~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Theo came in about twenty minutes later. Daniel felt more human by then but was still felt queasy about the conversation coming up. He knew exactly how it was going to go and he didn't want to have it. He hated it when he had to face up to what a selfish bastard he was when it came to Theo.

Theo strolled up with his hands in his pockets and sat right next to Daniel, leaning back and exhaling loudly. "Draco said you needed to talk to me," he said, blue eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Something about explaining why you're so miserable."

"I'm miserable because my friend Sirius Black was killed," Daniel managed. "And I miss him, and I wish he hadn't died but he has."

There was a very long silence. Daniel stared at the empty wall to his right. Theo could have all the time he liked to absorb the news. As revelations went it was a pretty big one.

"Your friend Sirius Black," Theo said flatly. "Your friend."

"Died, yeah."

"How can you possibly have been friends with Sirius Black?"

Theo's voice was flat and resigned. Daniel stared at him, bemusement plain on his face. Theo didn't look surprised at all. He was a stoic sort of chap, but this was something else.

Daniel could do stoic. And terse, as well. "I met him in third year while he was stalking Potter. Then we corresponded." Theo stayed quiet. "And then he died," Daniel added, just to make sure Theo was getting the point.

"He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, you know," Theo said.

"Yeah, I do know," Daniel snapped. "Did you miss the part where I said he was my friend?"

"What the hell do you expect me to say about that?" Theo asked. Some emotion there, finally. "If you want to have secret criminal friends, fine. Just don't expect me to be all understanding when the only reason you tell me about your new best friend is when he's dead and you want my sympathy."

"I never said he was my best friend. And it wasn't my idea to tell you like this, was it? It's Draco —"

Theo narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "Oh, come on," he said scornfully. "You were perfectly happy for him to play messenger. If you weren't, you'd have talked him out of it."

"You don't —"

"And Draco told me you called him your best friend, so don't go saying anything different now."

Fucking Draco.

"He's dead," Daniel cried. "Sorry for mixing up my terminology, but I'm not actually thinking logically right now."

"Well, you should be," Theo said. "Life doesn't stop being a shithole just because you can't cope with it."

"Just because you think the world's gone cold doesn't mean you have to go cold along with it." Daniel retorted, failing to push back the anger that was creeping up on him.

"You bastard." Theo sounded physically ill. "I am doing every damn thing I can to stay on the right path. To make opportunities for other people to do the right thing. If making a serious effort to be good is the same thing as 'going cold' for you, I hope you fucking freeze."

Daniel buried his face in his hands and swore. If only he could just 'do good' and be satisfied with that. He wanted to team up with Theo, he really did. But he just … couldn't.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." He said it as soon as he thought of it, lifting his head slowly. It was the only thing that might salvage the situation. "But he was a convicted criminal and everyone thought he was trying to murder Potter, and Snape and Dumbledore could both see into my brain and they'd be able to look into yours and anyone's. I couldn't let him be caught. Not for anything."

Theo smiled sadly. "You thought I might turn him in, too."

Their eyes met properly for the first time that afternoon. Theo didn't look angry, especially. He looked glum. Daniel could see the distance between the two of them widening before his eyes.

"Maybe," he allowed. "I didn't want to take the risk."

"He was in the Order of the Phoenix," Theo said again.

Daniel might as well hear him out. It wasn't like he wanted to go back to class or anything. "And?"

"There are plenty of people in Slytherin who'd be a member of that if it'd take them."

Daniel bit back the automatic 'that's nice' that sprang to his lips. He shrugged instead.

"There's a group of us right now," Theo added meaningfully.

Daniel stared at nothing in particular.

"I don't suppose you'd join us."

"You know I won't."

Theo sighed. "Why not?" His voice was so strained Daniel cleared his throat in involuntary sympathy.

Daniel didn't even feel bad about lying to Theo in this case. He just had to, and that was that. The question was, what lie was there to tell?

