Snape had been a teenager the first time he'd walked up the drive to Malfoy manor. The house and the park were so vast it they didn't seem real, and he knew he was someone important, to be invited here. It hadn't been his name or his connections that had gotten them there. He'd made it on his talent.

He hadn't seen the place in awhile. The yew hedges and gardens were lush and green and he could hear the trickling of a fountain and it seemed such a peaceful place now, with the Dark Lord gone. Lucius had always been good to him, had recognized his talent and ability, hadn't taken the piss out of him for being half-blood and poor, the way some of the others had.

"Ah, Severus, good of you to join us," Lucius greeted him, clapping him on the back and leading him into the front hall. Narcissa appeared at his side; she smiled at him and he inclined his head to her. She was holding the hand of a serious-looking little boy who was already beginning to resemble Lucius with his white hair and pointed chin. "I see that Draco has grown," Snape said to Narcissa.

She smiled down at her son, and Snape saw in her eyes a sort of fierce, irrational pride that filled him with a longing he couldn't explain. "Yes, he's tall for his age. And you should see him fly, I can barely keep up with him."

"I'm sure you'll have a chance to see it, hardly a day goes by he doesn't get that broom out," said Lucius with a glance at his son. He turned to Snape. "Why don't you join me in a drink before dinner?"

The two of them made their way down the hall to a handsome drawing room, and Snape remembered how those tall windows and velvet chairs and crystal glasses had made him tense and on edge the first time he'd walked in. He'd caught a glimpse of himself in a gilded mirror as he passed and he was all too aware of his second-hand clothes, his poorly-cut hair, the last traces of the Black Country twang he'd been training himself out of for years.

But it was when he saw the painting on the wall that it really hit him. It was a picture of some apples, but he'd recognized the style. He didn't have a clue why Lucius's father would have a Muggle painting like that in his house, unless he'd Summoned it out of a museum and he was showing it off, that seemed like the sort of thing he might do.

All he'd been able to think about when he'd seen that painting was how much his mother would have loved it. She'd always found beauty in simple things, thistles growing out of cracks in the sidewalk and the glow of streetlamps after it rained. She had an old book full of photographs of paintings and Snape liked to flip through it sometimes and pretend he was in them. His mother liked to look in it too. Her favourite had been a painting of a sad-looking woman standing behind a bar.

But all she'd ever had on the walls of her house was soot-grey plaster. Snape couldn't bring himself to look at that painting now. He wished he'd thought to buy one for her.

He and took a seat in a chair facing away from it, and Lucius sat down opposite and turned to the little elf who was standing nearby. "Drinks," he said.

"Yes sir," squeaked the elf, who rushed away and returned moments later with two glasses of brandy. Snape settled into his chair and relaxed a bit.

"So, are you staying on for another year?" Lucius asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Snape had an answer ready. "As thick as most of my students are, I've taken rather a liking to it."

"Really?" said Lucius, raising an eyebrow slightly. Snape wasn't sure Lucius believed him.

Slipping into his mask was like second nature now, and he kept his face smooth, unreadable, though he wished he didn't have to do it with Lucius. "It has its compensations. I have about a hundred elves at my command, for one thing. And I have a number of talented students."

"Well, there's Travers' children, I suppose," said Lucius. "Corban's sister, Rowle, Rosier, Selwyn."

Snape nodded and took a sip of his drink. "All promising," he said.

Lucius was quiet a moment, running a finger along the top of his glass, thinking, by the looks of it. He took another drink and lowered his glass. "Did you know I've joined the Board of Governors?"

Snape had not known this. "Really?"

"Indeed. Someone needs to check the influence of that Muggle-loving old berk of a Headmaster."

Snape wasn't sure what to make of this slight on Dumbledore, but he made a small murmur of assent.

"And speaking of which," Lucius went on, "I thought perhaps you could be of some assistance there. He trusts you now, does he not?"

Snape looked him straight in the eye. "He seems to think my remorse is genuine."

"Well, perhaps you might be able to use your position to, shall we say, subvert him a little."

Snape tightened the grip on the stem of his glass. "Subvert him how?"

Lucius had just opened his mouth to speak when there was a piercing shriek from somewhere. Draco was sitting in the doorway, broom next to him, rubbing his head and wailing. Snape had to make a concious effort not to stick his fingers in his ears.

