A/N: Thanks to Uno6 and mbsb5ever 123 for the reviews! And to the new favs and follows. Sorry it's been awhile, I burned myself out on all the Sev birthday chapters and life got lifey again for awhile. More reviews could possibly get me into the grove again. *wink *

Dream a Little Dream

Severus woke slowly the morning after Brie left, having gone to bed almost as soon as dinner had ended the previous evening. During her visit he'd taken far too many Pepper-up potions, trying to match the never ending energy that being near and involved in so much magic had given Brie. She'd claimed not to be able to settle down enough to sleep at all and he believed her.

After she left he'd gone on to teach his classes, deciding against having one more potion to get him through the day. He was worried the effects wouldn't wear off before evening and he'd be stuck awake well into the night.

Unfortunately, right before lunch he felt the last of the potions he had taken when Brie had been there wear off and had almost fallen asleep while his class quietly took a test on antidotes. To keep himself awake he first pinched his own thigh very hard, then went over their time together in his mind, proud that he had helped her to feel better and all without heaping his problems onto her or even putting his foot in his mouth.

She was going through enough of her own ordeals. She didn't need to worry about his. In their days together he hadn't once mentioned Moody or Karkaroff. He didn't see the point. He regretted even mentioning that his Mark had been getting darker all year, but there hadn't been much he could do about that, seeing as she'd seen it completely by accident.

Now, he stretched and rose, padding out to the drawing room to simply stand and look around. Somehow it seemed darker and drabber now that Brie wasn't there anymore. He tried not to think what an accurate metaphor for his life that was. He'd felt similar after Lily had died. Everything in the world was a little less colorful and a little more dim for a very long time after she was gone. At least Brie was just on the other side of the world. Not the other side of the Veil.

No matter how any of that made him feel, all there really was to do was put on his robes and go on about his life, so that's what he did.

As the days slipped by, he began to dread his nights, when bits and pieces of his old Death Eater days pushed themselves into his dreams. He hated these dreams because they weren't so much random events his mind put together, as they were memories. It was like looking in a pensieve, they were so vivid and so correct to the actual events.

One night screams and pleading filled his mind as his dream self became aware of the surroundings. He was in a dark and dingy alley in London. He and another Death Eater had been sent to track down information, "in any way necessary," to directly quote the Dark Lord.

Severus kept jerking himself awake whenever he started dreaming, but he was only going to be able to do that for so long before he just had to give in. He didn't want this memory in the front of his mind. He preferred it in the back where he'd managed to stuff it years ago, but his unconscious mind wouldn't allow it and kept dragging it to the front to be analyzed.

The Dark Lord had sent along Goyle, who had yet to become Goyle Sr. Severus could vividly remember most missions with Goyle, who liked not only to use magic to get what he wanted, but also brute force. He'd said once, in a totally unsolicited and voluntary statement, that sometimes spells just couldn't get the job done as well as breaking bones with his own two hands.

It had made Severus shudder then, just as it still did now when he wrenched himself awake again to lay panting in the dark, listening to his rapid heartbeat. He tried and failed to turn his thoughts to something else.

The mission in his dreams had been early on in his Death Eater days, when he had still been shocked and appalled at just what it was he'd been so ardently supporting as a student at Hogwarts. Every day back then he'd been confronted with fresh evidence that those ideals wouldn't, or rather, couldn't be realized with simple speeches to change minds. Some minds didn't want to be changed, and would need a harder, crueler kind of persuasion. It hadn't taken long after graduation for Severus to realize that the Dark Lords followers were meant to be just that.

They were meant to be an army. Every idea, every word, every move by the Dark Lord was meant to be carried out by his slowly growing legion of supporters. They were recruiters and oppressors, both. It was expected of all of them to be vocal about the ideals their group espoused, and just as vocally critical about anyone who spoke against them. They were to chip away at the idea of what was normal and accepted while hiding the fact that they were, in fact, an organized movement. The foundation had to crumble before they could rebuild things the way they wanted.

