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Chapter Text

Agonized moans echoed throughout Malfoy Manor.

It sounded as if someone was being tortured or was perhaps actively dying, very noisily. This was nothing unusual. Torture was a frequent occurrence at the manor, and one could hear screaming reverberating along the corridors at any time of the day. Sometimes the screams came from one of the Dark Lord's enemies. Sometimes they came from his own faithful followers. He liked to vary the pleasures, and he'd been on a high since his resurrection a month ago, which meant one wrong word was enough to receive the Cruciatus.

No, what was unusual was the source of the screams.

They were coming from the Dark Lord's chambers.

He never tortured anyone in his bedroom. It was his sanctum, and no one was ever allowed in. Severus had had the privilege of entering once, when he had to treat a sick Nagini who refused to move from under the bed. He wasn't in any hurry to go back in.

"He's asking for you," said Lucius.

He stood just outside the bedroom, leaning heavily upon his cane, hair bedraggled and left eyelid twitching, a distinct, sleep-deprived air about him. Severus didn't look any better. Sleep was in short supply for all of them these days.

"What's happening?" Severus asked.

It was three in the morning. He'd been woken up quite rudely by the Dark Mark burning his left arm like hellfire, and he had hurried to Malfoy Manor, wondering what could be so urgent. The Dark Lord had him brewing all manner of dark elixirs and concoctions these last weeks, keeping him so busy Severus wasn't even sure what day it was, but he had never called upon him in the middle of the night.

"He appears to be in great pain," Lucius said. "Beyond that, I have no idea."

Severus steeled himself and entered the Dark Lord's bedroom.

It was dark. His boots crunched on broken glass as he approached the bed, and a sweet scent invaded his nostrils, the taste cloying on his tongue.

Pain potions, his mind supplied, highest possible dosage, too much cinnamon. I didn't brew those.

"My Lord?"

A shape was twisting and writhing on the bed. Voldemort was on his back, hands gripping the blanket, his mouth open as he let out pained exhalations.

"Severus..."

"I'm here, my Lord."

Red eyes found him. Voldemort's gaze came in three varieties—calm, triumphant or scheming. Right now, Severus discovered a fourth one. Despair.

"Make it stop, Severus..." Voldemort pleaded. "None of the pain potions are working... numbing charms are ineffective as well... You must find a way to make the pain stop..."

He then emitted a sound that Severus would have called a whimper, were it not coming out of the Dark Lord.

"Where is the pain located?" Severus asked.

He took out his wand and cast a simple diagnosis spell. It was strange that none of the potions had worked, especially in such quantities, and stranger still that a numbing charm would have no effect at all. Perhaps it was a result of Voldemort's new body and how it had been created.

"My stomach," Voldemort hissed. "It's inside me, clawing at my flesh... It is pure agony, Severus, like nothing I have ever experienced..."

Severus doubted the pain was worse than a Cruciatus, but of course the Dark Lord had always had a flair for the dramatic.

"Any idea of the cause?"

Voldemort drew in a strained breath.

"Potter... it's Potter..."

Severus himself was familiar with blaming everything on Potter. He did it so often it had become a reflex.

A cauldron exploding in his class—Potter.

Ingredients disappearing from his stores—Potter.

His entire life going to hell in a handbasket—Potter.

Still, he was skeptical in this case. How could the girl be inflicting pain upon the Dark Lord while she was spending the summer with her Muggle guardians and couldn't cast any spells because of the Trace? It must have been something else, such as a delayed effect of the resurrection ritual. Voldemort had taken the girl's blood to craft his new body... perhaps it was fighting back somehow? But there was no burning flesh and nothing that hinted at actual damage...

"Potter, my Lord?" he inquired in a bland tone.

"She's having her period!" Voldemort howled. "And! I! Can! Feel! Everything!"

"Ah," Severus said.

In-between moans of pain and groaning whimpers, the Dark Lord talked of a connection between his mind and Potter's. He could send her dreams or influence her emotions, and apparently the mental link went both ways.

Severus made a note to raise the matter with Dumbledore. The girl would have to learn Occlumency.

"I'm dying, Severus... The pain, oh, the pain... make it stop..."

"I will do my best, my Lord."

