Author's Notes - Hi! My parent's came to my home for Thanksgiving and we had a wonderful, relaxing visit. If you celebrated the holiday, I hope it was a good one for you, too. So, yes, this chapter is short and late, but don't worry, they'll be plenty of action in the next one. Hope you enjoy!
Standing near the Hogwarts Express on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Severus Snape fingered his wand. He didn't like the crowds milling about. There were too many potential victims should Voldemort's mysterious servant decide to attack the train.
After a discreet conversation with Corbin Avery, he had learned that none of the Death Eaters who had participated in the "fun" of the Quidditch World Cup had cast the Dark Mark. The Mark had in fact scared them witless, with good reason. While the Dark Lord still held the loyalty of the true believers, many, like Avery the younger, were secretly glad he was gone. The pointed reminder that he might not be had shocked the wizards behind the ridiculous masks as much as it had terrified the masses.
"Professor? Why don't you find a compartment on the train? You look a little tired."
Looking down at Rose, he smiled, although he was far too preoccupied to put much effort into it.
"In a moment. Why don't you find a compartment and save me a seat? I'd rather not be forced to sit with a bunch of dunderhead first years."
"Yeah, that probably wouldn't end well."
Even as she joked, she anxiously tugged at her bracelet. Grimacing, he suppressed his guilt for having deceived her. Rose thought his bout with Phoenix Flu quite real, and had hovered anxiously by his side the last two weeks of the summer holidays. If only she were better at hiding her emotions the deceit would not have been necessary.
With a long, backwards glance, she reluctantly rejoined the Grangers and the Weasleys. She spoke earnestly to Molly, who shot him a worried look. He pretended not to notice. The kindhearted Weasley matriarch was the last person he wished to see. She, too, thought him still recovering from a serious illness, and he had no desire to listen to her well-intentioned lecture.
Oh, what a tangled web we weave, he thought grimly to himself. Even Arthur believed his illness to be a horrible coincidence. Normally, he'd chalk it up to Gryffindor gullibility, but no one in their right mind would fake a disease as severe as Phoenix Flu. He blamed it on the mutt's reckless influence and Narcissa's over eagerness to prove herself.
Speak of the devil, his two cohorts approached—Narcissa with a smile and Sirius with his tongue lolling from his open mouth. He had to admit the Marauder made a handsome Irish wolfhound. Draco held him imperiously on a tight leash, which brought a smirk to Severus' face. The young Slytherin appeared positively gleeful.
Draco deserved some fun. The last two weeks had been difficult for the Malfoy heir. The Aurors had quickly cleared him of complicity in the casting of the Dark Mark, but Rita Skeeter had printed a lurid piece in The Daily Prophet suggesting he followed closely in his father's footsteps. Snape feared the teen would be shunned by the more moderate members of his House. He could only hope the boy's friendship with Rose would not exacerbate the situation.
Narcissa stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek as she laced her fingers with his. Although they'd discussed the need for discretion well into the early morning, he didn't have the strength to disentangle himself. As much as he feared for Rose's safety, he worried about the older witch's wellbeing. He'd long argued that she should take a flat in London rather than return to Malfoy Manor once term began, but as of yet, she had not followed his advice.
"Narcissa, I—"
The train's whistle blew in warning, and the goodbye speech Snape had planned flew out of his head. Impulsively, he embraced her, and she clung to him for a long minute before letting him go with a sniff.
"You'd best go, both of you."
Giving her son a quick hug, she fled the platform before Severus could say anything else. The three wizards shared a troubled look (a singularly pitiful expression on a wolfhound) and then hurried onto the train.
Crabbe and Goyle accosted Draco as soon as he stepped inside.
"We saved you a seat," Vincent Crabbe proudly announced. "Knew you wouldn't appreciate sharing a compartment with Pansy."
Severus could see Draco stiffen, but the Slytherin pasted on a smile and thanked his friends. He left Snape without a backwards glance, authoritatively yanking the leash when the mutt would have lingered. Wary of the oafs' treatment of both boy and dog, Severus watched as they walked down the train, but Crabbe and Goyle seemed friendly enough.
Before he could begin his search for Rose's compartment, Fred and George Weasley spotted him, waving wildly for him to follow.
"Professor Snape! Rose is this way!"
