CHAPTER TEN - A VISIT TO MOM

Snape didn't emerge from his rooms the next day until almost lunchtime. He did so in hopes of seeing Charity, certainly not because he could be bothered with eating. But before that, he had to give Lupin another goblet of wolfsbane.

The colour seemed to have come off Lupin somewhat, when Snape found him in the staffroom, alone, buried deep in the weekend edition of the Prophet. "Lupin," said Snape, upon seeing him and putting the goblet before him on the table.

Lupin was unshaven, his eyes looked bleary and shadowy, and he seemed barely able to be bothered with the potion.

"Oh, Severus, thank you, honestly, that's very decent of you."

The greater part of him was ready to turn on his heel and leave, but against better judgement, Snape ground out, "Are you alright?"

Lupin took a gulp of the potion and grimaced. "Oh. Yes, I'll be fine. Long night, wasn't it."

Several different replies formed in Snape's mind, it was hard to decide which answer was appropriate and it took him some time. Eventually he said, "Yes. For little effect."

Another gulp of the potion, and Lupin shook his head a little to shake off the taste. He placed the paper flat on the table and Snape could see he'd been reading several scandal-mongering articles about Black and speculation as to his whereabouts and motives. "His presence here hasn't made headlines yet, but it will soon. I wonder how long before the Prophet dig me up as an old acquaintance. The last one."

Before they put the puzzle pieces together you mean? Thought Snape, looking coolly at Lupin and not speaking. After a meaningful pause, he said, "What do you imagine they'll broadcast?"

Lupin shrugged, and in a flamboyant gesture of having finished his dosage, turned the goblet upside down. "I expect they'll imply that I am aiding and abetting. They may even imply that Dumbledore appointed me expressly for that purpose."

That surprised and confused Snape. "Why on earth would they assume that Dumbledore would want you here to assist Black?"

"To make headlines. Sirius never confessed. He never admitted what he did, he defended his innocence throughout. They've always loved to paint Dumbledore in a controversial light – him being a sympathizer, not allowing the Dementors to do their job. Whichever way the Ministry's leaning, they love to show Hogwarts in opposition. Goes way back. To Grindewald."

Snape's head started to hurt. What was Lupin trying to tell him? Did he need to know this? "Are you, Lupin?" May as well cut to the chase. "Are you aiding and abetting Black? Is that how he got in the castle?"

Lupin rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, and then looked long and levelly at Snape. "No. I am not. I am as worried about Potter as you."

"You know Black better than any of us. What is he after? Does he think the Dark Lord is waiting for him?"

"He may have gone mad, Severus. I don't think he was mad when they locked him up, but not many people can survive Azkaban. Especially if they're innocent."

"You think he's innocent." It was not a question, but a horrified realization. "Pettigrew…those Muggles–"

"I don't know what to think!" snapped Lupin, slamming his hands on the table. "And I don't know what to think about you, either. You're standing there quizzing me about my motives – you, you're the one the shady history. You're the one Voldemort will be calling. So why are you here, Snape? You're hiding behind Dumbledore's skirts every bit as much as I am, but I'm not on my bloody high horse."

The words, the fury in Lupin's eyes, caught Snape completely unawares. You're hiding behind Dumbledore's skirts every bit as much as I am – the ring of truth was intolerable. He had no riposte, not even a defense, except: I'm not hiding, was all he could think. I'm trapped here. This is no bolt-hole, it's a cell, the prison of a promise, a debt, and a penance.

Lupin seemed to realise that he'd played a critical move. "I'm prepared to face Black. I'm prepared to face him now, whoever or whatever he's become. I have lost three great friends in my life, four if you count Lily. And I can't afford to be choosy now. But what have you got to lose, Severus? What are you so afraid of?"

"Why didn't they make you Secret Keeper?"

It was Lupin's turn to be caught off-guard. "What? Sirius was best man, godfather –"

"Face it Lupin. Potter and Black tolerated you, maybe even liked you. But the reason you never stood up to them the way you should have was because you were never that confident, were you? Scared that if they stopped liking you, they'd be gone, ditch you, the poor werewolf, couldn't quite believe his luck that Black and Potter chose to be his friend – "

"Let it go, Snape…"

"Rudderless ever since. I made choices, Lupin, not always the right ones, but at least I stood for something. I was prepared to be counted. I fought for myself. And I never gave up on Lily."

"Don't you dare talk about Lily!" Lupin snarled, and drew his wand sharply at Snape, who saw it coming and already had his out.

"Are you really going to take me on, wolf? Finally, one on one? Or shall we wait around for some buddies to join you?"

Three, roaring heartbeats and Lupin lowered his wand. "GET OUT! LEAVE ME!"

Suddenly the door slammed open, the gargoyles outside talking rapidly to Dumbledore who stood there with a thunderous expression on his face. Snape didn't wait but stormed out in such a fury of black robes that Dumbledore was forced to step aside and let him pass.

Snape stayed in his quarters for the remainder of Sunday, allowing his anger to work itself out and blow over like a storm; what residue was left he carefully shut away and then lay down on his bed, spent. Even if Charity was around today, he couldn't see her like this, it wouldn't have been fair on her. Isolation had always been his way of dealing with it. At dinner, he had food brought to his room, and late at night he went to bed, determined to rest so that he was prepared for Monday.

The next morning was again cloudy and cold. After a light breakfast and coffee brought to him by a kitchen elf, Snape washed and shaved carefully - although he never had any brilliant ideas for styling his hair after a basic wash and brush - put on a clean white shirt, then his usual frock coat, boots and a winter-weight cloak. In a black satchel he put his plans for the audit, the note for Gringotts from Dumbledore, Hagrid's letter for the Post Master and his list of ingredients for the apothecary. He then took all his books, homework and lesson plans to the Dungeon classroom ready for the substitute teacher.

Finally he went into the Slytherin Common Room and had a first year fetch one or both of the Prefects. Pucey was brought to him, damp haired and half dressed. "Yes sir?" asked Pucey, looking worried.

"Pucey, I want you and Warrington to be in charge for the morning as I have business in London. If there are problems, alert the Headmaster as he knows I am away. Make sure all House students are breakfasted and get to their morning classes. I want you to stop by the Hospital Wing and check on young Alberton as Madam Pomfrey said he might be recovered today from that hex. Please remind Flint to do that stock take in the Broom Hut, he was supposed to do it yesterday. And I have my most important job for you."

