Snape hadn't left his bed in days. His hair was lank and oily and it'd started to itch. His damp nightshirt stuck to his skin and the sheets and pillowcase smelled of sweat and spit.

There was a strip of light on the soot-grey wall when he woke up but he didn't know what time it was.

He thought he could hear a faint tapping at the window, like a tree branch blown by the wind, only there weren't any trees in Spinner's End. Rain maybe, or hail. He closed his eyes again.

The tapping got harder, more insistent, like something sentient, and when it got too loud for him to ignore he sat up and yanked back his curtains. An eagle owl was hovering outside, clutching an envelope in its beak.

When he'd taken it from him and sat back down on his bed he slit it open with a fingernail and skimmed the letter inside. Lucius was hosting a garden party, and had requested that he come early for drinks.

The outside world was like some black-and-white Muggle film playing in the background, something so outside his own mind it was strange to think of something like a party existing. He sat and stared out the window.

He just wanted to stay in his room and sleep. He didn't see the point in getting up and going out. He'd probably just say something stupid and make a fool of himself anyway.

But it would seem suspicious if he didn't come. Damn them.

He scratched out a reply and went over to his dresser, where Apollo was sleeping in an open cage.

"Well, I finally have a job for you," he murmured to him, stroking his head with one finger. He was fond of the creature, having never had an owl growing up. Apollo opened his eyes slowly and gave him a rather reproachful look, as if to say, "about time." Snape placed the parchment in its beak and with gave it another tap on the head, and it flew off through the open window.

He looked around for Paracelcus and found him curled up at the foot of the bed. They could fend for themselves, Kneazles, but Snape supposed he ought to feed him, just the same. He made his way down to the kitchen and put some food in his dish. He ate so quickly that Snape felt guilty.

Standing up, walking, caring for his animals, these were simple things, but they lifted some of the fog in his brain and he went back upstairs to wash and put on clean robes. His head was still heavy but he was surprised at how good it felt to be clean.

He made his way to the kitchen, where there was a vial of potion sitting on the countertop, one he used sometimes when his head got too heavy. He took a swig and waited and after awhile he felt lighter, clearer. He Summoned a book off the shelf and sat down to read.

He felt dull and slow when he woke up the next day, but he found it helped to have a routine, and he kept taking his potion every day, and by the end of the week he found he wasn't dreading the party so much anymore.

Narcissa was sitting outside in the garden when he arrived, playing with Draco. She pointed her wand at a flowerpot and turned it into a guinea pig and Draco picked it up and played with it in his lap.

"It's so good to see you, Severus," she said, standing up and putting a hand to his arm. Her touch was so strange, so unexpected, that he flinched.

She drew her hand away, looking startled, but to Snape's relief she carried on as though nothing had happened. "How have you been?"

"I've been well," he said, lying through his teeth, but when she smiled at him he thought it'd been worth it.

Lucius strode over to greet him. "Ah, Severus, so good of you to join us. Draco, say hello to our guest."

Draco looked up from his guinea pig. "Hello, Professor," he said, very seriously.

Snape never had a clue what to say to small children, on the rare occassions he saw any, but he knelt down to face him. "Hello Draco."

He didn't know what made him do it, but on a whim he waved his wand in the air a trail of coloured bubbles appeared. Draco set down his guinea pig and chased after them.

Lucius watched him a moment, then turned to Snape. "Join me for a drink?"

Snape followed Lucius into his study, a small room with the pleasing smell of old books and wood and leather.

"I have a few recent acquisitions that might interest you," said Lucius.

He pulled a small glass vial off the shelf and held it up to the light streaming in through the tall window, and Snape saw it was filled a clear liquid indistinguishable from water except for the faintest threads of some shimmering substance.

"It's a new type of poison," said Lucius quietly. "It has no antidote. Not even a bezoar."

"Fascinating," said Snape, even more quietly. He had once attempted to create such a poison.

"And this one," he said, putting the vial back on the shelf and picking up another, slightly larger vial full of pale green liquid, "This one is slow-acting. Doesn't take full effect for days."

Snape held the vial between his fingers and watched the faint swirling of the liquid inside, wondering how it had been made.

"Where did these come from?"

"I have certain connections," said Lucius. "You know the apothecary in Knockturn Alley, of course?" Snape nodded. "Well, he's started a little side business out the back."

Snape handed the vial back to Lucius, who set it back on the shelf.