He left Voldemort to moan and whine in his bed and Apparated straight home. There, he gathered supplies before Apparating once more, this time to Privet Drive. The street lay quiet and dark at this hour of the night. Severus cast a disdainful look at the rows of identical houses and the perfect gardens, all lifeless.

He walked up to Number 4, unlocked the door, and slipped into the house. A quick spell to detect human presence told him everyone was upstairs and in bed. The smaller figure in the bedroom at the end of the corridor had to be Potter. The spell showed her lying on her side, but with that level of pain, she was most certainly awake.

He knocked on her door.

She opened it after a moment, immediately frowning at him.

"Snape?"

"Hello, Miss Potter."

He hit her with a quick spell to check she wasn't currently dying. No, she was fine. Period cramps, as the Dark Lord had said.

"What—why are you here? Is there some kind of emergency?"

"Nothing you need to worry about. It has come to my attention that you're in pain."

"Uh," she said.

"Have you taken medication for it? Surely there is some paracetamol somewhere in this horrid house."

Potter wrinkled her nose.

"It does nothing at all for the cramps."

"What about pain potions? There's an entire range of products for period pains."

"They don't work either. Hermione made me try a dozen of them before we gave up."

How typical of Potter. Of course she'd be in that tiny percentage of witches with potion-resistant period pains.

"How bad is the pain?"

Potter shrugged.

"Bad, but I'm used to it. It's just my period."

Severus refrained from telling her the Dark Lord had been reduced to a whimpering heap in his bed by that same pain.

"I'll brew you a potion that will appease the cramps. I'll need a strand of your hair and some saliva."

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing.

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"How do I know you're not another Death Eater using Polyjuice to get me to trust you? What if you're just here to harvest ingredients from me, uh?"

Stubborn child.

"You realize a Death Eater meaning you harm would have stunned you already. They wouldn't have asked nicely for what they wanted."

"Unless the ingredients need to be willingly given for the potion to work," she countered, tilting her chin up.

That was a sound reasoning—and at three in the morning, while she was in pain. He had the strangest urge to award her points.

"I am not an impostor."

"Prove it. Show me your Patronus."

He faltered. The doe was such a secret part of him he hadn't let anyone know about it. Dumbledore was the only living soul who had seen it. He had only cast the spell in Potter's presence once, to repel Dementors about to swarm them.

"I thought you were unconscious."

She shook her head.

"Show me," she murmured.

He cast the spell. His doe came to life in a flutter of silver mist. She stepped toward Potter and the girl raised a hand, offering her palm to the animal. The doe sniffed at her and blinked her large eyes.

"Okay," Potter said, visibly relaxing. Then she frowned. "Are you really here because I have period cramps?"

"I can hardly believe it myself, Potter. I'll be leaving as soon as I've brewed you that potion."

"How did you even know? Are you spying on me?"

"That information is confidential."

She huffed, puffing up like an angry bird.

"I have a right to know!"

"You are told exactly what you need to know, no more, no less, and it will continue being this way until you come of age. It's for your own protection."

He turned on his heels and headed downstairs. She followed him, far lighter on her feet. He set up his equipment in the kitchen, placing his miniature cauldron on the stove and getting started on the brew. Potter hovered around him.

"You can sit down."

"What, because I'm fragile and on my period? Look at the year I've had, Snape. I fought a dragon, I nearly drowned, and then Voldemort stole my blood and was reborn before me. He was naked when that happened, by the way. So yeah, I've seen things and I'm no fragile flower. I'll stay standing, thanks."

He brought the water to a boil and added the hellebore syrup, stirring clockwise. A dash of powdered daisies turned the potion white until it resembled milk.

"Then some dittany?" Potter said.

He poured three ounces of liquid dittany in the cauldron. Potter emitted a pleased hum.

"Cinnamon now," she said a few minutes later. "Three stirs counterclockwise? No, four."

He cast her a surprised look.

"That would be correct if we were making a standard healing potion, but here we want to ensure your hair and saliva will be properly integrated into the brew, so we'll add those next."

"Then cinnamon, and bring the potion to a high burn for maximum efficiency," Potter completed. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? I'm bored and all I have to read is my Potions textbook. It's the only book I managed to smuggle into my room."

"Smuggle?"

"They always lock everything in my cupboard. I guess they're too afraid I'll turn them into newts if I have access to my wand and my books..."

