/N: See, I didn't fall off of the face of the earth. When I revised the original chapter it took much longer than I thought it would and end up insanely long. No, I'm not going to post the whole thing at once, but at least the next few updates will be a bit closer together.

Thanks to Verity and Trickie Woo for the final once over.

Chapter 3: Unavoidable Encounters

Severus knelt before the Dark Lord, waiting to be acknowledged. It was a private meeting, and the wizard was grateful not to have to deal with Bellatrix and her accusations for a change. The woman was clearly less than sane after her stint in Azkaban and was constantly trying to catch him in some minor inconsistency. He knew he was clever enough to not be trapped in one of her attempts to expose him, but her persistence was grating.

"It has been reported that Callista Hawkins has been brought out of hiding," came the cold, high voice. "Can you confirm this, Severus?"

"Indeed, it is true, my Lord," he affirmed from his submissive position on the floor. The Potions master watched as Voldemort paced back and forth in front of him, wondering why he had not been given leave to rise. "Her appointment will be announced the in the Daily Prophet within the next day or so. She will be teaching the younger students Defense and Potions."

The pacing stopped. "Will she have anything to do with Potter's training?"

"I don't know," Severus replied truthfully.

"You are to find out."

"I shall do my best," he assured before continuing with a slight sneer. "Although, what she could possibly contribute to the boy's education is questionable at best. Other than her skills with potions, she was not that impressive of a student. I had always suspected her becoming a prefect and Head Girl had more to do with her father's connections than her own merits. I would not be surprised if her appointment to Hogwarts came about for the same reason. Dumbledore has made it a habit to favor his precious Gryffindors over Slytherins, regardless of superior qualifications."

Ignoring his servant's remarks, the Dark Lord fixed him with a penetrating red stare. "Severus, you should be pleased with your own promotion."

Bowing his head, Severus said, "It will please me to use it to your advantage, my Lord."

There was a long pause on Voldemort's part before he continued the questioning. "Has Dumbledore indicated whether or not you will continue to give the boy Occlumency lessons?"

"He has not my Lord." Severus winced; his knee was beginning to cramp from its prolonged contact with the cold stone floor. "It is possible that Dumbledore finally came to realize that it was futile. Potter proved he didn't have the aptitude. His mind, uncontrollable as his temper, was easy to pry open and manipulate."

"You have done well to make him vulnerable, Severus," the Dark Lord said. "Unfortunately, it turned out to have such undesirable effects."

"I live to serve," Severus replied evenly. His knee was now throbbing, and he hoped to be dismissed soon.

As if he was enjoying the other wizard's discomfort, Voldemort resumed his pacing. "You would be wise to befriend Callista Hawkins and regain her confidence at all costs."

Considering that they parted on the very worst of terms, Severus didn't think it was even remotely possible. "I have my doubts that she will even speak to me, let alone grant me any confidence, but I shall do my best, of course."

"With your considerable knowledge of potions, I am most certain you will succeed in extracting the necessary information or die trying. Do not disappoint me, Severus." The red eyes narrowed meaningfully, leaving no doubt that, as always, failure was not going to be tolerated. "You are dismissed."

Severus rose gratefully to his feet, backing away. Once he was a respectful distance, he turned on his heel and headed towards the exit. A tall, pale-haired woman approached him, but he ignored her as he strode to the Apparation point at the end of a stone tunnel and vanished with a muffled pop.

An hour later Severus was standing in the headmaster's office. Dumbledore was listening to Severus's report, calmly stroking the brilliant plumes of the phoenix, and Fawkes answered the old man with contented warbles.

"The Dark Lord wanted confirmation that Miss Hawkins has returned," Severus said. "He was interested in her role in Potter's education. As you requested, I reported that she has little talent to offer."

"Very good, Severus."

Severus was silent for a moment. "There may be another spy within the Order, Headmaster."

"Oh?"

The younger man's brow wrinkled. "He had already been informed of her arrival and appointment. I was under the impression you intended to keep that information from becoming public until she was on the castle grounds."

