The Birthday Present

by Excessivelyperky

Disclaimer: All belongs to Rowling and various assigns, including Warner Brothers, Scholastic Books, and so on.

Author's note: The book that Snape refers to later in this chapter in re whinging by the yard is Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way.

Chapter 38: Toxins

Harry Potter

Harry awoke the next morning. He didn't remember his dreams, but they left a foul taste in his mouth. No wonder Snape hated owing a Wizarding Debt to Dad, he thought as he dressed and went down to breakfast. He felt a little better after he ate. Ron was babbling a mile a minute about the first game of the season, and just calming his friend down was good for him, too. He still dragged his feet as he went to the Headmaster's office. As he gave the password to the gargoyle, he cheered up. Dumbledore wasn't like his Uncle Vernon. Even after trashing the office last spring, the old wizard was still the same gentle authority figure he'd always been. Ok, he wasn't quite as kind as last year, but Harry knew he'd brought that on himself. He wished he didn't have the same tightness in his shoulders here that he did at home, though.

Dumbledore offered him a lemon drop and had him sit down. "You've discovered who gave you the pensieve, haven't you?"

"Yes," said Harry. "But you knew all along. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Would you have believed me?"

He thought about that. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know what to do! It feels weird to be grateful to Snape for anything. Did you make him do it?"

"I asked him to help you, in part to make up for his behavior last year. However, I left the details up to him. I wish he hadn't given up so many memories. I hope you realize what a great gift they were, Harry. He doesn't have as many happy ones as he should, and tolose any of them was a great sacrifice." The Headmaster looked sad.

"I…I kept thinking…" Harry said hesitantly. "He keeps saving my life, too. Almost as many times as you have, even if he doesn't like me. Maybe it counts more because he doesn't."

Dumbledore broke out in a pleased smile. "I am proud of you, boy. It's hard to get past years of grudges and see so clearly."

"Well, it helps that he's different this year. Why is that?" Maybe I'm different because my summer was so much better than before, as well as having the pensieve. Maybe that weird herb tea for Uncle Vernon had made a difference, too. There was something about it he almost remembered, too, and he wished he could figure it out.

The old wizard turned his face away. "I can't tell you most of it, not even when I'm certain Tom won't be listening in. But he was stuck in old patterns even more than you were. What happened to him this summer helped break, or at least bend them. Much of it was my fault. I assumed he would tell me when I asked too much of him, and he wouldn't."

Harry remembered too many times when Snape had spouted off, either to be ignored or worse yet, completely overruled, usually for his sake. He thought of the way Dumbledore and Fudge had talked when the Potions Master had been so angry about Sirius Black's escape, and how he thought it'd been funny at the time. He could think of a dozen or more other times when he'd received special treatment, or at least gotten off lightly when he and his friends had done something against the rules. But then I'm sent home to the Dursleys where everything is just the opposite! Does Snape ever have any time when he's the favorite? He knew better than to ask that question, though.

The Headmaster looked down at his cup of tea. "I'm trying to break some of my old patterns, too. Plus, all those fumes down in the dungeon are bad for anyone, especially over the long term. As inconvenient as we've found the Ministry's new health regulations, they do have a point."

"Hermione said something about it. And Uncle Vernon is forever going on about how much it costs to keep the inspectors happy," Harry said, glad to change topic himself. "I remember that Madam Pomfrey said I had to have a guardian sign my papers so I could take Potions. You're probably going to keep me in there anyway, but who is it going to be?"

"We haven't decided yet."

"Why not you, sir?"

Dumbledore looked tired. "I am so old, Harry. I could easily go to sleep and not wake up. So far I have held off death, but there's no guarantee. And, to be honest, since I left you with the Dursleys, someone at the Ministry could make that an issue. One pureblood family has already filed a suit for your guardianship."

Harry's heart leaped. "The Weasleys?"

The old wizard shook his head. "Narcissa Malfoy, on the grounds of her relationship to Sirius Black."

"No!" Even the Dursleys looked good compared to them. "What about Remus Lupin?"

"Perhaps. But as a werewolf, the Ministry would have trouble accepting him. I have given some thought to this, Harry. The longer we delay answering the suit, the sooner it will be till your birthday when you will reach your majority in the Wizarding World. That's one of the reasons your godfather's will is still in probate. If we can manage to drag it out long enough, the more likely it will be you'll inherit what he left without the guardianship issue causing trouble."

"Better not let Uncle Vernon know, then," Harry said. "If he knew there was a way to make money out me, he'd be in the middle of it." I could sell tickets to Aunt Petunia going up against that horrible portrait, he thought.

"We would rather avoid the Muggle court system," Dumbledore said with a grimace. "And we've avoided your lesson long enough."

Harry learned more about finding memories, removing them, and putting them back. "Whenever I take a memory out to put into the pensieve, I end up going through it," he said. "What actually happened is gone, but sometimes there's a sore spot left over if it was a bad one."

"I know," said the Headmaster. "That is one of the disadvantages, I fear."

Then Harry remembered something. Every time Snape gave him a lesson, the pensieve had been out or close by. "He had to do that whenever he gave me a lesson, then."

"Very likely." The old wizard found his tea quite interesting again.

No wonder Snape hates me. Dumbledore keeps making him do things that hurt so I can get something, and then it doesn't matter if he complains about it. Uncle Vernon always yells at me more when something bad happens at work and it's because of his boss. He was really ticked when the Headmaster yelled at him and Aunt Petunia, too. I hate being the Quaffle! Of course, if Snape is really spying for the Order, he has a right to feel like one, too. Maybe we both ought to find a Beater club or look for another game! "No wonder he chucked a jar of cockroaches at me when I went snooping," Harry said.