The only problem had been that the foundation in this case had been strong, built and maintained for thousands of years, so the work had been hard and constant.

Some had marched readily into the task, eager to enforce what they believed to be right. Many felt that they'd been oppressed too long, both in the Muggle and Wizarding worlds and were more than willing to deal out exactly what they'd been enraged about. As long as they were the oppressors and not the oppressed, they had no complaints.

He'd been in too deep by the time he'd realized exactly what he'd gotten himself into. Walking away wasn't an option at that point and he cursed his school boy self for not seeing everything for what it was, and for having those dreams of power and respect by force in the first place. After that realization, everything he'd done in the name of the Dark Lord and pure-blood supremacy, he'd done to save his own skin. Even if he still believed any of it, he couldn't justify the means to the end. He knew then, just as he knew now that it didn't matter. He'd still done things that had helped the Dark Lord realize his goals, the fact that he had no longer believed in the goals meant nothing.

It had meant worse than nothing. He'd been too much of a coward then to do anything else. Too much of a coward until the Dark Lord had set his sights on Lily. That had been the only thing that could snap him out of his bleak, empty, existence full of self loathing. And even then he'd only made a request of the madman, that he spare her life.

It wasn't until he'd been fairly certain that the Dark Lord would still kill her if he needed too, that he'd pulled together all his courage and gone to Albus. And even then, he'd meant only to warn them and slink back to wallow in the life he'd made. He hadn't expected Albus to insist on treating the act as a favor to him, rather than to just save Lily's life, because it was a life worth saving, one he needed for his war.

Looking back, Severus was quite certain that, had he refused, or simply vanished away, Albus would have protected Lily and her family just the same, but at that moment, on that windswept, lighting struck hill, with his heart pounding in his throat and panic clawing in his chest, with Albus standing menacingly over him, conjuring flames all around, he'd been afraid Albus wouldn't pass along the warning. In that moment the last little spark of courage he'd possessed had been fanned to a flame and he'd promised to do anything to keep Lily safe.

Whether he knew it or not, Albus had offered him a way out that day and Severus had seen a tiny light at the end of his long dark tunnel of a life. He'd started sprinting towards it and to this day had never looked back. If he was probably going to die anyway, and at that point he had been pretty sure that's how it would end for him, Albus had been offering a better reason even without factoring in Lily's life.

He felt his eyelids begin to droop, and try as he might, he just couldn't stay awake anymore. He'd been having trouble sleeping for the last few nights and he just had nothing left. Even though he didn't want to, he slid down into the dream he'd been trying to avoid.

His dream self watched Goyle go to work on the wizard they'd been sent to extract information from. The usual curses and hexes hadn't worked, neither had Severus' attempt at reasoning the information from the man. He'd really had no choice, in that situation, as the person he'd been then, but to let Goyle do his thing.

He stood a short way down the alley and did his best not to hear the grunts and dull smacks as Goyle landed blow after blow on to the man's torso and face. Several times Severus heard what could only be loose teeth clatter on the pavement, scattering away under dumpsters and stray pieces of trash. The Muffliato spell Severus had cast made certain no one passing by in the streets at either end of the alley would take notice of anything out of the ordinary happening, at least not from the sound, but it didn't do anything for Severus, who could still hear every sickening thing.

Of course, other Death Eaters would take the opportunity to let out their frustrations upon the unsuspecting passing Muggles, but Severus did not do that unless he had no other choice in the matter. So far he'd been able to keep that much of himself during this whole nightmare. It seemed that no one had yet noticed his lack of spill over violence in those types of situations.

One particularly sickening crunch broke through his attempts to ignore the scene unfolding a few yards away. The fool Goyle wasn't even asking questions anymore, just raining blows upon the poor man.

"Perhaps you should try another tactic," he said dryly, not really thinking about his words, just hoping Goyle would get on with it and that the man on the ground would crack and give up the information they were after.