"I don't want to take a side," he said. "In the middle you can still reach out to anyone."

"Everyone knows what side you're on," Theo said. "Believe me."

"They don't," Daniel corrected him. "They knew what side I was on. When they thought I was Muggleborn. Now I could still —"

"Anyone who knows you knows what side you're on," Theo interrupted. "You walk away from it and you won't have any backing anywhere."

"I didn't want to talk politics with Draco," Daniel said. "I don't want to talk politics with you. I'm not going to get into politics to honour Sirius's memory and I don't want you to even hint at it again. You have no idea about Sirius and politics."

"I have no idea about Sirius at all," Theo reminded him.

That was not a topic they were going to talk about. Not if Theo was going to be so wretched about it. "What are you going to call your resistance group then?"

"We're not a resistance group exactly," Theo said automatically. "We're support for each other, and for the Muggleborn. I thought you didn't want to talk about politics."

Daniel stood up. The room didn't even spin. "Fine," he said. "I'll go back to class."

Theo didn't speak or move until Daniel had reached the door. "I'm sorry your friend died."

Daniel knew he should turn around. Acknowledge the sentiment. But if they were going to go different ways, it might as well be now. He nearly said 'me too', but that would be way too harsh. "Yeah." He closed the door quietly behind him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Livingstone was at dinner, looking tense but unharmed. Snape himself had barely made it through the day. At this rate he was unlikely to make it to Christmas without cursing at least half of his students. It was supposed to be easier to teach subjects involving wandwork; the students were more enthusiastic and could let more of their instincts guide them. What was rarely mentioned was the greater capacity for unruliness this engendered. His afternoon had been four hours of third and fourth years who by and large considered themselves experts in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

It had been moderately enjoyable disabusing them of that notion, but he saw the novelty wearing off very quickly in the future.

"Severus," McGonagall said from beside him.

Snape schooled his expression and turned to her. "Yes, Minerva?"

"I want to commend you for the behaviour of your students today. I had all but the fourth years and by and large their behaviour was admirable under the circumstances. Your first years especially have been delightful."

Snape waited for the 'by and large' to be explained.

"However," she said, "I have just come from teaching the seventh years and Joseph Chalmers has received a week's detention and lost fifty points from Slytherin for disobedience and loathsome slurs. This is unacceptable behaviour for any student. Considering his position as prefect it is barely fathomable."

"I will speak to him," Snape said. "Anything else?"

She hesitated. "Mr. Livingstone had to be escorted out of class this afternoon. He was either unwell or emotionally distraught. I understand his unusual circumstances have led to you assuming the role of de facto guardian."

"He appears well," Snape said, gesturing to the Slytherin table. Livingstone was speaking earnestly to Astoria Greengrass, sitting well away from his own year level.

"He returned towards the end of class to collect his possessions and looked considerably recovered," McGonagall allowed. "These are hard times, Severus, and some students will need —"

"I do not need to be told how to manage my house," Snape cut in, distinctly annoyed. Did the woman think he was acting at random, with no regard to the wellbeing of his students? Much more of this and he would begin to dispense some advice of his own.

"Your house, no," McGonagall said gently. "The students within —"

Snape stood. "Thank you, Minerva," he snapped. "Perhaps you could restrict your recommendations to subjects with which you have more than a passing acquaintance. I will speak to Mr. Chalmers. Good evening."

He swept past the rest of the staff. Dumbledore was not there again, a vacancy that the students would not have failed to observe.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Over the next couple of days Daniel learned a lot of things. He learned that having swags of free time wasn't half as useful in practice as it was in theory. He learned that officially not being very close friends with Theo was a lot like officially being close friends but forgetting to do the 'friends' part. With the loss of Muggle Studies they weren't even in any of each other's classes. He learned that Snape was a frighteningly good Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and that having every house together in the Defence class made for a much more entertaining classroom. He learned that Jo Chalmers wasn't half as frightening as either of his sisters, but he still incredibly dangerous and could only be talked out of making trouble by Millicent or Frobisher. He learned that Astoria was determined to join Theo's band of subversives, and so were Urquhart and Vaisey, Urquhart's sister Orion, Robert Derrick, Jacqui Savant and her first-year brother Matt. He learned that Potter was now almost as obsessed with Draco as Draco had been with Potter for the last five years, even going so far as to follow him out of the hall from time to time.