"I wish you had thought about this back then," Dumbledore said, who raised his wand. "Legilimens!"

Harry was overwhelmed at first. It wasn't like being pounded into the dirt the way Snape did it, but being drowned in a rush of water pouring into him wasn't much better. He heard himself shouting "Protego!" only to have nothing happen.

Then he remembered what he'd done last summer in the car. He put himself into his parents' wedding, starting from the very beginning. He counted off the people in the pews, heard the music, and watched Mum and Dad standing at the altar. It felt as if he were riding in a broom above a river, instead of floundering in it and trying not to drown.

Suddenly he was back in the office. The Headmaster smiled at him. "Very good, Harry. Taking refuge in a harmless memory is one good way of defending your mind. However, you'll have to choose others as well. A single memory gets worn out if used too often, and loses its effectiveness. I will help you with memory training as well, so you can organize the ones you prefer properly. That will be better for you than building deceptive walls the way Snape must."

Harry nodded. "I have other happy ones of my own. I wish I had more of them."

"I do, too. Perhaps this year you will have more. I think you've made progress so far."

"Well, it helps not to have Umbridge here," he said. I have to remember that. She'd probably think the Dursleys were too nice to me, and give them extra tips on how to make the cupboard under the stairs even more special. "And…well, Snape isn't as bad this year. We're kind of…oh, I dunno…circling around each other." The Potions Master hadn't yelled at anybody yet, though there was already betting on who would make him snap first.

"I must admit, I am pleased with both of you. I don't expect the two of you to be friends, but I do hope you can work together."

"I wish…I wish Sirius could have seen it. I felt stuck between them sometimes last year."

"I imagine you were. I was disappointed when I heard that your godfather did not encourage you to return to the Occlumency lessons after you'd left them. Oh, and Professor Lupin is pleased by your behavior in his class. It would be quite easy for you to use your popularity against Mr. Malfoy, and I'm glad you haven't given into the temptation."

"Well, I still wouldn't mind seeing him turned into a ferret or a slug again," Harry admitted. "And the first time he flaps his mouth, I'm going to remind him where his father is. But I don't want to be like my dad that way, or like the Slytherins last year when they did dirty work for Umbridge. I don't like the way they watch me all the time, but I can tell Remus is watching them, too."

Dumbledore nodded. "In a couple of weeks, or perhaps after that, I want you to go out with Professor Lupin to the Forbidden Forest to watch him in action with Shacklebolt to see how a team works together. Individual dueling proficiency is important, but learning how to work together in a coordinated way is even more so. I suspect you found that out last spring."

"If we had known what we were doing, all of us would have stayed away from the veil, or distracted Lestrange to let Sirius move away from it," Harry said. "We were just flailing away one on one most of the time. When I told Hermione about my ideas about flying and dueling, she talked about some old history shows she saw this summer. If we had a group of us trained to fly and swoop down with our wands out all at once, that would be better than a bunch of dogfights. She said to let her know in advance, though, so she could owl home for the Dramamine."

The Headmaster picked up a sweet and began sucking on it. He looked thoughtful. "That's an interesting idea, Harry. After the war with Grindelwald, there was talk of training new Aurors to work together in that way, but nothing came of it. Against Wizarding traditions, and all that. Perhaps times have changed enough for people to be more willing to listen."

"Well, I'm not that great a duelist, but I can fly. That's how I managed the first task a couple of years ago. Not everybody has to be great, just able to follow along. Hermione goes out to the practice pitch more than she wants to, and Ron and I try to help. It'd be almost like putting together an all-Hogwarts team if we ever played Quidditch against other schools."

"That would have to include Slytherin as well," Dumbledore said gently.

Harry made a face. "Why the big change this year? Nobody's ever worried about them before now."

"Professor Snape has always been worried about them."

"But I remember when you were so proud of me about the Basilisk, and how happy you were that I'd Sorted Gryffindor when the Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin. I mean, up till the Welcoming Feast this year…"

"I told you I have some old patterns to break. Isolating one house and condemning them as evil, with my active encouragement, undoubtedly contributed to so many of them taking the Mark in the past. The Head of Slytherin has always taken a deeper interest in the families of his students. I suspect he would have dealt with your family years ago."

That started Harry thinking. The weird herb tea Aunt Petunia made for Uncle Vernon had helped a lot, too. He hadn't noticed any owls, though. "What…what else did he do this summer?" he asked, hoping he wouldn't have to make the rounds again before someone finally told him something.

"I think you already know, Harry," the old wizard said. "Your aunt, though you may not believe it, was concerned about the situation. I didn't know myself till the summer was almost over how Professor Snape managed it. I believed he trained Winky to prepare the ingredients for the Harmonia Potion by herself, and used the Muggle post to deliver them."

"Oh." Harry was amazed. I'm not even in his House. Why would he care? He could have gone through the motions and then pretended he'd done all he could.

"If you really wish to repay a debt you feel you owe, then try to see the Slytherins as people, too. The Potions Master cares deeply for them."

"It'll help if you do, too," Harry blurted out, then wished he'd kept silent. He was always making that mistake here.

"I know. And I hope you do feel that you can trust me enough to be angry."

"It doesn't matter. You keeping sending me back to the Dursleys anyway." Harry didn't know what was wrong with him. Usually he knew better than to say how he really felt. "And I'm supposed to kill Voldemort when nobody else can, but I still have to have a guardian."

"That is why I can't be your guardian, Harry. I've made terrible mistakes, not only with you, but with others in my care. Professor Snape nearly died because of me, not just from what Tom did to him."

