The library study hall was crowded on Tuesday evening. The atmosphere was warm and cheery, particularly in contrast to the pounding rain that lashed the stained glass windows. They had fogged over, which increased the feeling of snug comfort. The distant and tinny sound of Muggle pop music wafted over to their table, making Wilkes scowl.

Normally, on an evening like tonight, the other Slytherin boys would have snuck out to Hogsmeade, or would be drinking smuggled Firewhiskey in some deserted corner of the castle. However, tonight, the sixth-year boys, along with Severus, were huddled together in a shadowy corner of the hall. Severus had elected to help Mulciber with some of his remedial Potions homework, a kindness he was now thoroughly regretting. Though dastardly clever, Mulciber was a terrible student, and Severus had his own work to be getting on with.

"You cannot add the aconite before the moonstone," he said, rubbing his forehead. "It would completely negate the effect that the potion attempts to achieve."

"I don't get this stuff, Snape. Why does the order matter?"

Severus avoided giving voice to the sharp remark that was on the tip of his tongue, and instead crossed out the offending paragraph in Mulciber's essay. He leant back on his chair, his eyes scanning the room as the ink dried. The library was crowded with students. Through a crack in the shelves, he caught a glimpse of a young Ravenclaw girl, her hair wet from a bath. She was laughing with her friends, but for some reason, the sight of her damp hair bunched around her face him feel ill. He let his eyes return to the parchment to Mulciber's uninspiring prose. Severus was busy correcting yet another erroneous paragraph when he heard Avery whistle between his teeth.

Severus looked up, and it felt like someone had grabbed his heart. She had just passed them, her arms laden with books.

"Hey gorgeous," Mulciber called. He pulled a lewd face at her. Lily didn't even acknowledge him, continuing to walk to the returns section as if she hadn't heard anything. Severus knew better. He felt an unpleasant swooping feeling in his stomach.

"Posh little Mudblood slut," said Mulciber, dismissively. "You know what I'd like to do to her?"

Severus prayed she wasn't still in earshot. Why had she come past them, anyway? Trying to act casually, he pushed his books back into his satchel, hoping to escape the conversation unnoticed.

He had no such luck.

"Did I hurt your feelings?" called Mulciber, mockery evident in his tone. Severus didn't say anything. "Don't you know what men do to women? You're not a queer, are you? I had my suspicions."

The other boys laughed. Severus stood up, kicking his chair back, face still blank. Mulciber grinned, and spread his hands expansively.

"Don't be like that, Snape. I was joking. I need help with this assignment!" He lowered his voice, and grabbed Severus by the sleeve, his breath hot in Severus's ear. "We'll take you out sometime; find you a nice Muggle girl to practice on, if that's your type."

Severus wrenched his arm away, and Mulciber stopped laughing. So did the other boys. He could feel their eyes on him as he left the hall.

The following morning dawned as cold and bleak as the one that preceded it. The sixth year boys' dormitory was quiet when Severus awoke. He lay with his eyes shut for several minutes, hoping – not for the first time - that when he opened them, he would be somewhere different. The other boys had gone down to breakfast without him. He wouldn't have minded, but they could have woken him up. As it was, there was no time for breakfast. He had to run to Herbology. His book bag slapped heavily against his legs. Overnight, the sodden ground had frozen solid. In his haste, he slipped on the icy cobblestones, twisting his knee. Limping, he pushed open the door to Greenhouse Three.

"Good morning," said the dumpy Herbology professor, the chill in her voice matching the morning's weather. The class turned to look at him. He took an uncertain step forwards. The other Slytherins were already crowded together on single a table. There was no space left for him.

"Mr. Snape, kindly take a seat," said Sprout, her tone sharper. Severus fidgeted in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

A lanky Ravenclaw boy shifted slightly on his bench, so that there was room beside him. Weak-kneed with relief, Severus collapsed next to him, hanging his hair forward to hide his face. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck. Why hadn't the others saved him a seat?

"Severus, yes?" asked the other boy, quietly, when Sprout had finished her opening lecture.

He spoke in a quiet, clipped voice, as though he chose every word very carefully. It reminded Severus of the way his father spoke.

"Yes," said Snape, uncertainly. The blush crept back into his cheeks. He wasn't used to talking to new people.