"You're right," Goyle grunted, as he stopped swinging and began dragging the limp and weakly protesting body over to a small storm gutter that ran along one side of the alley. "Let's try this!" he exclaimed with a mad glint in his eye as he stretched the man's right arm across the gully and, before Severus realized what was happening, stomped down with all his weight.

The snapping of bone and the anguished cry of the man on the ground almost made Severus physically ill as he rushed over and roughly shoved Goyle out of the way.

"You fool, if he passes out from the pain, how will we collect the information?" he hissed as he glanced up and down the alley, making sure no one had seen, trying to swallow the revulsion that was clawing it's way up into his throat.

He leaned down close to the moaning, writhing man and whispered, "If you just tell us, this will all stop, you know."

The man weakly pulled at the front of Severus robes, mouthing empty, toothless nothing sounds, blood running from the corner of his mouth.

Severus suddenly jerked himself awake and sat up with a gasp, the Mark on his arm burning like fire.

He was drenched in sweat and tangled hopelessly in the sheets, but at least he was out of his dreams. With a moan he buried his face in his hands and willed his ragged breath under control again.

He couldn't remember the man's name, or the name of the street they'd found him on, nor could he even remember the piece of information they'd been sent to extract, but he'd never forget what had happened next. He'd never forget the sickening sound of the man's skull being caved in by Goyle's boot as he'd suddenly swung wild and planted it squarely on the man's temple.

It was a sound he'd heard almost nightly in his fevered dreams for years after the event. Eventually he'd been able to block it out, but now, with the Mark on his arm burning, he couldn't push those times to the back of his mind and heard the sound on a loop until he pressed his hands to his ears and moaned out loud.

The Dark Lord had punished Goyle roundly for that little stunt, and Severus as well for not having more control of the situation even though he had been unaware that it was his job to baby sit Goyle in that fashion.

It was around that time that Severus had realized that even though he'd been doing his best to distance himself, the results of the bare minimum he could get away with in his missions had somehow managed to impress the Dark Lord.

Slowly after that, his duties had become more detailed and obviously important to the movement. He'd been sucked in deeper, just by doing a good enough job to barely save himself. The longer it went on, the more Severus' assignments had focused on secretive information gathering, rather than physical tasks. He'd eventually even been trusted enough to work without a partner, which was a relief. Having to constantly check himself and make sure he was acting appropriately for the cause was tiring. Alone, all he had to do was make sure he wasn't seen, which he was usually good at.

His 'better' assignments had been bittersweet, of course, because one of them had yielded the information that had doomed Lily.

He pulled his hands away from his face and quickly rose, lest he start focusing on Lily and her whole sad part in the war yet again. Though there were no windows in his dungeon rooms, he knew without having to look that it was the dead of night and there were hours before dawn. He knew from experience that there was only one thing he could do, so he pulled his robes over his head and headed out into the halls to pace around until the sun rose.

He worked his way through the chilly dungeon corridors, before the cold chased him to the upper floors.

"Ah, Severus," he heard a familiar voice say, behind him almost as soon as he'd come up into the Entrance Hall.

With a sigh he turned and found Albus.

"Can't sleep, I see," Albus said, pleasantly as he fell into step with Severus.

"No," he replied, shortly, pulling up the sleeve of his robe and showing Albus the Mark. "It's gotten darker again. Each time the pain is more intense as well. He's gaining strength somewhere and we have no idea where, or how or who is helping him."

"Oh, I've got an idea on how and who," Albus said, inspecting Severus' Mark.

He tried to control his rage while Albus casually told him about Trelawny's second prophecy and the rat servant, Pettigrew, returning to his master. It was one thing to know Pettigrew had escaped last year. It was a whole other thing to think he'd managed to find the Dark Lord and was actively helping him return.

"You knew about this and you didn't tell me," he said flatly.

