This is my first fanfic, so go easy on me, eh? I know the first chapter's a little rough and the POV keeps shifting, and Snape isn't being entirely Snapey, but it will be easier to understand in later chapters. If there are any discrepancies between the story and the books, please let me know. My parents think Harry Potter is the devil- I don't own a single copy of the books. R and R, pleeeeeeeeeease.

His arrival came like the thunderstorm that was assaulting the castle walls. Stowed away in her great-uncle's office, she could hear every door that shuddered and slammed behind him on his way. The windowpanes were already rattling in their frames by the time he reached the second floor. She set her teacup on the edge of the desk and watched the ripples running out from the center of her tea. Uncle Albus, you self-serving little hellion, she thought, studying the white bearded professor over the rims of her spectacles as he stared back at her over his. I should have known you had ulterior motives for inviting me tonight.

"Come now, dear, don't look so insulted." His smile was intended to be disarming. She wasn't falling for it. "Oh alright, so I employed a smidgeon of deception. Guilty as charged. You're has a distraction tactic for an angry man. But when I received your owl at such a convenient time, I couldn't help myself."

The young, aristocratic looking woman sniffed haughtily and turned back to the window. "Leave off, you old lamb, the pout only works when I do it. I've told you time and again to stick with the twinkling eye trick."

At which point it became painfully obvious that their expected guest had reached the stairwell. Albus Dumbledore made a graceful lunge for his grand-niece's teacup before it toppled from his desk. She glared pointedly the other way, as if to say he could help himself out of this one. Three sharp blows were delivered to the door of the office. The old wizard's niece half cocked her head, still trying to play disinterested. In a warm chuckle he called out to the door, "Come in, Severus."

Severus Snape was, for the second time that week, livid with rage. He was cold, cramped from head to foot, tired beyond exhaustion, and his head ached like mad from extensive use of Occlumency. His robes reeked of poison and blood. As a spy on the activities of Lord Voldemort, he was forced to keep up a rather demanding bluff in the dark lord's presence. He was hungry and thirsty and wanted desperately to clear the images of tonight's Death Eater meeting from his head and tuck himself away in his dungeon. But first, he was going to resign.

By the time he had reached the door to Professor Dumbledore's office, he was shaking with rage. How could that man ask him, time and again, to go back to that…place; to face that half-human thing and partake in those half-human rites? Was it worth the second chance? Hah! Not hardly. What had Albus actually given him that was worth this four dimensional anguish? With all the pent up rage of a tortured animal, he hammered the door three times.

The head wizard called him inside in a mocking chuckle. Shaking the rain from his unkempt, black hair, he stalked into the headmaster's office. He was about to unleash his fury on the old man when he noticed a young witch sitting on Dumbledore's desk, her legs folded neatly beneath her. She had her back turned to both of them, and Severus got the distinct impression he was interrupting an argument. He noticed his mouth was still somewhat unhinged and managed to close it.

The young witch turned to look at him; a soft, gentle face observing him from behind rectangular spectacles. She seemed vaguely familiar- a former student perhaps? She was wearing a sweater of bold Slytherin green: had she been in his house?

"Severus, I'd like you to meet, or re-meet rather, my grand-niece Myriadria Dumbledore."

So that was it. She had, not surprisingly looked more like a child the last time he had seen her, but he remembered well enough. How could he forget, when half of the boys in his common room had been trailing about behind her like lost puppies? She was just the kind of child he had always resented; Dumbledore's favorite, popular with all the students, a good keeper on the Quidditch field, and a competent student in all subjects- all of which he was not. Just like Harry Potter, only the kids in his house now had the sense not to fawn over him. He was also completely incompetent at potions, where Myriadria had been adept even when he had tried to be exceptionally intimidating.

Severus Snape did not take the hand the young woman offered to him. He had finally managed to get a grip on his mind again, and his rage, along with his multitude of aches, had flared back to life.

"I resign," Myriadria's old professor stated in the cold, lifeless tone of absolute fury she had learned to recognize during her years as his potions student.