The students still milling about all turned at Fred's shout, but one rather pointed look of irritation from Snape had them scurrying to find their own seats. By the time he caught up to the twins, sweat dampened his collar. He'd have to owl Narcissa to praise her detailed charms after that night's Welcoming Feast.
When the boys saw him, their cheery smiles faltered. Again, he ignored his twinge of guilt.
"The compartment's in the third car, Professor."
"But, we would gladly intimidate the group of firsties in this car into giving up their seats."
"Yeah," Fred added earnestly, "Mum said to make sure you didn't overdo, and if you don't mind me saying so, sir, you look like you're about to keel over."
"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, I have no intention of keeling over. Lead the way."
Fred exchanged a long look with his brother, who simply shrugged. The two Gryffindors walked slowly in front of him, allowing their supposedly ailing Potions Master ample time to catch his breath as they made their way to the front of the train. Instead, Snape studied the groups which occupied the various compartments.
Depressingly, Slytherins sat exclusively with Slytherins. In fact, he saw more than one compartment overflowing because those students would rather be cramped than share a compartment with those of Salazar's House. Upon closer scrutiny, most of the young witches and wizards had chosen to sit with their House mates. Here and there, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors mixed, but even then, it was a rarity.
Briefly, he closed his eyes, overcome by regret. He remembered his first journey on the Hogwarts Express all too clearly. He'd been so keen to be sorted into Slytherin that he hadn't even considered the possibility that Lily wouldn't be sorted there, too. Black's arrogant speech should have been his first clue, but he'd refused to listen, refused to acknowledge any reality but his own. If he could change the past, he would beg the Sorting Hat to place him anywhere but his current House.
"It's just a little bit farther, Professor."
His eyes flew open at the sound of Rose's voice. How had he missed her approach? He must have been woolgathering for far longer than he thought. The Weasley twins were nowhere to be seen, but Hermione Granger and Ginerva Weasley hovered anxiously at the door to an open compartment.
"I am fine, Rose. There are simply too many memories on this train."
"Any good ones?" Biting her lip, she led him to his seat. He allowed her to fuss over him for a moment before answering.
"I was remembering the first time I rode the Hogwarts Express. I'd never seen your mother so excited."
"Oh. Did you ever sit with her on the train again?"
The two other girls politely pretended to be engaged in their own conversation, but Severus didn't care if they overheard.
"No, after we were Sorted, everything became more difficult. We used to meet by prearranged accident at the tea trolley. None of our friends would have understood how a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could enjoy each other's company." Pointedly, he looked at the two girls sitting across from them. "I am thankful you have better friends."
Hermione unexpectedly spoke up. "Do you think it would be better if students weren't Sorted, Professor?"
The question took him aback. He'd fantasized of changing Houses, dreamed of Lily being Sorted into Slytherin, but he'd never once thought of what might happen if Hogwarts simply didn't Sort its students.
"I am uncertain as to whether would be better, but it would be different, Miss Granger. One thing I have learned from my years teaching at Hogwarts, however, is that change comes very slowly to the wizarding world. You might as well ask the goblins to give away their gold as advocate the abolishment of the Houses. Fair or not, House affiliation follows you well past your school years. Many Slytherins have been granted apprenticeships based on shared House affiliation rather than their own merit."
"But that's not fair."
He stifled a snort at the girl's indignation. Hermione had yet to learn the harsh lesson that many things in life would never be fair. The Ministry of Magic was a bureaucracy, not a meritocracy. And the rest of the wizarding world was little better.
The bookish Gryffindor opened her mouth to deliver what Severus could only assume to be a very sanctimonious speech when Ginny Weasley quickly interjected.
"Fair or not, Hermione, I for one am glad we get Sorted. Can you imagine having to share a dorm with Millicent Bulstrode or Luna Lovegood? You'd be sleeping in the library."
"Luna's not so bad, Ginny." At Hermione's scoff, Rose added, "Really, she's not. She's just a little different."
"How do you know her, Rose? Isn't she in Ginny's year?"
Not wishing to hear any more idle gossip about the students he taught, Severus rested his head against the window and promptly fell asleep to the soothing rhythm of the train. Only the arrival of the tea cart some hours later woke him. Not hungry, he didn't bother to move from his semi-comfortable position, and the teens thought him still asleep.