Most disturbingly, he learned that Elizabeth McBurney was going out with Crabbe and had been since late last year. He still followed Draco around dutifully but that's what it seemed like now. A duty, where before it had been the natural thing to do.

Draco had suffered a fall when his father had been arrested. Some kind of baton had been dropped, and the McBurneys had been the first to grab at it. Draco never accused Crabbe of any kind of betrayal, but there was a coldness in his eyes every time Crabbe held McBurney's hand, had friendly conversations with her brother Bronson or even when he simply smiled at their little sister Laura. Uppity kids from third and fourth years took snide jabs at Draco when they could, and Chalmers encouraged them in it.

Goyle stuck by Draco with unassuming steadiness while Pansy defended him so fiercely it was almost embarrassing to witness. Draco kept his head up and went about his business with perfect unconcern, treating everyone he came across with calm dignity and courtesy.

It was the kind of poise Daniel could only dream of having. He felt ridiculous sometimes, surrounded by people who knew so absolutely what they were doing. Theo and his people had their mission, Draco's followers were singleminded in theirs, Blaise and Daphne were always working at something together and Millicent rebuffed everyone with the same pointed indifference. Daniel could have joined them, or at least tried. But he couldn't bring himself to. Independent and lonely seemed a better bet than chasing after friendship and then getting trapped in it. Or getting other people trapped in with him.

Nope. The key was to stay under the radar and that's what he was going to do.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Paul Quirke and Brian Freelander stayed behind as the rest of the second-year Slytherins piled out of the room, scurrying past the waiting sixth years to their dubious freedom. Victoria Smith was last out and closed the door rather pointedly behind her.

"Malfoy's been taking points from Slytherin all the time," Freelander complained immediately. "None of the other prefects will call him off, even Chalmers."

"It's not even for breaking any rules," Quirke added, his voice a shrill whine. "He just walks up to you and waves his wand, then takes points. That's not allowed, is it sir?"

"If you have a complaint about the conduct of a prefect, you will need to arrange a meeting with me outside of class hours," Snape said. "You know this."

"It is outside of class hours," Quirke protested. "It's five o'clock."

"Out," Snape said.

Quirke took half a step back before turning on his heel and trying not to look like he was hurrying out. Freelander rolled his eyes, apparently thinking he would be able to bond with Snape through disdain. Unfortunately for him, Snape's long-cultivated disdain was never going to be matched by that of a petulant twelve-year-old.

Freelander was quick enough on the uptake to realise this and amended his expression. "Can I come talk to you this evening then, sir?" he asked.

"Eight o'clock," Snape said.

Freelander caught up to Quirke before he was through the door. As soon as they were gone the next group of students came in looking as dead-eyed and bone-tired as they had the previous day.

Two hours of Transfiguration, two of Charms, two of Defence. Theirs was not a happy timetable.

Snape's eyes naturally found Malfoy first. He thought it unlikely that the boy would be abusing his privileges so soon after the conversation he'd had with Snape, especially with his own position so precarious. There would be more to the story and Snape would give it time to develop.

It was still odd to see Livingstone in a class without Nott. Yesterday he had sat himself down defiantly between Finnigan and Thomas and silently dared any of the Gryffindors around him to object. Today he just sat down first out of anyone and let the class arrange itself around him. He ended up with Zabini on one side and Abbott on the other. Abbott gave him a brief smile and kept chatting to the Hufflepuffs on her other side, but Zabini was still and watchful.

