The Birthday Present

by Excessivelyperky

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

Chapter 55: Wolf in the Fold

Note: Moon of Ice by Brad Linaweaver is an excellent novel about a possible future Europe where Nazi Germany won WWII, and where Burgundy was given over to SS rule. Good reading. Hurrah again for Snape's Nightie and Zafaran, who keep trying to stop me from making mistakes.

Remus Lupin

"When do we get paid, Lupin?" Cresswell asked as they huddled together on the boat.

Fortunately it was still an hour or so before moonrise, though Remus felt strung up as he always did just before his transformation. "After tonight," he said. "You can't expect anyone to lay out money ahead of time on something like this. I have something we should all take before we leave the boat. It won't be the normal dose, but we're not being hired to lie about and snore, are we?"

Cresswell nodded. The dark-haired wizard from Surrey wasn't the only member of the werewolf part anxious about his money, but he was the most vocal. "We'd best choke it down, then," the fellow said. "Seems like a lot of trouble for a rehearsal."

"Doesn't it," Lupin replied. "Let's have a quick talk and decide what to do to live through this. Even if this is just a dry run, we'll need to practice working together for the real one."

"You're acting as if we're a normal pack," Cresswell said, but followed Remus and the rest as they gathered in the tiny hold.

Fortunately there were on a slightly larger vessel than the usual boats going to Azkaban, or there really wouldn't have been room. They were still quite cramped with all of them together.

"Gentlemen," Remus said, "and Miss Lewis. It may be this isn't a rehearsal at all, but the real thing. How many of you have ever taken the Wolfsbane Potion?"

A show of hands made it clear only a few of the two dozen werewolves had. "I have some with me," he said.

"I thought you said they wouldn't pay if all we did was sleep," Cresswell said.

"No. But over the years, I have received the potion on an irregular basis. I had to experiment with using only part of a standard dose and saving the rest. It does deteriorate over time, but not as quickly as most people think as long as the remainder is kept chilled." The basement of 12 Grimmauld Place was quite cold, even in summer. "I found that even a partial quantity help me retain much of myself, though I was quite restless because I was closed up and couldn't go hunting. I have just enough for all of us to have about a quarter cup." He gently chivvied them into a tightly-packed line.

"Who brewed this, anyway?" asked a thin, older man, who balked for a moment.

"Someone with an extraordinary reputation," Lupin said, who didn't want to mention Snape's name. "I have drunk the potion made by him before, and found it reliable."

"That's right, you're at Hogwarts now," said Cresswell. "Must be nice to get it for free."

Remus involuntarily thought of how dreadfully ill the Potions Master had looked yesterday morning when delivering it. "Free for me, anyway," he said shortly. "Now drink up, we may not have much time."

Everyone complied without further comment then. The wolf had the oddest feeling, as if he'd just nipped them all with only his words. Maybe he was going to be the alpha after all. Perhaps teaching had given him more self-confidence than he used to have.

There was just enough left for him whenever everyone else had had their portion. "Good," he said, wishing he had a pint to clean the taste out of his mouth. "Once we change, we must all stay together and not go off separately. We weren't told, but I have found out the outside guards are centaurs."

Nearly everyone hissed and booed at that news. Lupin wasn't surprised. "As much as we will want to attack them, we must remember to track and hunt the escaping prisoners instead. We should become familiar with our scents to detect those who don't belong."

"Won't be hard in this little room," said Miss Lewis, a buxom older woman built rather like Madam Umbridge, but far more human. She kept a pub in Islington, but feared having her secret come out. Thus far, her gender and age allowed her to pass off her transformation as being clock-regular. Lupin had questioned her why she needed this job, and had found out her insurance rates were going up, not because of anything wrong with her place, but because of the changing nature of the neighborhood. "I ought to hire an Auror and have him scout the agency for vampires," she'd grumbled at one of their group meetings.

Though Remus felt a little silly sniffing everyone in the room, he knew it was necessary. They had to stay together, and wolves communicated more by scent. He hoped it wouldn't rain. Even snow was easier to deal with—it had a clean white smell that actually helped other odors to stand out, but rain erased everything.

The boat landed. They erupted from the hold like a set of Muggles pouring out of a telephone booth. Lupin thought briefly of a show on the telly he'd seen a few times where such a booth had concealed vast spaces inside, and some lunatic in a long scarf had capered about the screen inside the cardboard set.

Then he couldn't think at all. Moonrise struck him like a hammer. He rapidly stripped off his clothes, then howled with pain as he changed. He'd been awake, off and on, for this transformation but this was the first time in years he was free, and with others around him who understood. He charged ahead, then stopped and whined as he caught the stench of snake so overpowering he couldn't move.

The other wolves halted in front of the huge serpent and the snake-man as well. The man hissed at them, but somehow Remus understood what he was being told. They were to attack the outside guards and leave the field clear for the cold, ghostly shapes now appearing out of the mist. Remus caught the traces of centaur in the air, and his hackles raised. He could barely restrain himself from following that smell and going after its bearer.

But as the snake-man released him and his fellow wolves, he remembered what they were really supposed to do. Remus bounded away, as if in obedience, made it out of sight into the high scrubby gorse, then howled to the others to follow him. In a small clearing, he went from wolf to wolf, sniffing them and establishing his dominance. He couldn't recall names any more, but it didn't matter. Deep inside he mourned the loss of the others, even the rat. Only his human side had kept him alive to survive the loss of his pack.

But they are gone. There. That was a coherent thought. Perhaps he could do another. We have to avoid the centaurs, or we'll forget what we're really supposed to do. He knew without Snape's potion he would have forgotten what they were here for.

Now his new pack trotted along with him to the stone walls ahead. Two began to stray, only to suffer nips along their flanks as Remus darted out to keep them in their place. He hoped the centaurs had enough sense to avoid them.

He heard the chuffs and the sound of hooves as a stronger version of the scent drifted to them on the light breeze. He glanced back and saw one of his wolves, a silver bitch, dodging arrows as a grinning centaur shot at her. They must all act as one now. He turned and leaped, then ripped his claws along the hunter's haunch, while another tore with his fangs. The others followed him, and harried their foe till he bled from many wounds and had dropped his weapon. The centaur defended with his hooves, then fled.

Remus howled his fury, then stopped. Part of him was still rational enough to remember what his mission was. He savaged the other wolves till they followed him towards the prison, rather than after wounded prey. It was hard to ignore the misty shapes near the walls. They felt like bad weather and starving winters all wrapped up together.

The wolves reached the prison. The pale beings now surged ahead, and filtered through the gaps in the building. Once more Remus gagged at the stench of snake, as the serpent and the snake-man approached the door. The wolves huddled around behind, and in their position looked like an honor guard.

The door opened after lights and sounds that nearly drove all the wolves away. The serpent and her companion went inside. Some of the wolves wanted to follow, but he snarled them away. The white things were now there as well. He'd rather fight centaurs than whine like a pup too close to them.

The air changed by the door. Nothing was visible, but the smell of human, the smell of warm meat now filled the air. The other wolves raised their snouts high, but restrained themselves, waiting for his command. Remus yipped at them to track this phenomena along with him. The scent diminished, and the wolves trotted a little faster while still following the trail.

He caught the traces of centaur again. He speeded up, driving the invisible prey towards his enemy.

An arrow sped out from a high patch of gorse. Remus dodged, thinking it was coming for him, when it stopped in mid-air, then fell to earth as if stuck in something. He padded up to the strange thing and sniffed. He wrinkled his nose a little when foulness rose from the air, then sprang back as the body of the man became visible around the arrow.

