Chapter 1

Severus Snape was running late.

This was unusual enough in itself. Severus was very rarely late for anything. But what made it truly remarkable was that he was running late to get to Lucius Malfoy's, and that had never happened before.

The trouble was, it was Lucius's birthday. He had planned it well. He had chosen a book, naturally, but one he thought Lucius would find readable enough to be interesting, but unusual enough not to be insulting: The Curses of Tutankhamen's Tomb. He had placed the order at Flourish and Blott's six weeks ago. He had congratulated himself on solving the problem.

And then, late yesterday, came the last-minute owl from the bookshop telling him they had had problems sourcing the book, and it wouldn't arrive on time. So now he had to start again from scratch, with only a day to choose a new present. Shopping was one of Severus's pet hates; shopping under time pressure was his worst nightmare.

It was almost a relief, therefore, as he strode towards Knockturn Alley, to bump into – or rather, be bumped into by – Albus Dumbledore, who looked remarkably pleased to see him. 'Severus! How are you, my friend?'

'Tolerable,' Severus replied, rubbing his shoulder where it had hit the book Dumbledore was carrying under his arm. He glanced at the book's cover out of professional habit. It was a brand new copy of Warts, Weather and Worry: Remedies and Antidotes for Daily Life. Severus had borrowed, read and digested this book at the age of twelve; the potions section was mostly out of date and badly researched. He wondered why on earth Dumbledore might want it now.

Dumbledore, of course, noticed him looking at the book. 'Ah, yes! I was going to ask for a loan of yours, but I'm afraid I needed it rather urgently, so I thought I would buy a copy. Hopefully Madam Pince will be happy to take it afterwards.'

'She already has it,' Severus said shortly. He didn't want to be rude, but he really was in a prodigious hurry.

The Headmaster's expression grew serious. 'You've heard about Sirius Black, I assume?'

Severus had heard – or, rather, he had read about it in the paper, the inexplicable escape of the murderous Black from Azkaban. Black's name was one he had hoped never to lay eyes on again. It was one of four such names.

'Yes,' he said. 'Unprecedented. I'm sorry, Albus, but I really must be going. I'm running late.'

'You, Severus?' There was an amused twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes. 'Surely not. But there are one or two things I need to tell you.' The Headmaster's expression became grave. 'The first is that Fudge is insisting on stationing Dementors in the Hogwarts grounds this term, because of Black. Needless to say, I don't approve of this, but his mind appears to be made up. I'm sure your Patronus charm is in perfect order – you will need to be prepared to use it at any time.'

Severus nodded, frowning. People accused him of spreading gloom and unhappiness around Hogwarts – mostly Flitwick and Sprout when they'd had too much to drink – but the Dementors were another game entirely. His one encounter with them had been one too many.

'The second thing,' Dumbledore continued, 'is that I've appointed another Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.'

Severus raised an eyebrow.

'I know, I know, you didn't actually apply for it this time, but I thought it was the decent thing to let you know.'

'As long as it's someone better than Gilderoy Lockhart, I really couldn't care less about the Dark Arts job,' Severus said coldly.

'Defence Against the Dark Arts, Severus,' Dumbledore corrected. 'I'd rather you used its full name. I don't want anyone accusing you of making Freudian slips.'

Severus gave a tight smile. 'Is it someone I know?'

'You've met,' Dumbledore said. 'I shan't say more than that. But I will need to speak to you when you return about the new arrangements.'

'What new arrangements?'

Dumbledore held up a thin, lightly-wrinkled hand. 'Enjoy your afternoon, Severus.' He stepped away quickly, tucking Warts, Weather and Worries back under his arm. Severus watched him go, and swore; then he remembered he was late, and swore again, before turning on his heel and plunging into the queasy feeling of anticipation that Knockturn Alley, and the prospect of seeing Lucius, always gave him.

Four hours later, he was handing Lucius a small, heavy parcel as they stood in front of Lucius's grand marble fireplace. 'It's not what I had hoped to get you,' he added. 'With any luck, a long and pointed conversation with Quintus Blott should enable me still to obtain it.'

Lucius took the present, hefting its weight in his palm and examining it, before his grey eyes returned to Severus's face. 'So I'm to receive two presents from you? How generous.' His eyes creased in a faint smile.

Severus tried to keep his breathing regular. It was rather difficult when Lucius looked at him that way. 'Not intentionally, but yes, that will be the net result.'

He moved away from Lucius to pour himself another glass of whisky, then took an armchair near the fire, and began to think about Sirius Black again. The traitor's escape meant that there would surely be yet more attention heaped on Potter, who would be presumed to be Black's next target. Potter was another of those four names he had hoped never to hear of again, and with Black so widely discussed, Peter Pettigrew was bound to be mentioned before long, too. The fourth, he assumed, was unlikely to resurface.

He looked up as Lucius approached his chair, also with a full glass of whisky. 'Something troubling you?'

'I was – just thinking about Hogwarts,' Severus said. 'I bumped into Dumbledore earlier, he was saying he's appointed a new Dark Arts teacher. He wouldn't tell me who it was. But apparently it's someone I know.' He hissed softly as Lucius laid a hand on his arm and, with a flicker of his wand, enlarged the armchair to make room for both of them.

'You haven't any idea who it might be?' Lucius said, but Severus could see it was only a pretence of carrying on the conversation. Lucius's eyes were half-closed and his pale hair was gleaming in the firelight. It was clear enough what he wanted.

'None at all,' Severus murmured, and allowed himself a soft moan as Lucius kissed his mouth. Dumbledore had said something about … arrangements … but it really, really didn't matter now. When Lucius slid a hand over his leg, Severus snarled and seized a chunk of his hair, pulling him closer.

'Don't you have something to say to me, Severus?'

Oh, yes. He had almost forgotten. 'Happy birthday, Lucius.'

A/N: Well, it's been a while since I uploaded anything new! Excited to be back, and reviews are of course very welcome. Image credit for this story to arbyreed on Flickr. –SS–