Pucey already looked as if he was having processing difficulty with the length of the list. "Do you want to write all that down?" Snape enquired with enforced patience.

"Don't have a quill…" said Pucey glancing around him.

"Here," said Snape, taking Pucey's wand. He spoke a charm to the wand, then recited the list briefly. "Tap your wand to a blackboard and it will write up what I've just said. Now, when you are dressed, come to my office, quick as you can."

Ten minutes later Pucey arrived, and Snape led him to the maturation chamber where he ladled wolfsbane potion into a goblet, placed a spill cap on it then handed it to the Prefect. "Listen. This is medicine for Professor Lupin –,"

"Professor Lupin?"

"Yes, that's right, Professor Lupin. You have DADA with him, remember?. He needs this after breakfast. Please take it to him when you go in for breakfast and tell him that I sent you. Don't let anyone else touch it."

"So I give this to Professor Lupin when we all have breakfast?"

"That's right. In the Great Hall, before you even sit down. And if Professor Lupin is not there, then give it to the Headmaster to pass it on to the Professor. The Headmaster knows about it."

"Okay."

"I'll be back in the afternoon. I'll come to see you and you can let me know how you've got on."

"Yes sir."

Pucey departed, carrying the goblet as if it were about to bite him. Snape was not optimistic of everything going according to plan, but it was best if Lupin got the potion at the same time each day. If he didn't get it from Pucey for whatever reason, he could get him a goblet in the afternoon at worst.

All his instructions dispensed, Snape went to the fireplace in his classroom which was a decent height, scattered the Floo powder and said clearly, "Ministry of Magic Entrance Hall".

Moments later he exited one of the many gilded fireplaces in the main foyer, joining the throngs of Ministry workers as he had arrived just after opening. He wasn't sure exactly what time he might get to meet Chairman Byron, so thought it best to freely available. The giant gold statue of the Wizard, witch, elf and centaur glittered brightly in the sunlight as the Ministry maintenance staff had decided today was sunny and cloudless.

Snape checked in at Reception and explained the purpose of his visit to the lady behind the counter, who smiled pleasantly and searched a large diary book for his appointment with a wand. "Ah, yes, Professor Snape, I have you here. Sir Byron is expecting you – oh, not until 10am. Did you know of the time? Are you happy to wait?"

"Yes, that's fine. I wasn't sure of the time. What floor is he on?"

"The Ministry of International Magical Cooperation is on fifth floor," replied the Receptionist. "You can register your wand now if you'd like to save time later. Here's your Visitors Badge."

"Thank you."

Snape went to the Security desk and the guard in blue robes scanned him front and back, then handed over his wand for identification. The guard read out the strip of parchment that was emitted from the brass Wand Register. "Ebony, ten inches, dragon heartstring. Belonged exclusively to you for twenty six years, mister, er -," the guard checked his name badge. "Mr Snape?"

"Yes, all true."

"Nice wand. Looks like its seen some action. Here you go."

Snape was handed back his wand, which he instantly slotted back up his sleeve. The guard pierced the slip of parchment on his spike.

"I'm not going through immediately," said Snape to him. "the Reception lady said it was alright to register early."

"That's fine. There's a bistro round the corner at the far end of the Atrium if you want a cuppa while you wait."

Snape thought that a welcome idea and killed some time reading the Daily Prophet and sipping tea until 10am. Finally at the allotted hour, he went through the golden gates into the smaller hall, then faced the lifts and steeled himself.

There may well have been stairs but he didn't know where they were and searching for them now, let alone going up five flights, would make him late.

A jangling and clattering announced the arrival of a lift almost immediately as the grilled door was pushed back. Several people got in and Snape hesitated. The lift left. A minute later, one slightly behind him arrived. People got out, a couple of people got in. He let it close and leave and he started to feel his pulse speed up. The next one. The next one.

There were a couple of minutes before the next lift arrived. Two people got out but there was nobody but him to go in. With a deep breath, he propelled his feet forward and entered the cab, slammed the golden grille door shut then pressed the button with number 5 on it.

With much rattling of chains, the lift ascended slowly as the offices on each floor were announced through a speaker. Snape felt his tea churn and shut his eyes, gritting his teeth as the lift stopped at floor three and more people got on. At last, the melodious lady's voice announced, "Level Five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards body, the International Magical Office of Law and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats."

Snape couldn't open the door fast enough, and almost fell out. But he was here, and he was in one piece. Another deep, somewhat shaky breath and he summarily depressed all heightened emotion. Then he strode towards the office of IMC.

He was greeted by another administrative person and shown to the door of Sir Bernard Byron, who was waiting for him inside behind his impressive wooden desk. Byron was wearing an expensive, tailored burgundy-coloured three piece suit. He was clean shaven, with his dark hair slicked back with brillo cream, and had perfectly kept teeth. The room was lushly appointed, and after Byron had approached Snape warmly greeted him and shaken his hand, he was invited to take off his cloak and make himself comfortable on a leather armchair at an arrangement around a coffee table.

"So Professor, it's good of you to come out to see us. And I must say, it's a pleasure to make the acquaintance of one of the top teachers at Hogwarts. Albus told me a little about you. I was at Hogwarts from 66 to 71, Gryffindor. Where you there then?"

"I started in 71. Slytherin."

"You're the Head of House now, I hear?"

"Yes. Slughorn was Head of Slytherin then. You must have had McGonagall." She never mentioned that, thought Snape.

"Great lady. Although Transfiguration wasn't a strength of mine. History, Charms, Dark Arts and of course Muggle Studies were my NEWTS. Professor Harrold was my Master of MS. Is he still there? I didn't see his name on the Prospectus."

"No…there has been a new teacher appointed recently. She's very good, I…understand."

"Excellent. Tell you what, I must make a time to come out and visit the school again in person. I have met Albus of course, but I would love a decent tour of the place since I was there. This Chair role is all a bit meaningless unless you've walked the talk, you know. Tea?"

Bryon had already stood up and started towards his office door to place an order, so even though Snape didn't feel like tea, he said, "Thank you, very kind."