Snape knew the behaviour he was seeing; it had been the same in their first class the day before. Zabini thought Livingstone needed a bodyguard. And he thought so in class, under Snape's own eye. He was being remarkably subtle in his manoeuvres; Snape doubted any of the students had noticed the protective behaviour. But it was there and would have to be dealt with.

Snape stood and the low murmurs fell silent.

"There will be half an hour's practising silent spells at the end of the lesson," he affirmed. "First I will be determining how many of you have not only read but understood the difference between Declinalio and Clauserus when used to defend against curses whose effects are not explicitly known."

The only students who made confident eye contact were Granger, Bones and Corner. "Thomas," Snape said. All the Gryffindors glowered at him and so he changed his question from a simple one about Latin translation to one for which there was no concise, comprehensive answer. He'd see what the boy could do. "What is the minimum information required in order to safely choose Declinalio over Clauserus?"

Thomas frowned as his expression turned distant. "Well, you have to know that the curse is an aimed one," he said. "And then you have to be in a situation where a rebound wouldn't put you or anyone important in danger. Or it couldn't hit anything that would be dangerous later."

He stopped, hopeful that an exhibition of simple common sense would be enough to satisfy Snape.

It wasn't. "Information about the curse, Thomas. A competent first-year would be able to tell me as much as you have. Unless I am much mistaken, you are considerably older than this and, one would hope, wiser."

"Well, if the curse isn't incanted," he glanced up at Snape, who nodded in confirmation, "then if you've got a sharp wand movement —" Patil hissed something in his ear "— I mean, disconnected casting points, then your odds are that it's a beam curse not a local curse so you've a chance of deflecting it." Snape gave no indication that this was enough of an answer.

"Minimum required information," Finnigan murmured, glancing up at the ceiling.

Thomas blinked and nodded. "You have to be certain that the surroundings won't risk backfiring on you, and to be safe you have to recognise that the shape of the curse isn't anything else but a beam curse."

Snape nodded. "A simplistic answer, yet true in essentials. Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley, for talking in class. No Mr. Finnigan, I am not joking."

The first hour and a half passed agonisingly slowly after it became clear that less than half the class had a sufficient understanding of the reading they were supposed to have done after yesterday's class and Snape would have to explain it to them himself. When Snape announced the beginning of the practical part of the lesson the whole room sagged in relief.

He let them divide themselves into groups of three and observed the utter predictability with which they had done it. They all set to promptly, waving their wands with varying degrees of confidence and silence.

Malfoy wasn't even pretending to pay attention, Snape noticed. He stood at the side of the room, striking a pose that would have been nonchalant were it not so strikingly affected. Crabbe and Goyle were at least putting some effort into their attempts at silent hexes.

Potter, Granger and Weasley were the other disastrous trio, with Potter and Weasley utterly incapable of the advanced magic, and Granger lording it over the both of them, supercilious as ever.

"Mr. Corner," Snape said. "I suggest you restrict your use of the Tarantallegra jinx to those you are assigned to combat. I doubt Miss Brocklehurst would appreciate it if you were to succeed."

Corner scowled as his partners and Brocklehurst's turned to stare at him, then exchanged glances between each other.

"Ooooo," the Patil girls said softly, making Corner go red.

"Don't be —"

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, five from Gryffindor," Snape announced. "Silence." He looked over to the other Gryffindors hopefully, but they weren't breaking any rules he could think of.

"Mr. McMillan," he said instead. "Unless you are attempting to disarm the entire class, you will need to narrow your arc. Focus more tightly."

McMillan nodded briskly and tried again. Bones managed to hold on to her wand, but only barely. Snape gave the Hufflepuff boy an approving nod and moved to the next group.

Longbottom waved his wand desperately at Finnigan, who went through the motions of a block even though Longbottom hadn't produced even a whit of magic. He was about to deliver a withering comment for each of them when someone cried out on the other side of the room.

