly confident that you will save both him and the filthy Muggle – although, I wonder if this Muggle in particular is one that will test your famous morals, Dumbledore, now you know what he did to your most previous." There was an edge to that cold voice that Severus contemplated with suspicion; Lord Voldemort was always looking for weakness, he was always looking for that chink in the proverbial armour.

If he had correctly identified it, there was no obvious reaction from Albus as his voice did not change from the pleasant light tone, "Severus' faith is well-placed."

"Is it?" Voldemort took one very deliberate step nearer to Severus, and Severus held his ground even as Tobias moved away. "I could kill him before you could even move, Dumbledore. You are too far away. You would not be able to stop me."

"And yet that is my sole purpose for being here, Tom. You will not harm Severus. I will not permit it."

"You have permitted it thus far, Dumbledore. Has something changed?" Voldemort brought his wand to his side with mocking malice, and Severus almost, almost, winced. "Oh of course it has changed - the blood I intend to spill is yours. That makes Severus inherently more valuable to you. Hence why you are here."

Severus. You need to be ready.

I am.

Make sure of it.

"Release them both Tom, and I will permit you to leave here tonight, unharmed, just this once. I value the notion of a deal, and in this present moment, Severus' safety is more important to me than your inevitable defeat." Albus' voice had gathered sharpness and a distinct undercurrent of determination that could also be masquerading anger. In return, Voldemort laughed. "My inevitable defeat, oh, such arrogance does not become you Dumbledore, and it never has. Why would you be so keen to take Severus with you, after all? After all he has done and committed...at my request?"

Something uncomfortable slithered down Severus' spine, and the strength of such unease threatened his perfectly balanced mental defences and shields, the constant worry of not being good enough, the perpetual fear of being a disappointment...

"I think you will find, Tom, that Severus does everything at my request, not yours. As such he is nothing more than a source of overwhelming pride to me. Now. Do you agree to my terms, or must I do this by force?"

"And leave such an opportunity to cause you terrible pain, Dumbledore? You cannot stop me. You will not stop me in time."

"This is your most common flaw, Tom." Dumbledore spoke calmly even as Voldemort raised his wand, and Severus was aware that he was holding onto his inhale tight within his chest, "You always underestimate me."

Six seconds.

The first was his reaction to Voldemort beginning to move the wand to commence the Killing Curse.

The second was something, no, someone, knocking him to the ground just as green light flashed around them.

The third was him, winded, not wounded, stunned, not stopped.

The fourth was him, moving, somehow perhaps without thinking, toward his wand.

The fifth was him grasping it, rolling onto his back, seeing the Dark Lord Voldemort turn to face Albus Dumbledore, face contorted with anger and fury and rage, and summoning all his strength, and his hand was closing around his own wand, tighter and -

And the sixth. The sixth.

If he thought time could, it slowed down, Merlin, how it slowed down. If it slowed for him to act, or it slowed for him to watch, he did not know, but how he fought to do both. He saw the Dark Lord cast a curse and somehow he was on his feet with a cry or maybe even a scream of a noun he had never spoken in anything other than stubborn reluctant necessity and now it was borne of worry and fear, ripped from the depths of his chest and his heart and his soul, and he was returning that curse with a Shielding Charm that threatened to knock him from his feet.

It was what happened next that he would not forget, not even with all that followed. It was something that happened without thought or without reason or without consequence. He relinquished the Shielding Charm that had protected both he and Albus, and the Dark Lord gathered himself, and before he could fully, Severus cast a spell of his own and bright blinding purple light shot toward Voldemort, joined by one of the exact same from behind Severus - before he could blink or react he realised it was the same, the exact same, and if Voldemort gathered that he was outmatched now it was obvious from his sudden retreat and disappearance, and then they were alone in the graveyard.

He exhaled a breath he had not realised he was holding. For a moment, a moment only, his entire world seemed to still. His mind attempted to catch up with his body, to process. Suddenly.

He whirled to face Albus, who was leaning heavily on a gravestone, head slightly bowed. "Albus!" The distance between them was crossed in less than a second, and he grasped the older wizard's forearms, "What is it? What is it? Are you hurt?" He was aware that his voice had hitched in pitch, "Albus?"

One hand settled over his glove, "I am not hurt. Just tired." Albus squeezed Severus' fingers, "Let me sit for a moment -"

Severus helped Albus to the bench, ignoring the one other detail his mind was attempting and failing to process. It was Albus therefore who raised it, "Your father, Severus."

"He is not my father." Severus shot back, but now he was satisfied that Albus was not hurt he did turn his head to regard the collapsed figure of Tobias Snape. Collapsed, not accurate enough. Collapsed and lifeless. "He pushed me out of the way."

Albus shifted balance on the bench, focusing waning attention on reinforcing the wards to ensure Lord Voldemort did not return, "So it seems."

"Why would he do that?" Severus murmured, and Albus assumed it was to himself so offered no reply. "After all he did."