Lucius got up and stood over him. "Come now, Draco, that's enough. You're fine. Get up." Draco kept crying.

Lucius grabbed him under his arms and stood him up. "There," he said. "Now get back on the broom."

Draco picked up his broom, but he stood clutching it without getting on, hiccoughing hard. Snape leaned forward in his chair, tapping his fingers on the sides, trying not to stand up. He didn't understand this, this urge to get up and go to the boy.

"Now, Draco." There was an edge to his voice.

Draco's breath was coming in ragged gasps and it was obvious he couldn't do it. Snape was just about to open his mouth when Narcissa came running into the room. She looked Draco over and wrapped her arms around him, giving Lucius a reproachful sort of look over his shoulder.

"He's three years old, Lucius. You can't be so hard on him."

Lucius just stood there a moment. Then he knelt down and ruffled the boy's head. Narcissa picked him up and took him out of the room.

"My apologies," said Lucius, sitting back down. "He gets a bit carried away."

Snape didn't know what to say to this; his mind was on what he'd just seen, and his strange reaction to it.

Lucius took another drink. "So," he said, setting down his glass. "Where were we?" He paused and then answered his own question. "Ah yes. You say you enjoy honing young minds. So why not offer your students a little guidance?"

Snape recovered himself and sat up straighter. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. Teach them the old ways. Continue what we started."

Snape took a sip of his drink and composed himself, acting as though he was considering it. "I could," he said slowly. "But I would have to be extremely careful."

"Of course," said Lucius. "But who better to do it than you?"

"I suppose, but it would be foolish on my part to risk raising anyone's suspicions. I was fortunate enough as it was."

Lucius gave him a knowing look. "Ah yes, of course. We are reformed now, after all. Or in my case, no longer Imperiused." As Lucius took a sip of his drink the corners of his mouth turned up. He had to be the most devious little weasel Snape had ever met, and he wasn't sure if he was annoyed or amused.

"Of course, there may be a time in future when it won't matter."

Snape paused with his drink halfway to his mouth. "What do you mean?"

"I am referring to the Potter boy. It's quite clear he has unusual powers. It is only a matter of time before we have a figure around which we can rally once more."

Snape thought the idea of the boy bringing down the Dark Lord with his powers complete nonsense. That had been Lily's doing, not the boy's. But he had the sudden realization, that this belief could serve to protect the boy, should the need arise, although he hoped it wouldn't. He couldn't stand the thought of it.

"An intriguing possibility," he said.

They finished their drinks and Snape stood up, uneasy and tense and not really sure why. He'd been half expecting this from Lucius, really, and it wasn't that long ago he might've been doing it anyway.

Once they'd made their way into the hall, he relaxed again, at least a bit. Draco was himself again, and was flying by on his broomstick. Narcissa joined them, and she and Lucius watched him awhile. "He's quite the flier already," said Narcissa.

"He's certainly fast," said Snape, and Narcissa smiled at him. Their was a warmth in her eyes when she smiled and Snape was drawn to it, not in the sense of wanting her, but something else, something he couldn't explain.

The elf appeared in the hallway. "Dinner is ready, sirs and miss," he said.

They sat down to the large table in the dining room. Snape could see himself reflected in the dark wood. He remembered what had happened the last time he'd sat here, but he pushed the thought of it away.

The elf hurried into the room after them. "Anything I can gets for you, sirs and miss?" he asked.

"That will be all for now," said Lucius. "Go."

They started to eat. There were about ten different pieces of silverware in front of him and he hadn't had a bloody clue what to do with them all the first time he'd been there, but he thought he had a good grasp of it now. Start with the farthest ones, work your way in, or something like that.

Draco pulled out a little figure of a man on a broomstick and gave a chortling laugh as it flew in the air around him.

"We took him to his first Quidditch match last week," said Lucius. "He almost made it to the end before he fell asleep."

"Perhaps he'll play for Slytherin someday," said Snape, lifting a spoonful of crab bisque to his mouth.

"Perhaps," Lucius replied. He glanced at Narcissa.

"Lucius wants him to attend Durmstrang," she said. "Karkaroff's teaching there, did you know?" Snape nodded. "But I can't bear the thought of him being so far away."