"Yah!" Livingstone shouted, slashing his wand firmly at Boot, who took a sudden step back and completely failed to block the Palpauris hex sent at him. He diligently tried to end it without speaking, but shook his head in frustration when his ears kept twitching, entirely out of his control.

"Again, Mr. Livingstone, you seem to be having difficulty with your listening comprehension," Snape said.

"You said not to use incantations," Livingstone said quickly. "I didn't incant a thing."

"I gave an order for silence," Snape said. "I expect to see it upheld. Remove the hex, in silence."

Livingstone waved his wand desultorily at his Ravenclaw friend, and the hex was lifted.

"Ten points to Slytherin," Snape said, and moved on to Bulstrode, who looked to be on the verge of exploding from internal pressure. As he advised her on her technique he took the opportunity to lift his eyes to meet those of her opponent.

Zabini did not look away quickly enough and had little to no training in Occlumency.

A white-robed barefoot figure was walking through the corridors of Hogwarts, partially obscured by swirling mist. It took Snape a moment to recognise himself; he looked younger, more tranquil than he could remember ever having been. His younger self was waving one arm about, batting at the mist as it thickened around him.

A moment later the figure was outside Dumbledore's office but instead of gargoyles there was a simple wooden cross covering the door. The white-clad Snape lifted his hand again as the mist began to clear. Now Snape could see the white flower — the white lily — his young self had been holding. He raised his hand against the cross and the flower became a dagger as it was thrust into the central wood of the cross.

Then he turned to walk back away from the office as nails grew up from the floor before him and faded away once he had walked over them. His blood spread out faster than physically possible and with a volume far beyond that which his body could contain. Shadowy figures started to appear in the hallways; students, for the most part, going about their business in the school. Every so often one would slip on the thick red blood, but none of them fell.

The whole scene vanished, the world tilted slightly and then Snape's view was redirected towards Daphne Greengrass, waiting patiently on the other side of the crystal ball.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel wandered over to Ravenclaw at dinner on Thursday. Terry had been really good in Transfiguration, so it was worth trying. Also, Lisa had to have nearly forgiven Daniel for the Millicent thing by now.

"Hey yo," he said, interrupting what he was sure was an academically-fascinating argument between Goldstein and Corner.

"Hi," Goldstein said, making sure he was taking up all the room at his spot on the bench. "I think you found the wrong table."

"I think you found the wrong attitude," Daniel said, graciously taking the spot Terry cleared for him. " 'We must unite inside her,' remember?"

"Leave your twisted sex life out of this," Corner said, flicking mashed potato at Daniel's hand.

"Ha," Daniel said, and flicked it back. "I mean the Sorting Hat, pervert."

"Wow," Corner said in a mock hushed voice. "That's quite a —"

"So," Terry said loudly. "What do you make of Snape teaching defence?"

"He knows what he's about," Daniel said. He didn't know what he'd been so worried about. Conversation was easy.

"That's for sure," Corner muttered with a sidelong glance at the staff table. Snape wasn't there. "Knows it a bit too well, if you ask me."

Daniel smiled widely. "I didn't, actually."

"I don't know what Dumbledore's playing at, appointing him this year of all years," Terry said, frowning. "I can't work out if he's making some kind of statement or if Snape finally browbeat him into it."

"Well he's a better teacher than any we've had yet, so I'm all for it," Daniel said. He didn't really want to talk about Snape. "So Corner, I hear Weasley dumped you for being a sore loser."

Goldstein started to laugh but stopped quickly. Corner just shrugged. "She's full of herself," Corner said. "Wouldn't stop talking about winning the Quidditch Cup, and got pissy whenever I had an opinion of my own. I mean, that foul on Cho was clearly there, but when I pointed it out she got all offended and said I was being a bad sport."

"Well, you were," Terry pointed out. "You kept saying Gryffindor didn't deserve to win."

"She caught the snitch from a foul," Corner insisted. "And she wouldn't admit it. She's the bad winner."