He would need to have a word with Petunia.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear—the staircase creaked, and moments later a blonde woman with a bony face stepped into the kitchen. Petunia blinked, as if she couldn't believe he'd be there in her kitchen, brewing a potion while her niece watched.

"You!" she hissed, her face contorting in a mix of disdain and fear. "What are you doing here?"

"It's okay Aunt Petunia, he's—wait, you know him?"

"We've met," Severus said flatly.

He extended a hand toward Potter.

"Hair, if you please."

"What?" thundered Petunia. "Step away from him, Harriet. Do not give him anything!"

Severus snapped his fingers.

"Our window's closing, Potter."

"How do you know each other?" the girl said as she deposited one of her hair into his palm.

Severus prayed Petunia would keep her mouth shut. He didn't need the added complication of Potter knowing about his past.

"He was friend with Lily. Best friends, she used to say."

No, of course, he wasn't so lucky.

He briefly wondered if Obliviating the girl, her aunt and then himself would fix everything. Perhaps if he was thorough enough, he could make himself forget all his mistakes, all his regrets—forget his very name itself and let the wizarding world handle the Dark Lord without him. Oh, how the thought was appealing.

And then he met Potter's gaze.

Those green eyes cut right through him. They raked across his soul, and he shuddered at what he saw in them. Those eyes were hurt, were hopeful, were curious, and above all were alive, so alive. Merlin, what kind of coward was he to consider leaving her alone?

"Saliva. Now."

She spat into the cauldron. He added the cinnamon and set the flame to its maximum.

"Don't go burning down my kitchen!"

"He won't," Potter said. "He's a Potions Master."

Petunia grumbled unhappily.

"Why are you making magic potions in my house?"

"Potter is on her period and you've failed to take adequate care of her. I'm fixing your regrettable mistake."

Petunia's gaze swung to the girl.

"I gave you medicine and told you more is available in the bathroom," she said harshly, as if Potter had somehow forgotten about that.

"It never worked for the cramps."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you don't care," Potter mumbled.

Petunia sighed.

"Harriet..."

Severus shut off the stove, cooled the potion, and bottled it into vials, slotting them into a rack. He handed everything to Potter.

"No more than one vial every eight hours. That should be enough for this cycle. I'll brew you more next month."

She downed one vial. Her face lightened immediately.

"Oh, wow. It works instantly?"

"Did you think I got my Potions Mastery in a joke shop?"

"No, but... uh, thank you."

He wanted to tell her she was being very brave. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be alright, that he would do whatever he could to keep her safe, that the war wouldn't last forever.

"You're welcome," he only said.

"You never said you knew my mother."

"And it's time for me to go."

"Yes," Petunia agreed. "Get out, now, out!"

He rounded on her, and she shrank back with a flinch.

"You will allow the girl access to her wand and her textbooks. If you don't, I will know, and there will be consequences. Is that clear?"

Petunia nodded, her lower lip trembling.

"You haven't changed at all, Snape," she said tightly.

He had, and he hadn't, and that was the great tragedy of his life, wasn't it? He could never escape his past, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Goodbye, Potter," he said with a curt nod at the girl.

"Bye, Professor."

He Apparated back to the manor. Silence reigned within the dark hallways. He made his way to Voldemort's chambers and entered when he was called.

Voldemort lounged upon the bed, now utterly relaxed.

"Ah, Severus..." he said in a lazy drawl. "I knew I could count on you."

"I am as always at your service."

"Yes... I've been thinking how to best exploit the link between myself and Potter... I shall send her nightmares until her sleep is ruined. I will make her so afraid she'll jump at her own shadow..."

And she would need Dreamless Sleep as well.

"Excellent plan, my Lord."

"Dumbledore will attempt to teach her Occlumency. He will choose you for the task. You will weaken the girl's mental defenses until she is mine for the taking, Severus."

"An easy task. The girl is weak and easily influenced."

He was lying, of course.

Potter had been able to reduce Voldemort to whimpers without even trying. One day, there would be a duel between them. And well, if Potter happened to be on her period during said duel, and if she hadn't taken any potions...

Severus smiled as he took his leave from Voldemort.

His new plan to take down the Dark Lord was looking very promising.

Chapter Text

Naturally, things fell apart pretty quickly.