"Well, we'll see," said Lucius, smiling at his wife. He turned to Snape. "How did Slytherin do this year?"

"Exactly as you would expect," Snape told him. "We won both the Quidditch and the House Cup."

Narcissa smiled over her soup. "Do you remember that match that ended after just ten minutes?"

"Ah yes," said Snape."I remember it well." This was true; it had been the only time Slytherin had beat Gryffindor during his time at school, and the celebrations had gone on all night. He and Regulus and Avery had set off fireworks at five in the morning and when Slughorn came into the room in his velvet dressing gown he'd just laughed and had a drink with the seventh-years.

The rest of the evening passed enjoyably; it was like putting on comfortable old clothes, being here.


Graihagh supposed it was a good thing Cate lived in Manchester, because it was only a short way from Liverpool, where the boat came in, and she and her dad could take the train there instead of having to drive all the way to London. Cate and her parents and her brother met them at the station, and after she'd hugged her dad good-bye she got in the car with them, and listened as Cate talked her ear off all the way to her house. She looked like she would've jumped up out of her seat if she hadn't been wearing a belt, and Graihagh wondered if she'd made a big mistake in agreeing to visit.

She followed Cate up to her room, where a camp bed had been set up for her. Her parents brought up their trunks and Graihagh had a look around. It was a nice little room, a mixture of the two worlds they were both part of. There was an inkpot and quill next to a stack of records, a moving poster of Celestina Warbeck tacked up next to a stationary poster of Duran Duran. There were a few stuffed animals on the bed and Graihagh was relieved that Cate's room was a little messy too, though not nearly as bad as hers.

It was late by then, so they got into their pyjamas and crawled into bed. Graihagh turned on her side and closed her eyes when she heard something.

"Graihagh?"

Graihagh rolled over to face Cate. "Yeah?"

"What are the Slytherin dormitories like?"

"Well, we've got these tall beds with silk hangings. There's some tapestries on the walls and a couple of windows looking into the lake. You can hear the waves at night."

"Sounds nice. We've got big quilts on our beds and there's lamps on the ceiling and ivy growing on the walls. It's dead cozy in there."

"Mmm," said Graihagh, turning back over on her side and hoping she took the hint.

She was drifting off to sleep, strange thoughts going through her head.

"Graihagh?"

This time Graihagh didn't turn over. "What?"

"One of the fifth-years said they Vanished kittens in Transfiguration. Do you think the kittens just disappear or what?"

"Dunno."

"That's sort of messed up, isn't it? I mean, why would someone want to make kittens disappear?"

"I have no idea."

"I hope we don't have to do that."

Graihagh didn't say anything, just closed her eyes again.

"Graihagh?"

Graihagh sat up. "What?" she snapped.

Cate looked taken aback, and Graihagh's voice softened. "I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," she said.

"Oh yeah. I'll shut up now," said Cate. "Goodnight."

"'Night."

Graihagh wondered if things would be awkward at breakfast, but she was her usual self, chatting away. Her parents were much quieter-almost too quiet, she thought, and so was her brother. Cate was talking to him, teasing him, and it seemed like she was trying to cheer him up.

Graihagh didn't have much time to wonder about it though, because the moment they were done eating Cate whisked her away to walk to a nearby record store, and after that they all took a tour of Old Trafford and spent about three hours wandering around an indoor market.

By that evening she was worn out, and only too happy to grab a bag of crisps, sink onto the sofa and flip on the television. It was something they'd missed when they were at Hogwarts. They were about halfway through an episode of The A-Team when Graihagh turned to Cate.

"I've been noticing something this summer," she said, as an advert came on. "At first it was so weird to see people flying on broomsticks and waving wands and all that. But...now it seems weirder not to see it, do you know what I mean?"

"I think I know what you mean," said Cate. She was sitting on the edge of the sofa and jiggling her feet a little."It's like living in two different countries, isn't it?"

"Yeah," said Graihagh, absently brushing some crumbs off her lap. "But the wizarding world feels more like home now. I'm starting to feel sort of like a visitor here."

"Really? You don't feel at home here anymore?"

"Well..." She couldn't find the right words to describe what she'd been feeling all summer, this sense that the Muggle world was drifting away from her, like a place she'd left a long time ago. "It's sort of hard to explain."

The show came back on then, but when it was over Cate turned the television off and they went up to her room.