It wasn't a question, and it was barely accusatory. He was becoming used to the idea that Albus still kept many secrets, even ones that essentially involved him.

"Not until after the fact," Albus said mildly, either ignoring or not noticing Severus' defeated tone. "Mr. Potter told me afterwards, while he was in the infirmary."

"And you didn't tell me because..." he trailed off.

"Well, aside from the great shouting spectacle you were making of yourself in the hallways at the time, I think we both know just how trustworthy you are with prophecies."

The statement stopped him dead in his tracks and it took Albus a few steps before he realized that he'd lost Severus. When he finally turned around, a short way down the hall, he had a small smile in his eyes and Severus knew he'd been making a joke, but with the ever looming threat of return and his own dreams of late, the jest fell short and just made him feel hollow.

He knew Albus realized he'd crossed a line.

"Severus, I didn't mean that seriously..." he trailed off as he shuffled back to stand with Severus. "I just though with all these years distance..."

"I know," he whispered, clearing his throat right afterward, hoping Albus hadn't heard the wobble there.

He had, of course and reached out to put his hand on Severus' shoulder.

"I know what you think of me," Severus continued, giving in to one of the little voices that would sometimes whisper things at the back of his mind. This was something he'd known, but ignored since the end of the war. No matter how close he and Albus seemingly became over the years, he always knew this one point. "I know that no matter what has happened between now and then, you think I earned all this. With my past actions."

Albus simply shook his head.

"Maybe in the beginning, Severus, but not in a long long time." Albus' voice was soft and he didn't quite meet Severus' eyes, which was odd. "In truth, and with help, I've come to realize that we all failed you when you were a student here at the school. We all let you go down that dark road. I think somewhere in my heart and in my mind I'd always known that, but it took a pretty severe tongue lashing from someone we both know, to get me to actually let myself admit it. We all should have been more concerned about you, Severus. But it was far too easy to write you off to the old Slytherin prejudice and lump you in with the children who had grown up hearing and believing all the old rhetoric. Someone should have realized that your home life was probably not the same as the others and that it was probably the answer to your rather prickly exterior, even then."

He blinked in surprise, even more unwilling to talk about his former home life with Albus than he was with Brie.

"I was who I was. If Lily couldn't change me, what chance would any of the staff have had?"

"It's something we'll never know, and that is one of the handful of real regrets I have."

"She was right to walk away and you were all right too," he said, hollowly. "Outwardly, I wasn't a good person. Inwardly, I wasn't great either, although there was doubt there. I still wasn't positive about the cause, the movement, whatever you want to call it. Ultimately I was in it for the status much more than the message, but how was anyone to know that when all they saw was just another Death Eater? No matter what was in my head or my heart, I really was just another Death Eater as long as I was part of them. That's all you can ever be once you align with them. There is no splinter cell, there is no alternate belief. Everyone was right, I was just too stubborn then to see it."

"That's not who you are now," Albus said firmly, taking hold of his upper arm to make him pay attention. Severus was surprised at the amount of strength the old boy could still grip with. "That's not who you are now."

He swallowed hard and nodded, reaching up with his free hand to grip Albus' upper arm as well. They stood there together for a moment before breaking contact and continuing down the hall.

"In all seriousness, though and to bring us back to the start of this very unexpected conversation," Albus continued, "the day I found out about the prophecy was also the day you discovered that Brie was leaving, on top of also learning that Sirius and Peter weren't who we'd thought they were. I didn't think you needed any more shocking news that day. After that, with a bit of distance on the events, I thought it might just be better not to know, because there wasn't much to be done about it. The events had transpired, Pettigrew escaped and nothing could really change any of that."

He shrugged as they went along, essentially agreeing with Albus, but unwilling to say so. He believed that Albus had been trying to spare him some agitations, but still felt a bit betrayed anyway.

"Are you sure it was that and not that you still don't completely trust me?" he asked giving in again to one of those niggling back of his mind voices.