Byron placed the order with his administrator, then sat back down, hitching up his pinstripe trousers a touch as he did so. "Now, Professor, I am to understand you've been tasked with coordinating the audit of the school, so I'm delighted to tell you that I've arranged for Bartemius Crouch and Topias Poole to join us in about fifteen minutes. Mr Crouch I believe you know? Mr Poole is his senior auditor, and he'll be the one on site physically auditing. If there's anything you need to know I can't help you with, those chaps can fill you in."

"Very good, thank you, "said Snape. "Is your role in the context of the Department of IMC or as Chair of the Board of Governors? The overlap seems…serendipitous."

"It is! It is indeed. Not entirely coincidental, since after Malfoy retired, the parents and Ministry were after a complete change of thinking. Not all, of course, I have to remember that we are governing a large body with more purist or conservative views. But having so much interaction with more…advanced…international groups and corporates, it seemed natural to challenge the Board with taking a more growth-oriented direction. I'm talking, of course, about lifting the standard, aspiring for excellence, taking our place shoulder to shoulder with our equivalents across the Channel."

"Yes," murmured Snape. "Minister Fudge mentioned it."

"So yes, I think it quite providential that I can maximize my time as Chair with my role here at the IMC. Not at cross-purposes at all. The other Board members seemed very pleased with my candidature proposal, dare I say, excited?"

"Clearly it's time for a change, sir," said Snape diplomatically.

"Good to know you're on board," responded Byron, reaching over to clap Snape on the back. "Ah, excellent, tea. I'm gasping, as my wife likes to say."

A tea tray was deposited on the coffee table, and Byron insisted on pouring himself. "I've been holding forth, I fear, Professor. Tell me, what are your plans for getting the audit underway?"

"I've been through the brochure guidelines in some detail, and I've been planning a bit of a strategy around it, but I want to know more about the...the overall outcome of the audit."

Byron took a moment to sip his tea and frown on an answer. Then he said, "Big picture, Professor, passing the audit means Hogwarts remains open. If, say, Hogwarts were to fail – and I don't think for a million years that it's at all likely – but say it failed, then the Board would have to convene as a matter of urgency and deem whether the risk is acceptable. It would also depend, of course, on which categories failure occurred. A crippling fail on the administrative categories is not necessarily life-threatening, but were Hogwarts to show underachievement on criteria affecting safety, or security, or welfare, for instance, massive incompetence or law-breaking – then these are areas when the Board has to think of its duty to the parents and children."

Snape thought about the slashed portrait, the petrified students who had encountered the basilisk.

"To my mind," Byron went on, "the Board hasn't been involved enough with the School. It's not a case of interference, but the parents are paying some considerable fees, they're entitled to have confidence that that their children will not only be properly educated, but kept safe and well. I am aware that Lucius Malfoy will be requesting an investigation into the recent incident concerning a Hippogriff, and I have to say, it's a classic case in point. How is it a student – during class mind you - is able to be badly mauled by a dangerous creature? I am told by Malfoy that another student actually rode the Hippogriff in the same lesson? Had there been any safety precautions taken? What if the child had fallen off? What if the Hippogriff had simply flown away with that child? I mean, they do eat meat. You see my point, Professor? What would I have told his parents?"

Snape filled his mouth with tea, resolutely mute that it was Potter with his suicidal tendencies who'd decided to take a joy-ride on a wild animal, Hagrid's training notwithstanding. What if the Board had been obliged to report that Hogwarts had, through negligence, offed the Boy Who Lived?

As if reading his mind, Byron smiled and added, "And now young Harry Potter is boarding there, I will feel much better knowing that I could look any parent in the eye and tell them I had utmost, utmost confidence that all the children, not just The Chosen One, are in excellent hands."

"Certainly. Of course." Snape thought about Potter's flying car ride, the Whomping Willow. "But, and again, sir, I'm merely playing Devil's Advocate, were there unacceptable failings in the audit, a closure would only be temporary while efforts were taken to meet standard?"

"Oh, I expect so. The Board may have to work with the Ministry in deciding what's the best means of taking a conservatorial position of the school. I think it would be necessary to…step in, at that point." He laughed suddenly. "Don't look so concerned, Professor, this is all merely hypothetical. I am most certain that Albus is running the place like a Grand Master."

"Yes. Of course he is." Especially when he appoints, illegally, a werewolf.

The office door opened, and two more men entered. One was Bartemious Crouch, looking sullen as usual, and one was a shorter man, with brown hair, rather pointed features and critical, appraising eyes. Snape stood to shake hands with them as Byron made introductions. "Crouch of course you know, and Professor Snape, this is Topias Poole, Senior Auditor." Snape was put to mind of Percy Weasely, he had that bureaucratic, officious air about him.

"Pleased to meet you," said Poole, in a slightly nasal tone, as they were all seated. "Sir Byron tells me you'll be coordinating the Hogwarts audit?"

"I've been asked to do that, yes," replied Snape. "But I haven't been given exemption from my core work. I'm Potions Master and a Head of House, so I'm unable to devote my full time and attention to it."

"Oh," said Poole, eyebrows shooting up. "Then you'll be busy. I daresay we'll need at least two weeks on site. You'll have some help?"

"Thankfully," said Snape, thinking of Charity now. "It will be a learning curve, however. I hope we can depend on you for guidance."

"Oh naturally," said Byron cheerfully. "We all want Hogwarts to succeed, dear Professor."

Crouch said nothing but stared at Snape. Crouch had taken his role as Head of Law Enforcement seriously and clearly maintained strong suspicions about Snape's efficacious relationship to Dumbledore and Hogwarts. It didn't surprise Snape that Crouch had wanted a good, hard look under the bonnet of the institution. Or was this more about the Triwizard Cup?

"When would be a good time for Hogwarts to receive me and my team?" asked Poole, pulling out a small diary from the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Team?"

"There'll be three of us. And we'll need our own room to work in. Privacy. What's the nearest village?"

"Hogsmeade."

"Then we can take rooms there for the period. But otherwise, full amenities please."

Snape merely nodded now.

Byron stepped in. "You'll notice how efficient Mr Poole is. We are very lucky to have him for our programme on International Standard for Wizarding and Magical Excellence. Bit of a mouthful. Still, Poole used to be an auditor with Muggle companies and his references were outstanding. Of course, the Muggles didn't know that Poole is a first rate Legilimens."