"I am Chang Tsai."

"Sigh?"

"Tsai," repeated the boy. "Just call me Chang. Everybody does."

Severus nodded. He wanted to thank the boy for offering him a seat, but he couldn't think of the right words without sounding stupid, so he said nothing.

They were supposed to be re-potting miniature willows- regrown from cuttings of the larger tree in the grounds. The pale, wriggling roots made Severus think unpleasantly of dead fingers. His unwillingness to grasp them firmly meant that a thin branch escaped his grip and whacked him across the face when he wasn't looking. The blow didn't have much force, but the surprise of it knocked him off the slice of the bench he had perched on, colliding with the Slytherin table behind him.

"Do pay attention, Snape!" said Sprout. Luckily, the greenhouse was so crowded that no-one except she and the Slytherin boys noticed his fall. He peered at her out of the eye that hadn't begun to swell. Avery took one look at him and burst out laughing.

"You look like your favourite teacher," he said, smirking. Severus glared, and cast a charm to reverse the swelling and numb the pain. He blinked a few times, and checked his reflection in the back of a silver spade. There was a slight redness on the left side of his face, but aside from that, his face looked as normal as it ever did.

"Pity he can't fix your eyes too," said Avery, and laughed again. Severus realised he was speaking to Chang. The other boy looked at his long brown fingers resting on the table, and said nothing at all.

Even a positive person would have difficulty finding a good thing to say about the remainder of the week, and Severus was not by any means a positive person. During his lessons, and after hours, Severus often found himself looking out a window, or merely staring into space, absorbing nothing of what was going on around him. His mind kept drifting back to the girl that had appeared out of the Ottoman.

Potter and Black took advantage of his distracted state to torment him more than usual. On Friday morning, he couldn't get his Wiggenweld Draught to thicken, which earned him an uncharacteristic rebuke from Slughorn. Severus put it down to the distraction that had dogged him all term, until he realised Black had been levitating eel hearts into his potion while his back was turned.

"Severus, may I speak with you?" called Slughorn, at the end of the lesson. Suppressing a groan, Severus hung his head and waited for the classroom to empty. Black cast him a contemptuous glance as he passed, which Severus did his best to ignore.

"Something wrong, Severus?" asked Slughorn. "You know, your marks haven't quite been up to snuff this year."

"Sorry, Sir," he muttered. He let his hair fall to cover his face, painfully aware of the shortened tuft near the front. He wanted to explain what he had been trying to do with the potion - there were some possible therapeutic aspects of the draught that he thought were hitherto unexplored, particularly if combined with the transformative effects of Polyjuice. Even a year ago, he would have thrilled in explaining this to Slughorn. Now, however, the words didn't seem to come. Instead, he shrugged mutely. What was the matter with him?

"You know, I'm having a gathering on Saturday night, if you would like to-"

"No," said Severus, so quickly that it was rude. He blushed, and tried to remedy the situation. "I, er... have another engagement." This was completely untrue, but he couldn't bear to spend a second in Potter's company that could be better spent alone.

"In that case, perhaps it would be better if you spent a little more time studying instead of whatever other... engagements... are occupying your time."

Severus nodded, digging his nails into his palm. After that, he couldn't face his afternoon classes, and went back to the dormitory to sulk.

The elves had lit a fire in the grate. Severus sat cross-legged on the bed and pulled out a sheaf of parchment.

Dear Lucius, he began. He scowled, and Vanished the scrawl. To Lucius Malfoy, he wrote. Upon my most recent encounter with Professor Makepeace, I discovered –

His quill hovered above the page. He looked at what he had written for a long time, before laying down his quill and scrunching the parchment into a ball. He tossed it into the fire, which consumed it with a satisfying flare and crackle.

Severus stood up. Glancing over at Avery's bedside clock, Severus saw that it was nearly two thirty. There was a bit of space in the dormitory. He wasn't wearing his shoes, and could feel the cold flagstones beneath his feet. Wriggling his toes and straightening his back, he held out his wand.

"Protego," he said.

He hadn't shouted the spell, nor cast it nonverbally. He said it in his normal speaking voice. Unlike the previous time he had tried it, he didn't try and make the charm as strong as possible. It left the faintest ripple in the air, visible to him only because he knew it was there.