"I trust you, Severus. I have the whole time."

"Pfft," he blew his breath forcefully out of pinched lips.

"I kept you on as a teacher, did I not? I appointed you head of Slytherin house."

"At that point in time, what other choice did you have? People were still being rooted out as Death Eaters and almost no Slytherin was considered trust-able until most of them were finally rounded up."

"You know why I wanted you to stay here at the school, Severus? I put you in charge of Slytherin house not because there were no other Slytherin professors left at the time, but because you knew what it was like to be a Slytherin. You knew what those children coming into the school after the war faced both outside the school and within. No matter what I or anyone else thought about you at that point, you and you alone knew how to deal with them and what to let them slide on while also knowing what other behaviors needed to be addressed or monitored. And the students knew all that as well. They trusted you then, and still now trust you, because you know what it is like for them."

Severus suddenly stood still again and stared at Albus. He'd never told him that before. Severus always assumed that Albus had only hired him because it had been beneficial to his efforts to defeat the Dark Lord. Once he'd proven himself to also be a satisfactory teacher, he'd then assumed that it had just been easier for Albus to keep him on rather than try to fill the position with someone else once things had calmed down. He didn't have the energy or capacity to keep up with this shockingly revealing conversation, so he opted for dry humor instead.

"You could have told me about Moody, though."

"Ah, yes," Albus chuckled, obviously welcoming the break as well. "I apologize again, but I really could think of no better person to be in the castle this year, than Alastor. He may be getting on in years, but we old boys still have much left to offer the world. Alastor is no different, and I can't think of anyone else besides you who would be on such high alert around so many school outsiders."

"We really should be coming up with some kind of plan, Albus," he said seriously. "There are so many people here, and the Mark keeps getting darker..."

"Severus, I would love to come up with some kind of plan, but what would it be? How do we fight someone who is essentially invisible?"

He sighed again, for what surely must have been the hundred thousandth time since the year had begun, knowing Albus was right. You couldn't fight shadows and you couldn't fight memories.

Albus continued, "I'm afraid that, until he gets his corporeal body back, or we're able to find anyone that might be helping him, that events like the Tri Wizard, to help solidify the bonds between the different magical communities are the best plans we have. I have a few ideas to reach out to other magical communities and different magical beings, but as yet, I've been unable to refine them. The tournament takes up so much time."

"Why is it that all your plans always seem to involve at least three feasts and a ball?" he asked, still uneasy about the fact there was no way they could plan for something they could not see.

"Oh, Severus, I worry about you, how can one not love a good feast?"

"We literally had back to back feasts this year."

"We had back to back reasons to celebrate. And you can't tell me you didn't enjoy the ball. I saw the lengths you went to, with your appearance, just like everyone else."

"I pulled my hair back."

"And wore fitted robes."

"They weren't particularly fitted."

"They had a design."

"Barely."

"Well, you must have gone out to buy them."

"I'm fairly certain I purchased them for Lucius' wedding."

"Well, they've held up remarkably well over all this time, then."

"Moth repelling spell."

"I'm sure."

"You do this on purpose to frustrate me into leaving," he complained as they came across the entrance gargoyle to the headmaster's office.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Albus replied as the statue jumped out of the way and he stepped onto the moving spiral staircase.

Before he could think of a reply, the statue jumped back in front of the doorway and he caught one last look at Albus' amused eyes as it slid into place. With a shake of his head he turned a vague circle, unsure of where he wanted to go, as he still had no intentions of trying to sleep again tonight. Not with those dreams waiting for him.

"Oy, Snape!" Moody's voice called out from around the corner.

Was everyone in the halls at this late hour?

Severus had no idea how he'd managed to get so close without being able to hear the man's fake leg clunking about. He heard it now though as Moody came into view, grimacing as he went, tucking his flask into his hip pocket.

