~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape dreamed of Lily on his first night's sleep after the battle at the Ministry. It wasn't a … pleasant dream, as they had been through his teenage years. Nor was it the kind of nightmare that had disturbed his sleep consistently for the decade following. It was something more comforting and at the same time deeply unsettling.

Lily was sitting on the grass with her feet together neatly and her hands on her knees, which were drawn nearly up to her chin. Her shoes were spattered with mud and her dress was shockingly crumpled but somehow her socks were still a crisp, clean white. Snape stared into her eyes for hours.

When he finally took a breath she looked up at him, eyes shifting from wistful to delighted in an instant. "Sev! I thought you weren't coming!"

Guilt wracked him then and he felt all of five years old, scrutinised by that brilliant gaze. Then he was sitting by her in the cool, damp shade with his hands clasped loosely together and a nervous twitch somewhere around his right ankle.

"Sorry, Lily. I had to do some things."

She huffed and poked him in the shoulder. "More important than me?"

He could never really tell when she was teasing him about that kind of thing. "Important because of you," he corrected her seriously. "I needed to make sure the world was safe."

She laughed at that, her nose crinkling. "Of course the world's safe, silly."

"You have to be careful. You have to be careful, Lily, or you get caught off guard and bad things happen."

Her smile faltered. Severus reached out to her instinctively, hesitating before he allowed himself to touch her. She glanced at his outstretched hand and lightly clasped his wrist. Her hair fell over her face as she traced a curious finger around the inside of his arm.

"What's this, Sev? Did you draw this?"

Severus looked down at his own arm, and if Lily hadn't still been holding onto it he might have flailed. He didn't have that yet. He couldn't have it, not with Lily so young and all his. That had come far, far later. Snape wore the Dark Mark. Not Severus.

Lily's eyes were accusing him now, and her jaw was jutting out. "You told me you'd never join him. You promised me."

"I didn't," he objected. "I don't know why this is here."

"Is that why you were late? You had an appointment for your Dark Mark?"

"No, Lily," Severus said, clasping her wrist as she had his, and using his other hand to steady himself on the ground. "I was late because I was fighting him, truly."

"I really want to believe you." She brushed tears from her eyes. "But you've been doing other things as well, and it's getting really hard to ignore them all!"

"Other things? I haven't been doing anything, Lily. If Potter's been telling you stories —"

"He doesn't have to tell me stories, Sev! I've got eyes and ears of my own, and even the first years know that you're an expert in Dark Arts."

"Dark Arts aren't evil," Severus began, but Lily wrenched her hand away from him, and with the loss of contact came a loss of consciousness so sudden and profound he thought maybe he was finally dead.

Then he felt air on his face and, a second later, a warm hand cupping his chin. "Sev," Lily said gently. "Sev, I have to go."

"Lily," he murmured, and caught her hand in his. "Truly."

"I mean it," she said, shaking his head slightly. "James is waiting outside."

"James," Severus said sleepily, opening his eyes. "James?"

"No, it's Harry," Lily told him. Snape frowned, confused, and made out her face dimly above his. "You said James," he said. "I heard you."

"No, I mean, it's Harry."

Severus sat up, horrified, reaching for his wand. Surely Potter couldn't be —

"Shush, silly," Lily said, patting his shoulder. "He's not staying. We can't stay any longer."

"I really did love you."

The faintest whisper. "I know."

"I can't love your son."

Even quieter. "I know, Sev."

"I'm sorry."

There was only silence.

"Lily? I'm sorry, Lily. For —"

"Never mind."

"No, I have to tell you —"

"I don't want to hear it, Sev. I can't stay any longer. We both have places to be."

"I don't."

"You do, Sev. Your arm."

As soon as he reached consciousness he was summoning his cloak and mask, along with his box of Floo powder. He was changed before he was properly conscious, and took merely a second to compose his mind before Flooing out of the castle and into the clutches of the Dark Lord.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Let's go out somewhere," Theo said, frowning as he looked from face to face around the common room. "I don't think I can spend much longer down here without going mad."

"Sure," Daniel said. "I'll just get my cloak."

He ducked downstairs and completely ignored whatever Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were doing down in the dormitory. They were talking about something but he absolutely most definitely did not care what it was. He grabbed his cloak and left without letting himself so much as face their direction.

Back up in the common room he found Theo staring down Jo Chalmers, who looked like he was trying to force his way past Theo to go to Millicent.