Snape blinked and Poole gazed at him with equanimity, a bit like a smug cat.

"Really? Is that…ethical?"

"It's not illegal in Muggledom because they are unaware of it. And if they have nothing to hide, they have nothing to fear," Poole replied evenly. "It was only if necessary. And even then I would obliviate afterwards. But the Company I worked for earned a world class reputation for being…thorough."

"I didn't ask if it was illegal. I asked if it was ethical."

"It's unethical to lie in an audit," said Poole quickly.

"Where did you learn Legilimancy? Hogwarts?"

"No. I was home educated. Then I went to Edinburgh University so that I could join a Muggle company. I'm very supportive of Sir Byron's advocacy of closer affiliation with Muggledom. So, no concern about a conflict of interest."

But what kind of wizard are you? Thought Snape. We are not going to become friends.

"You wanted to discuss dates?" asked Snape heavily to Poole. "I know the Headmaster is keen to get the audit finished before Christmas if possible."

Poole flicked through his diary. Crouch finally spoke, saying in a low voice to Poole, "If you're putting Matte and Dunn on the team, they won't be finished the Rail audit for a few days. Then Matte was going home to Switzerland for a week."

"Yesss," said Poole, without looking up as he flicked through pages. "I can start around the third week of November. Say the twenty-third? For two weeks, so finishing around Friday fourth December."

Snape mentally thought through the school calendar but didn't think anything particularly unusual was planned around those dates. "I think that will be fine."

Poole scribbled down Hogwarts into his diary, and drew arrows to cover the two week period.

"Excellent," said Byron, beaming, and clearly signaling the end of the meeting. "Well I think it was a great idea to get together and meet. Thank you again, Professor, for coming to London."

"May I have just one quick word?" Snape asked Byron. "It will take but a minute."

"By all means. Why don't I walk you out?"

As they walked towards the elevator, and Crouch and Poole departed for their offices or desks further along the floor, Snape said to Byron quietly, "We were talking earlier about Muggle Studies. Do you know who has jurisdiction over the curriculum? It may be worth a review."

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"I think a lot has changed in Muggledom since the last time the curriculum was approved. I'm sure the current teacher would like her lessons to have a modern relevance. I'm thinking particularly of your own tenets, sir. If she were obliged to teach the students subjects that were contradictory to what you're trying to achieve with the Board, for instance."

Byron looked at him, eyes narrowed. "What are Dumbledore's thoughts on the matter?"

"I confess I haven't spoken to him about it. It only just occurred to me while you were explaining your position. I believe, however, that unlike most of the subjects taught at Hogwarts, Muggle Studies is one that is often swayed at a more political level."

"Yes. This is true. Muggle Studies can get bogged down in that pureblood supremacist stuff. If Dumbledore approves, I'm happy to have the Board consider an updated curricula."

"Thank you, sir." Snape pressed the down button on the lift and was mortified to see it open almost immediately, full of people. Barely concealing a grimace, he stepped inside.

"Keep me updated, Professor," said Byron, as the gilded grilles clanged shut and Snape felt his insides roll.

Although mentally drained by the meeting, and not particularly encouraged by what he'd heard, Snape was elated that at least he'd have something to report back to Charity. And that he could leave the lifts behind. He strode out of the golden gates into the foyer of the Ministry of Magic, waited in a short queue for a fireplace, remembering, as he waited, to remove his nametag, then when it was his turn requested the Floo to take him to The Leaky Cauldron.

It took a few moments of swirling past fireplaces before the Floo network could drop him into the Leaky Cauldron, presumably because a few others were visiting at the same time. It was, after all, close to lunch. He noticed earlier arrivals still dusting ash off their clothes when he stepped out into the dining area, and peremptorily cleared off his own cloak and cuffs. That was the worst thing about wearing a lot of black – it really did show everything.

The sense of a weight having been lifted from his shoulders, he decided a wee dram was in order to reward a job well done. He went to the bar and ordered a snifter, then also ordered a steak sandwich, his appetite having returned after a couple of days. Having eaten and pleasantly mollified by a touch of liquor and something hot and satisfying in his stomach to soak up the swill of tea, and enjoying his own company immensely, he next turned to his shopping list on Diagon Alley.

In unusually good spirits for Snape, he went through the brick wall on to the alley, which, despite the cold November day, was bustling with shoppers in their winter finest, many of the shops already decorated for Christmas and bristling with retail promise. All this talk about Muggles made him conversely good-humoured towards the wizarding folk who, dressed as they were in cloaks, bonnets, witches' hats and other distinguishing and yet familiar garb, carrying broomsticks, cauldrons or with an owl perched on their shoulder, brandishing wands with abandon, made Snape feel cosy and oddly affectionate. He nodded good-day to complete strangers, who ignored him, and he didn't mind in the slightest.

He decided to deal with the most difficult first and walked up the Alley until he found the Post Office, whereupon he withdrew Hagrid's papers from his satchel and entered.

The Post Office was not in full Christmas rush but it was nonetheless busy being lunchtime. Snape waited in a queue to a customer service window, watching the owls come and go, and was then instructed that he didn't want Post, he wanted Imports and Exports. Another window up the shop. So, he went there, which mercifully had a much shorter queue, and at last admitted to a desk with an irritable clerk forced to wear a Santa hat.

"Yes?"

"Good afternoon. I'm here on business for a friend, who has papers I've been told to give to the Post Master? But perhaps it's someone else because I've been directed here."

"So how can I help?" asked the clerk, looking like he'd rather be doing anything but.

Snape passed him the parchment from Hagrid, which he was starting to think looked unpromising. "My friend's name is Rubeus Hagrid, he works at Hogwarts School. He has apparently ordered a shipment and has been advised that these need to be provided. I'm just passing them on for him."

"What are they?" asked the clerk, unrolling them.

Snape groaned inwardly. So they weren't forms then. He didn't think so.

"I'm not sure," said Snape, with an intake of breath. "My instructions were to deliver them to the Post Master and advise that they were from Hagrid."

The clerk looked at them, shuffling page to page. "I have no idea what these are. They're not Import or Export forms. What's your friend ordered in?"

"He told me," said Snape, as if he'd just walked into concrete. "that he'd ordered a shipment of Drop Bears…"

"Drop Bears? What are they?"

"I believe they're a species of koala. From Australia."