The centaur came out of the moon-flickered darkness, laughed, and fitted another arrow to his bow. Remus sprang away, knowing he couldn't outrun the missile if sent his way, but was willing to try.

He returned to the other wolves just as other smells issued from the door. He yipped at them to follow. Remus reserved one trail for himself, though, one so close to one he remembered from a gathering of humans. Honey and ivory, he thought dreamily. Honey and ivory and other scents, only this one is wrong! He snarled and gave chase. He must bite, he must claw, he must devour his rival now!

His enemy was clever. The scent dodged through the brush straight towards the waiting centaur, then jinked away at the last minute, almost leaving Remus as the target of an arrow. He barely dodged it in time, though a sting along his flank left him breathless with pain and fear. Remus kept his foe herded away from the waiting boat, though, as he somehow recalled that was most important. The outlines of the man became visible in the night mist that condensed around the figure like a light veil glistening with the full moon's light.

They were near the walls again, only from the other side. The man clawed his way up the vines that had rooted themselves in the stonework, stopped, and panted for breath. Remus flopped on the ground and panted, but raised his snout and growled a threat.

The man moved again. Remus found it easy to track the fellow just by the noise made as the escaped prisoner worked his way around the wall on the vines. At some point his prey would have to drop to the ground again if he wished to escape to the dock.

The escaped prisoner stopped. So did Remus. Then the man climbed up instead, obviously heading towards the roof. The wolf howled in frustration. Once his prey was there, it would be almost impossible for him to circle around in time to catch the man coming down the other side.

Three other wolves trotted up to him. Remus didn't know how to tell them what to do. Inspiration struck him. He scraped out a circle in the stony ground, then jerked up his snout and whined at the roof. The prisoner had nearly reached it now. The other wolves sniffed, then nodded. Then Remus pawed at one wolf, then patted the other side of the drawn circle. The silver bitch yipped back, and immediately took off. Lupin did the same with the other two, only with different points on the circle, and they obeyed as well. The prisoner was surrounded now, trapped at the top of a much taller tree than usual. But the principle was the same.

But what about the other escapees? Remus looked and sniffed around. He was too far from the front gate to see what was going on. Howls and smells of battle drifted to him. Why was it so important to hold this one back, if all the others were going to escape?

A gravelly voice erupted beside him. The scent of that man was familiar, tobacco and magic and Firewhiskey all wrapped together. "Well done, lads! Treed him nicely, I see. We caught most of the rest, and we'll take care of this one, too. Stand down."

Remus sat and thumped his tail as the old man with the funny eye patted him on the head. He tried to warn him about the white shapes of death and the snakes inside, but only urgent whines came out.

Then he heard shouting and the fiery stench of spells from a distance, as if both were muffled by the fog now moving in. The old man turned and thumped away as fast as he could. Remus quickly overtook him and sped towards the front gate in spite of his fear. Once he reached it, though, he cringed and snarled as the deadly misty figures boiled out of the door like steam. Even the centaurs, now much closer, spun away and fled.

The snakes came out once their way had been cleared. Remus chased after them, the other wolves following in their wake, all the way down to the small wharf. He tasted a few human smells in the mix, and knew some of the prisoners were escaping. He lunged and caught one with his teeth, but it got away even while leaving a trail of blood.

He and the other wolves charged up the dock where someone invisible was trying to cast off. The boat left them behind. Remus set up a howl, as did the other wolves. You meant to abandon us to the Aurors all along! Well, there's one prisoner you didn't free!

Remus wasn't sorry to see the white shapes disappear. His heart lightened, as if someone had taken silver worn in his presence out of the room.

Then he felt the change beginning. He yipped to the other wolves, and they trotted back towards the little piles of clothes, most of which were still undisturbed. His howls became human screams as he resumed his normal shape. Lupin slowly dressed himself and ignored the others. It was the only privacy any of them would have.

He sat down on the ground once dressed, despite the dampness. The others still followed his lead, no doubt as weak as he usually was after a transformation. Remus absentmindedly swallowed the last bit of remaining blood and ran his tongue around his teeth to remove any traces. Poor Snape! he thought. You-Know-Who will probably force him to make the Wolfsbane for whoever I bit, as well as for me.

But somehow he couldn't make himself regret it. He knew it was wrong, but it had felt so good to tear a chunk out of the bastard's leg. Too bad he hadn't been able to reach the man on the roof. Given the way he was snarling at the two Aurors hanging on to him as they dragged him back through the front gate, Lucius Malfoy was not a happy man anyway.

It's probably just as well. Malfoy would probably be dominant to every other werewolf in Britain, including me. Now, if Snape had ever been bitten, he might be one of the few solos, considering how feral he is already. But Lucius Malfoy would lead a pack. He could easily imagine what the fellow would look like—pale silver fur, almost albino, matching eyes, and elegant teeth and claws.

He also thought Snape would still be deadlier. There were stories among the wolves about outcasts who ended up ruling a pack out of desperation. No, that's me, he thought.

Moody stumped his way over. "We brought some food for you and the rest to eat before we leave," he said, then nodded at Miss Lewis. "Hope you're all right, ma'am. Didn't realize there was a lady along."

"Me a lady? Not hardly!" the woman said with a loud guffaw. "Oops," she added, and wiped a trace of blood from her chin. "But pass those sandwiches along. I could eat a horse!"

Remus grinned. So could he. Fortunately for them, the centaurs were making themselves scarce. Moody knew more than he was saying about werewolves, as he gave Lupin all the food for him to hand out. Just the way James used to divide up the pizza, he remembered. He tried to come up with a word of praise for everyone, even Cresswell, who had not been much in evidence during the fray. "Thanks for keeping an eye out in the rear," he said, and tried to make it sound as if he meant it. For all he knew, the Dementors could have swallowed them all without warning and the fellow could have been keeping watch for them. He hoped there was enough food for everyone. But Mad-Eye had once again come through. The last sandwich, a thick beef one dripping with mustard, was nearly twice the size of the rest. Werewolf rules were slightly different from those of real wolves, and in them alphas ate last—and best. Nobody complained, as they were too busy devouring their own. But he knew they'd seen it.

Not that it stopped him from eating it, of course.

Severus Snape

Snape didn't understand why this expulsion phase was so much worse than the others, till he asked. Lowenstein took a little time to explain it to him. "We can use much harsher measures at the clinic than we dare ask you to endure when you are away," he said. "Also, you are more exposed to potion fumes this time. You are teaching different things last month, too. You had a week or so when you felt better, and unfortunately, you are paying now. The tests show you are much more tired than you feel, perhaps, and do not rest enough at the school. All these factors are making things harder for you this time, or why I am glad I may keep you for almost a week. I have heard you are not arguing much and are sleeping more, which is good."

Severus nodded. It was Wednesday already, and he was supposed to go back the next day, but certainly didn't feel ready for it. Narcissa had sent him the Prophet each day, which had been full of the failed raid on Azkaban. He ought to be happy. Lucius had not escaped, only Avery and a few others, while Bella's husband had been killed outright.

Yet even with the sun shining through his window, all he wanted to do was to lie in bed and pretend he never had to leave it. The Dark Lord would be horribly angry at this failure. Snape knew all too well what happened then. No doubt anyone accompanying Voldemort on this raid had suffered his wrath already. There would still be plenty left to pass around once he returned.