"That indeed was my intent; however, another spy in our ranks, while always possible, is unlikely." Dumbledore shook his head, brushing off the notion like an irritating insect. "Callista's mother travels in the same social circles as both the Greengrass and Parkinson families, who in turn are also connected to the Malfoys. It is more likely the gossip eventually made it to Narcissa Malfoy's ears. She, of course, would be eager to present it to Riddle."

"But, sir--"

"Don't worry, Severus, Professor Hawkins will be warned," Dumbledore assured him, continuing to pay attention to Fawkes. "Alastor Moody has offered to work with her. I'm sure she will be more than capable of looking out for her own safety, but I will feel relieved to have her within the school wards."

The younger man frowned deeply. Of course she was capable. Adolphus Hawkins had been a high-ranking Ministry official; therefore, his children would have been wanted by the Death Eaters. It had been common knowledge that the man had spared no expense making sure they were well-protected. By the time Callista was old enough to attend Hogwarts, her father had been so paranoid about her security that he had considered arranging for private tutors until Dumbledore convinced him the school was as secure, if not more so, than any private home.

"You are concerned about her?" Dumbledore was feeding Fawkes a mouse.

Severus remained cool and detached. "You feel she is a valuable asset to the Order."

"That's not what I meant," the headmaster said with a touch of impatience. His lined face softened. "You still harbor feelings for her, don't you?"

"No," Severus replied in a short tone.

"Someone cannot be an enormous part of your life without leaving some kind of a shadow on your heart. You cannot reasonably deny that Callista was once everything to you. Have you tried to reconcile with her, at least enough to have a minute measure of civility?" Dumbledore patted the top of the bird's head before sitting down.

"She wants nothing to do with me, and I want nothing to do with her." Snape's voice became icy.

Dumbledore gave the Potions master a disheartened look. "You have been given a second chance. I suggest you take it."

"I have a duty to the Order. I don't have time for such trivial nonsense." Severus could feel the anger rising in him, threatening to break his carefully controlled emotions. "Now, if you will excuse me, Headmaster, I need some rest. I will return to the castle within the week to prepare for the upcoming term."

"Good night then, Severus."

That night, Severus sat for a long time in front of the fire at Spinner's End, hating Albus Dumbledore. If he had gone against the old man's orders all those years ago, he wouldn't need a second chance with Callista now. Dumbledore had convinced him that letting Callista know about his involvement with the Death Eaters and the Order would have endangered them both. Severus had been terrified that something would happen to her. Even more than that, he had been afraid of losing her love if she had ever learned of the horrific things he had done. So he had done as he had been told and had kept his role as a spy to himself. No one had known that Severus was part of the Order at the time. That information had only been revealed after the Tri-Wizard Tournament a little over a year ago. Not that it had made a difference; he knew that everyone in the Order, save McGonagall, hated and mistrusted him. He buried his head in his hands, dwelling on his dismal past and contemplating his bleak future.

"You really should speak with your father's portrait, Lissie," Moira Hawkins urged her daughter gently over their afternoon tea. "It would give you a sense of closure, give you a chance to reconcile with him. He was so very heartbroken when we thought you were dead. He went on and on about how he should have tried to make you see the error of your ways. I'm sure he would have forgiven you had you come home."

Callista, cringing at both at the sound of her nickname and her mother's latest attempt to make her feel guilty, continued to sip her tea to avoid answering. For the past few days, her mother had been trying to convince her that Adolphus Hawkins--or his portrait at least--actually wanted to see her. It wasn't that she didn't wish for some measure of reconciliation; on the contrary, it was something she greatly desired, but the thought of dredging up a very painful part of her life was not appealing. That, and being forgiven by a picture wasn't the same as hearing the words from the man himself. True closure was impossible. Since her return, Callista had vainly explained this to her mother more times than she cared to count.