Harry felt uneasy. It's like Snape is the older brother and I'm the younger one, but here I'm the favorite instead of Dudley at home. But the war comes first before anything. I know my friends like me, and not just the Boy-Who-Lived, but sometimes I wonder about the Headmaster. At least I do have friends. Then he uneasily wondered if Snape did. None of the Order members except Dumbledore or Mrs. Weasley had been nice at 12 Grimmauld Place. Well, Remus hadn't been nasty or anything, but he hadn't stopped his godfather from being rotten, either.

The Headmaster interrupted the uneasy silence. "Well, I've kept you here long enough. Keep practicing removing and putting memories into your pensieve. That will become more important as I increase the pressure. You'll find taking refuge in a particular memory less helpful in other circumstances and with other practitioners of Legilimency, so you'll need more than one that you keep close enough to use."

"Your spell felt different than his last year," Harry said. "He just smashed me flat, but with you it was more like being in front of a big wave, or pushed under by a flood."

"Most people learn Occlumency from only one person," the old wizard said, obviously glad to talk about something else. "Professor Snape's first experience with Legilimency was with Riddle, while mine was much earlier with another expert. Students rarely have the opportunity to feel different methods at your age."

"I ended up in some of his memories when I tried to fight back," Harry said.

"Then you are talented indeed, though they may have been ones he wanted you to see."

"Um, I don't think so." It wouldn't be fair to talk about those. He couldn't help seeing the time when a small child had cried in a corner while a man had menaced a tired-looking woman.

"That's interesting." Dumbledore drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Usually only wizards who are destined to work together will see so deeply, especially when one is an Occlumens as skilled as the Potions Master is. This may explain some of the trouble you had keeping him out of your mind last year."

"But Voldemort could get to me, too, and once I saw through Nagini's eyes. It was a good thing I did that time."

"Tom already has a connection to you through the scar, Harry. It's possible your teacher's Dark Mark creates one as well."

"That would explain some of the dreams I had. In one of them, the two of us were boxing and Snape let me knock him down. But then he stood up and put his hand on my scar, and took the pain away. And I had those two visions along with that."

"Yes, I should have remembered." The Headmaster stood up. "Now, you need to leave or you'll miss eating. At your age, you should be starving after all this work."

Harry was, and barely made it to lunch in time. He was happy to leave his pensieve in his room and happier to go to Quidditch practice. The game with Ravenclaw was tomorrow, and he needed to be prepared.

Severus Snape

The next two weeks weren't much better than the first one, though he was almost too tired to teach the morning after starting Lupin's potion. If only there was a way to preserve it better, so he could make more than one batch and have it keep. Once he'd taught his students how to make it, he'd work on that.

He didn't understand why he felt so odd even after finishing the two batches and bottling them in preparation for the full moon. Severus caught himself snapping at the other teachers at meal times, though he wasn't really that angry with them, or even with his idiot students.

Snape finally consulted Madam Pomfrey one evening when the infirmary was deserted. He'd actually yelled at Winky, poor thing, and for something not her fault. "I thought the additional potions were supposed to help with my bad temper," he said as he sat at her desk. "For a while they worked much better than I expected. Have I become habituated to them the way I have to the sedative?"

"You shouldn't be like that with any of them," Poppy said as she poured a cup of tea for him. "Wait. When was the last time you had an expulsion phase?"

"In Switzerland, just before the beginning of school. But I don't feel the same way as I did then. Everything was, um, gray and I had no strength. Now I'm just out of sorts." He was wasting his time and hers whinging about it, no doubt.

"How have you been eating?"

"Not as well as a couple of weeks ago. That Muggle muck Trelawney inflicted on me is sitting better, but for the last few days nothing has been tasting good." He'd been trying a number of different things, especially in the evenings, to remove the horrible taste of his potions fromhis mouth. Even a small dish of ice cream or sherbet hadn't appealed to him much the last few days.

"You may be ready for another expulsion phase and not know it," she said. "Perhaps you feel different this time because of the potions your students are making, or not making as the case may be. Also, you've been working on Lupin's Wolfsbane."

"Two different batches," he said. "I wanted to make sure one of them would be right."

"Ah." She fetched a notepad and scribbled a few notes. "I'll need an ingredient list. And a list of what you're using in class."

"I thought I gave you that one already," Snape said. "But I can find another copy."

"Your daybook also shows you're not sleeping well."

"I know. Ever since I found out Winky has been intercepting some of my night callers. I've been worried she won't wake me for something important." It wasn't the elf's fault. She was only trying to help.

"And you haven't been summoned for a while, either. Have any of your students been called since school started?" Poppy looked worried. Severus was glad someone besides him fretted over the dunderheads.

"None I've been told about. I think I would know anyway."

The mediwitch nodded. "I'll Floo the clinic and have them send me the right potions for the next expulsion phase. Or would you rather do it there? I'm sure the Headmaster will let you have a few days for it."

"I'd rather do it here. I know someone will make Lupin drink his potion…"

"I've been managing Remus for a lot longer than you have," she said gently. "If you can wait till the full moon, you would be away from here for it. What if you show the effects in class?"

Severus grimaced. "I'll assign an essay on potions overload. Expect a know-it-all Gryffindor to haunt your steps the moment she can't find anything in the library on it."

"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were looking forward to it." Then light dawned in the witch's eyes. "You want them to learn about it, don't you?"