"How is he, really?" he heard Hermione say in a quiet voice.
He had a feeling the girls weren't discussing Black's rather public confrontation with Barty Crouch two days ago in the middle of Diagon Alley. No, he had to be the topic of idle gossip, and by the way Rose had pressed herself against him, he guessed that at least one more student had joined the group. Resigned, he continued to feign sleep.
"Stubborn as always. He keeps pretending he's fine, but you saw him. He can barely walk the length of the train."
"Yeah, but we're talking about Snape, Rose. He'd rather die than admit to being weak."
"That's not helping, Ronald."
"What?" the new addition to the compartment asked indignantly. "You know it's true. Last year he was crippled after that Potions accident, but he still insisted on teaching."
"Honestly, Ron. How thick can you be? It wasn't a Potions accident. He was hurt saving Rose's life."
"He what? Why didn't anyone tell me? What happened, Rose? You uncle finally snap?"
"Keep quiet! You're going to wake him up!"
Hermione's hissed warning amused Severus greatly. The young witch's whispers were almost as loud as a shout. No one, however, seemed overly concerned that he would actually wake. Did he truly appear that exhausted?
In a much lower voice, Ron asked, "What happened? Mum worried about you before we left for Egypt, but Dad didn't think your relatives would actually hurt you."
"No, just starve her," Ginny muttered angrily. Then, obviously responding to Rose's expression, she defensively added, "You know it's true, Rose. Mum debated taking you to St. Mungo's after Fred and George rescued you from your relatives that time with the car."
There was a lengthy silence interspersed with much shuffling. By then, the Potions Master was too curious to end his charade. What would Rose say about her attack?
"Look, Ron, I'm sorry, but I just didn't want to make a big deal about it. I didn't even tell Hermione; she guessed. Some friends of Dudley's decided to kick the stuffing out of me last year. Snape found me after it was over and was injured for his efforts. So, it's my fault he could barely walk, not some Potions accident."
"Dudley? Your cousin Dudley? Why would you let a bunch of his Muggle friends beat you up? And, how'd they manage to hurt Snape? He's, like, some dueling legend."
Rose let out a tiny cry of distress as (from the sound of it) Hermione smacked Ron on the forearm. Not caring about her voice level, she screeched at her friend
"Out! Get out, Ronald Weasley, until you learn not to be such a bloody git! Rose didn't let anyone do anything! I doubt she even had her wand! Don't you dare blame her!"
Severus sat up just as the bushy-haired girl chased Ronald Weasley outside. Ginny gave Rose an apologetic pat on the arm before trailing more slowly behind.
"Sorry, Professor. We didn't mean to wake you."
"Don't apologize. And, don't fret. I'm—"
"Fine. Yeah, you said. Might be more convincing, though, if you weren't as pale as the Bloody Baron."
"That bad? I must look in mirrors more often. But, then, vampires can't see their reflections."
"Very funny," she groused even though her spirits seemed to lift. "Have you heard anything about this Dark Mark everyone seems to be so upset about?"
He raised his eyebrow at her question, although he suspected it was a diversionary tactic.
"You aren't upset?"
Shrugging, she looked out the window. "Not really. It's just a symbol. I guess I'm more upset about Mr. Roberts, but at least his family wasn't there. I thought maybe you'd heard about what happened that night from one of your Death Eater friends."
"Hardly my friends, Rose. Besides, I have not been up to entertaining company lately."
"That's one way to put it." She paused, and then asked in a much softer voice, "You aren't cross with me, are you? I didn't tell Hermione; honestly, I didn't, Professor. She really did just guess."
"Why would I be cross? Miss Granger is very perceptive. I meant what I said earlier, you are lucky to have such a good friend."
"I used to have two," she grumbled to herself.
He squashed the impulse to compare Ronald Weasley to a troll. Instead, he found himself defending the impulsive young wizard. "In his own way, Mr. Weasley means well, Rose. I recall he stood beside you in your second year when many thought you the Heir of Slytherin."
"I guess. But, he doesn't seem so loyal now that I'm dating a Slytherin."
"Have you ever considered that he might be jealous?"
"Of Draco? Why? Draco's life was worse than mine! At least I could tell myself that Uncle Vernon wasn't actually related to me. No matter what lies Aunt Petunia told me, I always knew my parents loved me. Lucius thought Draco a huge disappointment, and he has the scars to prove it."