Severus held the spell until ten minutes past three.

He slept very late on Saturday, and stumbled to the common room when it was already well past noon. A fresh crop of pimples had sprung up on his cheeks, and his hair was somehow both greasy and unruly, sticking up in all directions. The common room was about half full, but there was no sign of the other sixth-years. He found a quiet corner and pulled out his writing materials.

Almost immediately, as though he had sensed that Severus had wanted to get some productive work done, Regulus Black appeared at his shoulder.

"Afternoon, Snape," he said.

Snape frowned. Although his mind was buzzing, the parchment in front of him was blank. No matter how long he stared at it, no words came to him.

"What do you want?" he asked, tearing his eyes away.

Black smiled broadly. This made him look a lot like his older brother, which did not improve Severus's mood. "Cheerful, aren't you, Snape." Severus didn't dignify that with a response. "I need a favour."

"I don't do favours," said Severus. He turned back to his empty parchment.

"Right, then I need to hire you." Regulus smiled again as Severus turned back to him. "I need to write my essay on Polyjuice potion. It has to be ready by Monday at eleven. And it needs to be graded Acceptable."

"I can get you an Outstanding with ease."

"No!" said Regulus, at once. "It needs to be Acceptable. Any higher will be suspicious."

"How much?" Snape said. Regulus winked at him.

"I thought six Sickles was fair."

"No."

"A Galleon? If it gets an A, I'll hire you for the rest of the semester. "

Seveurs hesitated and then held out his hand. "Payment up front. Also, it needs to be in your handwriting. Slughorn knows mine too well."

Regulus pulled out a battered quill. "Use this. I've charmed it to write in my handwriting."

Severus sighed. "Black, with the amount of effort you squander on not doing your homework you could-"

"I know. Who are you, my mother?"

"You will, of course, eventually need to study for the exam."

"I'll just cram. I only need to pass. Slughorn likes me, he'll accept me into NEWT classes no problem. "

Mutely, Severus accepted both quill and coin. As soon as Regulus had left, he dipped the charmed quill in ink, and began to write.

If only his letter to Lucius would come as easy as forged Potions assignments did.

By the time Regulus's essay was finished, Severus's body was filled with nervous energy. He rolled the parchment and stuffed it into his bag. For once, he didn't feel like staying underground. The weight of the castle rested heavily on his shoulders, and he felt a sudden urge to go upwards.

The castle was very busy, as students were unwilling to venture out into the frost-gripped grounds. Severus walked unacknowledged through the crowded hallways, hardly thinking about where he was going. Strange thoughts and images chased themselves through his mind – the stiffness in Lily's posture as Mulciber had called to her, Potter and Black laughing at him in Potions, the Boggart disguised as a helpless girl-

Severus stopped. Without really thinking, his legs had carried him to the seventh floor corridor. He stood in the empty corridor, unsure of what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Makepeace...

Or was it?

After the strange events of the previous lesson, Severus had avoided all contact with the professor. At mealtimes, he kept his eyes firmly on his food for fear that Makepeace would catch his eye. He didn't want to think about the horrible apparition that had appeared to both of them. Severus could make an educated guess about who she was – or had been – but he felt that it would be quite impudent to ask about her. The professor had been furious the last time Severus had asked about his family... but that might have just been because Severus had forced himself, uninvited, into Makepeace's most personal memories.

Would the professor be just as angry if Severus had just asked? He had said something to that effect, hadn't he? I don't mind talking about it, really, he had said.

The distant sound of voices and laughed echoed down the corridor, startling him from his reverie. The imminent arrival of curious Gryffindors helped Severus make up his mind, and he entered Makepeace's classroom without knocking, as was his habit. The room seemed deserted, but as the door swung shut behind him, Severus heard a rustling on the mezzanine level above him. He sniffed. The air held the distinct smell of cigarette smoke, though it was faint.

"Professor?" he called, uncertainly.

"Come on up," Makepeace's voice called back. Hesitantly, Severus climbed the stairs.

He was worried Makepeace would ask why he was there, or what he wanted, but the professor seemed unfazed by his sudden arrival. He was sitting on the sofa, feet propped confidently on the table on front of him. A plate of toast was balanced on his knees and a large and steaming pot of tea sat next to his unlaced boots.