She had heard the whole story from her mother during their first meeting. Shortly after the death of the Potters and Sirius Black's arrest, her father had been seriously wounded in the process of bringing down Evan Rosier, whom he had killed in a raid. After suffering for nearly a week, he had finally succumbed to his injuries. He had been so despondent that his wife had been both amazed and pleased that he hadn't become a ghost. For the last week, Callista had found herself wondering if things would have been different had she tried to return home. In the end, she decided the events probably would not have changed, other than her being able to visit him at St. Mungo's... provided that he would have allowed his 'rebellious and ungrateful' daughter access to his bedside. Callista let out a soft sigh.

"And I still don't understand why you would prefer to linger in Muggle London of all places either. Couldn't you just remain at the house until the start of term?" her mother continued. "There are so many things you need, my dearest. A trip to Twillfit and Tattings is a priority. You only have two robes, and I can't bear to see you dressed like a Muggle. Those wretched Americans, they have no proper wizarding pride or common sense whatsoever, mingling so openly with the non-magic folks."

"I tried to explain all of that to you, Mum," Callista said wearily; a slight throbbing began in her temples. "I need to keep in touch with Dr. Pike; therefore, I must have access to a telephone. My last bit of business at the university needs to be taken care of this evening and my presence is required at Hogwarts the day after tomorrow. I want to get settled in my quarters before I start my teaching duties."

"There are house-elves that can unpack for you. How those Americans can survive without house-elves is beyond me. Utter foolishness on their part." Her mother shook her head and looked at Callista with concern before saying in a teasing tone, "Is Dr. Pike the only person you're in touch with, or are you trying to hide my son-in-law and grandchildren from me?"

"I told you, I never bothered to get married." Another thing her mother didn't understand: her single status.

"Just so you know, Allen Buxley isn't married, although he has been engaged twice while you were gone. I'm positive he would like to become reacquainted. Perhaps you could--"

"No," Callista said firmly, setting her tea cup down with more force than she intended and cracking it neatly in half. "Reparo. I told you, I have no intention of staying after the school year has ended. I did not come back to tie myself to a wizard who would only be interested in my domestic skills. Please, I'm over thirty and set in my ways. Besides," she continued, her thoughts straying to Lucas Hart, "I've learned that men are more trouble than they will ever be worth."

Her mother squeezed her hand. "You just need to find the right one, my luv."

Not wanting the arguement to continue, Callista nodded. Could sitting here and listening to her mother be any worse than meeting with her father's portrait? Clearing her throat, she said, "Perhaps I should visit with Daddy's portrait. I need to borrow some books on potions and defense anyway, and I don't feel right taking them without asking. If you don't mind, that is. "

"By all means," the older woman said, smiling as she rose to her feet. "His portrait is hanging in his study. Your father always valued his privacy."

Callista dutifully followed her mother to the book-lined room that had been her father's sanctuary when he was alive. Her mother knocked before opening the door, and with a wave of her wand, the study was glowing in soft candlelight.

"Adolphus?" her mother addressed the snoring figure in the portrait. With a snort and a grunt, the image of the former master of the house awoke and peered at his wife. "There is a visitor to see you. It's our Callista, home safe and sound."

The old man sat up straighter in the leather armchair in the painting. He gazed gruffly at the pair, his dark eyes glaring out from under his bushy brows. Mrs. Hawkins silently withdrew from the room, leaving father and daughter to sort out their issues alone. Adolphus Hawkins' portrait was every bit as stern-looking as the man had been in real life.

"So," he began, surveying his daughter with penetrating look, "finally plucked up the courage to call on me? I know you've been back for more than a week; you should have come to see me immediately. What took you so long?"

"I met first with Headmaster Dumbledore at Hogwarts, sir," she answered calmly, barely keeping the defiant tone out of her voice. "He has graciously appointed me to a post for the upcoming school year."

His tone was mocking. "Fancy that, my daughter is now a lowly schoolmistress." Callista bit her tongue, refusing to answer. "We were told you were dead, killed by Sirius Black or possibly He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. Where have you been all this time?"