He hated knowing he was such a coward. Yet he had to go back. Draco was not ready to cope with his aunt, especially when she would be more unpredictable than ever after the loss of her husband. None of his apprentices should be left helpless. Instead of grading essays, none of which he had touched all the time he'd been here, or read, or sit in the charmed courtyard to nap, he set everything aside and shivered under the covers.

Severus knew that all he had to do was to say the word, and he could stay here at the clinic for the rest of this procedure. Dumbledore would be reluctant to fulfill his promise, but he would still do it. Lowenstein would be delighted. It would be out of his hands, then, how long he was here. No doubt he would suffer more, but there would be hope of better health at the end.

The consequences…for once others would have to shoulder them. But too many of them were students, and in his charge. Even that idiot Potter deserved better than to be left to the Malfoys, no matter how good Narcissa's intentions.

Snape slowly pried himself out from under the blankets and bit his lip when he saw an elderly woman, her hair in a bun and topped by a jeweled butterfly, sitting in the guest-chair. "Forgive me, madam," he said, embarrassed at anyone finding him this way.

"There is nothing to be sorry for," she said. "I think you have fought a battle this morning and won just by sitting up, Professor Snape."

He blinked. "You have the advantage of me, I fear."

"That is true. Your headmaster once knew me as Malachite in a different war, but here I am known as your healer's great-aunt. If I may call you Severus, then you may call me Francesca. None of us have enough time for formality."

Was the woman mad? He picked up his wand and began to wave it.

"Do not worry. No sound shall escape your room today till I leave. Alabastor, as I once knew him, has told me a great deal about you. Do you think you are the first to toy with the idea of hiding from a war that is likely to kill you? Trust me, you are not. I saw in your face when you came out of the bedding that you have given that up. I myself have fought that battle, Severus. When the body is strained to the breaking point, the mind often follows."

It was frightening how much of his thoughts she spoke. "Where…when…?"

"France, in 1943. The Muggle Nazis were not the only evil forces there, though some of them dabbled in Dark magic as well. Thank God we were able to substitute a fake Spear for the real one. They were going to turn Burgundy into a forested section of Hell through the Moon of Ice ritual. Your Riddle, at least, is too prejudiced to ally with Muggles who are Dark, so at least we have not that worry."

He swallowed. He'd heard of the rite once, though only vaguely, and even he had been too frightened to investigate it more. Dare he trust the woman enough to speak of his true feelings? "Too many depend on what I can give for the short time I may have left," he said. That was certainly ambiguous enough.

"Ah. You are wise to say so little. Yet this place is safe. You have been told this before by others, of course, only to find it was not so, so I shall not insist that you believe me or even pretend to. Yet you need only come here to be guarded to the best of our ability. I speak for my great-nephew as well. I do not give my word often, but you have it."

"What if—" he said, then stopped. He could think of too many alternatives that would end in his destruction even if she spoke the truth.

"All walls can be broken, eventually, even those here. Even the Swiss cannot stand against the world, should it decide to break us. Since I suspect you are the sort who would have to be carried in to accept this sanctuary, you would have little to say about it in any case. We should do our best to hide you, if nothing else. I hope things do not come to that pass."

He grimaced. "I am bound even in death."

"I am sorry to hear that. Yet chains were made to be broken. I shall not ask you your opinion of this, of course, as I am but a feeble old woman and could be made to talk."

Severus snorted. "I've heard that one before, madam, and I believe it as much now as I did then." Marchbanks also claimed to be a feeble old woman. No one dared to contradict her, at least not in her hearing.

'Malachite' laughed. "Now I shall let you rest again. Perhaps you should look at those dreadful papers you brought. No doubt you shall wish to rage at the stupid children who write them and stop worrying about other things."

He nodded. "I think I will," he said, wishing he dared to express his gratitude at this offer. Even if she didn't mean it, or couldn't bind anyone else in her family, it meant a lot just to hear it. Snape glanced at her fingers, which had thick nodules around the joints. "I have heard an application of bee venom, followed by hot plasters and no use—or very little, anyway—of the hands for two weeks is helpful in cases of severe arthritis or spell damage residue."

"I have not yet tried that treatment," she said. "You only wish revenge for the regime we have inflicted on you, I can tell," she said with a smile.

"The Headmaster was a trial to all around him when he used it a couple of years ago," he said. "The house elves were delighted to have an excuse to wait on him, though."

"Gerry would likely be just as pleased," the woman said with a sigh. "I don't suppose you have the details with you?"

"I shall send them by owl as soon as I return." And he would go back to Hogwarts; he knew that now.

"Then I thank you, and shall let you rest." She stood, but gestured at him to stay.

He inclined his head, and was grateful. Patient gowns came in only two sizes—tent-like and skimpy. He had been favored with the second kind today.

Once she left, he levitated the satchel out of the closet and over to his bed, and picked up a sheaf of essays and a marking pen before he could change his mind. He had best try to educate his dunderheads before it was too late.

Malachite

She let her great-nephew assist her through the Floo back to her chalet, smiled briskly at him, and closed the connection from her side. Then she sat down in her chair and wept. Such a brave young man! I wish I had not embarrassed him by finding him in a dark moment. I am as bad as Albus, to encourage this professor to keep fighting, when it is clear he thinks his end is staring him in the face.

Francesca remembered all the times she had despaired, as well, and the quiet nights she had faced the same struggle. I lived through it, she thought. Perhaps he will, no matter what the Headmaster thinks of that prophecy. It is well, though, I did not try to give him hope of that. He would not believe me.

She had understood what Snape had tried to say when he'd offered the arthritis cure. So many things he cannot say out loud for fear someone will find them in his mind. And he is wise not to trust me, or everyone in this clinic. Allard told me someone was sending owls to England from here, though he didn't know who just yet.

She looked down at her crooked, painful hands. It would be nice to have them work properly, and not hurt. Perhaps I shall try this new cure. If nothing else, hot plasters for two weeks and letting my elf look after me should rest them. I still don't see why the family insisted that Gerry live here, but it's a small price for not having to move in with Marlene, I suppose. She wished she could talk to the one at Hogwarts that Albus had said was looking after the professor. I would learn a great deal from this Winky, I think. Elves see more than anyone thinks.

Gerry came in the room and made her some hot chocolate. "You tired, mistress?"

"I have done so little, I should not be, but I am," she confessed unhappily.

'Too much Floo," he said.

"I only visited Allard and then returned," she complained. She sat back in her chair and hoped if she stayed quiet for a few hours, her old complaint would not flare up this time. It was bad enough to have sore joints, but to feel her limbs cramp the way they had once in a Dark prison so many years ago without real cause was disturbing. She was not the only one to suffer so, according to Johann—a most disturbingly cheerful young man, though he was kind and considerate—and yet it was not fair that what she had endured should come back to haunt her. In fact, Allard's assistant had told her he'd mentioned his theories to his latest patient.

He does not expect to live long enough to worry about such things, I expect, she thought as Gerry brought her the chocolate and a thick straw. It was easier to hold the cup in her lap these days than up to her mouth, especially on such days. She had learned the hard way to rest, and to enjoy the good times more. I have noticed I do not tire so easily when there is really something for me to do, Francesca grumbled to herself. Or perhaps I do not care, as long as I have enough rest afterwards, she amended. One must be truthful to oneself. In times like these, that poor professor dare not trust or lean much on anyone else.

The Manticore had been like that, though he'd been better than most at hiding it. This new one had far fewer resources, she thought, and less hope to draw on. Then again, Gerard thought to please me by showing a happy face, and could not bear the knowledge it was no use when the war was finally over. Perhaps Snape is wiser. He knows that none care for him beyond what use they can make of him, save that mediwitch who is so angry on his behalf. With any luck his elf shows him love outright and without condition. It is all he will likely have.