"Good afternoon," said Severus, stiffly. He felt suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. His eyes scanned the room, noting the many trinkets and trying to find anything of interest –

"Is that the Sorting Hat?" he asked. Makepeace nodded, his mouth full of toast and jam. "What's it doing here?"

Swallowing, the professor dabbed a corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. "I've been borrowing it."

This was the usual enigmatic answer he'd come to expect from the professor. Knowing that he was unlikely to get more information out of him, Severus moved to a slightly different tack. "Which House were you in?" He tried to sound casual, as if the question was of no great importance, though it sounded forced to his own ears. The answer would help his afterhours "research" immensely.

"You're a smart boy, Severus, I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Gryffindor," he said, at once, and Makepeace smiled. The professor opened the sugar bowl, and heaped several large spoonfuls of sugar into his tea. Severus pulled a face, but Makepeace, unperturbed, stirred his tea three times before replying.
"The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I asked to be put in Gryffindor. We had an argument about it actually."

Severus's breath caught. The situation Makepeace had described was exactly what had happened to him when he'd first come to Hogwarts – though in reverse, of course. It was so similar, in fact, that Severus wondered if somehow Makepeace had known that. Was this confession just another one of his tricks?

"Why?" he asked.

"Mmm?"

"Why did you ask to be put in Gryffindor?"

"Oh. Childish naiveté really. Though luckily it turned out to be just the place for me. Do you want some toast?"

Severus looked at the remaining toast. The bread was thickly cut and slathered in butter and jam. He realised he hadn't eaten all day, but for some reason, the sight of the food made him nauseous. He shook his head. Makepeace grabbed another piece and swallowed it in two bites.

Severus realised that he didn't have to ask about the girl. They could go on as before, their lessons comprised of an awkward mix of antagonistic and friendly banter. He could show Makepeace the shield charm he'd been practicing, and Makepeace would be suitably impressed and show him an interesting charm in return. They never had to mention the Boggart again.

But Severus wanted to know. He needed to know. Not so he could write a letter to Lucius, either. Something told him that it was important.

Severus sat down gingerly, twisting his hands in his lap. Makepeace left his teacup and walked to look over the balustrade. From the mezzanine, they could just see out the magnificent window onto the grounds. Delicate spirals of steam escaped from the cooling tea.

"Sir?" he asked. Makepeace didn't respond, but Severus knew he was listening. His heart fluttered with nervousness, but nevertheless, he plunged forward with what he suddenly realised he had come here to ask.

"What happened to Lily?" he asked.

"I've no idea. She's probably eating dinner in the Great Hall."

Severus shut his eyes. "I mean the other Lily. Your daughter. What happened to her?"

Makepeace didn't reply at first. He continued staring out over the grounds. Severus could only see half his face; the half that had been mutilated by a scar.

When Severus had almost given up hope of him replying, his professor spoke.

"She was murdered," he said.

For a few seconds, there was silence, except for the blood pounding in Severus's eardrums. "I'm sorry," he said. He couldn't think of anything else to say. He regretted his decision to come here, and to pry into things that didn't concern him. Makepeace was right. It wasn't his business. He stood up, ready to leave.

"Wait," said Makepeace. Severus froze.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I shouldn't have- It's not my- I'm sorry."

Makepeace ran his hands across his face, and through his untidy, greying hair.

"I may as well tell you the whole of it, if you're so intent on hearing the story."

He said it with such tiredness that Severus wanted to protest even more. "It's alright," he said. "If you don't want to tell me-"

Makepeace turned to him at last. "It's fine," he said. "It'll do you good." He took a deep breath, as though steeling himself. Severus balled his fists in the pockets of his robe. Was there anything he hated more than this sort of interaction? Why did he force himself into these stupid situations?

"I used to worry about my children," said Makepeace. "All the time. I worried about my boys, of course, but I worried about Lily the most. I used to lie awake at night, waiting for her to come home. One night, she didn't."

Severus didn't feel able to look at Makepeace's face, so he looked at his hands instead. No one had ever shared anything this personal with him, and he found it intensely embarrassing.

In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, he thought.

"Who did it?" he asked.

"A boy she met at school."

"Why?"