"...wait a minute," Potter said on their third Occlumency lesson. "If there's a link between me and Voldemort and I can sense when he's angry... then does it work in reverse? Can he sense when I'm angry?"

"This is not the subject of those lessons."

"He can, can he? When I'm angry, when I'm sad, when—"

Severus could see disaster approaching and there was nothing he could do about it.

"—when I'm in pain," the girl finished triumphantly. "That's why you came to Privet Drive this summer. Because he was feeling my period cramps."

"This is irrelevant, Miss Potter. You must not let yourself be side-tracked by—"

"I can hurt him," she said with relish. "Fuck, I can really hurt him."

"Five points from Gryffindor for your coarse language. This is not about what you can do to him. This is about what he can do to you. This connection makes you vulnerable, and the longer it goes on, the more time he has to exploit it. You're already taking Dreamless Sleep every night to stave off the nightmares. Do you want to risk discovering what else he can do to you?"

If only she could see past her immediate, Gryffondorish vision and try to think about the long-term consequences like a Slytherin would.

She grimaced.

"How do I know you're not on his side? How do I know you're not actually working to weaken my mind so he can take over or do whatever he's planning?"

"You don't. I realize this is nearly impossible, but you must trust me."

She stared at him in silence. He waited, aware that he was probably asking too much. She was fifteen, she had the Dark Lord in her head, she was kept in the dark about most of what mattered, she knew he was a Death Eater and that he hated her father, and he hadn't been kind to her.

How could she trust him in those conditions?

"Fine," she said, surprising him. "Let's get on with the lesson, then, Professor."

So they did. Any progress was slow. The girl had no natural talent in the arts of mind magic, and since Occlumency could only be taught by practicing it, he had to keep invading her mind, which was painful for both of them.

When the lesson came to an end, he reminded her to practice emptying her mind before bed. She growled at him that she hadn't forgotten and exited in a huff.

He went to open a bottle of Firewhiskey.

*

One week later, he was summoned by the Dark Lord.

He found Voldemort writhing in bed, gasping in pain, and he braced himself for the inevitable punishment.

"Severus," the Dark Lord hissed, red eyes flashing. "You were ordered to take care of this inconvenience! Why in Merlin's name am I beset once again by such torturous pain?"

"Potter is refusing to take the potion for her cramps, my Lord."

The windows rattled as Voldemort let out his anger in a magic-fueled scream.

"UNACCEPTABLE! Fix it at once!"

And how was he supposed to do that? He had attempted to reason with Potter. She was more stubborn than a pack of hippogryphs.

"I've tried, my Lord."

"Stun the girl and pour the potion down her throat," Voldemort said with a growl.

He could have. He pictured it for an instant and felt himself recoil from the image. Even if he Obliviated her afterwards, she'd known something was wrong by the absence of pain. He'd lose her trust—and he couldn't bear it.

"I cannot use violence against the girl. Not if I want to keep Dumbledore's trust."

"You disappoint me, Severus. What use are you to me if you cannot help me when I'm in agony? The pain is such that I cannot even think—and it spikes, Severus, suddenly flaring to an unbearable degree, as if something were twisting me from the inside! Do you have any idea how it feels?"

"No, my Lord."

The Dark Lord grumbled something unintelligible.

"At least Potter is suffering as well," he then said. "She's incapacitated, screaming in pain..."

"Um," Severus said. "No, my Lord."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

Severus almost asked the Dark Lord if he needed a dictionary, but since he valued his life, he held back on the sarcasm.

"Potter is used to the pain," he said instead. "It bothers her but she manages to go on about her life and—"

Pain hit him at once, igniting every nerve. He fell to the floor. He was vaguely aware he was screaming, but the pain was so great it took up every inch of his mind.

When it stopped, he dragged himself to his knees and remained there, head bowed.

"You deserve this pain, Severus."

"I'm sorry I failed you, my Lord," he gasped.

"Not sorry enough," said Voldemort, and he aimed another Crucio at Severus.

It was going to be a long night.

*

"...bottle your potions and bring them to my desk. If it's purple, don't bother. It means you added two rat livers instead of one in spite of my very clear instructions which I repeated four times, and that'll be an automatic zero for you."

Longbottom raised his hand. Severus stifled a sigh.