She mourned over the tragedy of a life spent in such harsh conditions. Yet he and those like him will save the rest of us. I nearly died because I had so little experience of real war before I learned enough to survive. I am surprised I did not kill any of those on our side in the process. It was cruel of Albus to deliberately create another such by leaving the Potter boy with those terrible Muggles. And it was wrong to pit the two of them against the other vying for his favor. I think he regrets it now, but does not know how to repair the matter. He enjoys his court and his favorites there at his school. I still do not think he understands how his shunning of this house called Slytherin has damaged things so.

She called for Gerry when she'd finished her chocolate. The hot, sweet liquid heartened her, and she did not feel so low. If the professor lives, I am certain Allard will offer him either a place of safety, or a post brewing, or both. Perhaps his older brother will enjoy snarling at a younger version of himself, after comparing stories about this potion regime. She smiled. Michael believed he had no rival in Europe, but she had occasionally heard him grumbling about 'that damned upstart at Hogwarts' at the few family functions he bothered to attend.

Francesca closed her eyes, pretending she was only resting them and not taking a nap.

Harry Potter

He'd never seen Hermione's hands shaking in rage like this, though she tried to control it for the sake of the potion they were all brewing. The first day with the substitute had started out well, as Madam Tranh had lectured them, mostly, and gone over their progress for the year.

But Tuesday had started what almost everyone in sixth year potions thought of as The Disaster. At first Harry hadn't minded. The new teacher was really kind, not just faking it the way Umbridge had. They'd assembled their ingredients and the cauldron, and she'd written the instructions up on the blackboard. Everyone had thought it would be a normal day, only without Snape looming over them.

Then she had diligently directed their every step and motion. Madam Tranh had been careful to explain the reason for each one, as if they were first year students. "This is a new educational technique that is called automated brewing," she said. "Once every student has the proper feel for how it is to make a potion correctly, it will be easier in the future to remember. This way fewer mistakes are made, and there is less danger."

I would have learned a lot more if Snape had directed us like this at first, he thought. And Neville would never have melted so many cauldron. He still kept an eye on Longbottom, even though it was technically Ron's week to watch him. The Quidditch captain had enough on his mind with the next game, providing the weather held and there was one.

Harry had actually enjoyed himself on Tuesday. It felt good to know there was no possible way he could screw things up as long as he followed directions. Neville had had a stunned smile on his face when even his potion came out just fine. The Ravenclaws were restless, even Luna who was normally serene, though, and Malfoy was furious. Zabini and Bulstrode didn't look happy, either, but went along with the gag like everyone else.

Wednesday was more of the same.

Now it was Thursday, and Hermione looked ready to explode. Malfoy had become completely stony-faced, while the Ravenclaws muttered among themselves in open revolt, and even the few Hufflepuffs looked bewildered. MacMillan even grumbled, "But when are we going to really learn anything?" Neville didn't look nearly as happy any more himself. Harry had to admit that he was bored, and just doing as he was told. He'd had enough practice.

By the end of class, Madam Tranh stood. It had been funny how she'd sat at her desk the whole time, instead of checking their cauldrons and commenting on technique. Even when Snape had to sit because he was obviously sick from whatever his potions were doing, Harry knew those black eyes were checking everyone out and generally not liking what they saw. He would have been even more careful this week, with tonight being Halloween. We always play more jokes on people around then. But we didn't have a chance to do anything interesting this time, not with being turned into robots for the duration. He discovered, surprisingly, that he didn't like it much.

"Class," she said. "I am happy to announce that your professor will return tomorrow, or on Monday at the latest. It has been a privilege to teach you. I hope to see your names on papers in Potions Monthly someday." Madam Tranh didn't look as if she really expected it, though.

The room erupted in cheers. Harry hoped the woman thought they were for her. As she departed, directing them to put everything away, the Slytherins looked much happier, and started chanting, "Snape! Snape! Snape!" Most of the Ravenclaws, including Luna, joined in. Even MacMillan and his two friends went in on it.

Hermione glared at other Gryffindors defiantly and added her own voice to the chorus. Neville, looking as if the world had ended, included his own surprised whisper. Ron gulped, looking stunned as well, finally went "Snape?"

Harry sighed. Better him in this class than someone who doesn't trust me to stir in the right direction. "Snape."

The classroom fell silent. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'll be glad to work my own cauldron tomorrow, and not be someone else's hands," said Zabini. Malfoy nodded, clearly too worked up to say anything.

"Thought you had that privilege last week, Malfoy," Ron shot.

"It's different when it's one on one, Weasley," the blond Slytherin said, but not in a nasty way. "That's just the old apprentice system. Besides, I was coughing my guts out most of last Friday afterwards even with a Bubblehead charm part of the time for the fumes. Whenever you suck up to your precious werewolf, remember who's keeping you alive during the full moon."

Hermione bit her lip and looked green with envy. "What good will this automated brewing do when we're on our own?"

"Not a bit," Neville said.

"I thought you liked it," Harry replied.

"There…there's no glory to it!" Longbottom said, looking surprised at himself. "I know I don't finish most of the time, but when I do, and when it's right, it's good. It's me that made the potion then, not someone else and it just happens to be my hands."

Luna nodded. Then Ron chimed in. "Mum would think so, too. When she was making me practice, it wasn't like this at all. This last week, I was just doing it without thinking what I was doing, and I don't remember half of it now."

"You don't remember half of it anyway," said Padma Patil.

"But the half I do sticks when I do it myself," Ron said without any visible resentment.

The next bell rang, and they were all going to be late for class. Neville said, "Better one of us is in trouble and not all of us. I can put the cauldrons away and take the point deduction."

"No. If we work fast, we can still make it," Harry said. "Let's do some automated levitating and see how it works. One, lift. Two, line up. Three, first one sets the cauldron down, move out of the way," he chanted.

Of course, they were all late to class as things turned out, but Harry noticed they had put things away a lot faster than usual. With a little more drill, they would be even quicker. But it wouldn't have been fair to make Neville the scapegoat again. He realized with amazement that even Malfoy and the other Slytherins had stayed, and not left the rest to take the hit on points.

Maybe…maybe there was something to this automated business when something was really simple and everyone had to do it all at the same time, like some Quidditch patterns. He didn't have much experience with those, because he'd always been a Seeker, but the rest of the team flew patterns all the time. Maybe he should talk to Ron about this.

Harry thought some more about this when he really should have been paying attention in Transfiguration. Of course there were times when you had to fight by yourself. But there were other times when working together in a pattern was better. I need to talk to Hermione some more about what she knows about Muggle wars. It's not just flying and dueling, it's how we fight in the Wizarding World. It's always one on one, or maybe more than that on one, but it's not really organized. From what I saw in the DOM, the DE's are like that, too. If Ron can put together Quidditch plans the way he does chess, maybe he can do that with fighting, too. But Hermione is the only one who knows anything about Muggle warfare. I've picked up a little from Uncle Vernon's war films on the telly, but I bet Hermione knows more, or which books to learn from.

He knew he didn't know enough. None of them did. Maybe the Headmaster came close—but there were reasons to have more people in the Order and to let them talk. If you have automated brewing in war, then if you knock off one person, the battle's over. If you have too many people going off in different directions, it's a mess, like the Ministry. You have to find something in between, and everyone has to know what the real goal is, or if something goes wrong everyone is stuck. This way, if Ron or Neville spot the Snitch first, they can grab it off and not have to wait for me.