"Koalas? You can't just import them. They're, like, living things. You need a proper license and stuff. Anyway, I've never heard of Drop Bears."

Snape shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "He said the Post Master would know about it. Hagrid's a gamekeeper; he's been ordering livestock for a good while -,"

"Post Master's not here today. There's no order of Drop Bears here, believe me I'd know about it. Hang on…"

The clerk got out from his desk beneath the window a very large, much-thumbed book which he used his wand to flick through backwards and forwards. "See? Nothing in here about Drop Bears. I've got sheep, goats, cows, owls, frogs, frog-spawn, carp, thestrals in fact lots of kinds of horses…nothing about no koalas, let alone Drop Bears. Are they even real?"

"I don't know," admitted Snape, world weary. "Look, thanks for your help -,"

"You need to talk to your mate, cause if he's waiting on Drop Bears he's gunna be waiting a long time…" The clerk shoved the parchment back at him.

"Thank you."

The other customers in the queue behind him glared as he exited the Post Office, taking some of the shine off Snape's previous good will. He shoved Hagrid's parchment back in his satchel, fully expecting admonition from the gamekeeper when he returned them later. No doubt it would be Snape's fault.

Next stop was Gringotts. The bank, too, was busy. Again, he waited in a queue. Snape was used to standing, it was all part of a teacher's day, he had good boots to do the job and Snape's boots had a big job to do. But he hated the wasted time. There was nothing useful he could be getting on with while he waited. He just had to stand. It was excruciating.

Finally he got to a teller and handed over the withdrawal note from Dumbledore giving Snape access to funds in order to pay for more potion ingredients. It was a wizarding equivalent of cashing a cheque. After the Post Office experience, he had a fair amount of trepidation about this transaction and it seemed his anxieties were well founded.

The goblin teller frowned at him. "Who is this from?" he asked.

"From Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts School."

Another enormous book was extracted, this one a record of signatures. "Who?"

"Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore. Look, he's been banking here for at least a hundred years."

The goblin didn't care. He flicked through pages listed alphabetically. Eons later he reached the D's.

"Dumbledore," said Snape again, desperate to reach across and find the right page. The teller was in no hurry. "No…no it's spelt D – U –"

The goblin ignored him, holding the note against the list of names to compare signatures. He flicked page after page of D's. "There is no name like Dombledure."

"Dumbledore. D U. D U."

The goblin looked at him vacantly. English was his second language, and he didn't appreciate a cross, irritable and probably racist individual making fun of his accent. The goblin called his supervisor by ringing a small bell.

The supervising goblin eventually came over. He was a fat goblin, with little round glasses, which just about met the very definition of ugly. He flicked his eyes up and down Snape, then consulted with the teller in Hobgoblin. The teller's tone was clearly dismissive and accusatory at once. Snape felt like his frustration was turning his actual bones liquid. He felt like throwing himself on the floor and having a toddler-like tantrum. He felt taking his wand to make the giant book of signatures snap shut on the heads of the goblins before him.

Pre-empting the inevitable questions the fat supervisor was going to ask him, Snape said, "Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts – the note is from him, see his signature? It's spel – "

"Albus Dumbledore?" asked the supervisor.

"Yes, yes," replied Snape, thinking he must have said the name at least a hundred times.

"How did you get this note?"

"I work at Hogwarts. He gave me this note so I can get out some school funds. I need to buy school supplies."

A rapid exchange between the two in Goblin.

"What is your name?"

"Snape. Severus Snape. I am a Professor there."

The supervisor rang the bell. There were annoyed mutters from the people in the queue. Snape thought about grabbing the little bell and murdering anyone he could reach with it.

A third Goblin sauntered up. He had a paper napkin stuffed down the neck of his shirt, clearly having been interrupted during his lunch. "What is the matter here?"

"This man, called Severus Snape, says he has a note from Albus Dumbledore to give him money," said the supervisor, at least in English.

"Where is the note?" the teller produced it, and the three goblins looked at the note from Dumbledore and had a prolonged conversation about it in their own language. The second supervisor grabbed the signature book, flicked to the right page and placed the note next to the official record of Dumbledore's signature. Thankfully, they matched. Snape had received plenty of shorthand scribbles from the Headmaster in his time.

After much huffing from the teller, Snape was issued the right amount of galleons and knuts, which were placed in a little drawstring bag and dumped in his hand with a deeply resentful and highly skeptical teller who looked as if he couldn't wait to meet Snape one day when they were both alone on Knockturn.

Back out onto the street, Snape stopped to get his bearings, feeling suddenly very depleted by the Post Office and Gringotts experience. Tucking the money safely away, he took the street towards the northern end of Diagon Alley, heading for the larger of the apothecaries. Deep into lunch hour, the cobblestone thoroughfares were once again busy, and eating establishments were full. Delicious aromas drifted on the air, and queues had formed at the food stalls and street vendors. Snape wended his way through them and at one point was brought up close to the mullioned window of Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, in which a glossy item caught his eye and made him pause.

Unless he was very much mistaken, it was a Faerie Call. He hadn't seen one in several years. Made of highly polished brass, it was about the size and shape of a lantern, the top having a hook or ring from which it could be hung. It did not have glass sides, but fine bars of brass, and in the centre was a magical chime that, when prompted to play, would rapidly revolve, generating a 'call' that only fairies and sometimes pixies could hear. They would be enticed irresistibly towards it, like moths to a flame. Some people liked to trap the fairies for a variety of reasons, others enjoyed simply watching them fluttering about the call, hypnotized.

They were not frequently come by, and Snape wondered if the person Charity had referred to who loved fairies owned one. If not, then this would be quite the Christmas gift.

A bell tinkled as he entered the shop and he lingered on the tables and displays inside, stocked with a wide variety of instruments and equipment which intrigued him. Occasionally he would tap an instrument to see its movement and action, then debate internally whether he needed it. He found one or two of the silver devices and contraptions Dumbledore had in his office on spindle-legged tables, which even Snape couldn't identify. On tapping one with his wand, it began whirring loudly and moving around precariously and Snape hurriedly tapped it to stop having caught the watchful eye of the proprietor.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Ah, yes, perhaps you can. I thought I saw a Faerie Call in your window?"