"You still like Muggle music, though don't you?"

"Depends," said Graihagh, flopping down on the camp bed and leaning back against the wall. She wanted to blast the next stereo that happened to be playing Captain and Tenille, underage restriction thing be damned.

"Well, how do you like this?" Cate picked up a Queen record and put it on the turntable.

"I like this," said Graihagh. Cate turned the volume up and jumped back up onto her bed, dancing and singing, and Graihagh was too used to her to think there was anything weird about it. She had a nice voice.

There was a pounding at the door, and Graihagh thought she heard someone shouting something about turning the bleeding music down. Cate flashed Graihagh a grin and lowered the volume just a little.

Their days weren't as hectic as she'd been fearing. When it wasn't raining they'd take some fizzy drinks and drag lawn chairs under a tree in the back garden and talk. Or rather Cate would, but Graihagh was used to it. They went to the cinema to see Return of the Jedi, which Graihagh thought had a magic all of its own, and took walks around the neighbourhood. They went into the city centre a few times, but although the people there were friendly Graihagh didn't like it, just as she didn't like most cities, with their concrete buildings and car exhaust and rubbish-strewn motorways.

One night Graihagh pulled her Potions book out of her trunk, making more marks and circles with one hand while she shoved crisps into her mouth with the other. When she'd finished she tossed the empty packet onto the floor before remembering that it wasn't her room. She picked it up and tossed it into her open trunk.

"Reading school books on your holiday?" Cate said over her magazine.

"I wouldn't be caught dead reading textbooks over the holidays normally, but this stuff is so fascinating."

Cate smiled and went back to her magazine, kicking her legs in the air a little. After awhile she set it down and sat up. "Can I ask you something?" She sounded a little hesitant, which wasn't like her at all.

"Sure." Graihagh put down her book and turned to look at her.

"I was just wondering-I mean, if it's all right if I ask-does your mum live with you? I don't think you've ever mentioned her."

Graihagh could never bring herself to tell people what had really happened, couldn't stand that they might wonder if there was something wrong with her. But she trusted Cate, and in a way, she was relieved that she'd asked so she could finally get it off her chest. She sat up on the camp bed.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?"

Cate came over and sat beside her. "I promise," she said. Graihagh took a breath.

"She just...left. When I was one. I don't really know why. My dad never talks about it. I've never seen any photographs of her or anything."

Cate locked eyes with her. "I'm sorry," she said, and Graihagh knew she meant it.

She shifted a little so that her knees were drawn up to her chest. ."It's all right, really," she said. "I don't really think about it much, to be honest."

Cate was quiet a moment. "Well, maybe in some ways its all right, that it's just you and your dad."

Graihagh looked at her with a question in her eyes.

"It's just...well, can I tell you something?" Graihagh nodded. "Well, my parents row a lot. I mean, they're nice to me and everything, but..." she glanced at Graihagh. "Sometimes I think they don't really like each other very much. One time, dad left for a week."

Something clicked into place then, and she understood why everyone was so quiet sometimes, and why she'd been trying to cheer up her brother, and she felt awful for her. "I'm sorry Cate," she said. "That's shit."

Cate gave her a half-smile. "Yeah, well, we've all got our shit to deal with, right?"

"Yeah." They were quiet awhile.

"Do you like being here?" said Cate, sounding uncertain again.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?"

Cate picked at the blanket they were sitting on. "Well, it's just sometimes I think the other girls in my year get a bit annoyed with me."

Graihagh could sort of see why, but she wouldn't have told her that in a million years. "I think you're a lot of fun," she said. She looked straight ahead, staring at a chip in the plaster. "I was always shooting my mouth off at my old school." She was quiet a moment. "I didn't really have any friends there, actually." She glanced sideways at Cate to see what her reaction to this would be, and saw that Cate was smirking a bit.

"You mean you had a temper, Graihagh?" she said. "I find that hard to believe."

Graihagh whacked her with a pillow and then Cate did something she wasn't expecting. She took Graihagh's hand in hers and pressed down. Graihagh pressed back before letting go.

They sat there a long time, side by side. After awhile, Cate got up and turned out the light and went back into her own bed. Graihagh could hear her settling in and pulling the covers over herself, and she was glad to be with her. Even if she did snore like a buzz saw.