And you can't waste anybody, or think they're useless, because everyone has different abilities that can help. Neville can do plants like nobody except Sprout. Malfoy must be at least ok at potions, or Snape wouldn't have had him help with the Wolfsbane. He and Zabini and the other Snakes helped with the cauldrons, too. They never would have done that last year.

Last year I never would have cheered for Snape coming back, even if Umbridge had taken over for him. He probably was sick from all the fumes. Malfoy wasn't joking about coughing so much last Friday. McGonagall tried to send him to the infirmary, and he actually said he'd be all right. He never would have done that before.

So I have to remember that people change. It's scary, though. Maybe the Wizarding World is in so much trouble because they don't change.

Severus Snape

Returning to Hogwarts last night had momentarily cheered him up. The Slytherins had been openly glad to see him back, and full of tales of Madam Tranh's new educational technique. The first years had not been quite as negative about it; he would have to investigate her methods further and see if any of them could be adapted.

He had been extraordinarily pleased by his reception in class on Friday afternoon. The Gryffindors were far less hostile than usual, and Miss Granger had actually smiled at him. He hadn't the heart to take points from her just for that, and had merely reminded the class that they were there to brew. Snape wished the fumes had not made him so ill.

Halloween had been fairly quiet, since it had been a school night. He would have thought that he and Lupin would have been needed more than ever this Friday evening, since any high spirits might be only waiting to manifest themselves. However, Albus had decreed an Order meeting was necessary to go over the raid, and therefore he and Lupin were here instead of preventing the children from turning the castle into a fun fair. He grumbled about it to the Headmaster on their way here.

"They would do it whether we were there or not, Severus. You still aren't well enough to maintain order by yourself anyway. I reinforced the wards with a little help, and anything done tonight can be repaired tomorrow," Dumbledore blithely replied.

Snape was glad he'd ordered several owls to bring in treats from Hogsmeade to be dispensed in the Slytherin common room by Winky. That should keep most of the younger students from participating in the riot. There had no been incidents he knew of while he was away, but some ugly things had happened when supervision had been temporarily withdrawn in previous years, and he didn't like to take chances. "Filch should receive a bonus for overtime tonight," he said. "Frankly, he should receive one for all his work this year. It can't be easy taking up the slack, and he's not a young man."

The Headmaster had looked more serious then. "He really needs an assistant, though the house elves take most of their direction from him. Mrs. Norris can only notify him of trouble, and not do anything to help. I shall consider it."

Snape had to content himself with that. Once at 12 Grimmauld Place, he saw the real reason for the meeting. Lupin was the center of attention this time, and rightfully so.

Severus wearily sat while the others celebrated at the safe house. He was there to be briefed, and not much more. He was glad Lucius hadn't escaped, though he was disgusted once more at how glad he was not to have been there. The wolf had risked himself and his friends, and was now reaping well-deserved rewards. In fact, the money had been found somewhere for the other wolves to be paid what the Dark Lord had promised them.

Just as well, Snape thought. After a failure like this, Voldemort would pay them off permanently. It really was important for Lupin to keep his pack together, as there would undoubtedly be other operations requiring their use that might not turn out so well for them.

The latest Prophet was passed around, with a full recap of the entire fiasco. Perhaps the Ministry thinks the paper's readers will ignore everything else the Death Eaters are up to by concentrating on this one failure.

However, it had definitely not been a success. Three prisoners had escaped, though one bitten; Malfoy taken back into custody; and at least one Death Eater dead, officially identified as Rodolphus Lestrange. At least the werewolves were blamed for being part of the escape attempt along with the Dementors, he thought.

"It's a good thing the Prophet doesn't really know how heroic those wolves really were," said Shacklebolt as he sat next to Tonks.

"Yes. It may be the only thing that saves their worthless lives," Snape growled. Yes, he'd stay here instead of going back to Hogwarts and trying to maintain a semblance of order, but nobody could make him like it. With him it had been "give us the information—oh, you seem to be bleeding on the kitchen floor, go see Poppy, and of course Black and Moody still think you're a traitor, you know." He had never been feted like this. He supposed he shouldn't grudge Lupin his hour of glory, but it was hard.

He grimly endured the merriment and congratulations till he could bear no more. He'd learned all he needed to about the break. If the other wolves were to be used in more missions, he would need to make a larger batch of the Wolfsbane every time, and even more if one of the Death Eaters ended up as a wolf as well. I should probably tell Lowenstein, or I'll be as sick every month as I was this one.

Snape stood up and began easing himself out of the kitchen towards the Floo in the parlor. Then Lupin smiled at him and said, "Don't go yet! If you hadn't warned me it might not be a rehearsal or told me about the centaurs, everything would have gone wrong! You deserve some thanks, too."

He managed a wintry smile, then reluctantly sat down again. The others looked his way, barely acknowledging his existence, and went back to praising the wolf. What made it worse was that the DADA instructor deserved it. All he'd done was to cower in the clinic and throw up. Lupin's charity struck him on a raw nerve.

Molly came in to replenish the teapot. She laughed, and teased the wolf about his valor. "You'll have to come practice on the gnomes at the Burrow if you need to bite anything! Stay out of the barn, though, I need those chickens!"

Lupin grinned at her. "I usually prefer being asleep during the full moon, but I have to admit it was a lot of fun. I wish England had a hunting preserve for werewolves the way I've heard there is in the States. My transformation was a lot easier this time, and I recovered much more quickly than when I have to use the potion at full strength. But without at least a portion of it I wouldn't have stayed rational enough to understand what was going on, and the others wouldn't have understood what I wanted of them."

Again the wolf's kindness irked Snape. He grimaced and tried to look as if he deserved it. Most of the time his efforts were taken for granted.

Molly leaned down to speak to him. "Don't go back to Hogwarts. Arthur and I need to speak to you once most of this mob is gone." She stood back up and said, "Professor, why don't you lie down for a bit? You haven't been back from the clinic long yet, and you're looking fagged out."

Snape gratefully fled towards the room on the ground floor allotted to him this year. It did feel good to lie down and close his eyes with the door shut. He knew it was petty to be so jealous of Lupin, but he couldn't stop himself. He was better out of the way, where he wouldn't diminish the others' enjoyment.

And…and it had been a mistake to indulge himself with Margot. She hadn't really been that much like Molly, even if her body had for a little while. Now whenever the real one came anywhere close, he wanted to bury his face in her breasts and seek comfort that was never going to come. I brought that on myself, he admitted. I could have chosen someone else in one of the pictures. The Dark Lord was probably watching anyway. But no, I had to give in to what I really wanted for once.

He sat up on the bed, wiping traitorous tears of self-pity. Blowing his nose was best done in a vertical position. A good thing he was alone. It was bad enough being Snivellus again without anyone watching. Most of the people in the kitchen put on a token on a table to save my life, he reminded himself. I have to remember that. Even Moody and his damned gorse helped bring me back. If truth be known, he was still glad he hadn't been on that raid. Deep in his heart he really was a coward.

Damn these potions for making him so weak! He ought to be used to be it now, but he wasn't. He stood up, washed his face in some cold water in the small adjoining bathroom, and dried it. Snape realized something. When finally given a room here, he hadn't been stinted—in these older houses, only the most important guests had their own loo. Sirius Black must be fuming, wherever he was.