"I was on the continent for a time before I was able to make my way to the States, sir," replied Callista. Her father's eyes betrayed his interest in her adventures, and Callista briefly talked about her time in hiding, speaking in glowing terms of Dr. Pike and his Muggle wife. By the end of her tale, the old man seemed impressed with his bright, resourceful daughter. "So, as you can hopefully deduce, my time here will be brief. I have made a life for myself and have no intention of staying after the end of the school year."

"We shall see," he said off-handedly. "What does that ridiculous old man have you teaching? I suppose they still go through a new Defense teacher each year. Is that your subject?"

"More or less. I shall be teaching Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts to the younger students." She had no intention of elaborating unless he probed further.

A fluffy eyebrow rose curiously. "And who will be teaching the other students?"

Callista hesitated. "Severus Snape is the current--"

"What?" the portrait bellowed. "That foul creature is still at Hogwarts?" The old man continued to mutter furiously. "Dumbledore is more of a fool than I thought he was. I advised him to sack the bloody bastard all those years ago. Had I not been injured tracking down Snape's vile friend, I would have testified at his hearing and nothing, nothing, Dumbledore could have said would have kept that loathsome beast from Azkaban! Snape should have been Kissed and good riddance to him."

Even though Callista was not about to take Snape's side, she felt obligated to defend the headmaster, if for no other reason than that he had made sure she had temporary employment. "But Professor Dumbledore--"

"Hang Dumbledore!" the portrait roared. "The man has no sense whatsoever!"

"I'm sure he had his reasons."

"Trust no one, Callista," Adolphus Hawkins cautioned. He was silent for a while, brow furrowed in concentration. "There is something I want you to have."

Looking up at the portrait in complete surprise, Callista asked, "You want to give me something?"

"I had intended it for your brother, Niall, but as he predeceased me..." The old man in the painting closed his eyes for a moment before directing his daughter. "Tap the panel at the base of the third set of shelves to the left of the fireplace with your wand three times. Very good."

Callista did as he ordered and the panel shifted aside, revealing a small hiding space. Groping inside, she felt a paper-covered package and drew it out. "What is it?"

"Unwrap it and see."

She opened the wrappings, her fingers clumsy with anticipation. Inside the package was a small box containing a frame with a dark blue background. Her father's likeness in miniature suddenly appeared before her eyes, and she almost dropped the frame.

"You could have given me some warning," she said through clenched teeth.

Her father laughed. "With nerves like that, I can see why you decided against becoming an Auror. This was meant to help me advise your brother without having him come to the house in case I died before he did. Unfortunately, he was discovered and killed--"

"What are you talking about?" interrupted Callista, confused. She had only been nine when her eldest brother's body had been found, and the cause of his death had never been explained to her. "What was Niall involved in?"

The small face frowned sadly. "There is too much to explain, but suffice it to say your brother's death was partly my fault. I... I promise to tell you everything, but not now."

"Wouldn't it be better to give this to Connor?"

"The banker doesn't need or want any help from me," her father said bitterly. "He has that Muggle-born girl to watch out for him. All he needs to do is make certain the goblins give fair exchanges on the quaid or quid or whatever the hell it's called. You, on the other hand, are in danger if you are working for Dumbledore and working with Snape. Listen to Alastor Moody if he gives you advice."

"I will," Callista answered, still unsettled about the new information about her brother's demise.

The portrait demanded to hear more about her work at the American university, and she politely obliged, carefully keeping away from more personal subjects.

It was nearly time to dress for dinner when she vacated the study, leaving her father's image to mull over the account of her adventures. At the table, her mother was rattling on about how much fun they were going to have while shopping in Diagon Alley the following day. Callista listened only enough to keep up with the general thread of the conversation, her mind constantly straying from her mother's cheerful monologue about the latest fashions to the miniature portrait of her father stashed in the magically-expanded box of books.

Next up: An early morning visitor and a trip to Diagon Alley.