"It's a pity you're stuck teaching," he said when he'd turned around. "You could have invented these yourself, you know." He said this seriously, without any hint of mockery, and Snape appreciated this.

Lucius sank down into a leather chair and summoned his elf. "Drinks," he said simply. The elf left and returned moments later with two glasses of wine in goblets. Snape took one and sat down opposite him.

"I don't believe I've told you about my latest disagreement with that idiot of a Headmaster."

Snape took a drink of his wine. "No. What of it?"

"I've been attempting to get 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune' banned from the Hogwarts library. That filth has been polluting our children's minds long enough."

Snape knew this tale, about a witch who married a luckless Muggle man. His mother had read it to him when he was small, and he couldn't understand why, when such a marriage had brought her so much misery. His heart beat faster at the thought of it.

"I completely agree," he told Lucius, and he meant it.

Lucius took another drink. "Yes, well. Most unfortunately the other governors don't seem share our viewpoint. Likely they're too intimidated to say anything. And do you know what that old lunatic had the nerve to write to me? That even the old pure-blood families have been sullied by intermarriage with Muggles. If he had his way we'd all be mated to them like animals."

Snape found himself in near complete sympathy with Lucius's words, as though Lucius's indignation were his own. At best they were mediocre, their feeble substitutions for magic used for purposes completely uninspired and mundane, a world of polluted rivers and monotonous machines. At worst they were his father, wasting away at their useless jobs and poisoning their bodies and unleashing their rage on their children.

"I intend to campaign to have him removed from his post."

Snape's eyes flickered up to the vials on the shelf. Lucius must have noticed.

"Not through any unscrupulous means, of course," he said. "It would be unwise to expect to avoid imprisonment a second time, though I daresay it's tempting at times."

"Are you intending to persuade the other governors?" said Snape, knowing his efforts were likely to go nowhere.

"Yes, although it's proving difficult. I may have to appeal to a higher authority." Lucius took a sip of his drink and looked at him closely. "I could count on your assistance, of course?"

Snape shifted in his seat and played with the stem of his glass. "Of course," he said quietly, stifling his resentment.

Lucius lifted his glass to him and nodded. "Excellent." He finished his drink and set it down on his desk. "Well, enough of that," he said. "I've ordered some renovations done to the chapel. It's been enchanted to show all the major constellations."

Some of Snape's tension left him at the thought of seeing this most non-mundane use of magic, and by the time he'd toured the chapel with Lucius he was beginning to enjoy himself.

The the other guests were waiting in the garden when he and Lucius stepped outside. His old friend Avery was there and the two clapped each other on the back, and he shook hands with two rather dim-witted fellows called Crabbe and Goyle whom he'd never really liked, who were there with their wives and children.

There was a flash of black from the garden and he turned to see young Selwyn, who was racing about on a broom. He dismounted and joined a man and a woman in flowing robes embroidered with gold and silver threads who he supposed must be his parents. Lucius strode over to make introductions.

"Dionysius, I don't believe you've met Professor Snape of Hogwarts school," he said, speaking to the elder Selwyn.

"So nice to meet you finally," said Dionysius. He leaned in to kiss Snape's cheek in that easy, affectionate way purebloods had with each other, but Snape took a step back, and the man took the hint and held out his hand instead. His manner was friendly, open, and Snape disliked him immediately.

"Acantha, Professor Snape of Hogwarts School," said Lucius, and Snape shook the hand of a small woman with sharp laughing eyes that made her look like she was in on some joke no one else knew about.

Lucius had arranged a portkey, a garden rake, and as it started to glow blue they each grabbed a part of it, parents holding tightly to their children.

They vanished and reappeared in the back garden of a large stone house with a red-tiled roof and Snape's eyes took in the rolling hills and cypress trees all around them. They seemed to be in the Italian countryside, and it was peaceful there.

"I've booked a villa for the night," said Lucius, as everyone sat down under a canopy surrounded by lanterns that had been suspended in mid-air. Umbrella flowers bloomed around them and the air was filled with their scent. An elf came out of the house with a large silver dish and he lifted lid to reveal a display of food arranged to look like an enchanted garden.

"So," said Selwyn's mother, spearing a kumquat with her fork, "You teach Potions, I believe?"

"Yes," said Snape, hoping against hope that it might lead to a discussion about the finer points of potion-making instead of the usual pointless conversations he had to sit through.

"Is Milo any good?"

Something about this irked him and he decided he didn't like her either. "Very good," he said, looking pointedly at the boy, who blushed.

