As he was walking down to his next lesson, Snape was deep in thought. He didn't wish to be disturbed, so he just snapped at the seventh-years to take out their cauldrons and potion-making kits and open their books on page three-hundred and twenty-four.

"Leprechaun Liquid!" he declared, "Turns anything it touches to gold for one hour. Many otherwise great wizards have been hoodwinked by their inability to tell leprechaun gold from the real thing. By making it, you will be made familiar with the distinctive color, touch and smell of leprechaun gold. At the end of class, I will test you on your ability to recognize leprechaun gold, and next week, those of you who are unsuccessful – as, I daresay, most of you will be – will hand me an essay describing how to tell leprechaun gold is not real within the time frame of one minute. What are you all waiting for? You have exactly one hour. Move on!" he hissed.

This time, despite his custom, Snape didn't prowl the passages between the desks, looking down people's cauldrons and making snide remarks, but sat at his own desk, pretending to read through a stack of fourth-year essays that needed marking, but in reality brooding. At that very moment, Dolores Umbridge was being interrogated by the Ministry Aurors, who were attempting to break into her will, make her reveal the knowledge they were all so desperate to obtain. Would she crack and when? What would she tell them? And how much time will be lost in the meantime? Ah, if only he could get access to her, perform Legilimency on her himself – however well the Clarity Draught may work, he had far more confidence in the aptitude of his own Legilimency – but of course, now that she is in the Ministry's hands, he, a former Death Eater, had no chance whatsoever to approach her. He felt a sense of foreboding and urgency as the cursed spot on his left forearm burned and stung again.

Forty-five minutes passed in silence. However, at that point, when the class began to fill with greenish-gold fumes emitting from people's cauldrons, a diversion was supplied by Dennis Creevey and Slytherin Scott Castaway, who apparently put silent hexes on each other at the back desks of Snape's class. It was Dennis's cauldron which gave them away – with a loud bangfollowing a spell from Castaway's wand, its bottom was blasted off, and both Castaway and Dennis, and all people in their vicinity stood on their chairs to avoid the rapidly spreading puddle of potion, which already made the old, rigid chairs acquire the appearance of pure, sparkling gold. Snape dried the potion with one sweep of his wand and approached the back desk, his black eyes glinting malevolently.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded in his cold, dry voice. "Creevey – explain!"

"He got me, Professor, look!" wailed Castaway, pointing at a number of ugly, green, unpleasantly pulsating boils that have erupted on his right cheek and were rapidly covering more and more of his face.

"Well, you tried to copy his work without permission, didn't you?" hissed Martin Nordholm. "He was provoked, Professor –"

"Silence." Snape cut across him. "Castaway, hospital wing, quickly. Mr. Nordholm, ten points from Gryffindor for speaking out of turn – and if you open your mouth again, I will make it twenty," he added when Samantha opened her mouth furiously. "Creevey… you stay behind after the class is over so we can settle the details of your detention. And of course, as there is nothing in your cauldron," the corners of Snape's mouth twitched maliciously, "you will receive zero for today's work."

Dennis couldn't speak. He just stood there, mouthing soundlessly, while Melissa Hanson cast him a sympathetic look and started to pack up his potion-making kit for him. She took as long as she dared, ignoring the ringing of the bell, but Snape shooed her away with the rest of the class. Holding his head up high, Dennis approached his desk, his mouth firmly set in a straight, thin line.

"Ah, Creevey," said Snape in a quiet, ominous voice. "Creevey. Thought you could do with a bit of exercise during my class, expert potioneer that you are? I regret to tell you, Mr. Creevey, that though you are no longer facing expulsion from this classroom, I am still within my right to enforce discipline here. This means detention, Creevey. Now, let's see… when should we have our cozy little get-together? A Sunday morning, when everyone are down watching a Quidditch match – should be nice and quiet, isn't that so? Or perhaps a Hogsmeade weekend?"

"Will Scott Castaway be doing his detention with me, then?" asked Dennis, doing his best to keep his face blank and his voice calm.

"How I deal with Castaway is none of your business." snapped Snape. "Be thankful I'm not taking any more points off Gryffindor. Now, as I was saying, your detention…"

At this very moment, Remus Lupin burst into the dungeon, clearly expecting to find it empty. His hair was askew and his face flushed – he was looking thoroughly excited, though he was obviously trying to hide his spirits in front of Dennis.

"Severus," he said, panting, "Thought you might be already at lunch. Minerva wants a word with both of us."

"Wait a few minutes, Lupin," replied Snape, not taking his eyes off Dennis, "we have to settle the details of Creevey's detention –"

"Oh, come, Severus!" Lupin exclaimed impatiently. "Leave the boy alone, this is far more important! I think this – this must be what we have been waiting for," he added, lowering his voice.

"Very well," said Snape irritably, casting Dennis one last look of deepest dislike. "Take your things, Creevey, and get out of my sight."