"Yes, Mister Longbottom? Is your potion purple?"

"No."

Surprising.

"But uh, it's too thick for me to bottle, so..."

"Zero," Severus said. "Hurry up everyone, bring me your samples, quickly."

He had a headache. He had slept exactly one hour, between six and seven in the morning after Voldemort had allowed him to leave, and all he wanted was for this class to end so he could crawl back in bed and take a nap during lunch time.

Students filed out of the classroom. He watched them leave with relief. Perhaps he would just simply pass out at his desk. Yes, that sounded nice.

He blinked.

The room was empty of all but one student.

Potter was still there.

"What?" he snapped.

"I saw," the girl said, which told him exactly nothing.

"Saw what, Potter?"

"What he did to you last night. And... and I'm sorry. It's my fault, isn't it?"

He massaged his temples and considered simply telling her to get out. If he barked it at her loud enough, she'd obey. Then again maybe not, going by the fierce light in those green eyes.

"It is not your fault at all. The fault lies entirely in the man who aimed the wand and cast the curse."

"But I caused it to happen," she said, "even if it was indirectly."

"You did not ask for that mental link between yourself and the Dark Lord. You saw an opportunity to hurt the man who killed your parents and you took it. No one could rightly blame you for that."

"So you don't—you don't blame me?"

"I do not."

She bit her lip. Dear Merlin, wasn't it enough? Could she not depart and let him suffer in peace?

"Does he do that often? Using the Cruciatus on you?"

"I would worry about yourself first, Potter. The fact that you witnessed the scene means your walls were not firmly in place. You will go and practice. Fifteen minutes, I think. Now."

"But it's lunch time!"

"Now."

She huffed and closed her eyes.

"Not here," Severus growled. "Anywhere but here. And I will know if you don't, Potter."

"Yeah, because you know everything."

She finally left. He dropped his head to the desk and blissfully passed out.

The next day, he was summoned by Voldemort again. He walked into the Dark Lord's bedroom expecting to be screaming in pain within the next five seconds, and instead found Voldemort standing and staring out of the window.

"Good work, Severus. I knew pain would motivate you to solve the problem."

He hadn't done anything at all.

"Thank you, my Lord."

Red eyes swung to him.

"How did you do it?" Voldemort hissed, his gaze gleaming with something perverse.

He knew what the Dark Lord wanted to hear. He also knew it was in his interest to present himself as a cold, cruel man who delighted in the suffering of others, so he did.

"I used the Imperius, weaving it subtly around her mind to superimpose my will onto the girl's. She thinks she decided to take the potion all on her own, the poor thing. It was so very easy."

Voldemort looked pleased, and Severus walked out of his bedroom entirely pain-free.

In the morning as he headed to breakfast, he passed by Potter. She gave him a nod and a half-smile. He returned the nod.

*

Another Order meeting.

Severus was drumming his fingers against his leg, idly listening to the chatter. A lot of it didn't concern him, and what little did was carefully filed away in his brain to be later presented to the Dark Lord in whichever light would be best suited.

"Now," said Moody, "onto the main concern of this evening. We're planning a raid on the Lestrange house. Ministry-approved, everything by the book. It would go a lot smoother if we could hit it while we can be sure Voldemort won't show up. Has he got any pressing obligations he can't forsake in the coming days, Snape?"

Severus did some quick calculations.

"Do it on the fourth."

"It's a full moon," Black interjected. "The sixth would be better."

"We could do the sixth," Moody said.

"No. It has to be on the fourth."

"Why?" Black challenged, leveling at glare at Severus.

Because it's the second day of Potter's period where the pain is at its worst, and yes, I'm keeping track of your goddaughter's periods.

"It's private information."

"Oh, is it? What's Voldemort doing on the fourth? Is it the monthly Death Eaters orgy? Will you be taking care of your Lord, is that it?"

There were a few groans around the table, and Lupin set a hand on Black's arm.

"I gave you my intel," Severus said. "Take it or leave it."

"We'll do it on the fourth," Moody decided.

*

It went as planned. Severus told Potter to stop taking the potions for a day, Voldemort was stuck in bed whining about the pain and Severus claimed there had been a flaw in his Imperius.

He was punished, but the Order expedition was successful, and it was worth it in the end.

*

Things got worse.