That cheered him up a little. Even the prospect of going back to the kitchen where the celebration undoubtedly continued didn't seem so bleak now. After all, it was Lupin who was the center of attention tonight, and not the mutt. In the past, the wolf had always been the one protected by the others, and now he was the hero. Black would have had to pretend to enjoy his friend's celebrity, though Snape was certain the man would have thrown some sort of fit to make sure all the attention was on him.

Some might say I do the same, he thought ruefully. It's time I grew up. He opened the door to see Moody facing him.

"May I come in?" asked Mad-Eye.

"Of course," he said without much enthusiasm. "I was going back to the kitchen for another cup of tea." And to enjoy the sight of Molly Weasley, if truth be known. "But have a seat." He closed the door as the old wizard stumped in and sat down in the chair by the bed.

"It's safer in here. Molly Weasley is thundering up over something, but she won't say what. I thought this was a good time to find out those details you mentioned in that note I picked up Monday before last. It was from you, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Severus said with a smirk as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He didn't have to hide things any more, at least not from Moody. Still, it was fun making his former interrogator work for the information.

"Well? The girl's a juicer, I found that much out, and doesn't look like your usual type in her normal skin. Not enough meat on her bones, for one thing. So, who was your choice for the evening?"

"She had a table full of photographs. One of them was a red-haired woman, but I'm afraid I didn't use that hair. Mrs. Weasley sometimes drops one or two when she wraps up a sandwich. She should really be more careful. I must admit, I didn't think about it at the time."

"Most men don't go to a woman's room to think!" Mad-Eye snorted.

Snape looked down at the floor. "Now every time I look at her, I—well, it was a mistake. Although I'm still glad I did it." He might not see another Christmas. Why not have one present early? Even if Flitwick turned out to be wrong, the time left to him was still all too short. Knowing what she felt like wrapped in his arms and held tight against his body was a comfort he would take with him to the grave, even if it was a false one.

"I've had a few mistakes like that," Moody said in his gravelly voice. "I don't regret them either. Here, have a drop of something stronger than tea." He held out his flask.

"Only a drop or two," Snape said ruefully. "The last time I had more than that, it bounced back onto Hagrid's floor."

"Where it promptly killed a hundred fleas."

"Probably." He accepted the flask and took a sip. Fiery warmth trickled down his throat. Odd how he felt safe around the retired Auror these days. It was probably a huge mistake that he'd pay for someday, but he decided to enjoy the novelty for now.

"I was surprised you stuck it out in the kitchen as long as you did," Moody said after a moment of silence. "You looked in prime sulking mood."

"Lupin deserves better," Snape said.

"Well, yes, but you normally don't worry about that. I can't believe he thought it was fun!" Mad-Eye looked disgusted.

He wasn't going to tell Moody about the penance that Madam Pomfrey had helped impose on him. "He'll get over that the first time he or any of his pack are hurt. Any more questions?" he said, keeping his tone neutral. It was fun keeping Mad-Eye off balance like this.

"Oddly enough, I can't think of any."

"Then I'm going back for another cup of tea." He stood up and went out the door before he could change his mind. If nothing else, the wolf had kept Malfoy from escaping. That was worth quite a few hours of helping Lupin celebrate.

Moody blinked, but joined him out in the hallway. Snape walked to the kitchen and found a corner. People were starting to leave, but he had at least one more thing to say to the DADA instructor before they were gone.

Dumbledore sat in the wide captain's chair, looking half-asleep, though his eyes opened a margin more once Snape sat down. "Is everything all right, Severus?" the ancient wizard asked, and glanced at Moody who had entered the room as well.

"Yes," the Potions Master said, glad his own seat had cushions. Molly walked through, smiled at him, and found him a fresh cup. To see her like that was reward enough for returning.

Lupin brightened to see him. How odd. After so many years of insults and acrimony, the wolf still didn't hate him. "We probably need to go back to Hogwarts soon," the wolf said, regret in his eyes. "Filch shouldn't have to manage a Friday night all by himself."

"True," Snape said, staring down into his tea. He could be summoned this weekend. Or tonight. The Dark Lord would not be happy at this failure and would require scapegoats. "But I have to say this. It was a brave thing you did, Lupin. I should have been there myself. I was glad I wasn't. But you were." He let his hair fall down in front of his face, embarrassed at showing his cowardice to anyone.

"Oh." The wolf was silent for a moment, then spoke. "That…that means a lot."

Snape looked up. Lupin was flushed with pride. Even Dumbledore looked slightly stunned. "If nothing else, I owe you for keeping Malfoy in there," he added.

Everyone seemed happy about what he'd said, except for Moody. The one-eyed wizard stared at him with a what the hell are you up to now? expression.

"Well," Molly said. She was sitting over to one side by now, looking happy to be off her feet. "It's been a long day and longer evening, and everyone can find the teapot themselves."

Everyone heard a thump from out in the parlor and Arthur Weasley walked in, slightly sooty and holding a sheaf of papers. "I found everything, love," he said.

Molly smiled at her husband in a way that made Snape's chest hurt. "Oh, good! Right now we're going to go over some paperwork for the guardianship hearing. If you want to help with that, fine, if not, go home or go to bed."

That cleared the kitchen in a hurry. Even Mad-Eye scurried out, with Lupin following. The Weasley couple, Dumbledore, and he were the only ones left.

"I thought that would start people moving," Mrs. Weasley said triumphantly. Then her face clouded. "I didn't want to ruin things for poor Remus, but I so wanted to slap the others. You've put yourself in danger so many times, and all we ever do is kick you in the face for it."

"You never did. Neither did your husband or the Headmaster." The others didn't matter, at least not as much.

Arthur patted his wife's hand. "It's all right, dear."

"No, it isn't!" Molly said. "But I do want to thank you, professor, for putting up with the celebration so well tonight. I tried to help, but Moody would have to chase you back out here just to find a little peace. And what you said to Remus will put his tail up for days. He hated being trapped in this house last year just as much as Sirius did, and with better reason."

Snape took a deep breath. "It was only the truth." He could sit and listen to such compliments for hours from Molly Weasley—or anything else she said, for that matter.

"But it was well-spoken anyway. And we're glad you weren't there, as sick as you've been. You need to get well soon. You see, Arthur's had an idea about the hearing." She glanced over to her husband, as commanding him to speak.

The Minister cleared his throat. "I think we're going about this the wrong way," he said. "The more we delay, the better your side will be prepared. The case Molly and I have is pretty simple. Molly's about as closely related to Sirius as Mrs. Malfoy is, at least in Wizarding Law. We've raised seven children. Our finances are finally beginning to see daylight with only two in school, so if we have to use our own money to care for Harry it won't be a problem. Harry…we've thought of him as our own since the day Molly saw him at the platform looking more Ginny's size and age than Ronald's. We have a mob of witnesses lined up already who are more than willing to testify to all of this. That's all we have. Waiting won't help.

"In fact, it will probably hurt. Some of our friends are starting to hear what a bad idea it would be for them to show up to testify. There's been two anonymous stories in the Prophet's gossip problem about 'a Minister's wife with a shady past'. Too much of that, and Molly won't have a chance no matter how good our claim. Lovegood's willing to go the limit for us in the Quibbler, but since he was a Hufflepuff and one of Molly's erm, friends back then it might not help as much as anyone thinks." Arthur blushed. "Madam Umbridge hasn't returned any of our calls, and Percy's been told to keep me out of her office. Skeeter hasn't written anything yet, but how long will that last?"