"Maybe Cho will be able to teach you to lose with good grace," Goldstein said, pursing his lips playfully.

"Where is Cho?" Terry asked, looking around. "She was going to read over my Charms."

Everyone looked at Corner. Daniel had no idea how such an obnoxious prat was pulling drop-dead gorgeous Quidditch player after drop-dead gorgeous Quidditch player. He wasn't even particularly handsome. Just opinionated and quick-witted and disgustingly self-confident.

"I haven't memorised her timetable," Corner said. "I'm not twelve."

"Oh!" Terry said. "That reminds me. Daniel, are you going out with Greengrass yet?"

Daniel looked at him suspiciously. It was a running joke, but he didn't look like Terry was messing about. "She's taken," he said.

Terry gave him a dubious look. "With that little limpet bloke?"

Limpet bloke … oh. "Astoria," Daniel said, feeling stupid. "You mean Astoria."

"She's pretty," Corner said, glancing across at the Slytherin table. Astoria was sitting next to Vaisey, laughing and shaking her head. "A bit young, though."

"I'm not going out with her," Daniel told Terry. "And I don't think I will be any time soon. You with Brocklehurst yet?"

"I'm working on it," Terry said seriously.

"Padma," Corner said, exasperated. "I'm telling you, she's crazy about you."

"Yates is keen on her though," Terry said.

Daniel started to get bored.

"Forget Yates," Goldstein said. "He's deadly boring."

"She barely notices him," Corner agreed.

Daniel was definitely bored. "What's the new Potions guy like?"

"He's okay," Goldstein said with a dismissive shrug.

"It's just not Potions without Snape breathing down your neck," Terry said. "At one point yesterday I caught myself actually having fun."

"Yeah, Sluggy's a laugh," Corner added. "Deadly namedropper, too. How's Gwenog Jones, Barney Cuffe andEldred Worple in the same sentence?"

"What's the bet fifty years from now he's telling a bunch of first-years how he brought out the potion-making genius in Harry Potter?" Terry laughed. "That name'll trump them all."

"Malfoy gets —" Corner started, then snapped his mouth shut with a wary look at Daniel, and around to see if anyone had been listening.

Daniel held in his sigh. "Malfoy gets what?" he asked casually.

"Annoyed," Corner mumbled, and reached for more shepherd's pie.

"You scared of him now?" Daniel asked. All three Ravenclaw boys looked down at the table. "Scared of Draco Mal—"

"Shut up," Goldstein snapped. "For God's sake, shut up."

"That's pathetic," Daniel said. "I don't know if any of you noticed, but the Death Eaters lost that fight at the Ministry. Draco's not backed by his father any more —"

"Shut up," Terry said. "If you want to talk about that stuff, do it at your own table."

"No wonder the world fell to him so bloody quickly last time," Daniel said, getting up. "All you have to do is mention the son of an imprisoned supporter of his and the good guys wet their pants."

"You don't know what it was like," Corner said harshly.

"Neither do you."

"My parents do, you selfish prick," the Ravenclaw boy said, face darkening. "My uncle and cousins died in that war, and my mother still walks with a limp. She —"

"Shh," Goldstein said, squeezing his shoulder. "Not his fault."

Daniel looked at Terry, but his friend looked away.

"Sorry," he said, and slouched back to the Slytherin table, where there was absolutely no problem getting someone to move across for him. He was getting more space at that table with every passing day. He ate quickly, not really tasting anything but making sure he ate enough of the right things. When he didn't eat he couldn't think, and that was the last situation he needed to find himself in at a time like this.

He walked past Theo and his conspirators. Astoria smiled at him and Daniel smiled back but the last thing he wanted was to be caught in conversation. He leaned down to speak softly in Theo's ear. "Snape thinks it would be a shame to let the Muggle Studies classes slide. Think about it."

Then he went straight out of the hall and to the library. He should be able to fit in an hour or so looking into magical repair before his Occlumency session.