He took the Unbreakable Vow, he did everything he could to protect Draco, he slept less and less, burning the candle at both ends. He learned terrible news he had to keep to himself—Voldemort had made multiple Horcruxes, Potter was one, she would have to die if they hoped to be victorious.

When June came, he found himself in the Astronomy Tower, holding the girl at wandpoint.

She stared, those green eyes wide behind her glasses, her hair a bedraggled mess, her chest heaving as she aimed her wand at him in return while Death Eaters argued above them and Draco wavered, unable to kill.

"If you ever trusted me, Potter, trust me now," he whispered.

She lowered her wand.

He went up, he pushed Draco aside, he killed Dumbledore.

Things got even worse after that.

*

She kept taking the potions during the summer. He couldn't explain why, but it spared him from the Cruciatus, so he was grateful.

*

The Order had plans to move the girl before she turned seventeen. Severus learned they were going to act on the night of the 27th, and he smiled.

That happened to be the second day of Potter's period.

Well played, Potter, he thought.

That night, the Dark Lord prepared to go hunting the Chosen One. He swept into the room where all his followers had assembled and cast a triumphant look around.

"My friends," he began, "tonight the Order of the Phoenix will remove Potter from her Muggle guardians and attempt to move her to a safehouse. She will be exposed and vulnerable. Tonight, we strike."

His long fingers played along the length of his bone-white wand.

"You will harass her protectors while I focus on the girl. Potter is mine. I must be the one to—"

He paused, a grimace twisting his serpentine features.

"My Lord? Is everything alright?" Bellatrix said.

"I am fine—"

He closed his eyes and exhaled. His hands were trembling. Severus kept an impassive face while the inside of his chest burned with pride. Bellatrix fussed over Voldemort, who pushed her away with a growl. He'd gone paler, the flits of his nostrils flaring.

"Severus," he said, speaking through gritted teeth. "You will lead this mission. I will not be able to accompany you... most regrettably."

A chorus of concerned questions erupted from the assembly while some Death Eaters looked at each other in confusion. Voldemort's little problem was a closely kept secret. Only the Malfoys and Severus himself knew about it.

"Cease your chattering," Severus said, sweeping to the front. "The Dark Lord has given his orders."

"But—"

"Are we really heading out without him?"

"Has something happened just now?"

"I don't understand—"

"GO AND BRING HER TO ME!" the Dark Lord bellowed.

They scattered.

Severus led the chase in the air. He flew without a broom, silver mask affixed to his face, his dark robes rippling in the wind. There were seven Potters, but he could easily tell which one was the real one. She sat in the side-car of a motorbike that used to belong to Black, currently driven by Hagrid.

Spells crackled every which way and he could hear Bellatrix's high cackle as she pursued the prey she had chosen. He rode the tight line of the double agent, casting offensive spells that missed their targets while protecting Order members whenever he could. Thankfully, the battle was chaotic enough that he could afford to be more on the protective side.

He cursed Doholov in the side as the man was about to unleash a Killing Curse on Lupin. A flick of his wand Confounded Bellatrix as she bore down on Hagrid, and she swerved harmlessly away. He sent a wide Stun toward one of the Potters that would leave ample time to dodge. Rabastan raced ahead, aiming for the same Potter, wand already moving, and Severus reacted instantly. His nonverbal Sectumsempra, meant to catch Rabastan's wand hand, hit the fake Potter instead, carving into their ear.

Another mistake to add to his tally.

In the end, Potter escaped safely, the Order lost Moody, and the Dark Lord was furious.

Severus endured.

*

Snow lay across the forest in a glittering blanket.

Severus moved swiftly, carrying a heavy case full of potions, leaving no traces behind him. Ahead of him, his Patronus hopped and bounced, leading the way. She always knew where to find Potter.

This time, the tent was hidden under the boughs of a willow, a Concealment Charm woven around the area. Severus set down the case near the front flap of the tent and stepped back.

He usually departed immediately after each delivery, but this time, he lingered around, concealed by his own spellwork.

A while later, Potter emerged from the tent. She groaned in relief the moment she spotted the case, opened it and gulped down a potion right there. He watched her lift the case and bring it back inside. Voices rose, and Severus crept closer so he could hear.

"...I told you," Potter was saying. "He's keeping track of my cycle."