"They won't take it seriously unless they see what happens," Snape said. "Especially the Weasley boy. I want him to carry tales to the twins, since they work with some strange things in their own business, and test all their new concoctions on each other first. They may contact you as well for more information." He stood up and felt like pacing around the infirmary. How odd. The first two times he'd been affected by the toxins to such a degree he hadn't had any energy at all, while now he had too much.

"I really think you should go to the clinic this time," Poppy said. "But I suppose I need to learn how to cope with the procedure when there isn't…isn't some other emergency."

For a moment he almost changed his mind. He was adding to her workload, wasn't he? "It won't be much bother besides gathering samples of the sweat and…anything else to send to Switzerland. I'm not as weak as I was the first time. The large tub here should work to take the residue off my skin. Dobby helped a great deal the last time, and should be able to again if I become ill otherwise. The laundry elves are used to coping with my robes by now, and I've warned them to be more careful this year. It shouldn't be so bad this time, especially since I haven't waited quite so long."

She smiled wanly. "I hope you're right, Severus."

He shifted position, still restless. "Perhaps you could offer points to volunteers. I am giving points for those who come in on Saturday for extra cleaning. Frankly, they've done a better job so far than the ones working off detention."

"I really need someone with more skill for an assistant," she said, though she appeared to consider the matter seriously.

"Then choose one of the house elves who has helped you before. Winky is learning much faster than I expected. Of course, most of the Slytherins come from families with elves, so they're using to seeing one around. The younger students are often watched by them anyway."

"I must admit, I certainly never thought she was dependable enough for the work she's been doing so far," Poppy said. "Oh, Severus, sit down! I hate it when you're so twitchy."

He complied. First rule for spies: always listen to the people who patch you together, he thought.

"That's better," she said, and continued. "The elves usually tell me most of what's going on when they come to me with their own ailments, or just to gossip, but I really haven't used them as much as I could here. I suppose one could keep watch on students with minor problems while I deal with more severe injuries or illnesses, or to help with night watch. Neither Winky nor Dobby had trouble telling me when they were worried about you last summer."

"At least they would ease the load while you look for someone more qualified," Snape said. "I wish I weren't such a burden sometimes." He wanted to snatch the words back. He must be more affected by being close to threshold than he thought to let his real feelings out so openly, even to Poppy.

"Well, let's try this. When you take the potions for the expulsion phase, I'll have Dobby help you at first and see how well that works. He'll be the first to come to me if you have more problems than he can cope with. He can take turns with Winky, so neither becomes overtired. They're almost as bad as you are about that."

Severus grimaced. "Fair enough. Oh, Poppy, I know I'm being horrible to everyone this week. I almost wanted to strangle Potter again, and he hasn't been that bad, at least not for him. I shouldn't try to push you away. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"It probably is the potions reacting to your classes," she said soothingly, and put a hand on his shoulder. He tried not to flinch. She withdrew it, and looked sad. "At least you're telling me about it instead of just having tantrums. I just wish you could talk about this to Albus, too. I've noticed you haven't popped off at him."

"I…I can't. I know I should trust him, but I…just can't." He bowed his head and let his hair come down on his face in the old habit he wished he could break. "I know what he thinks of my ill temper, no matter how kindly he speaks to me about anything these days."

"I know it still hurts, dear. But allow him to be human too. He is trying. He knows how badly he behaved last summer and is doing his best to make up for it. You have both done well since then." She sighed. "We're watching out for you, too. That's why Minerva was in his office last Sunday, and Flitwick will be there the next. I will likely take a shift, but not till Quidditch season is over. That reminds me—have you been outside in the mornings and lying down in the afternoons the way you're supposed to?"

"The mornings, yes," Severus said. He lifted his head and brushed the hair out of his face. "In fact, just going around is boring now instead of terrifying. In a week or so I'm supposed to start dueling practice with Lupin and Shacklebolt. I wonder how surprised they would be to have me attack from above…"

Pomfrey rolled her eyes. "It's not enough that three quarters of the schooltry to kill each other out on the field every week, you have to join them up there too. I still remember the time you acted as referee out there. I suppose Rolanda is behind this."

He grinned. "I'm afraid so. But the broom she lent me is an old Cleansweep, so I'm not likely to get into much trouble with it. And…I like not being so afraid of something that used to bother me so much." Severus still wasn't totally comfortable higher than a couple of feet in the air, but he certainly wasn't as terrified as he had been at first.

The mediwitch muttered something about men and their toys that Snape was careful not to hear too clearly. "I suppose being outdoors is better for you, at least till the weather changes," she said in a grudging manner. "But what about afternoons? You should be tired by then."

Those hadn't gone so well. "I have been lying down, but I can't sleep," he said. "The first week I was so tired I dropped right off. For last couple of days, I've been grading, though with my feet up in the new chair. Lying down seems like such a waste of time when the papers begin piling up the way they do."

"You still need to relax, Severus." Poppy looked concerned. "Trelawney told me the Muggles have ways of doing so without potions. She said she had some books on the subject. You aren't the only teacher who overstrains himself, you know."

"I've been looking at them," he admitted. "I should send a copy of anything that works on me to Minerva." Judging by the way the mediwitch looked when he mentioned the Transfiguration teacher's name, he should brew McGonagall a new set of potions.

"Now, that would be telling," Poppy said. "But you could do worse than to consult with Sybil about this."

"I know," he said ruefully. "I'm not used to talking to her about anything except teasing her about her Inner Eye and offering to make cleansing drops for it."

A little explosion of laughter escaped the mediwitch. "Now we both know better than that, Severus. You were the only one who really confronted her about her drinking last year, and she appreciates it. She could use a lift herself every once in a while."