"But to the outside world, Draco is a wealthy, spoiled pure-blood who has been given every advantage."
"You think Ron's jealous because Draco's family has more money than his?"
"I think it plays a part."
He also suspected the boy had feelings for Rose that went beyond friendship, but he wasn't about to voice that suspicion aloud. Why else would the young wizard spend so much time in her and Granger's company?
"Maybe. Or maybe Ron's just being an immature git. Either way, I wish he'd grow up."
Snape didn't have an answer for that.
Sitting at the Head Table, Severus picked at his food as he ignored the concerned glances the other members of the staff kept throwing him. Reunited with his colleagues, he couldn't conceive how any one of them could possibly be a faithful servant of the Dark Lord. Even the embittered Squib Argus Filch would never dream of betraying any student to a wizard like Lord Voldemort.
He listened without interest to the conversation swirling around him. Most of it concerned the Quidditch World Cup, a subject he knew far better than anyone sitting at the table. The rest involved speculation about who would be picked as the Hogwarts champion for the TriWizard Tournament. It was ridiculously easy to ignore such conjecture since no one from Slytherin stood a chance in hell of being chosen.
Once he'd given up on dinner, his eyes found Rose. She appeared to have forgiven Ronald Weasley if the seating arrangements that night were any indication. Ron and Hermione sat across from her while Fred and George Weasley sat on either side. Mildly surprised, Severus wondered why the twins would wish to spend time with a fourth year rather than reacquaint themselves with their peers. A vaguely alarming thought passed through his head before he dismissed it as absurd.
Casually, his eyes swept the Slytherin table. Crabbe and Goyle sat next to Draco, but the spaces across from them were empty. Pansy sat on the opposite end of the table with Milicent Bulstrode as her only companion. Most ate without looking left or right, and the tension at the long table was a palpable force. Frowning, he vowed to interrogate Black at the first opportunity. He wouldn't tolerate a repeat of last year's bullying.
When the plates disappeared, Snape paid scant attention to the Headmaster's announcements, focusing instead on the reaction of the student body to the news that Quidditch had been cancelled in favor of the TriWizard Tournament. While there were angry shouts from all sides, even his Slytherins perked up when Dumbledore announced the grand prize of one thousand galleons.
The announcement was almost overshadowed by the arrival of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Alastor Moody did know how to make an entrance; he would be gossip fodder amongst the students for days to come. The ex-Auror sat on the opposite end of the table, close to Hagrid and Dumbledore. Snape had no occasion to welcome him to Hogwarts. Instead, as soon as the students were dismissed, the Headmaster demanded his attention.
"Severus, a word in my office, if you don't mind."
He did mind, but he had missed the beginning of year staff meeting, and no doubt Dumbledore had more than a few instructions he needed to impart. As they slowly made their way to the Headmaster's office, Snape had to suppress several caustic remarks. For some reason, Albus paused to comment on almost every picture, making their trek an agonizing crawl rather than the Headmaster's usual brisk pace. Frankly, Severus didn't care to know how many times Merlin's image had been painted during the Renaissance, but the older wizard enlightened him nonetheless.
Finally, they arrived at the stone gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's domain. With a quietly whispered "sugar quill" they ascended the steps leading to Albus' office. Surprisingly, however, Dumbledore led him past his desk and gestured for the Potions Master to enter his private quarters.
"Please sit, my boy. I apologize for dragging you here, but I didn't know if you'd given Rose access to your rooms. What I have to say is best left between us."
He sat at the table the Headmaster indicated, and a bowl of steaming chicken soup immediately appeared in front of him. It was the second time that evening that the old man had managed to surprise him. Looking up, he raised an eyebrow.
Dumbledore peered sheepishly over his half-moon spectacles. "You barely touched your dinner, Severus. I know loss of appetite is one of the lingering effects of Phoenix Flu, but I thought something lighter might tempt you."
Obediently, he tasted a spoonful. Now that he was not obsessing over which staff member might actually be in the Dark Lord's employ, he found himself ravenous. He had finished half the bowl before he realized that the Headmaster hadn't spoken a word.
Abruptly, he understood and looked to his mentor in shocked disbelief. "You're concerned! You rambled on about those bloody portraits so I wouldn't tire myself walking here. You were sitting too far away to possibly notice what I did or did not eat. Please tell me you haven't enlisted the house-elves to spy on me."