"That's creepy," Weasley said.

"Creepy but useful," Potter said.

"Are you sure you should be drinking his potions? They could be poisoned..."

"Hermione checked them the first time."

"Well, yes," Granger said, "but I don't know every spell to detect dangerous substances, and it's Snape we're talking about. If someone can make an undetectable poison, it's him."

"He'd have already done it if he meant me harm," Potter said, with a sigh at the end of her sentence. "Besides, Old Voldy wants to kill me himself."

"How is he finding us every time?" Granger whispered, sounding aggravated. "And why haven't they attacked us if they know where we are?"

"No idea," Potter said.

There was a short silence.

"I've been thinking about something," Granger said. "If we could modify the potion..."

"To do what?"

Granger explained her idea, and as Severus listened, he felt a smile come to his lips.

Clever witches might win them the war after all.

*

He should have died.

He lost more than half his total blood volume upon the floor of the Shack, and if he survived, it was only thanks to the healing potion Potter forced to his lips. He gave her his memories, blacked out briefly, and woke up in time to witness the final duel between the Dark Lord and the Girl-Who-Lived.

It took place in the Great Hall, the pair of them surrounded by a crowd of combatants, Death Eaters on one side and students and teachers on another.

Severus' arrival was greeted with gasps and stares. He crossed through the ranks of Death Eaters and joined the other side, coming to stand beside McGonagall.

"I killed you..." Voldemort hissed. "Why do you live?"

"He was helping me all along," Potter said, in a flippant tone that was sure to enrage the Dark Lord, "so I helped him."

Voldemort's smile was chilling. He lifted the Elder Wand and tutted softly.

"No matter. Severus will die, in time. You will go first, Potter. This is our final confrontation... who do you think will be the victor out of the two of us, mmh? Do you truly think you can measure up to Lord Voldemort?"

Laughter rose from the Death Eaters. They mocked Potter, jeering at her, until Voldemort made an imperious hand motion that reduced them to silence.

"Yep. I think I'm more than a match for you," Potter said.

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed.

"And how do you intend to defeat me, girl? You have nothing. You're not powerful enough to cast the Killing Curse. Dumbledore is dead, Severus can barely stand, and none of your little friends can help you."

"Actually," Potter said, "there's something you should know. My very clever friend, Hermione, had the idea of taking Snape's potion and modifying it."

"To do what?" spat Voldemort.

"Well, Snape's potion suppressed the pain, and that was it, right? Kind of a waste, seeing as such pain could be so very useful. Hermione came up with a version of the potion that, uh, stores the pain of all those period cramps. We've got about four months of it at the moment. It's swimming somewhere in my blood, ready to be delivered in one concentrated burst."

The Dark Lord had gone still, pure, absolute dread painted upon his face.

"No," he breathed.

"Oh yes. Ready?"

And she spoke the trigger word.

Severus watched her flinch as the pain hit. In the same instant, Voldemort stiffened and let out a grunt. His legs buckled. He swayed on his feet and screamed, a raw sound of impotent rage that echoed around the Great Hall.

His knees hit the floor.

Potter remained standing, her face pinched and pale, her body trembling.

She stood tall while the Dark Lord had been brought to his knees.

He screamed more, falling to the side and curling in on himself, the Elder Wand rolling away from his slackened fingers. Soon his screams turned to whimpers which then turned to agonized rasps. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he clawed at the floor, his chest heaving rapidly.

Finally, a tremor seized him. His back arched, his feet drummed the floor, and he went still.

Everyone stared. Absolute silence had fallen over the Great Hall.

Potter exhaled out a breath.

Severus stepped forward and poked the Dark Lord with his foot. Nothing happened. Severus gave a brutal kick and the body flopped to the side and rolled lifelessly in a most satisfying manner. A quick spell to be sure, and oh yes.

"Dead," Severus said.

Panic sparked among the Death Eaters. They trampled each other in their haste to get away as Order members gave chase.

Potter was still on her feet. She'd been joined by Granger and Weasley, clasping hands with them.

"Brilliant work," Severus said. "My congratulations, Miss Potter. You managed the impossible."

"Team effort," Potter said.

She smiled at him, and he found himself returning that smile.

"The power he knows not," she said. "Who would have guessed it would turn out to be period cramps?"