"Can't sleep, eh?" he croaked, looking like he'd just swallowed a slug. He went on without waiting for an answer. "Me either. Most nights I'm kept awake by thoughts of the past. Thoughts of the ones who wormed their way through the cracks. I've been running into so many of them lately with this contest bringing them all out of the woodwork."

"So you mention, almost daily," he replied, dryly, wondering if perhaps Albus had overestimated Moody's mental state and usefulness, hoping this wasn't going to be a drawn out affair. He could only escape from Moody so many times before feeling like he was running away rather than hurrying off. He knew he should stand his ground more. Right then seemed as good a time as any other, so he mentally planted his feet and prepared to face down his metaphorical, but also fairly physical demon.

"Well, can you blame me? All those familiar faces, it brings back all those old days. You remember, don't you Snape? All your time serving your Dark Lord?"

Something about the glint in his eye really put Severus off. Sure, Moody had always been like a Cerberus with three bones when it came to the Dark Arts and those who practiced them, but this was something else. It was worse even than the old obsession with hunting down dark Wizards had ever been. In all the years after the war, when he'd run across the old Auror skulking around as he went about his daily business, Moody had never commented, never confronted. He'd always stuck to pointedly, silently watching, lurking around corners and in adjacent stalls and aisles.

"It isn't a concern of yours what I remember, Moody," he said, refusing to rise to the bait.

"Oh, but isn't it? Isn't it just so?" He took a step closer, Severus held his ground. "You bother me the most, truth be told, Snape."

He didn't say anything, if he didn't give the old man any ammo, he should run out of steam soon. And it wasn't as if this was new material that they hadn't already gone over at the start of the year.

"Just slipped right through the cracks there, didn't you? No time in Azkaban, you even managed to hang onto your cozy position by Dumbledore's feet. You've always just been able to hide yourself away here for most of the year, so easy for everyone to forget about. But I don't forget, Snape. I've not forgotten for a long, long time."

Moody's gaze intensified even more, making Severus furrow his brow. There was something extremely familiar about his expression. Familiar, but somehow wrong. Once again he couldn't put his finger on it but it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Are we quite done here?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "I have no intention of justifying what the highest magical court of law has already found and ruled upon."

Moody scowled and began limping away. Severus walked slowly and calmly in the opposite direction, fighting the urge to hurry off, or look over his shoulder. When he chanced a glance out of the corner of his eye as he rounded the corner, he saw that Moody was standing in front of the headmaster's office, still glaring at him.

"Doesn't matter what robes you wear, Snape," he called out. "This uniform, or the last one. I can see you for who you really are." He gestured to the magical eye before stepping out of sight.

Extremely glad to be done with the paranoid old Auror portion of the evening, he continued on his way, wondering what that way might actually be, as he still had no desire to go back to his rooms to try to sleep.

The days started to once again slide by as the school settled itself into the normal routine. Or as normal as it was going to get in a year with extra students and suppressed excitement about the next task in the tournament. From the bits of chatter he'd heard in the classrooms, hallways, and at meal times, it was clear everyone was expecting something even more grand than the dragons had been.

As the second task grew closer, Severus noticed that little Potter began to look more sallow and sleep deprived and desperate by the day.

He obviously didn't wish the boy any horrible injury or mental trauma but found it hard to root for him, and not just for the usual reason of how much like his father he was. He still wasn't sure how he'd gotten the Cup to choose him as a champion, but stubbornly clung to the idea that it had indeed been little Potter's doing, despite the boy's protests to the contrary. It was just like a Potter to pull something like this, and even if he and Albus were sure the Dark Lord was gaining power again, it didn't necessarily mean the two things were related.

He had no problem imagining the boy's father doing the same thing and basking in the undeserved glory of it all and couldn't imagine that the Dark Lord could or would do much to the boy without his corporeal body. He'd been clinging to that idea for awhile now. Even with the new information about Pettigrew returning to help. Severus felt that someone like Pettigrew would be more of a hindrance than anything.

