I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)

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This is one of my favorite songs of all time!*

Summary: Within the dangerous oncoming war, conflictions arise. Severus comes to a bitter realization, finding that saving someone else comes at a cost.

Warnings: This is a very difficult chapter to read- it is very angsty and heartbreaking. Use of the 'f-slur' is also frequent. If homophobia is triggering, this will be a difficult chapter to read. I will put down the wanting.

Here are some of the lyrics to the song:

'I would do anything thing for love, but I won't do that...'

As long as the wheels are turning
As long as the bays are burning
As long as your dreams are coming true
You'd better believe it
… I would do anything for love
I know it's true and that's a fact
I would do anything for love
And there'll never be no turning back

I would do anything for love
Anything you've been dreaming of, but I just won't do that
I would do anything for love
Anything you've been dreaming of, but I just won't do
But I'll never stop dreaming of you
Every night of my life, no way
But I would do anything for love
But I won't do that
Oh, I won't do that

━ ◦ ❖ ◦━

Severus sits in the chair that had once belonged to his former employer. The wood chair legs were soundless, but he could feel them creak under his rear each time he readjusted himself in the seat. He lowly sighed at the foreign feeling. Not because he was uncomfortable with the several decade long ass-print on the leather, but because of who the ass-print belonged to and what happened to them.

Severus looks around the office with a creeping consciousness at the back of his mind; the recognition that Dumbledore had seen every inch of this room, from the exact same spot where the raven-haired younger man sits now.

Alec and Carrow are roaming about the castle right now, likely tormenting Hufflepuff first years.

He became sick of their unbearable presence and sent them off, digging his pointer fingers into both of his temples.

Severus stares at the oddly deformed object made of clay as it rests on his desk. It has a circular figure with a face, toothpick arms and toothpick legs, buttons lining up it up and down. You called it a snowman pencil holder, he called it an obscene relic from hell.

The man reaches his pale hand out to readjust the funky object, straighting it on the desk so it looked nicer, but not so the possessed item could make direct eye contact with him.

Most of the time, he had a disguising incantation, allowing it to appear as jar of ink with a feathered quill sticking out of it, in case anyone came in. Only he had the blessing of seeing the Gollum inspired figurine.

"Evening, Severus."

Severus jumps in his seat, chair legs screeching against the ground under him. He flattens his right hand against the desk top, tightly grasping his ebony wand, ready to attack whatever presence that was now in the room.

"It's just me, my boy."

Severus whips his head to the right, where he hears the voice coming from. It was Dumbledore in his portrait, lowering himself into his seat with a soft sigh.

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