"...He let you off?" Martin's jaw dropped, and his quill hovered, suspended, over his Charms homework, which was now blotched with purple ink. "I can't believe it – he just let you off? No detention and no points taken off Gryffindor? After you left Scott Castaway's face looking like a cluster of poisonous mushrooms? Man, you know what, I think nothing like this happened in all our years with Snape – this must be your lucky day –"

"I wonder why, though," said Dennis, furrowing his eyebrow and pulling his own Charms homework towards him. "He was really enjoying himself, taunting me, until Professor Lupin came along – I thought I could say goodbye to Quidditch until end of term –"

"Perhaps he realized it would look extremely unfair if he gave you a detention while letting Castaway off?" suggested Melissa.

"Oh come on," said Martin, waving a dismissive hand, "since when has Snape cared about what it looks like when he openly favours his own house? He has been doing it ever since we know him. No, it must have been something really important, what Lupin came to tell him about – and he was clearly in a hurry to discuss it – and it was obvious he didn't want to do that in front of you."

"No, of course not," said Dennis bitterly, scribbling an opening sentence to his Charms essay, "they won't tell me anything, even though they are obviously keen to use my work to some unknown purpose. I handed my entire stock of Clarity Draught to McGonagall, thinking this would earn me some trust, but obviously I was wrong."

"You know, a lot of things are strange about Snape this term," said Melissa Hanson, thoughtfully resting her chin on her hand.

"Such as?" Martin asked dismissively, "He still looks like a nasty, bullying, greasy-haired –"

"That's just it, you see!" Melissa's voice was victorious, "Have you looked at his hair recently? It is not oily anymore – in fact it is sleek, shiny and well-combed. And his robes? Have you seen his robes?"

"Well, he always wears the same robes, doesn't he?" said Dennis, "Long and black, with a high collar and a green and silver badge – never saw him wear anything else since our first year, unless he's going down to the Quidditch pitch to cheer on Slytherin, he might put on a green scarf for the occasion –"

"Oh, you boys never notice anything, do you?" Melissa said exasperatedly, "Yes, he still wears identical black robes every day – but they are new, and there is not a crinkle on them. His robes used to look like he just took them out of a musty cupboard where they spent twenty years lying on a shelf. And the other day it got hot in the Potions classroom and he opened his collar a bit – his undershirt was pristine white, while it used to be grayish – and his shoes, it's difficult to notice because his robes are so long, but if you look carefully you'll see they're all shiny - he's definitely putting more effort into his appearance. But why?"

"Perhaps he decided that now that he's Deputy Headmaster, he ought to wash his hair once in a while?" suggested Dennis.

"Nah," said Martin, "he was Deputy Headmaster last year too, what has changed? If you ask me, this is something different. Perhaps – perhaps he's aiming for a higher rank. A job at the Ministry? I don't know… but anyway, if we're talking about Snape, Melissa, you ought to have noticed something other than his robes or hair is different."

"Oh, you have noticed it too, have you?" asked Melissa, looking pleased.

"What are you on about?" asked Dennis.

"He's been absent from the staff table at meal times much more often than usual," said Martin. Melissa nodded in agreement. "Especially at breakfast, and sometimes at dinner. Which makes me think he has some business to attend outside Hogwarts – but it can't be something to hold him away all day, because he's never missed a lesson – or lunch. But what can it be? I have no idea. And don't ask me to decipher how Snape's mind works."

And he resolutely rolled up his Charms essay, not before siphoning the inky blotch with his wand.

...Snape and Lupin were rapidly ascending the circular staircase leading to the Headmistress' office. Excited voices could be heard through the heavy oak door with the brass knocker. When they entered, they saw Professor McGonagall, who was pacing back and front, next to Kingsley Shacklebolt and Celena, who were on the edge of their seats.

"Ah, Severus and Remus!" said McGonagall. "Finally! Sit down, please. Students will probably notice our absence from lunch, but it's too urgent to postpone even by half an hour."

Snape took a seat by his wife's side, who gave him just one look, glowing with enthusiasm and excitement; Lupin sat next to Kingsley.

"You probably know why we are all here," said McGonagall. "Dolores Umbridge."

"The Aurors did it, then?" asked Lupin. "Made her reveal the location of the Death Eaters' outpost?"

"You could say as much," said McGonagall, "naturally, the place is Unplottable, and probably concealed by the Fidelius Charm as well, but now we have a pretty good guess where it is. Of course, it took grueling work on part of the Aurors – a great deal of very skilled Legilimency, even with the help of Clarity Draught – and a powerful Memory Charm. Nevertheless, we got the approximate location – their stronghold is in a forest in Bulgaria, one that is said to be favored by Gregorovitch for getting wand-making materials. And apparently, they have another favorite spot, in Albania – not far from Voldemort's last hideout – they move between the two locations."

"Is it a castle?" asked Celena.

"From what could be extracted out of Umbridge, it's a fortress. And I suppose its protection must be excellent."

