Severus approached Octavius Pepper's cottage in the small hours of the morning. Wand drawn, he was prepared to make short work of the aggressive arms of the alluctor shrub Miranda had described from her pervious visit. This proved unnecessary. The shrub was shriveled up against the crumbling stone walls of the house, lifeless. Severus frowned as he knelt to examine it. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn the plant had been dead for a year at least.

The front door was unlocked, and creaked open at the lightest touch. As Severus crossed the threshold, he held his breath, searching for the edge of the wards. He expected the bulk of them to have died with Pepper some twelve hours earlier. But most wizards worth their mettle took the trouble of laying down more permanent ones. Here he sensed only the barest ring of chalk. Curious.

"Lumos," he cast, raising his wand to let the pale light illuminate the room.

The narrow hallway was completely empty. Its floors and walls sported a thick layer of dust, and cobwebs spun out from every corner. Severus ducked under the largest of these as he proceeded further into the house. At the end of the hall was a door hanging off its hinges at a sickly angle. The room on the other side was similarly empty and dust covered. It smelled musty and dank, like a long forgotten attic.

Something stirred in the back of his mind, urging him to make a more thorough investigation. But he had come here tonight for a different purpose, and he had little time to complete it. Octavius Pepper's secrets would have to sleep with him.

"Miranda Rose non erat hic," he breathed. "Ego non eram hic."

A sensation like a thousand spider legs crawled up his arm as the Vestiges of himself and his lover vanished from the building. He grit his teeth until the last vibration of magic died away. Then he retraced his steps out of the house, brushing the dust back into place with deft wand flicks to obscure his footprints. He had no doubt that one of his Death Eater comrades would be searching Octavius' house before the night was out.

As he left the desolate building, there was a scuffling sound at the end of the lane. He slipped around the corner of the house to wait out the intruder. Whoever it was made no attempt to hide their errand. Their steps paused at the entrance of the house, and the door creaked open again, but no one went inside.

"Severus?" asked the voice of Xenophilius Lovegood. "Are you looking for something?"

Damnation. "I might ask you the same question, Xenophilius," Severus replied, coming out into the open.

Xenophilius was particularly untidy today; his mismatched robes ill fitting, his long hair hanging in his face, and his bloodshot eyes gleaming with a manic expression.

"Did you know him?" Xenophilius asked.

"Know who?" Severus replied.

"Octavius Pepper of course. Dear fellow's gone missing. Had to tidy the place up. Can't be too careful when one studies the wilder parts of the world."

This was not a complication Severus had anticipated. "Naturally. What sort of studies?"

"All sorts. Crumple-Horned Snorkacks. Bog Mimics. Ealights…"

"Enough, I take your point." Bile rose in Severus's throat as Pepper's tortured form flashed before his eyes.

"Is something wrong?"

Everything was wrong. And Severus had no intention of being responsible for another death so soon after Pepper's. Especially the death of someone has harmless as Xenophilius Lovegood. Neither Pandora nor Luna would ever forgive him.

He raised his wand and pointed it between Xenophilius's eyes. "Confundus,"

"What…" Xenophilius's voice trailed off as his eyes went out of focus.

"You are going to go home."

"I…should go home…"

"You've done everything you need to do here. You have no cause to return."

"Everything's…already been done…"

Severus twisted his wand. "Obliviate. You will forget you saw me."

Xenophilius wandered back down the lane, a dazed smile on his lips. Severus kept watch until the man Disapparated, before doing the same. When he appeared in the apple grove outside the wards at Hogwarts, he kicked one of the knobby tree trunks.

It wasn't enough. It never was. It never would be.

Later that evening, Severus stood in his usual corner, tapping the fingers of one hand on the splintery kitchen counter of Grimmauld Place. Minerva, Alastor, and Tonks were gathered at one end of the worn table, sipping hastily prepared tea and looking far older now than they had this time a year ago. Miranda was late, but by now everyone expected that of her.

"There's no sense in waiting for anyone else," Minerva said. "I want reports."

"Where's Albus?" Alastor asked.

Minerva sighed. "He's gone again. Tonks, how goes the watch in Hogsmeade?"

Tonks's hair was a violent red tonight, and she was tipping her chair like she used to during the days when she'd been desperately trying to catch Lupin's attention. "Boring. But we don't expect much with the students gone."

"Boredom is no reason to let your guard down," Minerva warned. "Alastor?"

"Death Eater raids in Ilkley and Holyhead," Alastor said, his magical eye whirring to glare at Severus while the rest of him faced Minerva. "No deaths. Be nice to get some more warning."

Severus's fingers flexed on the counter. "How many times must I remind you that I am not party to all of the Dark Lord's plans?"

"Well, open up your ears—" Alastor began.

"Miranda, good of you to join us," Minerva said, cutting off the brewing argument.

Miranda's gait was stiff as she came into the room and gingerly lowered herself into the chair across from Minerva. It took a supreme act of will for Severus not to pull her into his arms and demand an account of how she'd come to be injured.

"Sorry," Miranda said sheepishly. "I was asleep. It's rougher running with an entire pack of werewolves than it is running with one."

"Where's Remus?" Tonks demanded, her hair flashing orange.

"He stayed with the pack."