"If she doesn't want to talk to you, she doesn't want to talk to you," Theo said with his arms folded across his chest.

"Piss off, Nott." Millicent looked more interested in the magazine she was reading than the scene right in front of her.

"Yeah, piss off, Nott," Chalmers echoed. "Try sticking up for your own family, maybe."

"I'll stick up for whoever I damn well please," Theo said. Daniel sighed and made his way over.

"And I'll talk to whoever I damn well please," Chalmers said. "See this little badge? It means you do as I tell you, pipsqueak."

Theo sneered, and Daniel covered the last few feet in an ungraceful lunge. "Theo!" he said, clapping a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Ready?"

"Livingstone," Chalmers said darkly, taking a measured step back. "Just the fellow I wanted to see."

"Hi," Daniel said, but Chalmers cut him off straight away.

"Oh sorry, did I say wanted to see? I do apologise, I don't know what came over me."

Daniel grabbed Theo's elbow and tugged him away, fiercely aware of all the eyes in the room fixed on them. Theo shook him off and marched through the doorway, barging straight through Rookwood and Baddock as they came in. Daniel stepped around them a bit more carefully. They didn't make it easy for him.

By the time he was out in the corridor Theo had mostly calmed down. Only a twitching at his jaw stopped Daniel from saying what was on his mind. Instead, he let himself run on automatic non-confrontational mode.

"Where do you want to go?"

Theo shrugged. "Ravenclaw? Hufflepuff?"

"Gryffindor?"

Theo rolled his eyes. "Maybe Slytherin's not that bad," he said with the faintest of smiles.

Daniel wasn't so sure. "Come on," he said. "We'll just go outside."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Report," the Dark Lord commanded. "Quickly."

Snape took a quick step forward, head bowed, then raised it to meet those merciless red eyes. "My lord. Dumbledore is preoccupied with attempting to keep the Ministry in check while also containing discontent at the school. I have received no specific instructions. I anticipate more explicit direction once the students have returned home and the Ministry has returned to equilibrium."

"How have the students reacted? What number are devoted to the cause?"

"Without exposing my own loyalties I cannot determine with precision, my lord," Snape said, not letting thoughts of his house in tumult distract him. "At the very least two from each year, and likely more once they have seen the powers you command."

"You will need to convince Dumbledore to appoint you to the Defence Against the Dark Arts position," the Dark Lord commanded. "The recruitment of pureblooded wizarding youth is essential."

"My lord," Snape said, bowing his head again.

"Before your Slytherins return to their homes you must determine which are worthy of further attention. Couch your investigations as dissuasion to Dumbledore if you must, but by the beginning of the next school year there is to be a strong presence at Hogwarts. Dumbledore will try to win them back with soft words and promises of glory. They must not be won."

"Yes, my lord," Snape said, dropping to one knee. "I will begin immediately."

"You are not dismissed, Severus."

Snape swallowed and kept his eyes down.

"Keep a particularly close eye on the families of those captured. Ensure that they are aware the imprisonment will not be extensive, as long as my plans are fulfilled accurately."

"My lord."

"Wormtail will be staying with you over the summer," the Dark Lord announced, as though it were the least of the matters they had to discuss. "I grow weary of his presence and he needs to be observed far closer than I have time for. He will be at your disposal."

Snape allowed himself an audible exhalation. The Dark Lord knew of his hatred for Pettigrew; it was not something Snape intended to keep quiet about. "Yes, my lord."

"What will be your explanation for this meeting?"

"You required an intelligence report, and had minute instructions for my dealings with the children of Death Eaters," Snape said. There were probably tasks around his house that Pettigrew would be capable of fulfilling. He would have to arrange a room for him with appropriate wards and enchantments. And curses. "I will tell him I fear your influence over my house, and seek out meetings with those who have the potential to serve you in order to dissuade them from such a decision."

"Excellent," the Dark Lord said, the hated croon slipping into his voice. "Serve me well, Severus."

"I live to serve you, my lord," Snape said, the words coming as smoothly as ever. The Dark Lord spread a cold, long-fingered hand over the top of his skull in that twisted benediction Snape had once craved so dearly.

A sickened chill and a tremor of excitement passed through him. His stomach roiled with warped pleasure and no small measure of self-disgust. When the Dark Lord lifted his hand and stepped away from him he rose to his feet and backed out of the creature's sight. He apparated to Spinner's End and Flooed directly back in to his quarters at Hogwarts where he spent an inordinately long time staring at his own rumpled bedding.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"And now they're tearing pieces off Simon Black, just because his fifteenth cousin or whatever it is was killed at the Ministry. Hardly his fault Black can't make up his mind what side he's on. And his brother Tasius is due to come to Hogwarts next year, the poor bastard."