He wondered if Poppy knew about the prophecy Sybil had made for him. "I won't tease her…much," he said. "I am reading some of her books, and having a good time sneering at most of them. A few have made sense."

"Oh, Severus," she said, shaking her head. "I could talk like this all evening. Right now, though, I should Floo the clinic before it's too late for them, and have them send the next set of potions. If you have too much trouble, you're going back to them. You should have been a mediwizard yourself, and that's the patient we all fear."

"I did have to take the short course to qualify to teach in Potions," Snape pointed out. "A good thing, too, I might add, given the way my students try to poison themselves and others. You should see the problems I fix in class."

"I daresay I'm better off not doing so," Pomfrey said with a wry smile. "Well, you've been good company this time, but…"

"You have things to do. I'll manage to avoid murdering anyone for the new few days, Poppy. Or I'll go out to the Forest with Flitwick and hunt some more Acromantulas." He left the infirmary and decided some dueling wasn't a bad idea, if Lupin was up to it tonight. He'd been told not to wander off the grounds of the castle till he was in better health, unfortunately. Severus wished Dumbledore wasn't right. He wasn't as strong as he would like, despite his agitation.

He passed by the troll and decided to find out if the Room of Requirement had anything special to serve him. Snape had found out earlier the snakes he'd killed at the beginning of summer had been plaguing one part of the Forest, and their disappearance a boon to the centaurs. He wasn't terribly fond of them after their treatment of Firenze, but given they had also helped dispose of Umbridge, didn't worry about it much.

The Potions Master opened the door, only the find the room full of furious Cornish pixies. Ah, he thought. No doubt these little gems of the fairy world have been hiding somewhere since Lockhart lost control of them. He stepped forward with a grin and a wand held high.

After a brisk half-hour, the floor was full of the little blue monsters now looking peaceful and innocent. Snape wrapped them all in strong twine and levitated the bundle to the kitchen, where the elves cheered him as he flung the pixies through the vermin trap to the new cage under Hagrid's cottage. The groundskeeper was welcome to make friends with them if he liked, though pixie toenails, and other parts, were useful in many potions. Apparently one or two of them had made forays into the pantries to the dismay of the elf in charge, and had a not so charming habit of fouling any food they weren't able to haul away. Snape didn't want to think how they would have treated Filch if the caretaker had ever come across them.

He went back to the dungeons feeling much more pleasant, despite one or two bites he'd slap a plaster on later. He did his rounds through Slytherin Tower, made sure the wards that warned him of anyone straying were reinforced, and rested for a half or hour instead of going to bed immediately. Severus was pleased to add an image of one small pixie hanging by an ankle and tied the ceiling of his 'office' where he kept his happy thoughts. He also looked through the book that recommended whinging by the yard, though it was odd the author kept insisting such papers should be handwritten. He knew several students, and not just young Mr. Weasley, whose essays would be far more readable with a Dicta-Quill, while some of the Muggle-born had many things to say about ordinary quills, none of which were complimentary.

Snape shuddered to think how long some essays would be if writing itself did not force the author to think first and scribble later, though he knew many who didn't bother with the first step. Miss Granger was not the only student who attempted to overwhelm any question with sheer mass of words.

Yet…the idea of venting his feelings with buckets of ink actually sounded attractive at this point. It would certainly be easier on everyone around him, and more convenient than relying on the Room of Requirement to give him something to blast whenever he felt peevish.Of course, he'd have to burn whatever he wrote. If he understood the book rightly, the procedure offered a dangerous freedom. If anyone else read how he truly felt, he could be killed or sent to Azkaban. Despite what Poppy said, Severus knew it would be a long time, if ever, before he truly trusted Dumbledore again.

He took some of the paper from the cubby beneath his new chair, then decided perhaps he would be more coherent in the morning. Just knowing there was a way to express the churning emotions inside that was relatively risk-free calmed him. Snape lay down then, and decided not to worry how well he was going to sleep. He'd managed on less before. No doubt the approach of the full moon as well as the devil's brews some of his students had already experimented with had much to do with his current state.

The next day he noticed a marked increase in the vileness of the potions Dobby and Winky brought him, along with the obligatory snack. He'd been too ill at the clinic to fully appreciate how foul they had been the last time he'd gone through an expulsion phase, no doubt.

Of course it was that Friday, the very day of the full moon, and in the sixth years' class when the black sweat erupted on his skin. He lectured them on safety, assigned an essay on potions overload to the little know-it-all and two Ravenclaws, and left for the infirmary. The horrible stuff burned his skin, and he was barely able to make it to the lavatory in time to vomit up his guts. Fortunately Dobby was soon there to assist him. Even with the elf helping him, Poppy still had time to hover over him and order him to bed. Severus felt so wrung out he didn't argue. Then he remembered. "Lupin," he croaked. "The potion for tonight." He shook with fear, though with any luck she would think it was from his illness.

"Where did you leave it?" Her voice was gentle as she guided him to a bed after Dobby had helped him put on a gown.

"On my desk."

"I'll take care of it. You stay right where you are. I do appreciate this, Severus. It's easier on all of us when I don't have to take him to the Shack. He's much more comfortable in his rooms, and I've already heard from someone at St. Mungo's who is extremely grateful to have the extra batch this time, so that went well, too." She left before he could stop her.

"Don't worry, Master Severus," Dobby said. "Everyone is safe."

Snape nodded. "Except for the poor elf who has to handle my clothes." As he feared, the sweat had ruined his shirt and trousers. He'd have to purchase more to replace them.

The old elf grimaced. "Should be burned, not fixed."