The closer the task got, the more trouble Severus had sleeping, unable to even get an hour here or there before the dreams or the worry would wake him. He couldn't turn his brain off some nights, wondering alternately about little Potter and the contest and the Dark Lord's revival, continually trying to convince himself that the two things were in no way related. His mark pained him on and off the entire time and he often found himself wondering if he was simply imagining it. It did seem to only happen on nights when he was already agitated.

One night, after hours of trying and failing to fall asleep, he flung aside his covers and padded out of his bedroom. All the nights of trying to avoid his dreams had disrupted his sleep cycles so badly that he was starting to suffer long periods of insomnia. After a few pacing laps of the sitting room, he finally gave in and headed out the door and down the cold dungeon hallways to his office, not bothering to pull his robes on over his nightshirt because it wasn't a very long walk, and it was already quite late, he doubted he'd run into anyone.

He kept some sleeping draught there. He stored it in his office rather than his rooms so that he wouldn't be tempted to use it too much. He really had to want it to go all the way to get it. Most of the nights of his life that he'd spent wandering the halls aimlessly, he'd started out intending to fetch the sleeping draught, but he usually ended up bypassing his office and opting to rattle around the hallways instead. He didn't strictly like taking that particular potion, as it made it nearly impossible to control his dreams because he would be unable to wake himself up. So most of the time he had to choose between no sleep at all, or a tortured dream state that he had no control over. Though he would wake rested in body, his mind would be in shambles. More often than not, he talked himself out of taking it on his way to his office.

Tonight, he didn't have much choice but to take the potion and let his body rest. He'd deal with his mind in the morning… if he could.

As he made his way down the dimly lit corridor, already weighing the pros and cons of the potion, he was suddenly surprised by a great horrible wailing sound accompanied by loud banging. After the shock wore off, he picked up his pace, intending to find the source of the sound, wishing he'd put his robes on before leaving his rooms after all.

He was momentarily distracted when he passed his office and noticed that the door was ajar and the torches lit. Someone had been inside! By the look of it, he'd just missed catching whoever it was. He took a moment to glance around, finding no one, but seeing that his private storage cupboard was ajar. He didn't have time to figure out what was missing, as much as it pained him. Whatever was making the banging, wailing sounds was a more pressing matter right at that moment, and quite possibly connected with his office break in. He charmed the door shut on his way out, trying not to be blinded by the rage he felt knowing that someone had again broken in.

He ran into Filch at the base of the stairs, who was holding a large golden egg that looked identical to the ones that the tournament champions had had to win away from the dragons. As the fool nattered away about Peeves, Severus tried to tune him out and put the seemingly random pieces of events together. It seemed quite unlikely that these two events were completely separate of each other, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what they had in common.

As Filch kept wailing on about Peeves, all but ignoring Severus' requests to come help him figure out who had been in his office, the one person in the school who he hoped daily not to run into began clunking his way up the corridor towards them.

'Moody,' he inwardly cursed. 'Just what's needed here tonight. One old fool isn't enough to deal with, now it's two.' But didn't he ever sleep? He was out wandering the halls seemingly almost as much as Severus. He wondered what particular demons kept the old Auror awake before realizing he probably didn't want to know.

When he looked down at the base of the staircase, Moody was already there, gazing up at the two of them while making a snide crack about pajama parties. Like the idiot that he was, Filch babbled the entire situation out without being asked. Moody was keen to hear that there had been a break in in his office. Yet again Severus had to endure a round of his paranoia and innuendos.

Without warning, during Moody's tirade, his Mark pained him sharply again, at the worst possible time, and he was unable to keep himself from flinching and covering it. Moody seemed to know exactly what had happened, because he couldn't help but laugh with that jagged maw of a mouth of his. Severus narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. Could he really know what had just happened, or was Severus just that off his game due to lack of sleep?