Uncle Albus leaned back comfortably, fixing the man with his "anything said in anger will be disregarded for your future benefit" smile. She cringed. That was not the look one wanted to get from the headmaster. It meant that anything you were about to say, whether it was the most important thing you believed you ever would say or not, was a complete waste of words.

Black robes swished around the potions master as he began pacing the floor. Once or twice he turned to glare at the two of them, and his mouth twitched with the words he was biting back, not sure if it was worthwhile to throw them away just to vent some of his anger. He opted, rather, to throw objects. Muggle vases shattered against the front of the desk; bounced from the walls. An entire painting, one of Fawkes the Phoenix, was demolished over his knee. A few marble statues dented the walls and lost their appendages. Myriadria silently applauded him for avoiding the windows. They had a nasty habit of flinging everything back at you, she had discovered a few years ago.

"If you're quite done with that, perhaps you'd like let yourself cool off a bit and then come back and make your report?" The old wizard didn't wait for a reply. "Now then, if you don't mind, my niece here has a rather urgent need to use your lab facilities. I'll talk to you in the morning, Severus."

There was no mistaking that for a request. Feeling guilty as hell, the young witch jumped down from her uncle's desk and followed him into the hall. His strides were long, his legs infinitely longer, and she had to scramble after him. She had just opened her mouth to apologize, when she found herself suddenly backed into a wall.

"Do not speak," his lethal voice warned. "I do not wish to cause you bodily harm."

And then he was off, sweeping down the hallway once again. Myriad had forgotten just far from her great-uncle's office the dungeons were- even on a good day. On the days when the enchanted castle was being tricky, it was nearly a full length expedition.

They spoke not a word the entire time. He showed her to the potions lab, unlocked the supply cupboard, and then left, locking her in as he went. When his footsteps had died away in the corridor, she set to work.

His headache had gone from dull roar to a raging tempest. He managed to tumble onto his bed, where he lay half-awake for some time. The Dark Lord's high pitched cackle was echoing through his head. Images of carnage came hot on it's heals, crowding his brain until he could not tell which were tonight's and which had been trapped in his memory for decades.

There was a girl banging cauldrons around on the other side of his wall, and he wanted to kill her, but first, he would have to kill Dumbledore. He didn't want to get up, but he wanted even less to let the wench have her way with his laboratory unsupervised.

She was hunched over a bowl, grinding herbs when he let himself in. The acrid stench that came with most of the more challenging potions hung about the air, doing little for his head. Stalking silently along beside her, he peered over her shoulder.

It happened before he could stop himself. The sight of the wolf's bane potion the young woman was using triggered the memory of Remus Lupin, one of them. The werewolf Dumbledore trusted over him. He should have thought about it enough to know that Dumbledore's grand-niece could not be untrustworthy. He should have thought period. But he didn't. He simply found the girl smashed against a wall, her neck clamped between his long hands.

She hardly flinched at all beneath his tightening grip, as if she were very used to being choked suddenly in the middle of the night. But then she was an auror. Even he had kept track of the youngest Dumbledore's whereabouts long enough to know that. And even if he hadn't know, it was written in the scars that marred her soft white throat. Wait… written…?

"Sweet Merlin!" He only managed a hiss, his fingers suddenly trembling over the initials carved upon her collarbone. "You are a Death Eater's woman."

Her eyes were passive blue oceans when she met his gaze. "We all have to make a sacrifice."

He let her go and upended the table behind them. "Good Goddess, how much can that man ask?"

"Uncle Albus never asked me to do this. Hell, he went against his own standards to try to stop me. He interfered with the sorting hat, made sure I would be placed in Hufflepuff." She was standing beside him, studying the cauldron he'd just emptied onto the floor. "I chose my career."

"What of the wolf's bane? It's not…?"

"No, no. It's not for me. It's for a muggle villager. The Ministry's been sending people to clean up after a Death Eater attack."

Severus suddenly felt both very tired and very sorry. He cleaned up the mess he had made, and then apologized.

"I can make the wolf's bane," he sighed. "I won't sleep for hours now anyway."

She stood there, in the doorway, watching him work and saying nothing, her hair falling around her soft face in waves. She looked like she might say something, and he wished she would. He did not wish to be alone at the moment, but her back was already turned. With a resigned sigh, he sank into his work.