"He's certainly a skilled flier," Lucius spoke up, and Snape thought he was looking at the boy with some interest as he raised a glass to his mouth.

There was an outbreak of yelling from the garden where the children were playing; apparently the Crabbe boy had set a bush on fire. The elf summoned a bucket of water and put it out, and they all went back to their meal, talking about friends and acquaintances and sharing news. Lucius passed some Elixir to Induce Euphoria around, but Snape declined; he doubted whoever made it had the sense to add a peppermint sprig, and he wasn't about to do something as undignified as burst into song.

As the night went on the faces got redder and the voices louder and after the children had been put to bed Snape pushed back his glass and stood up, ready to leave. He'd enjoyed himself in a way, but he didn't wish to stay any longer, and while the Elixer was harmless-children could take it-he had a feeling stronger potions were going to make an appearance, and he was proven right when Lucius pulled a small vial out of his robes and handed it to the elder Selwyn.

"Leaving so soon, Severus?" Lucius asked him, as the elder Selwyn twisted the cap off the vial with a hollow look of hunger Snape didn't like to see. He thought of the boy, back in the house with the other children.

"Yes, I have business to attend to in the morning," Snape replied. Lucius gave him a look that was full of understanding; he knew him well enough to know he wasn't really one for long parties.

Snape took his leave then and returned to Spinner's End, but he was too restless to go to bed. Part of him wished he'd never gone at all, that he'd just stayed in his bed and slept.

Graihagh was surprised at how tense and distracted she'd been all day, considering it was Cate auditioning for the Frog Choir and Milo trying out for the Quidditch team.

There was pompous little man with a bald head and a ridiculous handlebar mustache strutting around the courtyard, tut-tutting at everyone, and Graihagh distracted herself awhile watching him. He was in the middle of a furious tirade about young people when he tripped over his feet and tumbled to the ground, and with a burst of applause the little man screwed up his face and turned into a first-year Hufflepuff girl named Tonks who a gave them all a cheerful little bow and went to stand with her friends. Graihagh wished she had her powers, only she'd probably turn her hair blue and give herself a huge chest like Jayne Mansfield.

Milo was standing beside her, glancing all around the courtyard and jiggling his hands. He'd barely touched any of his food at breakfast.

Graihagh hadn't seen much of him since the start of term. He'd usually come in late, sometimes covered in mud or soaked with rain, broomstick in hand. She supposed he was practicing with the other hopefuls.

The bell rang and they made their way to the greenhouses for Herbology, the last class of the day. Milo was so distracted now he didn't do a thing, just stood there and watched as Graihagh pruned their Wiggentree sapling, but Graihagh liked the work enough that she didn't mind too much.

"Are you going to come and watch?" said Milo as they made their way back up to the castle.

"I told Cate I'd go with her to her audition, but I'll come as soon as she's done, promise."

Milo didn't say anything to this, just gave an absent nod, and as sooon as they'd dropped off their books they went to dinner, Milo picking at his food.

"You'll be great," said Graihagh, patting his arm. Milo just swirled his mash around with a fork.

She pushed her plate back and got up to meet Cate, who'd stood up and was making her way out of the Hall, clutching her frog.

"You sure you don't want to try out with me?" said Cate as she bent over to pick up her frog, who'd jumped out of her hands. "There's a few open spots with the altos, you can sing harmony parts."

Graihagh raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh come on, you've heard me. I sound like a dying Kneazle."

"Well yeah, you sort of do," said Cate with a teasing smile.. Graihagh gave her a little shove with her elbow and they made their way to the music room on the fifth floor. She stood and waited beside a brightly coloured tapestry, while Cate paced back and forth, bouncing on her heels and humming.

"Miss Bellamy," called Flitwick after a few minutes.

Graihagh squeezed her hand. "Good luck," she said. Cate nodded and went into the music room with Flitwick.

Standing so close to the music room put her in the mood to sing, so she hummed the words to Ushag Veg Ruy under her breath as she waited. But she got stuck on the forth line, and she didn't know why. It hadn't been that long since she'd sung it to herself.

"...thank you, Miss Bellamy," Flitwick said as the door opened. "I'll have the list up by tomorrow."

Graihagh looked up to see Cate, who was smiling in a nervous sort of way.

"How'd it go?"

"I think it went alright," said Cate. "I might've gotten a few wrong notes but it was a tough piece and that might make it count for more."