"People do strange things when they are threatened, Severus. Maybe he sought an opportunity to redeem himself. Are you...?" He did not know how to finish the sentence or question, and he knew Severus well enough to know that Severus himself would not know how to answer it. True to his form, Severus diverted the subject, "We should bury him at least."

"We will not have time Severus. I expect Tom will return, perhaps with reinforcements, if we do not leave soon and I cannot hold these wards for much longer. Hogwarts is a far safer place for us both."

Severus nodded to show he was at least listening, clearly not comfortable with the concept of leaving Tobias on the ground. Albus reflected on the fact that Tom had been rather correct in his assumption; he was struggling to summon any sympathy or empathy for the now deceased Muggle. Not after what had happened to Severus in his childhood. Speaking of which...Albus straightened his back as Severus turned back to him. "You...you did not call my name, before."

"What?" Severus offered in response.

"Or my title. Not my usual title anyway."

There was an instant shyness to Severus' behaviour change as he fiddled with his fingers and did not make eye contact. "I..."

"Were you just caught up in the moment, my boy?"

"No, I...well maybe. I thought he was going to strike you. I reacted on instinct." Severus tugged at an already loose thread on his left glove, and Albus found the entire image endearing as always. "I thought you would be more formal when you did so."

"I...no...I...you are not a replacement. You are something different. Someone different." Silence. "Something I wanted."

More silence.

It felt like some secret had been exposed between them, perhaps even ripped open without much consent, and Albus felt unsettled by this as well as feeling empowered. "Do you regret it?"

No immediate reply to that, either.

"I will not push for it again, my boy, as I realise such sentimentality is not your style unlike mine." Albus got back to his feet, slightly unsteadily, and without seeming to think about it, Severus was there beside him, a comforting hand on his arm. "But I do want you to know that it was well-received."

Severus was still avoiding direct eye contact. "I know."

"That was powerful magic you conjured before. To match my choice of spell so accurately suggests that something is beginning to build between us. That is something that could be worth exploring in terms of its potential." Albus moved his hand to settle on top of Severus', "Before we go. I presume Tom will now use this information to his advantage, and of course you can no longer spy. What do you suggest?"

Now Severus did make eye contact. "I have been thinking about this."

"Go on." Albus murmured, encouraging.

"I want...I want this. I want to continue your legacy. I want to stand with you. I want to understand what this could mean." The words were gently spoken and yet Albus still shivered at the sheer emotion behind them. "Are you positive? We could hide you. You could be safe."

"I do not want to be safe, if it means not protecting you. You wanted to find your child so you could share your life with him; now you have. So." Severus stepped back, gesturing to Albus' wand. "I want you to end the enchantment, for good this time. If I a..." The slightest pause, "Dumbledore, rather than a Snape, then I want to share that characteristic with you. I want the eyes you looked into when you held me when I was hours old, and when you promised you would never forget me; when you swore you would always love me. I want to know how that feels."

Albus lifted his wand, but hesitated, "Have I not yet shown you that?"

"Not quite." Severus half smiled, "You created this problem, so I will ensure you at least get to endure it."

"I am not enduring you, Severus."

"You haven't seen anything yet..." He seemed about to complete the sentence with something else, and then shook his head, "That will not be easy for me; you have not seen anything yet, Albus. I want whatever power that was we shared. The Dark Lord said when he first discovered you had a son that it would be powerful wizarding blood, and although I have had it all along, I have never accepted it. I want that power."

"You do not need power, Severus." Albus cautioned gently.

"Yes I do. You need power to end this war. You need power to defeat him. I have always sought power, but never from you. But I can, now. Teach me." Severus took a step forward, as Albus waved his wand with a silent incantation, "Teach me to do what you can. Please." He lingered, but Albus sensed some humour, "See, I could always use the affectionate title to intentionally emotionally manipulate you...something along the lines of...teach me be to be as brilliant as you...please...Dad?"

Albus could have laughed. He nearly laughed. He appreciated the humour and he appreciated the timing and he appreciated the sharpness of the mind, but something stronger than amusement caught at him as he looked in those eyes, eyes he had seen yes but had seen them through a haze of anger and fear back in the forest before. He had not stopped to look, and he stopped to look now, those eyes framed by that dark hair and on a face he knew as well as his own, belonging to a young man he had fought for and championed and felt for, for so many years now. The one they always said was like a son to him was now, truly, a son of his. He reached out to stroke the pale cheek so gently, aware he still had not replied, but perhaps Severus thought that was a victory, an acquiescence, and therefore did not need a reply. Albus, meanwhile, was too busy making–or perhaps remaking–vows of his own. Those vows that he had made, all those years ago, to an infant in his arms with eyes just like his, and now, silently, to a man before him with eyes just like his.

That nothing, no Dark Lord, no evil forces, nothing, no one, nowhere, no when, would possibly harm his son.

This technically marks the half way point of Bumblebee Blood. How exciting! Thank you for reading. ~ SS19
PS: Maliumkin, I did tell you never to doubt me.