Snape nodded. "I have some influence with her. However, she may not have much choice before long. As the Malfoy advocate, I'm supposed to plant those stories, not quash them. I've been able to delay the worst so far. However, that assignment has clearly been given to another in my absence." He must have been more ill than he thought, since he'd missed both items when he'd read the Prophet at the clinic. "What is your proposal?"

"To move up the hearing as soon as possible. Your side won't expect that, since we've been trying to delay till Harry becomes of age," Arthur said. "I've had a word with Fudge, and he wants this out of his hair, too. You aren't the only one who's happy Malfoy didn't escape from Azkaban, Snape. Cornelius poured me a tot of whiskey with his own hands once that night was over. I know he's trying to play both sides, but I also know when he's trying to fake being sincere by now." He smiled. "Besides, any dirt on Molly could hit him, too, especially after that Christmas party back in 1973."

"What if you lose?" Snape had to raise the possibility.

"Then we have till Christmas to find Harry a place to hide," Molly said. "He managed almost ten years and every summer since he was eleven with those horrible Muggles. If he has to stay there till he's of age, well, he's old enough to take less hurt from it now."

Severus could just imagine the Dursleys' reaction, but knew things were not as bad now as they were. Some blunt talk and a healthy bribe might be enough to keep Mr. Dursley from blowing his top, and the other two would follow the man's lead. I must go to Gringotts' this weekend, he thought. Any withdrawal from his account would be noticed, though. Then he remembered the small passbook from the bank in Switzerland. He could always return to the clinic for a quick checkup next week and draw from it.

"How soon is soon?" Dumbledore asked.

"End of next month, maybe?" Arthur said. "I know Fudge would love it over before Christmas. We could go tonight if we had to. Frankly, the sooner the better. Our witness list is held pretty tightly, but it's obvious who some of them are. Like I said, a few of them are starting to hear how much better off they'd be if they kept their mouths shut. But I wanted you to know the schedule might be moved up, professor, so you can arrange some time off to prepare and rest. It's a good thing you didn't go on that raid. You're our hole card."

"I hope you're right," Snape said. He felt exhausted and terrified all at the same time. Perhaps holding the hearing sooner meant he had a chance of surviving it; but it could also mean he would 'win' and the boy's legal custody given to Narcissa Malfoy.

"We know what you're risking," Molly said softly. "It's worth any number of prison raids to see Harry safe, to my way of thinking. You won't find us ungrateful."

He smiled wanly, knowing he'd do it just for the kindness she'd showed him tonight. Well, he'd do it for the Order and even for Potter's sake as well. Considering how many times he'd already gambled with his life to keep the boy from ending up in the Dark Lord's hands, only to receive suspicion and snarls, it was a nice change. His neutral mask always slipped around her, but somehow he didn't mind.

Besides, he was the one who had suggested a suit for guardianship in the first place last summer. It was only right to do what he could to keep his idiotic idea from coming back to haunt everyone. At least someone cares what happens to me, he thought. "Thank you," he said.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, a look of concern on his face. "You should return to school. You've only been back from the clinic for a day, and should rest as much as you can this weekend."

"Perhaps you're right," said the Potions Master, though he really needed to consult with Binns and speed up his preparations. Oh, yes, in his copious spare time he also needed to find out what sort of hash Madam Tranh had made of his classes and see what little remained of his yearly time-table. "I should feel better tomorrow."

"You should have stayed in bed," Molly said.

He repressed some exciting thoughts of what he could do if she were with him there. If nothing else, they showed no respect for Arthur or the Headmaster's extraordinary ability at Legilimency. "I had to learn what happened during the prison break," he said mildly. What had happened to his anger? He would normally be in a fine rage by now. It felt odd to face the world without it.

He glanced at Arthur Weasley, and shied away when the man looked back with a smile. The Muggle-loving Minister deserved better than to have him fawning over his wife. "I'll go back to Hogwarts now, unless there's anything else."

"No," Dumbledore said. Both Molly and Arthur shook their heads, and almost became a Greek chorus urging to rest, either here or at the school.

He obeyed, and stepped through the Floo that exited in the Headmaster's office. Snape left it and checked Filch's quarters. If the castle was as peaceful as it seemed, Argus should be done with rounds by now.

In fact, the caretaker sat yawning over a cup of tea, with a hint of extra seasoning from the bottle of Firewhiskey on the table. "I'm to tell you the little brats are down for the night," the Squib said.

"Are they?"

"As much as they ever are on a Friday. You might want to take another turn over in Slytherin, but for once the other House Heads are actually looking after their own instead of leaving their darlings to us. You ought to leave more often."

They'd better get used to it soon, Snape thought mordantly. "Need some Pepper-Up? You're starting to wheeze a bit, and it's early in the season for that."

"This medicine will do me fine for now. You know I don't touch a drop unless the bastards really are down for the night. Oh, I'm sure there's a few strays yet, but most of them know you're back. Winky's good at nabbing yours before they can get too far out of their dorms anyway."

"I suppose." He resolved to have his classes brew more simples against the onset of winter. Filch wasn't getting any younger, and neither were his lungs. The caretaker had to deal with dust and residue, much of it from uncertain sources. "I wish I could sit down with you, but I'd end up asleep in back again. Perhaps tomorrow." Then he remembered he needed to send a copy of the bee venom cure to Switzerland, or at least mention it to Lowenstein where it could be found in the literature. Wait, he could insert it in the middle of a complaint about Madam Tranh's educational reforms. Nobody on either side would be surprised to read that.

"Go on, the place will keep," Argus said.

Snape nodded his thanks, then slowly walked down to the dungeons. He kept an eye out, but for once the place was quiet. I will have to become used to others taking my place, he thought, and wondered why it grieved him so, when for many years he'd dreamed of escaping this castle.

Winky was overjoyed to see him, and chattered like a mad thing as she helped him get ready for bed. Normally that much enthusiasm bothered him, but he let the squeaky voice wash over him. At least the elf was learning to wake him for important things.

He hoped nothing happened tonight. He was still tired from his stay at the clinic, the day's work, and the Order meeting tonight. Saying something nice to Lupin was still a bit of a strain, though it seemed easier as he practiced it. Yet part of him was at peace, as if he'd done something right. If nothing else, Poppy would be happy he was still trying to work out his penance. Funny how Lupin had looked at him, though—it had been a mixture of surprise and joy, as if the wolf had finally disposed of his own self-doubts.

He lay down, ready for bed at last, and knew he would have to make some decisions soon. Time was running out.

Albus Dumbledore

Molly shook her head. "I wonder what came over him? I've never heard him say such nice things to Remus before. I tried to give him an excuse to leave earlier, when he wasn't feeling well, but Moody had to go and chivvy him back out again. I'm still unhappy about that."

Albus wasn't pleased, either. It was a strain on Severus to emerge from his normal funk and exert himself socially. He remembered Pomona's lecture on it just last month. Of course, she'd given him others in the past, but he liked to think he'd listened to this one. Well, except for tonight. He's exhausted and ill. I really should have let him rest.

"It does help that no one went on about him being a traitor, though," Arthur added. "Unless Moody was up to his old games again. Headmaster, I hope you don't mind me saying so, but it was a mistake to have Black stuck here all the time last year. Snape gave as good as he got, but it was pretty nasty there for a while. The professor couldn't even talk to Harry without Sirius popping out and waving his wand around, or so someone said. Remus urged the boy to go back to his lessons after he'd been thrown out, but with his godfather telling him Snape is no good, of course you know who Harry was going to listen to."

"I know," Dumbledore said wearily, who had heard this before. He had told Sirius Black why the lessons were necessary, but Harry's hurt feelings had come first with the boy's godfather.