"The robe is spelled to make it easy for poisons to come out," Severus said, leaning back on the pillow. I'm afraid you're right about the rest." He began sweating again. The dark substance caused pain to his already blistered skin. His stomach warned him that another cycle of purging was on his schedule, too.

The other two occupants of the infirmary, younger students from Hufflepuff he thought, studiously looked the other way as he bolted for the lav. Dobby quickly drew another bath and threw his current gown onto the pile of his discarded clothing.

Once clean and empty again, he needed the elf to help him back into bed. Dobby put a screen around the space to give him some privacy, though Snape feared he'd made enough noise to make it clear how ill he was. His eyes watered and stung, and the cloth he used to wipe them left brown smears. The elf fetched him some plain eyedrops. Do wizards who undergo this treatment ever have vision problems after? That was something he hadn't considered.

Perhaps it's just as well I have so short a time. I would hate to spend the next century half-blind because of this regimen. Snape used the drops Dobby brought him. He was glad of the screen, as he found himself weeping. Fortunately he had long practice in crying quietly. It's just the potions, Severus told himself. Of course I feel rotten and weak. Once again his belly signaled potential disaster. This time it was much more difficult, even with help, to get to the toilet in time, and he had to rest for a while before attempting his way back to the bed. In fact, he fell on top of the pallet and Dobby levered him the rest of the way in, fortunately before Madam Pomfrey returned from giving Lupin his potion. She brought him another blanket, since he was shaking with the chills that presaged another surge of heat and black sweat.

"Drink this," she told him after putting on the blanket. "It's not quite the same as the enchanted sleep charm they used in Switzerland, but it will help. Good," she said, once she'd helped him choke the new stuff down. "Now turn to your side and sleep that way, so if you have trouble while you're asleep you won't gag too badly."

He knew exactly what she meant. He'd learned by the time he was eight to make sure his mother slept that way after finishing a bottle. "I should have gone to the clinic," he whispered.

"If you have to be placed on a stretcher and put through the Floo, you do, but don't worry about it now. You've already expelled quite a bit, and that can only help."

Snape closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, it was morning judging by the angle of sunlight through the window, while Dumbledore sat by his bed."

"Better?" asked the older wizard, who looked concerned. There was a shimmering glow around the bed, which meant Dumbledore had put a muffling spell around, and the two of them could speak freely.

"Just tired. It wasn't as bad this time as the first." Severus noticed he was lying on his back, which was a good sign under the circumstances.

The Headmaster nodded. "Poppy thinks you're affected by the fumes from teaching even with the venting. She said you noticed you felt differently as well. I'm glad you're finally paying attention and not just shoving it away."

"Doesn't work anyway…" Snape said.

"Interesting that the reaction is following the full moon this time."

"Coincidence…unless something's in the Wolfsbane Potion…" He reached for the glass of water on his side-table, but his hand shook terribly.

Albus picked it up instead and helped him drink. Washing the foul taste out of his mouth was definitely an improvement. Severus nodded his thanks. Oh, Merlin, it was a small gesture but it spoke volumes to him. Perhaps he shouldn't be moved by so little, but he couldn't help it. "It's…it's hard to, to feel things," he said, trying to explain. "And I'll have to shut it off again the next time I'm summoned to do what the Order needs."

"Maybe the Order is asking too much."

"The Order is asking a sixteen year old boy to kill one of the most powerful wizards in existence," Snape said, more harshly than he meant to. He softened his tone. "The Order doesn't have a choice there. Neither do I. We both know it. Even the oldest possible replacement is too young."

"You weren't."

Severus remembered those dreadful years when a Dementor's Kiss had seemed like mercy. "None of them have learned the lessons they need to, not yet. They certainly won't be trusted if I go missing. One can only imagine what Bella would do to them." Mr. Potter now is barely the age I was when I became a Death Eater in the first place. He and his friends were only eleven when they went after that wretched Stone. One could think all their perils have been training exercises. I thought I was the only one thrown to the wolves like that..

The Headmaster glanced down at the floor. Snape knew the argument was over, then, at least for now. "We both know I don't have much time," he added dully. "Prophecies like Sybil's don't change. I could be rushing towards my doom by trying to avoid it. I'll manage, Albus. I found out this summer…" His voice shook. "I never expected everyone here to rally around the way they did." Severus sat up carefully and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, though he became dizzy anyway. After a moment or so, he didn't feel quite so faint.

"Lie down, professor," Poppy's voice rang from the other side of the screen as the shimmering air around the area blinked out. "You are not going anywhere today. Your darlings will just have to play Quidditch without you. They've already been told, if they didn't know already, that your regimen has put you to bed till I say you can leave. I believe they plan to march in here with the Snitch on a silver platter. Don't ruin their little scheme."

He obeyed. Then she came around the side and glared at him. "I've put Professor Lupin to bed as well. He took his potion like a gentleman and slept through the moon last night, but he's still weak from the transformation."

"A pity they cannot convalesce in the same room and amuse each other then," Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "At least you wouldn't have to trot back and forth so much."

The Potions Master bit back a wave of fear. He shouldn't be like this. He knew the potion worked. A few years ago he had put a spell on one of the portraits in Lupin's quarters to see through the figure's eyes to reassure himself the Wolfsbane really worked. All he'd seen was a wolf, curled up and sleeping through the night.

"That's not an option, Albus," Poppy said with a tired smile. "Don't worry, Severus, I won't let that happen."

He was ashamed to have shown so much weakness, but in a way it was just as well. The Headmaster sometimes acted on such impulses, usually the dismay of everyone else involved. Then the mediwitch began examining him and ordered him a tray, as Dumbledore made his escape. No doubt the older wizard worried about what Poppy would find if she looked him over, too. Snape objected to the tray. "It's not like I'm going to keep it down," he said.