He didn't have much time to wonder, because the foolish old Auror pointed out something on the steps above where he was standing. As soon as he glanced at where the old fool was pointing, there was a spark of recognition. He'd pointed to an old piece of parchment laying there, seemingly abandoned.

He knew that piece of parchment! Last year the werewolf had snatched it up before he could fully study it, but later Severus had seen it again in the wolfs office and figured out what it really was. He cursed himself for not thinking to snatch it off the wolfs desk last year.

He knew now that Lupin and his cohorts had most likely had a hand in it's creation, or at the very least had lucked into possession of it at one point or another. He had the feeling he'd seen brief glimpses of the map when they had been creating or modifying it. He could recall a time during their school days when they had all been huddled over something every spare minute they'd had, whether in the back of classrooms or at tables in the Great Hall or the library. Really, it was a wonder they'd never been caught at anything between their complete lack of finesse and the big mouths of Potter and Black.

Severus remembered trying to sneak the pages away multiple times during those years, always thwarted by one of the troublesome quartet. He suspected it had been what prompted them to add the spell he'd run into the last time, where the parchment had insulted him, but at the same time, given him the clue as to who the creators were and what the document might have been in the first place. Until then, it had been years since he'd thought about it, and even longer since he'd seen it. If he remembered correctly, he had possibly overheard Potter and Black lamenting it's capture at the hands of Filch back in their own school days.

The presence of the egg and the parchment map in the same place could only mean one thing. Not only had Lupin given the map to the boy before he'd left the school, but Little Potter was in the halls somewhere. Possibly right there with them, underneath that blasted cloak of his. And he now had no doubt about who had just broken in to his office. He'd wonder why he had the egg with him later.

Really, what had possessed Albus to return such an item as the cloak to the boy after last year and the incident with Sirius Black, was beyond Severus' comprehension. It was like the old fool actually wanted Potter to get himself into such mischievous situations as these, and apparently so did the werewolf because he'd given him back that blasted map. At the same time they seemingly wanted to raise Severus' blood pressure to suicidal levels by giving him even more to contend with while trying to keep the boy safe.

The Dark Lord and his minions weren't enough, let's give the child an invisibility cloak and a map to the school. Hell, why not give the little bugger access to a time turner as well? Let everyone really see what he could get up to!

Right now, though, he had to try to figure out what Moody was staring at, seemingly about ten steps above where he and Filch were standing. Before he could solve that mystery, or get his hands on the parchment, though, Moody summoned it to himself saying it was his after all, but Severus knew better. With outstretched hands he began to slowly search the area, convinced that Potter was right there watching the whole thing. He didn't think the boy was fool enough to leave both the egg and the map just laying out in the halls.

He practically fell over Filches ratty old cat, who was staring at about the same place Moody had been, before Moody claimed the boy wasn't there to be seen.

Severus didn't really believe him. What he did believe though, was that Moody was starting to ask some dangerous questions regarding his concern about the boy and what Dumbledore might think about that. After a bit of quick thinking, Severus decided that his best course of action was to back away from the situation and let one old fool deal with the other, so as he swept his way down the stairs and back down the hall, he watched Moody take the egg from Filch and shoo him off on his way.

He stopped by his office on the way back and took a quick scan of things. Several boomslang skins were missing. He had more in the store room, but what in the world might little Potter be up to with boomslang skins? For now he had no doubt that the little bugger had indeed been there. Did the boy think he could brew Polyjuice when he could barely brew a passable Shrinking Solution?

On his way out he used every charm he could think of to secure the door and decided not to go to Albus with the information just yet. If his hunch was correct, little Potter would end up in the infirmary soon enough, suffering the effects of a botched potion. Let that be the proof Albus would undoubtedly want, which Severus couldn't provide right then.

He still wasn't sure why the boy might have the golden egg with him, but decided not to concern himself too much with the question. Instead he grabbed the sleeping potion he had originally come for and headed back to his rooms, trying to prepare himself for the dreams he knew were about to come.