Everything went very quiet, then. Everything except the sound of Daniel's heartbeat, and his repeated convulsive swallowing. He stared at Theo, then hurriedly up at the castle instead.

"What, didn't you hear?" Theo asked. "Sirius Black turned up and fought the Death Eaters at the Ministry. Bellatrix Lestrange did for him, I heard. It's not like poor old Simon could ever have met the man, but that's not going to stop anybody."

Daniel tried to find some words, or at least an expression that didn't shout 'gaping moron'. Something to stop Theo looking at him like that.

"Yeah," he managed, then stared down at the ground. He thought of the half-written letter crammed in his Herbology textbook, and the ground gave a little beneath him.

Theo was looking frankly suspicious now. He wasn't even pretending not to stare. "What's up with you?" he asked irritably. "Another mysterious illness, I suppose?"

Daniel shook his head. It was a rumour. "Where'd you hear that about Black?" he asked. "I'd have thought something like that would be all over the school by now."

Theo twisted his fingers together. "Lestrange has gotten in contact with some people," he said. "And you can bet the Dark Lord's happy to brag about it."

"But Black was on his side," Daniel protested weakly. "It's probably some kind of a bluff so everyone thinks he's dead."

Theo shrugged. "Doesn't really matter either way," he said. "Simon's still copping it."

"Hm," Daniel said, feeling a very strong urge to rush back downstairs and finish that damn letter. He should have finished it days ago, really. As soon as Sirius replied, which was usually straight away, he'd be able to hold in his hand the proof that he was not dead. He was cooped up away from the world, and resenting it like crazy, but staying put. That was how things were. How they were meant to be.

"Have you talked to Draco yet?" Theo asked after a long silence.

Daniel blinked at him, then shook his head. "Why would I do that?"

"To see if he'll back you next year as a pureblood."

"Oh yeah great idea," Daniel said, more harshly than he'd planned to. "Confront him about that, right now. I can see why they call you a tactical genius."

"I thought you'd want to."

"Yeah, I just love self-destruction."

"Look out, Ed's coming," Theo said, sitting up a little straighter.

Daniel looked around and groaned. "Why does he drag that Cauldwell kid around everywhere?"

"Same reason I let you follow me around, probably," Theo said breezily. "Hi Ed, Owen."

"Hi," Ed said, and Cauldwell nodded shyly at Theo. The two of them sat down.

Daniel didn't really mean to be a snide bastard, but the moment he clamped his mouth shut he started to worry about Sirius again. So he spoke. "Hi. Isn't it nice out?"

Theo glared at him, so he rolled his eyes and lay down on the cool grass.

"How are you?" Theo asked.

"Okay," Ed said unconvincingly.

"Branstone's being a real pig," Cauldwell volunteered. "She told Sprout she wouldn't come back next year if Ed was going to be here."

"Thanks, mate. I knew I could count on you to keep house business private."

"You shouldn't keep secrets from your brother."

Daniel couldn't help but let out a low hissing breath at that piece of sanctimonious crap.

"I'm not keeping secrets. I'm just handling my life for myself."

"Aw, lookie who's a big boy," Daniel mumbled. "If you guys are going to be playing happy families for a while longer I might go back in."

"You're not going back in there alone," Theo said immediately. "That's madness."

"You're paranoid," Daniel said, and sat up. "Anyway, if people want to kill me I'm sure they'll have a way to get around you. Since I'm always following you around and everything."

"Fine," Theo said. "I'll come back in a bit, then."

Daniel got up and stretched. "See you," he said.

It took him all of three minutes to run down to the common room, walk through it without a care in the world and dash down the stairs to where Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were still arguing about something. He ignored them completely in favour of throwing himself onto his bed and dragging the curtains shut around him.

He stared at the scribbled letter for a moment then banished it impatiently. It was a different letter he had to write now, one without theories about McGonagall's and Sinistra's love life and if there was a way to somehow get stomach contents back when transforming back into a human without totally messing up his entire digestive system because the thought of food just after transforming always made him feel ill and he always ended up nearly fainting of hunger.

No, it wasn't going to be that kind of letter at all.

How did you write a letter asking somebody if he was dead or not?