"It's better to have something to heave up, and it's very light," she said. "Well, I'd best make ready for the weekly collisions. You have been less trouble than I thought you would be. Try to get as much food down as you can. I'll wait a few hours before giving you any more potions, and allow you a chance to digest some of it. This part of the treatment doesn't need to be quite as intensive as your first experience, I don't think. You will likely be better off, even if it lasts a trifle longer." She left.

Soon Winky arrived with the tray. "Dobby says you sick again," she said. "Says I stay to help little Snakes. But they all fine. Please eat, Master."

He should have found it annoying how she stood there and fussed at him while he ate. He should have found it really annoying when she went on her tiptoes to feed him the last few bits of thin, sweet gruel when his hands lost all strength altogether. In fact, he felt drowsy as soon as the tray was empty and barely noticed her going away with it.

Then it was afternoon. Clearly, he'd fallen asleep again. Snape would not put it past Poppy to have slipped him a sedative in his food, though he normally could taste the flavor of it. For once it didn't matter. He heard vague sounds from the other side of the screen, but nothing terribly loud. For now he'd pretend obedience, wait till she was busy with some idiot fallen off his broom, and then make his escape.

He couldn't decide if he'd had any potions or episodes of vomiting while he'd been asleep, and decided he didn't care. Snape closed his eyes for a moment after drinking some water from the glass on his table. How trusting he was up here! But the infirmary had always been safe.

Snape awoke again, though not long afterwards judging by the shadows, and heard the sound of footsteps. "Where is he?" said Crabbe.

"Behind that, probably. Be quiet, or Madam Pomfrey will throw us out." That was Draco. His godson peeked around the screen. "Professor?"

"Come around quickly, or you'll all be caught," Snape said. "I was thinking about leaving anyway."

Four proud Slytherins shuffled into the small space. Draco didn't have a silver platter, but did have the Snitch in his hand. "I wish you could have seen it, sir. We rolled Ravenclaw up like a carpet. You wouldn't believe how I fooled Chang. Of course, Crabbe and Bulstrode kept her so busy dodging Bludgers she was too distracted to see where I was really going, while Zabini kept the goal clear of their Quaffles." He continued describing the game.

Severus noticed how his godson was careful to praise everyone on the team for their contribution, instead of dwelling endlessly on his own glorious maneuvers. You've grown up, Draco, he thought.

"I wish I could have seen it, too," he said, meaning it. "What were the penalties this time? You know Hooch will tell me, so you might as well come clean now."

Crabbe hung his head. "I got one, sir. Boot's over in one of the other beds waiting for Madam Pomfrey. I was really aiming for Rosemead. But they missed their penalty shot." That clearly cheered the large young man.

Snape shook his head. "Always hit what you're aiming for, Mr. Crabbe. I think you may owe Mr. Boot an apology. Well? Any others?"

Everyone denied drawing the wrath of the experienced coach, and Miss Bulstrode mentioned three penalties pinned on Ravenclaw. "Good," said the Potions Master. "I am proud of all of you. It is harder to win with less ah, aggressiveness, but I think you appreciate it more." He was more than a little surprised to hear Madam Hooch had called fouls on the other team. No doubt she was still in shock herself. "There will be weeks when you will wonder why we bother following the rules so strictly, but we'll get through that. I will speak to the whole team later, but I suspect if you stay too long our esteemed mediwitch will throw you out. Mr. Crabbe, if you could stay behind?" He nodded at the rest of the players as they left.

"Sir…I'm sorry about the penalty," Vincent said hesitantly.

"This isn't about that," Snape said quietly. "Bring a chair and have a seat." This wasn't the best place for this sort of thing, but he shouldn't miss this opportunity or he might forget. Crabbe had been under Draco's shadow for so long it was hard to remember he was an individual in his own right.

The young Slytherin did as he was told. Snape put a Silencio around the area.

"I just wanted to find out how you are doing," Severus said gently. "I know how you must grieve for your friend."

Crabbe's face crumpled. He lowered his head, but said nothing.

"It's all right to miss him, you know."

"B-but he was against the Dark Lord," Vincent whispered hoarsely.

"Let's talk about this in my office," Snape said. "Go look in the tall closet near the office door and fetch me a long robe. We should go back to the dungeons for the rest of this." He wanted an excuse to leave anyway. He was still tired, but his stomach was reasonably settled. If he happened to miss a dose that would disturb that balance, it would not break his heart.

Crabbe came back with a long white robe with 'Infirmary' printed on it, and turned his back as Snape put it on over the patient gown. They both walked out, though the Potions Master noticed Mr. Boot was likely going to have a nasty time with some Skele-Gro judging by the angle of his left leg. "You should take him some sweets later tonight if you can. The potion he's probably going to take won't let him sleep."

"Yes, sir." The sturdy Slytherin looked as if he struggled with thought. What a horrifying sensation that must be, Snape mused.

Soon they were in the dungeons through a shortcut. Severus ducked into his quarters and changed, with only minimal help from Winky, into something more suitable. As he and Crabbe sat down in his office, the little elf disappeared and then returned with a flask and a small plate of food. "Mistress Nurse say if you leave, you take this," she squeaked.

Snape ate first, then drank the foul stuff in the flask. "What are all the potions for, professor?" Crabbe asked.

"I really do have a problem with what's called potions overload," the Head of Slytherin said. "Over the years I've inhaled too much poison and it will make me quite ill if I don't rid myself of it."

