Granger's eyes echoed with mistrust - but also a growing interest. There you are. Snape thought. If only I needed to convince just her... She had the pure curiosity that was Slytherin's greatest treasure; and was missing only some of the paranoia that was a Slytherin's birthright. Otherwise, she'd simply assume I was lying. Like the idiot beside her.

The next to wake was old Alastor, thrashing himself to the ground in half-awareness of his captivity. It took the pain of cracking his head on the corner of the coffeetable, before his eyes fully cleared of sleep. Naturally, they did so just as Snape was bending over to assess the copious amounts of blood gushing from the small rent in Alastor's skin. "You!" Moody screamed, his entire body flexing as he tried to escape the ropes binding him. He flexed hard enough that the ropes started to cut through his skin - he stopped before they drew blood.

In the middle of this thrashing, Snape's robes had taken multiple splashes of Alastor Moody's blood. "It would appear that I haven't killed you. Jolly Good, I'd hate to have done so unintentionally." Snape stood, brushing his hands down his robes, and in the process coating them in blood. Looking down at his blood-covered hands, he solemnly intoned, "And people wonder why I wear black."

Harry Potter was undoubtedly glad to have his face pressed into the ground, as that way Snape couldn't see the near-hysterical grin. I knew your mother, lad - and I'd know anyone shaking that much is quaking with laughter, not fear.

"Why'd ye have ta go an' kill him!?" Moody said.

"Oh, wonderful news." Snape intoned, "Brain Damage."

"He had a tumor?" Hermione asked, her eyes alight with curiosity.

Snape's glare sent that expression clear off her face. As it should be.

All this chaos had woken most people here - Diggle still blinked a little sleepily, and Dung was still drowzing. It was, in point of fact, one of his greatest skills. Dress him like a boozehound, and he could hear anything that anyone could say on the streets.

At least Moody had gotten his question out of the way.

Snape could see the looks, distrustful and mistrustful, on eight of the ten people who were tied up in front of him. Granger's eyes gleamed with curiousity, like a cat pacing around a catnip-containing box.

From behind Snape, there was the sound of someone flooing in. Snape forced himself to stay casual, to not tense, or worse, whirl around.

"Remus!" Ron Weasley cried, Potter's head snapping sideways (and then promptly falling on its ear). "Help us!"

Remus Lupin brushed the floo-ash off, and strode forward, casually putting a hand on Snape's shoulder. Don't bite it off, he's the wolf, not you. Remus smirked at Ron's violently red face, responding, "Always and forever."

Then he promptly turned to Snape, and, looking at Snape's cross expression, queried, "How many times?"

"Twice. I know when I'm whipped." Snape said, smirking.

"Typical." Lupin said, still smirking.

"What are you doing?!" Harry Potter finally exploded. Snape was honestly surprised it had taken that long. "Help us!"

With a mildly reproving look on his face, Lupin smirked back, "Next time you ask for help, you may want to be more specific about which kind you ask for."

Snape's lips twitched at the Slytherin response.

"Why. Are. You. Doing. This?" Kingsley said, his voice trying for commanding, and failing. Instead, it echoed the rage of someone who's watched the world burn, and everything he cared about with it.

Remus' tone rung with indifference, "None of you asked, you know? About the Wolfsbane, about me - or no more than normal."

Snape could see guilt radiating off Potter (always with the pity party, bucko). He kept his eyes focused on anyone except Granger, though if looks could dissect, he'd be flayed by now.

"That first month, after - when Minerva showed up with that incredibly impalatable concoction called Wolfsbane, I thought it was a miracle."

The entire room heard Snape's 'softer than a whisper' "Idiot."

"Afterwards, I wanted to ask," Remus said, his hands nervously wringing each other, "But Minerva said not to."

"She wouldn't have answered if you'd asked," Snape sneered. "Some people know how to keep secrets."

Remus jumped like you'd put a hot coal on his tail, "I've never-"

Snape rolled his eyes, "Not you, Black." Snape was well aware that Potter was pained by even hearing the name. Soft and green, the lot of them.

Hermione spoke up, her excited voice a hair louder than Snape's had been. "Wolfsbane is incredibly hard to make, you know." Of course, I know, Snape thought, before mentally restraining himself, She's speaking to the dunderheads, not me. "Potion Master Snape is the only person in all of Britain who's been recorded as making it."

It was then, that Harry Potter did something unexpected, lifting his head from the floor and staring into Snape's black eyes, "Why would you do that? You hate him!?"

Snape found himself suddenly looking at eleven pairs of eyes. "It may sound cliche," Snape said, pulling his dignity close if not his robes, "It was the right thing to do."

That was not the right thing to say. Snape had known it, and had gone ahead and done it anyway. The ensuing din and ruckus had Remus covering his ears with his hands, and then, belatedly, trying to do the same with his eyes. Meanwhile, the room echoed with the name Albus Dumbledore (predictably, the first and last uttered by different people - for such a humble man, Albus had a billion titles he never used.).

It took about ten minutes for the room to settle down - grief, mixed with anger, mostly. Some rage (that went by the name Potter), and that peculiar ruddy tint of anger that could only be a Weasley temper. Granger was dead quiet - the quiet that said Answers had Better be Coming. Blaise Zambini had done a thing that Snape had never seen him do before - he'd hunkered, that peculiarly Slytherin strategy of "don't look at me, let me look at you" It had been Nott's favorite tactic, his shyness for once proving an advantage.

Snape's face was a careful blank, as he started to roll up his sleeves. On his left arm, everyone could see the Dark Mark, and the children of course stared at it. The adults watched his other arm, as he carefully revealed twin stripes of gold, twining in two symmetrical helixes up his arm, nearly resembling a caduceus. Arabella was the first to gasp, "You! You didn't!"

Tonks whispered next, "Those are the signs of unbreakable vows..."

"Have you gone mad?" Moody shouted at Snape, "Have you taken leave of your senses and are you now living in Nevernever Land?"

Snape snorted a markedly unfriendly laugh, "Hardly."

"Off his rocker, he is!" Evangeline said, her laughter edging into something else, something darker.

Potter's eyes looked dark, to the point of mean, and he snarled out a single word question, "Who?"

It was the easier question to answer, the hoped for question. Who do you owe your life to? Who have you gifted your life to, Slytherin man? Snape stood tall, as he always did, and said sternly, "Albus Dumbledore."

Rather predictably, the room erupted in yet more chaos. Blaise was giving Snape a rather hard-edged glare. Lad knows that I could have done this at any time. Knows I'm holding back why, too.

[a/n: Probably about one more chapter to "Snape's Ba-ack!" Leave a review? Why IS Snape here, anyway?

This is the second time. This time, Snape Brings Backup, in the form of Remus Lupin, Werewolf.

Who knew talking to hogtied allies would be so difficult?]