The shopkeeper, a stout older wizard with white tufts of hair and an eyepiece, wearing a linen apron with an oily rag tucked in the front pocket, came out from behind his counter and went towards his display window to fetch the Call.

"Indeed," he said. "There's been a few enquiries about that." He brought forth the Call to his counter top for Snape to have a closer look.

"I'm afraid it's not a new specimen, so I can't vouch for its history, but I tried it out soon after I acquired it, and definitely one fairy came to it, so I do believe it still works."

Snape examined it, though in truth he had no means of judging it. "It's an antique, is it?"

"Oh goodness, yes. I'd put it at several hundred years old. The witch who used to own it died at a hundred and seventy two. I remember her telling me about this particular Call and saying that it had belonged to her grandmother."

"The mechanism," murmured Snape, indicating the chime-piece inside the receptacle. "What is the magic? Is it eternal, or does it require re-charming?"

"Back when they made these," smiled the shopkeeper, "they built them to last. That is an eternal charm – it will be working in a thousand years if you look after it. Faeries will be gone before this beautiful device fails. The greater question is whether it is as powerful as it once was, which is why I tested it. Of course, faeries are far fewer than they used to be…"

There was a stretch of silence while Snape considered the Call. He hadn't bought anybody anything since Lily. He had once bought her some books, and for her fourteenth birthday, a brooch. While Lily had seemed delighted with it, she hadn't worn it and he had no idea what had happened to it. As poorly practiced as he was in gift-giving, he felt he'd rather do nothing than get it wrong. If he bought the faerie call for Charity, would she view it badly, would he offend her somehow, would she think it strange?

The shopkeeper, very experienced in the delicate art of letting shoppers talk themselves into a purchase, feigned cleaning up a little behind the counter.

The door-bell tinkled again and a young witch entered, wearing a coat with a fur collar. She came up immediately to the counter to get the assistance of the shop keeper, but the Call caught her attention and she cooed over it. "That is lovely! Is it a Faerie Call? I didn't realise they were so small, I've only seen them in books. Does it work?"

She looked at Snape expectantly, who nodded his head. "So I'm told."

"I wonder how much it is," she breathed as she gazed at it, then added. "If you're not buying it, I may well put a deposit down. My niece would love that for Christmas."

"It is lovely," commented the shopkeeper, vigorously rubbing a brass object with his cloth. "I've had quite a few ladies ask about it since I've put it in the window. I've seen some modern ones, but they don't work reliably, they've used a mocked-up charm because, of course, the genuine magic is closely guarded."

"Is it a present for someone?" asked the witch, eyeing Snape up, as he looked quite imposing in the cosy shop dressed in head to toe black and a winter cloak. She may have been speculating on who the recipient would be, from the likes of him. Her fur collar gave a little pulse and rotated around her neckline as if alive.

"Yes," he answered uncomfortably, and turned to the shopkeeper. "I will take it. I think it will make someone I know very happy. How much?"

The witch continued to watch him, her expression – not resentful, but musing, slightly affronted. Snape got the impression she was accustomed to getting her own way a lot.

"For this rare piece, sir, forty-five Galleons."

Snape wasn't carrying that kind of money on him, but having worked for fifteen years without anyone but himself to spend it on, and even then being incredibly modest in his needs, the amount was not daunting for him. It did cross his mind briefly that it was the most expensive gift he'd ever bought anyone, particularly someone he barely knew, but he had a vision of giving it to her and seeing her smile, seeing her delight, seeing her marvel over it. He wrote the shopkeeper a cheque similar to the one Dumbledore had done – anything rather than go back into Gringotts – which the shop keep was happy to accept, particularly when Snape sealed it with a verification charm.

The Faerie Call was wrapped and then shrunk with a reducio and Snape left, under the increasingly sullen eye of the young witch, feeling quite buoyant. He had placed the small package in his satchel, but he could feel its little bulge easily and its presence brought a private smile to his lips.

The trip to the apothecary afterwards – an experience that Snape normally relished, involving much meditation and examination of rare things, perusing the descriptions, applications, derivations and lengthy browsing of the shops giant Compendium of Magical Ingredients and Their Uses – became somewhat perfunctory in nature by comparison with Wiseacres.

Time now against him, Snape went straight to the counter with his list of ingredients and got assistance in finding what he needed and in the right quantities. So much, now, was becoming rarer and more expensive each time he visited. The reasons were almost always the same: restrictions and prohibitions placed by Muggles on the parts or habitats of non-magical animals, ingredients that were staples in potion making: frog spawn, rhino horn, tiger claws, bear spleen, eagle eyes, lion hearts, gorilla brains, crocodile hearts, sharks fin, deer velvet, muskrat glands and even some batwings were now at a premium. A lot of frogspawn was in fact toad spawn and could have the effect of ruining a potion completely, but frogs around the world were under pressure, disappearing, and the remainders under vigilant watch by Muggle scientists. Pure rhino horn had peaked. Black rhino horn was no longer available legally at all. White rhino horn could be obtained in small quantities at ridiculous prices as these were from stores put away by wizarding merchants' decades ago, who had received a prophecy in the seventies and were clever enough to act on it. Similar with tiger claw - fortunately this ingredient could be substituted with leopard claw or lion claw which tended to be more readily available. Plant species were easier to get except for hemp or poppy, which tended to be very heavily guarded and frequently supplies were disrupted by Muggle Police or customs if wizarding harvesters were reduced to those channels.

Snape was informed that the Apothecary was completely out of aye-aye organs of any description, and in fact the harvesters and suppliers in Madagascar were having to lie low as even their Muggle distributors were being spot-checked and raided by Government Muggle conservationists. This was having a knock-on effect on supplies of chameleon, Madagascar being a pipeline to this most magical of animals, especially the horned and miniature varieties. Luckily there were surplus in stock, but this was depleting fast and Snape took double. On the subject of reptiles, he asked about snake fang and venom. Predictably no problems there: Muggles were fighting to keep escaped and feral populations down around the world and harvesters had tapped into a profitable line. Trust snakes to keep themselves sustainable, he thought with a wry grin.

Forty-five minutes later, Snape had most of what he needed, at least enough to keep the Wolfsbane potion going until around July, when orders direct to merchants and suppliers would be made in more realistic quantities. But he made a mental note that a number of potions that were considered part of a standard practical in first through third years curriculum may need to be reviewed until viable stocks could be relied on again. The practice of each student raiding the store cupboard in a practical lesson was going to become a thing of the past.