Crabbe looked relieved. "I thought it was because you were still bad off from um, last summer." His face looked pale.

"That didn't help, but I have recovered from it. I'm still worried about you, though. I miss Mr. Goyle as well."

His student glanced around, then seemed reassured by the blankness of the office walls. "You…you won't tell anyone, will you? Mum said I had to be careful what I said."

"I think you know how well I keep secrets by now," Snape said softly.

Crabbe looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. "Drake told me it would be all right," he said. "He said you wouldn't give me away either. I never thought about things till Greg died." He rubbed his eyes. "You tried to stop it, too. Drake said he talked to both of us that night, not just me, to see if we were all right. He told me Greg felt the Mark hurting, but he didn't feel bad inside the way he had before, because of what you did. How did you know it was happening? Everyone knows how loyal you are."

"I am linked to all of you through the Mark because you are my apprentices," Snape said, knowing he was on dangerous ground. "Also, I've been in Azkaban, and the spell was fueled by a Dementor. Anything to do with them still bothers me."

"Oh." Crabbe appeared to accept that. "Third year must have been awful for you, then. No wonder you were so mad when the three of us pretended to be some ofthem. I really hated it when we had to stand by a real one for a while."

"So did I." Despite the necessity for the three boys to be punished for their nasty prank, Snape couldn't leave any of them, even that idiot Draco, to stand before a real Dementor alone. Combined with the continuing presence of the werewolf, it had not been a pleasant year. In fact, he hadn't what he would call a good one since Mr. Potter's arrival. He sighed. "It is all right to grieve for your friend, Mr. Crabbe. Just be careful who is around first."

"Millie—I mean, Miss Bulstrode's a good sort. I'm glad she's not…not one of us, you know? And Winky's always up for a bit of sympathy and a biscuit if she's not busy. That was a good idea to have her help, sir. Everyone sees how sick you are. So far nobody's made it past her at night."

Except for Miss Walsh, Snape thought, but said nothing about that. "I hope I'm not missing anything important," he commented, knowing he had to keep his hand on the pulse of House gossip.

"Dunno, sir. Firsties with nightmares, mostly," Crabbe said. "Pansy and Libby are supposed to help with the girls, and me and the others with the boys. That's what Drake said, anyway. There's one little brat I made shadow puppets for till he laughed, and he was all right after that. Now he's coming to me with his homework!"

Snape nearly laughed at the look of terror on the large Slytherin. "After all the time Mr. Malfoy has helped you with yours, it's only fair," he said.

"Well, it's better to let you sleep, sir. You aren't yelling near as much as last year."

"That's true," the Potions Master reluctantly admitted. "Last year wasn't pleasant for any of us."

"It was great running around with our wands out, even if we did have to suck up to the Toad. Why should Gryffindors have all the fun?"

"Madam Umbridge to you, Mr. Crabbe," he said in his most reproving tone.

"Sorry, sir. We joked how she was sweet on you, though never around someone from another House. But this year, it's not a game any more."

"No, Mr. Crabbe. It never was." As if to lend emphasis to the point, his arm began hurting. The student on the other side of the table winced, too. "I suggest you find the others. You may wish to let others assume you have a flask or bottle you'd like to share to celebrate our victory. Mr. Malfoy will naturally want to include Miss Parkinson, and she will fetch Miss Rosier. We'll meet by the Whomping Willow, and then proceed into the Forbidden Forest past the wards. Once outside of them we'll let the Mark take us where the Dark Lord wishes."

"Yes, sir," Crabbe said, rising.

"Don't forget your robes and mask. Don't put them on, though, till we're out of sight of the castle."

"Oh, right! Thank you, sir!"

Snape felt wretched at being thanked for leading the idiot into danger, but had to get ready anyway. He left a note for the Headmaster and had Dobby take it to him. "I will be out, and may miss my evening dose. You'll know more when I return," he said to the elf. If he did. Then he remembered that Miss Edgecombe had no idea of where they were supposed to rendezvous. He wrote another note and told Winky to take it over to Ravenclaw Tower.

As he gathered his own robes and an extra Portkey just in case, he tried to stop shaking. Despite Sybil's prophecy, he was well aware he risked his life every time he answered a summons.

Vincent Crabbe

Vincent went up to his room and fetched his robes and mask. Draco was already gone. He wasn't used to being by himself. Drake felt like that this year, too. Both of them kept turning their heads for someone who wasn't there any more.

Who was going to tell the others where to meet? Then he saw him. There was a rumor his friend had become a ghost, but nobody he knew had seen Goyle anywhere.

But there Greg was, standing by where his bed would have been this year. "Damn!" Crabbe said. "I can't stay to talk. We've been called again, and we're supposed to meet by the Whomping Willow. I'm probably going to make everyone else late if I stay."

Goyle nodded. As a ghost, he was almost transparent. Maybe new ones were always like that. "I'll tell anyone who hasn't left yet. I still can't go to the girls' side, but I can stand at the door and say Drake wants to talk to Pansy, and tell her to find Libby."

"Thanks. Are you all right?"

"I still get lost yet. Everything is really different this way. Be careful, Vince."

"Have to be. Some days I wonder…" Then Vince rashly decided he could always trust his friend. "I wish I hadn't done it, Greg, even to be with Drake."

"I wish I hadn't, either."

Vince knew it was hard for either one of them to do anything besides what Draco told them. "I think…I think Drake wonders the same thing. We're all worried about the Professor."

Goyle nodded glumly. "Snape almost died. All the ghosts, including me, had to be part of some funny rite so he wouldn't. But you better go."

Crabbe ran off. He knew Draco would always wait for him.