"Why did you have the professor give them in the first place?" asked Molly. "Till Harry learned how to block, er, him, Snape would have to pretend to be on the other side. That's what the boy was worried about last year. He thought anything his teacher found out would go straight to someone else, never mind that he was actually the leak. Of course he wouldn't listen to us. Not that I'm complaining," she said, patting Arthur's hand. "We never would have found this foolish lad in time if Harry hadn't been inside the snake. But it doesn't make sense that Snape had to be the one. He must have felt we didn't care if he was turned into mincemeat by the other side because of it. Of course, he already knew we'd sell him to the gypsies if we thought it'd help Harry, so he was probably used to it."

The Headmaster sighed. "I hoped if Severus saw what was in the boy's memories he would realize that Harry had some of the same problems he did, and would understand the child a little better. It did work out that way, I have to admit, though not as quickly as I had hoped."

"He probably wondered why you kept sending the boy back to the Dursleys to begin with," Molly said with a spark of anger in her eye.

Albus knew he was on shaky ground here. "I must admit I didn't expect Harry to go into the pensieve the way he did, although looking back I should have warned Snape to keep it locked at all times." Severus had been furious, both over the humiliation when he found out which memory the boy had snooped into, and because of Montague's severe injuries. Dumbledore had been quite firm with him, even though Snape had been right on both accounts. It must have been about that time when the Potions Master had begun dropping hints to Moody about Harry's home life.

"Well, it doesn't matter now," Arthur said. "Snape must have thought we were all eager to shove him into his grave tonight when I talked about moving up the date of the hearing. Do you think he'll survive if we win?"

"He knows Harry's welfare must come first." The Headmaster hated how that sounded.

"Resigned to it, more likely," Molly said. "Pity he's not married. He deserves to come first with somebody in his life. I'm glad that little Winky's taken him on, but that's just not the same. I know how it'll be—we'll all be so glad Harry is safe we'll forget what it cost, since we're not the ones making the payment. When does the professor get anything he wants?" She held Arthur's hand. "I worry sometimes that our payment is only put off. There are stories about what happens when one person has to sacrifice for another too long. We can do a lot for Harry, but…well, it's easy for the Order to let Snape carry so much and not worry about what's in it for him, isn't it?"

"All of Hogwarts gathered together to save his life last summer," Albus protested.

"And hasn't that worked out handy for us!" Arthur said, making a face. "He's come a long, hard road and worse facing him at the end. And for what?"

"He feels he has a great deal to make up for," Dumbledore said.

"But when does it end? Never mind, we all know that one," Molly added sadly.

Not even then, Albus thought. Not even death will free Severus, unless we can find a way. Oh, there are lots of advantages for the Order. Tom will not like what he's linked to once Snape no longer has to fear reprisals to the living. But there must be an end to his sacrifices. Molly is right, there is always a price, and it can't always be shoved off to someone else. I owe a great deal myself for what I have put him and Harry through and never suffered myself.

Arthur stood up. "Well, I'll have to go in tomorrow. Come home when you can, Molly. I miss you dreadfully. Why, even the ghoul in the attic is pining away."

"Probably because you forget to feed him and he's run out of mice," she said, though she smiled to take the sting out. "I miss you, too, love. The Order people will be in and out all day tomorrow, it being a Saturday and all, but I'll close down the kitchen after supper and be home as soon as I can after."

The balding man smiled back, then went into the parlor and out the Floo. "You'd best go back yourself, Headmaster," Molly said. "If you can think of something we can do for the professor that he'd like, let me know. He deserves better than he's had so far."

"His birthday is a week from tomorrow," Albus said. "But I don't know what he wants. I mean, something we can give him." He hated thinking he knew the Potions Master so little after all these years.

She nodded. "A good excuse as any to let him know what he means to us, while he's still around to hear it." Her face went sober. "Is winning this suit really worth Snape's life? If we can hide Harry till he's of age, maybe it doesn't matter quite so much."

Dumbledore knew what Mrs. Weasley was giving up by saying that. "I wish it was that simple. If she wins the suit, Narcissa Malfoy will not only have a legal tie to Harry, but a magical one. Since he's still a minor, the rite can be carried out with his consent. I don't think the other side has any of his blood, but they could ask Severus to obtain some. Given how many accidents there are in Potions classes, it wouldn't be difficult."

"I thought you said You-Know-Who had some in his veins already from what he and Wormtail did to make a new body for him." Molly started stacking plates.

The Headmaster bit his lip. "And it would be a very bad idea to remind him of that. We must win this suit." For a moment he sat and thought. What did Severus want that was in his power, or the power of others in the Order, to give him? Snape had done some extraordinary things tonight. He almost never left his privacy once he was allowed it after any function like tonight's. Moody had only been an excuse. The Potions Master was quite capable of ejecting the older wizard if Mad-Eye was too annoying.

Then he remembered the way Severus had looked at their hostess. His face had been more human, somehow, and less stony. He always ate better around Mrs. Weasley, too. Albus recalled the symbol for 'unrequited love' in Snape's teacup months back. "He's not doing this for Harry, or even for me," Dumbledore said. "He's doing it for you."

Molly flushed red. "Well, so what? If a few warm thoughts keep the cold away when he's dancing with knives, that won't hurt me. He's not lifted a finger that way, and I would know."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," said the Headmaster wearily, who wondered at the woman's reaction. Usually she dismissed such things with a laugh. "I suppose it's none of my business."

"You're right, it's not! I wouldn't hurt Arthur to take Merlin to bed, but I won't crush a man for the fun of it, either. Discouraging Fudge was different. You wouldn't have believed the look on his face when I…well, never mind. But if Snape does have any such dreams, he can enjoy them all he likes. Albus Dumbledore, if you weren't head of the Order I would slap you. Do you go around like this to every woman you think he likes?"

"Well, no, of course not…" Now it was his turn for his face to feel hot.

"I certainly hope not! I swear, I think you pulled him out of Azkaban just so you could be his jailor at Hogwarts! I don't know what's wrong with you tonight, but sitting up late obviously doesn't agree with you. Go home!"

Albus knew that Mrs. Weasley was right and that he had stepped out of bounds. He numbly rose and went through the Floo back to Hogwarts. Both Minerva and Poppy were waiting for him. He briefly told them about the possible change in the hearing schedule for Harry. Both of them would want to know that. "Severus must rest as much as possible for the next month. With any luck he won't be summoned till then."

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "I'll have Winky watch over him more closely," she said. "I had better be with you for your meeting with him Sunday evening. He's undoubtedly terrified that both Flitwick and Trelawney are wrong, and he has every right to be."

Minerva said, "And I will watch over you, Albus. You're obviously shaken yourself, and should spend most of tomorrow in bed."

Oh, for the days when he would gladly do so with the Transfiguration Professor beside him! I shouldn't be jealous of Severus for still enjoying such pleasures, he thought. "I probably should," he said, looking into Minerva's eyes.

She smiled back at him. "I've been told I ought to rest more, too," she said, glancing at Poppy. "I should probably stay with you, just to make sure you're following orders yourself."

He smiled back. "Perhaps you should."

Madam Pomfrey left. Albus sighed, and knew Poppy and Molly would probably compare notes in the next few days. I will undoubtedly be lectured by both of them, perhaps in tandem. And I will deserve it.

However, for tonight he would accept the comfort Minerva offered him. It had been too long since either one of them had been together in any way. Even if she only slept on his chest as a cat.