The amount Snape had spent on supplementary ingredients just to keep Lupin in comfort had probably cost the school dearly in some other respect, but Snape didn't know what exactly. The financial mechanics were a bit of a mystery to him. Hogwarts never seemed to be short of a galleon, as evidenced by what he assumed would be a sizeable budget to host the Triwizard Cup, but he had to assume the coffers were not limitless. Doubtless they would find out the hard way, when the auditors turned up.

The apothecary assistant packaged up Snape's purchases which were once again shrunk for Snape's convenience, and he heard the clock above Gringotts chime twice. Definitely time to head back to Hogwarts, he was already later than planned. He headed hastily for the Leaky Cauldron and used the Floo network to transport him back to his dungeon classroom at the school.

He emerged from the fireplace in the middle of a lesson. Several children jumped at his unexpected arrival, and Madam Jones settled the class back down as he dusted off his clothes and removed his cloak, greeting him with something of a frown as she obviously hadn't anticipated taking his classes into the afternoon. The students were assigned some reading while she updated him on progress, noteworthy incidents, absences and other status reports. Bringing him up to speed on the current class, he thanked her and apologized for keeping her, then she bustled out of the class while he mentally switched gears, finding they ground a bit more than expected.

A little under an hour later, the class was dismissed without incident and the students left quickly before Snape remembered he hadn't given them homework. He went to his rooms and put away his things, carefully setting his Faerie Call on a table in his kitchen nook, then taking his wand performed an Engorgio. The Call was restored to its full size, and glowed brightly in the lamplight.

He spent an hour putting away the new ingredients, powders, oils and infusions in the storeroom, ensuring each new bottle or jar was correctly labeled, and rare or toxic elements properly secured. His receipt of goods he pocketed inside his frock coat. And finally he visited the Slytherin common room to see if Pucey or Warrington were available, and find out how they'd gone with their list. Draco was reclining on the green leather sofa, his bandaged arm cradled on his stomach, Crabbe and Goyle opposite him.

"Sir," said Draco sitting up at the sight of him.

"Malfoy," he returned curtly. "Are the Prefects about?"

"No sir, its Quidditch practice."

Snape regarded him a moment. "Why aren't you practicing? Seekers still need to practice."

"My arm sir. I can't extend it properly." Crabbe and Goyle nodded heartily.

Snape narrowed his eyes at him, but Draco stared determinedly back. "Show me," Snape ordered and stood where he was, making Draco get up off the sofa and approach him. Draco stood before him and held up his bandaged arm, barely moving it and wincing.

"How long has this been, now? Since beginning of September? That's over eight weeks. I must tell you, Draco, that I'm highly skeptical."

"Sir? Are you saying I'm fibbing?"

"There is no reason for your arm to not have healed by now. What does Madam Pomfrey say?"

Draco shrugged. "She believes me."

Crabbe added unhelpfully, "It really hurts him sir."

"Have you tried taking it out of the sling? Exercising it?"

"Yes sir. But it hurts to leave it out for long."

Snape held Draco's eyes for some moments. It would have been easy to cast a Legilimens and prove the lie, but Draco would have reported it back to Lucius by owl within the hour. And to what end? If Marcus Flint was prepared to accept Malfoy's persistent absenteeism, then it was his call as Team Captain, not the Head of House.

"Just know that I'm not convinced," Snape said quietly for Malfoy's ears alone. Then louder, "Send Warrington or Pucey to me when they arrive back."

He left the Common Room intended for the Headmasters Tower. Dumbledore would want a report. As he walked along second floor on his way to the Gargoyle corridor, the DADA office door opened and Lupin stepped out.

"Lupin," said Snape, slowing. "Good evening."

"Evening, Severus." Neither smiled. "How was London?" Lupin locked the office door behind him as he spoke.

"Successful."

"I'm told you visited the Ministry?"

"My business was with the Chair of the Board of Governors. He's at the Ministry."

"Audit?"

"Yes. Audit."

"Getting started soon?"

"Third week of this month. I'm on my way now to discuss it with Dumbledore," Snape hoped this was indicative of his intention to close the discussion.

Lupin nodded. "I got the wolfsbane today from – Pucey, is it? – thank you for making the arrangement."

"Good. I will bring it to you as normal tomorrow. Is – does the potion seem to be having any effect? Is any difference discernible?"

"Ah, yes, I think so," replied Lupin, raising his brows thoughtfully.

"I had to replenish a number of stock for next month's brew. The ingredients are scarce."

"It's possible that an entire goblet each day is unnecessary. If you want to experiment reducing the dosage I am willing to try."

Snape gave a brief nod, then motioned his intent to continue walking.

"Severus – before you go –,"

Snape stopped and turned guarded eyes on Lupin, steeled for some uncomfortable reference to their argument.

"I may start the transformation as early as Friday," said Lupin. "My third period class – if necessary, could you cover for me?"

Snape gave a long pause, considered declining, thinking he had no incentive, no will to help Lupin anymore. Remus didn't speak during the interlude, simply stood and held his gaze, looking tired and worn.

"Fine," muttered Snape curtly. "Confirm with me when you know." Then he turned abruptly and stalked off.

"Thank you," said Lupin to his back.

It was five pm by the time the gargoyle admitted Snape into Dumbledore's office. Snape was grateful when the Headmaster offered him an armchair in his office, which was warm from a blazing fire. Dumbledore had been at his Pensieve when Snape arrived, but placed it carefully away in its cabinet, and as he greeted Snape, fetched them a goblet of mead.

"There. A little aperitif before dinner. You look as if you've had a long day."

"Thank you, sir. I am pleased to say that, though it was indeed long, I would declare it successful."

"Good days I am always glad to hear about. But there is something more important first."

"Sir?"

"Severus, I interrupted you in the middle of a most disturbing row with Remus on Sunday morning. The staff room gargoyles gave me their version of events, but I am nonetheless disappointed that two grown, professional men are reduced to fighting like teenagers again. What if the students had heard?"

Snape closed his eyes at this, and when he opened them again it was to stare into the fire. "Yes," he said shortly, and Dumbledore waited. "I am sorry I let my anger get the better of me. I was tired. I think we both were. The night before had been….trying."