"I'm sure you were brilliant," said Graihagh in rush. "Listen, I told Milo I'd watch his tryout, do you want to come? We'll have to hurry."

Cate nodded and Graihagh reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out some of her Girding Potion. They each took a swig, then ran all the way to the Quidditch pitch, only having to stop once.

The hopefuls were all on their brooms, flying around the pitch, dodging and hitting Bludgers, scoring and blocking goals with an almost frantic intensity. They were all bigger than Milo, and most looked older. Making the team wasn't going to be easy, but Milo was a quick and graceful flier, maybe because he was so small, and he threw the Quaffle with a strength that must've surprised everyone. Graihagh just hoped he would have the sense not to throw it too hard, or it'd look suspicious.

Graihagh gripped the edge of her seat and rocked back and forth as the captain called everyone to a halt and the players dismounted, wiping their sweaty faces with their robes. She thought he might be calling out names, but couldn't hear what they were over the wind. One by one they came forward and stood beside him, including a dark-haired girl she thought might be Livia Travers.

"I hope he makes it in," said Cate.

Graihagh just stared down at the pitch, picking at her fingernails. There were five people standing beside the captain now. Only one more left.

Milo stepped forward, and Thorfinn slapped him on the back. When the captain shook his hand, Graihagh stood up and ran onto the pitch.

"I made it!" he said, sounding happier than she had ever heard him. She wrapped her arms around him and Cate flashed him a grin.

"Knew you could do it," she said, patting his back. But she didn't look at him too closely. He'd had some help from her Strengthening Solution and they both knew it, but she didn't want to remind him of it now, not when he was so happy.

The three of them walked back to the castle together, and when they got back to the common room they sat down in their usual spot. Thorfinn came over and handed Milo a Butterbeer. "Come sit with us," he said, patting him on the arm and nodding towards the fire. Milo smiled and stood up, then looked back at Graihagh.

"She can come to," said Thorfinn, and with a thrill of nerves and excitement Graihagh got up and sat down beside Milo in one of the plush leather sofas by the fire. His feet barely touched the floor and he was bouncing his legs against it.

There was an unopened bottle of Butterbeer sitting on the table, and with a quick glance at Thorfinn, who nodded, Graihagh picked it up and pulled the cap off. She looked up to see Livia staring at her with an eyebrow raised. She'd grown taller and curvier and Graihagh would've given every single one of her galleons to look like her.

She didn't know why her stomach was all fluttery. Nerves probably. She swigged her Butterbeer and laughed at Thorfinn's jokes even though they were a bit stupid and tried not to look at Livia again. Milo didn't say a whole lot, but he was smiling and she could tell how chuffed he was by the whole thing. She caught his eye and grinned, and she knew he was thinking the same thing. They were in.

After awhile, when the fire had burned low and the common room was emptying out, Thorfinn sat down next to them.

"Can you make Strengthening Solution?"

Graihagh glanced at Milo, who'd turned deep red.

"It's all right mate," said Thorfinn, clapping him on the shoulder. "You were easily one of the best fliers. You'll bulk up in a year or two." He took a swig of Butterbeer and turned to Graihagh. "So can you make me some?"

"Are you sure you need it?" said Graihagh, looking him over. His biceps were practically bulging out of his school robes.

Thorfinn shrugged. "Couldn't hurt, could it? Besides, it's Gryffindor, and you know what they're like. The fuckin tossers'll take any advantage they can get."

Graihagh picked at her robes. "I suppose that's true."

Thorfinn leaned back and shot her a lazy grin. "I'll tell everyone how brilliant you are."

Graihagh didn't really know if he was being serious or not, he was always joking around. But if he meant it, if he'd really put in a good word for her...she didn't even know if she was Muggle-born or not. She needed him, if she ever wanted to make something of herself. And besides, she wanted to prove she could do it.

"Fine," she said. "But if you get caught...I had nothing to do with it, alright?"

Thorfinn smirked at her. "How long have you been in Slytherin Graihagh? You know we don't snitch."

"I know," she said. She'd always liked that about them.

Thorfinn finished his Butterbeer and set it down on the table in front of them. "Cheers," he said. He stood up. "I'll leave you two alone then."

Graihagh glanced at Milo, who'd turned red again, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. That he didn't realize people saw it that way.

"Do you think he meant it?" he said, when he'd watched him go. "That I was one of the best fliers?"

"You're a natural," said Graihagh, looking him straight in the eye to show he meant it. He gave her a small smile, and they stayed there together until the fire had burned down to glowing coals.