"Did Umbridge tell who can be found there?" asked Lupin, "Not that we don't have our guesses already…"

"Oh, it's not that hard to guess," said Snape, his lip curling, "Bellatrix. Lucius. Nott, Avery, Macnair… the old crowd. There may be others too, of course…"

"So," said Kingsley, rubbing his hands. "What is the plan? What do we do now? I suppose some of us will have to go to Bulgaria to investigate – though I wouldn't mind grabbing a bite before that –"

"I apologize for being discourteous," said McGonagall, magicking a plate of sandwiches and cakes and a tray of dark glass bottles onto her desk. "We are going to need our strength, and I thought we all deserve a little treat, so I ordered these from The Three Broomsticks –"

"Butterbeers!" Celena exclaimed cheerfully, starting to hand round the bottles. "Just perfect for a bit of refreshment – here, Severus –"

"I don't fancy Butterbeer," said Snape through gritted teeth, pushing his bottle away, "too sweet and foamy."

"Oh come on, Severus, we are having a little celebration here, aren't we?" Celena pressed his bottle on him, uncorked her own and took a sip. It went smoothly down her throat. She always had a weakness for Butterbeer.

"As to going to Bulgaria," said Professor McGonagall, "yes, someone will have to go."

"I will go," said Kingsley in his deep, slow voice. "They'll get along without me for a few days in the Ministry."

"Who else?" asked McGonagall, "I would go myself, but obviously, as Headmistress of this school, this is out of the question. Same goes for Hagrid, he's Head of House. And Severus, too –"

"I'll go," said Celena, "I can leave Luna in charge for a couple of days, the shop is well-stocked and she's more than up to the job –"

"That would be most unwise." said Snape in an icy voice.

"Why?" Celena looked at him, her brow furrowed. "We aren't going to try to take over the Death Eaters' fortress with two wands, Severus, we're just going to do some poking around –"

"Why? Because you are my wife," he thought, "because I want to keep you here, by my side, safe in our home, safe and happy. Because I cannot bear to think something might happen to you. Because, when you are away, it is like a part of my soul is walking out of my body. It makes me vulnerable, and I hate that."

"Lupin can go," said Snape. "And I'll take his classes for him."

"I'm afraid you will have to do so in the next two days anyway, Severus," Lupin said darkly, "it's full moon tonight – and I won't be in a fit state to go anywhere. I'm traveling home by Floo powder, and intend to take some Wolfsbane potion, curl up in the basement, and spend tomorrow sleeping."

"What about the young ones, then?" Snape persisted. "Ron Weasley – or Potter – not that I would voluntarily trust them with something this important –"

"Potter and Weasley are in the middle of Ministry Auror training session, which will take two weeks," said Kingsley. "The other Weasleys are busy too."

"Kingsley and Celena will go," said McGonagall. "But remember – you will be only checking the terrain, nothing more. Do not do anything reckless, least of all attempt to tackle any Death Eaters on your own. You will take a Portkey from my office later this evening, and arrive in Bulgaria. Mr. Krum will fill you in upon your arrival."

"Krum?" squealed Celena in girlish delight. "Viktor Krum?"

"That's the one," said Kingsley airily. "An invaluable source of information and help among our Bulgarian friends."

"I had no idea he was working with us!"

"Well, he does have to be extra careful, given that he is a famous Quidditch player and it would do no good for him to be recognized while he's doing work for the Order – he's been leaning heavily on Concealment Charms and Polyjuice Potion, and wearing a hooded cloak whenever it is appropriate."

"Oh, it will be so delightful to see him again!" Celena said rapturously. "Fleur and I became such good friends with Viktor during the Triwizard Tournament year. I remember, at Fleur's wedding –"

"I think we all remember Bill and Fleur's wedding," Lupin said grimly. Everyone knew he referred to the Death Eaters crashing during the wedding party, during which they attempted to seize Harry Potter.

"Yes, Uncle, but before that, when the dancing just started –"

Her husband shot her a dangerous look.

"Let us just get on discussing what must be done, shall we?"

In the hours between the end of lessons and dinner, Snape paced around his Hogsmeade home, watching his wife pack.

"Just for a day or two, Professor McGonagall said – so I'll only take one set of spare robes, I think – now, where have all my stockings gone?.. And where's my toothbrush? Sev, have you seen my toothbrush?"

"I think you left it on the mantelpiece." He said coolly. "Don't ask me why."

Celena let go of her traveling bag, into which she previously crammed a bottle of shampoo, and looked at Snape. Her face was shining with excitement.

"My first ever mission abroad, Severus! It's not anything big, I know, but…"

"It's not a daytrip either," he said, sounding slightly exasperated. "And if I had my way, you wouldn't be in the Order at all."

"Oh, nonsense! How could I bear to be left out when you, Hagrid, my uncle and his wife, Bill and Fleur –"

"Listen," he said, stepping closer and seizing her by the shoulders. "Please do not go poking around more than necessary."

Celena smiled and wrapped her arms around him.

"Don't worry. I will send you an owl when I arrive."

"Don't," he said, "owls might be intercepted on such a long journey, and the Floo network might be watched. Just be careful, Celena.'