"Are you going to give Remus a chance, Severus?"

"Please do not doubt my professionalism, sir-,"

"I don't! I'm asking about you as a person, as a man, as a member of my faculty, as a human, as whatever you please. Not as a Potions Master, that I wouldn't doubt for a moment. No, I'm asking you personally, Severus – can you let it go? I know Remus has asked you the same."

Snape set his jaw and a muscle twitched near his temple.

"Don't do your withdrawing thing -,"

"I'm not – I can assure you that…confrontations such as that will not happen again. Although I must add that Lupin started it."

Dumbledore laughed openly, eyes twinkling and he raised his goblet at Snape. "Your stubbornness is most outstanding, most impressive. It is why you are one of the most resilient people I know. I have never met a person who was so adept at orchestrating the world onto their terms. Which goes to show, really, how magnificent Lily really was."

Snape realized the lesson was over. It would have gone very differently had Snape been disciplined at the time of the incident, however a good cooling off period, and maybe a private goblet of mead or two before the meeting had made matters considerably easier for him.

His comment about Lily, however, sideswiped him. Dumbledore was clearly referring to the fact that she was the only person Snape had ever capitulated to, ever showed his vulnerability. This was true. He didn't realise it was common knowledge. But had he overheard the argument with Lupin? Had Lupin mentioned it? Had the gargoyles said something? He thought that since that night in 1981, when Dumbledore had made him promise to protect the boy if he truly loved her, he had kept his feelings utterly battened down because that was the deal – to never, never tell. His eyes met Dumbledore's with reserve.

"Come Severus, no harm done. Please, brief me on your visit with Sir Byron."

With a swig of mead, Snape related his visit at the Ministry, his impressions of Byron and Byron's philosophies, the fact that Topias Poole was a Legilimens, the possibility of closure should the audit fail. He informed Dumbledore when the audit would start, the requirements of the audit team, but left out the discussion about the Muggle Studies curriculum. That was a separate subject.

He related his experience of Gringotts and the signature debacle, to which Dumbledore sighed and tutted audibly, gave the Headmaster the receipt of goods from the Apothecary, and described the paucity of ingredients. Lastly he regaled his recent meeting with Lupin, and that he would be covering him for DADA on Friday if necessary.

"Very good, very good," said Dumbledore. "And what of Hagrid's order? Did you manage to confirm his import of Drop Bears?"

Snape choked on his final swig of mead. "Sir? No, there is no order apparently. Obviously Hagrid has informed you of what he's attempting?"

"Yes he did. I queried him on the wisdom of this endeavor in light of the Hippogriff incident, but he is very confident."

"I'm afraid I will have to explain to him tomorrow that it might be necessary for him to visit Diagon in person. Sir, I'm not sure if Drop Bears even exist?"

Again, Dumbledore laughed. "I know not. I trust my teachers, if he says they do, then who am I to doubt him?" His eyes twinkled even more. "And he told me something rather salacious I fear."

Uncertain, Snape frowned at him and shook his head a little.

"He told me that he hosted a most pleasant afternoon in the company of yourself and Charity Burbage?"

Snape sat back and fought a flush the likes he hadn't experienced since a teen. He was suddenly furious.

"It was merely a cup of tea -!"

"I know. I'm only teasing –,"

"She is a member of the faculty, nothing more than a walk after lunch…"

"It's alright Severus – "

"I bumped into her, a couple of Ravenclaw students - ,"

"You really don't need to explain. Hagrid merely mentioned that he was pleasantly surprised…"

"I would hardly describe it as salacious, Headmaster!"

"Please calm down, Severus. I am happy that you have found…a companion…"

"Professor Burbage is no more a companion that Flitwick or McGonagall."

"I'm sorry. Clearly I have touched a nerve-,"

"There is no nerve!"

"Professor Snape! Enough!"

Silence descended as the two men stared at each other, but Dumbledore was more confounded than angry, and cocked his head at Snape. "You've no need to be so defensive – you protest too much! I am not at all troubled by it."

Snape took a heavy, shaky breath and put down his empty goblet. He stared into the fire again, letting his heartbeat slow a little before struggling out the words. "Sir, I entreat you, she…I…it is nothing other than a friendship, barely even that…she values her position here highly and I…"

Dumbledore watched closely, the young, intensely private man he'd known since a boy who seemed to simultaneously shy away from life as much as he seemed to wrench at it, flail at it, fight it like a cornered wildcat. There was no in between with Snape. He was either reclusive and isolated or whipping up storms with his bare hands. Whatever he said about Burbage, however, Dumbledore reserved his own opinion. He hadn't gotten to this age without observing a thing or two. There was the delicate matter of relationships between staff, but if there were two people more likely to be discreet than Snape and Burbage, he could hardly imagine it. On the whole, if anything developed his instincts would tend towards it being favourable to the pair, on balance, better than not.

"Severus, you have no need to concern yourself. I shall not breathe a word, indeed I won't even mention it to you if you prefer. You are adults, I encourage friendships between staff, Merlin knows these can be long days and nights as a teacher here without family around. I trust that you will keep your wits about you and remember your first duty."

"Please stop, sir, there is nothing, a couple of chats at best."

"And the audit? I recall you said she would be of valuable help?"

Snape nodded, disconsolate. "Yes…I would still value her help."

"Well then I shall see her tomorrow and ask her. I need to thank her for the archival work she's been doing."

Snape left Dumbledore's office in time to return to Slytherin Common Room and ensure all students were in time for dinner. He was feeling dazed after his conversation with the Headmaster, appalled with himself that he hadn't foreseen how a walk and a cup of tea with Hagrid would be viewed. But deeper than that, he was terrified that gossip would start, people, students would be watching and whatever fledgling feelings he felt for Charity, and the happiness that accompanied them, would have to be quashed, suffocated, disallowed.

Dumbledore DOES allow it, his mind fought back. Just keep your wits about you.

He herded young Slytherins out to dinner, briefly heard from Pucey, then stood in the doorway of the Great Hall unable to step further. He simply couldn't face it. Safe at this distance, his eyes scanned the teachers sitting at the Head Table and found Charity, sitting next to Sinistra, talking animatedly. She seemed normal, happy. Something in his chest clenched.

He turned and headed to his rooms, to the welcome relief of solitude.