The older wizard's eyes twinkled with mirth. "I have not, although the idea is tempting." Rapidly, sobering, he placed his arm on the younger man's shoulder. "Everyone is concerned, my boy. The high fever alone—"
Feeling very uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken, he quietly interrupted. "My Healer declared me fit, Albus. Appearances aside, I assure you that I am more than capable of teaching my classes."
"It's not your classes I'm worried about, Severus. When are you going to understand how much you mean to me, my boy?"
Much later, he would acknowledge that some part of him had understood Albus' meaning exactly. His conscious mind, however, was not prepared for such a revelation. Irritably, he dismissed the Headmaster's declaration.
"I am well aware of my value as your spy, Albus. I know you were disappointed when I took in Rose for exactly that reason, but certain events of this summer have led me to believe that I may yet—"
"Severus."
The pain in his mentor's voice stopped him short. Dumbledore took advantage of his bewilderment to speak. As he did, his eyes never left his Potions Master.
"I know I have done little to earn your trust over the past year, but I have never been prouder of you, my boy. I marveled at your ability to care for the child of your rival even as I began to fear that you would care too much. I admit to being astounded and overjoyed that you have overcome the injustices of the past, your friendship with Sirius Black being the prime example. When Kingsley told me you had taken ill with Phoenix Flu, it was all I could do not to Apparate through Black's wards and take you to St. Mungo's myself."
The older man's voice wavered as he gently gripped a stunned Severus Snape by the shoulders.
"Perhaps it is my fault for assuming you understood all these years, but your value to me does not lie in your worth as a spy, nor does it depend on your continued employment at Hogwarts. Haven't you realized that by now, Severus? You are the son I never had, and the thought you dying ignorant of my regard has plagued me these past two weeks. So, please pardon an old man's foolishness, but I took the liberty of contacting your N.E.W.T. level students by owl before the beginning of term. They have all volunteered to serve as teaching assistants in your lower level classes for the next month."
The sound of his pulse pounded in his ears. As much as he had desired Lily's forgiveness, he had craved the approval of the man sitting across from him. To hear it now after fearing his recent actions had become a source of permanent friction stole the breath from his lungs. After a long moment, however, he realized Dumbledore awaited his response.
"For the first time, Albus, you have left me quite speechless. I truly do not know what to say."
The twinkle returned to the old man's eye. Standing, he smiled benevolently at Severus. "You needn't say anything, my boy. The expression on your face truly said it all. Finish your soup while I tell you the latest information I have about Bertha Jorkins' disappearance."
After Dumbledore revealed that his agent had found no trace of the witch, the two went on to discuss the meaning of Rose's vision. Although the Headmaster tried to hide it, he was obviously disturbed by the girl's ability to see the Dark Lord's movements. However, he refused to speculate on possible causes. Nor would he speculate on the identity of the Dark Lord's servant, although Dumbledore did suggest that one of the staff might be possessed like Quirrel or Imperiused. Neither explanation satisfied Snape, who had experienced that part of the dream through Rose's eyes. However, after a scant half hour, the Headmaster insisted he retire to his rooms to rest for the first day of classes.
"As soon as I speak to my Slytherins."
"Of course. I'm sure they're anxious to see you as well. Just promise me you won't spend the rest of the night brewing. You need your rest."
"And, the Hospital Wing needs fresh potions, but I will accede to your wishes tonight. Sleeping on the train was not as restful as I had hoped."
The Headmaster chuckled as he led him to the door. "No, I imagine not."
Standing on the stone steps as they descended to the seventh floor, Snape's thoughts were conflicted. He suspected Dumbledore had been quite cagey when discussing the meaning of Rose's nightmare. He had the distinct impression the powerful wizard knew exactly why the teen experienced such disturbing visions.
To be fair, Severus had kept his own secrets. While he was touched and flattered by the Headmaster's admission, he had never considered confessing that his bout of Phoenix Flu was nothing more than a ploy to protect Rose. Nor had he mentioned that Black would have the run of Slytherin House as an Irish Wolfhound. While he admired and respected—even loved—the old man, he refused to allow such sentiment to compromise Rose's security.
Like father, like son, he decided with a smirk.