Makepeace looked at him, as though he were weighing Severus up. "Probably because he was in love with her, and she didn't feel the same way. Or maybe she did, I don't know. We never really found out what happened that night. Sometimes I wonder... he could have hidden her body with magic. Transfigured it into a bone and buried it. But he didn't. He threw her into the canal, like she was a piece of rubbish. It was the Muggle police who found her, not my people."

The professor's voice was steady, like a deep ocean that concealed a mighty tidal wave. Slowly, Severus looked up from his hands, into Makepeace's face.

"Why would he hurt her, if he loved her?"

Makepeace shrugged.

"Did you catch him?"

For the first time in their conversation, Makepeace smiled. It was not a nice smile.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I caught him."

"I'm sorry," he said. The words hung between them. Severus wasn't sure if he was apologising for the event, or for his asking about it. "I'll... I'll go."

Makepeace opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped before the words were formed. He nodded silently instead.

When he left the room, Severus realised that he was still on the seventh floor. The room sometimes deposited him outside of his own dormitory, but only if he was concentrating particularly hard. He didn't feel like re-entering the room, just in order to save himself a walk. Severus felt like there was a part of him that would gladly never see or speak to Makepeace ever again.

Like always, though, there was another voice in Severus's mind though. It was soft and sweet and filled with compassion. Go back, it whispered. Go back and tell him it wasn't his fault.

Severus rested his hand gently against the cold stone of the castle wall. He traced his thumb over the old indentations in the masonry. Stupid, he thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His shoulders slumped, he began the long walk back down the eight flights of stairs to the Slytherin common room.

Of course, of course, he had to run into the last person on earth that he wanted to see as he descended the narrowest of the spiral staircases. There was hardly room for them to pass abreast, and as soon as he saw her, he had the absurd notion of sprinting as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Her arms were filled with books and parchments. Severus saw her face flush with anger, and then feigned indifference, but then she looked at him more closely, and both expressions melted away into a much softer emotion.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Her voice was as soft as the candlelight.

That was the worst thing. She had every right to be angry with him and not to speak to him, after what had happened on Tuesday – after everything he'd said and done to her - but she had seen that he was unhappy, so she stopped to ask how he was. That was just the sort of person she was.

"Yes," he said. He paused. "No."

"Oh." She scuffed her foot, awkwardly, shifting the books in her arms. "Did you find them?"

"Find who?" Severus asked.

"In the phone book? The person you were looking for?"

"No," he said, heavily, "I didn't find him."

Lily looked at him, eyes full of sadness. She looked very tired and worried, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Are you-" he began, and then stopped. He was going to ask whether she was alright, but he thought that – if she wasn't – the last person she would want to talk about it with was him. "Goodnight. Sorry."

The walk back to his dormitory gave him ample opportunity to marinate in his own worthlessness, as well as ponder the new information from Makepeace.

He didn't think Makepeace was lying. As his Legilimency developed, Severus had gained a knack for detecting falsehoods, and he thought that Makepeace was telling the truth. But then, the murder of a young and beautiful witch, would have surely made the Daily Prophet, and he recalled nothing of the like that summer, or in any of the years previously. Unless the Ministry had hushed it up for some reason. Or unless Makepeace was also an Occlumens.

The possible solutions chased each other around his mind. No answer solved every question. Makepeace could be using Occlumency, but Severus didn't think he was an Occlumens. He could be lying, but it was a strange thing to lie about. The Ministry could have covered it up...

He thought the most likely thing was that Makepeace had changed some details, to prevent Severus looking up the case, and finding out more. But why would he do that? Unless he suspected that Severus was on his tail.

He grinned, overcome with a sudden idea. He could put all of this in his letter to Lucius.

Severus realised what he'd just thought, and suddenly felt so disgusted with himself that he had to shut himself in the first unlocked room he could find. The emotion flooded over him, and as if unable to control his limbs, he punched his thigh, as hard as he could. It caused an ache in his leg, but it somehow wasn't enough. He did it again. He scratched at his arms, scratched at the Mark burned deep into his forearm. And that wasn't enough either, so he bit his hand until he tasted blood, and screamed into it.

Later that night, when he stumbled into the dormitory and fell into an uneasy sleep, he dreamt about a girl floating face upwards in the black water. Her hair was long and red, and it flowed around her like smoke. When she opened her eyes to look at him, he saw that her eyes were green.

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