"Why didn't he come back with you? Was he hurt?"

"No, nothing out of the ordinary."

"I suppose you'd best tell us about your adventure now, Miranda," Minerva said.

Miranda rolled her shoulders and winced. "Sure. Yesterday afternoon, Cadfael ap Llewellyn introduced us to his pack. Remus presented our request to mixed reception. We ran all night. Then we slept the day away, ate enough pizza to feed a baseball team, and I came back here to report to you."

"That still doesn't explain why Remus stayed behind. Can we even trust these people?" Tonks's hair flashed with each question—it was a wonder it didn't catch fire.

"Whoa there, take a breath before you pass out," Miranda said.

"She's right, Rose. Your story's a little short on the details," Alastor said, backing up his favorite protégé, as usual.

Miranda raised her eyebrows as she lounged against the back of her chair. Severus doubted any of the others realized how annoyed she was.

"Okay, I'll try again," she said. "According to Remus, Cadfael is the only wolf in Britain who will give any serious thought to joining forces with the Order of the Phoenix."

"Why him? What does he want?" Tonks shot back.

"I'm getting there. Cadfael's pack consists of himself, his daughter, a lupine werewolf, and tw…an adult she-wolf. Of those, we can only count on Cadfael to fight at this point."

Severus would bet his favorite cauldron there were two adult she-wolves in this Cadfael's pack. How much wheedling was it going to take to get the rest of this story out of Miranda later?

"We should be sure he can fight," Alastor was saying. "We don't have time to train amateurs."

"I wouldn't bet against him," Miranda said. "He comes off as soft at first, but he's more powerful than he seems."

"One werewolf after all those months of searching," Minerva sighed. "I suppose beggars can't be choosers."

"And Remus?" Tonks said.

Would she never let it rest? Who cared what mess Lupin had gone and gotten himself into?

"Cadfael asked him to stay on for a while so he can introduce Remus to Hector Parkinson, the First Wolf of Albion," Miranda explained.

"Hector Parkinson? I haven't seen him in ages," Minerva said. "The rest of the Parkinson family threw him out after he was bitten."

"Their loss. He's done well for himself since then. He's the leader of all the werewolves in Britain, inasmuch as they have a leader," Miranda said, her admiration for the man evident.

"He was the best Parkinson I've ever known," Minerva said. "Have you met him?"

"I have. Once. He's…impressive to say the least. If by some miracle he were convinced it was worth his while to join us, others would follow suit." Miranda glanced at Tonks before adding, "I think Remus will be staying with the werewolves until the next moon. It's an uphill battle to convince anyone that this war is worth getting into."

"Not surprising," Alastor said. "Werewolves keep to themselves most of the time. Excepting fiends like Greyback."

"I agree," Severus said. It was amusing how often he and Alastor saw eye to eye on matters. "Perhaps it is time to let this fool's mission die."

Minerva narrowed her eyes at him. The lioness's hackles were up. "No. Remus and Miranda must continue to make every effort to sway the werewolves. We know that Voldemort has at least two packs on his side. I'd like to see us even up those odds."

"To that end," Miranda said, a blush creeping over her cheeks, "we've come up with something that would likely convince some of the packs to help us."

Minerva folded her hands expectantly. "Well? What is it?"

Miranda's foot started tapping under the table. This was going to be very bad.

"We offered them an improved version of the Wolfsbane Potion," she announced without so much as a by your leave.

"You did what?" Severus demanded. Surely he'd heard her incorrectly.

The blush spread over the whole of Miranda's face as she replied, "You are a Potions Master, aren't you? Isn't potion improvement and creation part of your job description?"

Incredible. "As if I don't have enough demands on my time already. What, pray tell, do you expect it to do?"

She lifted her chin defiantly. "First of all, the side effects have to go. It shouldn't make the change any harder than it already is. Secondly, it should train the drinker's magic so that one day they will be in complete control of the change without needing the potion at all."

He was going to kill her. "I suppose you'd like it to make them fly as well."

Her eyes danced. "If you think you can manage it."

He was not amused. "And why don't we have it turn lead into gold while we're at it? I'm a Potions Master, not a miracle worker."

Minerva was having a difficult time suppressing her grin. "But you are a genius. Or so you've said."

"The Wolfsbane Potion is protected," he said, turning his glare on Minerva. "The key components are secret. They're sold pre-mixed. Without them, the potion doesn't work."

"That's how Belby keeps the prices up," added Tonks.

"Can't you figure out what those components are?" Miranda asked.

Sweet Circe, give him patience. "You clearly have no idea the amount of work that entails. Dare I ask when you require this mythical potion?"

"May's full moon is on the twenty-second," Miranda replied. "We'll need it by then."

"Less than two months! You expect me to create this potion in less than two months? No. It's absolutely out of the question."

The combination of blush and frustration on Miranda's face would have been comical in any other situation. She looked like one of his N.E.W.T. students who'd just realized that Gamps Laws existed for a reason.

"The fact is," Miranda said tartly, "we have to have the potion. The werewolves won't even come to the table without it."

Severus folded his arms. "It. Is. Impossible."

"Severus, I'm afraid you'll have to try," Minerva said.

"I must protest…"

"I've noted your objection. I'll speak with Albus the moment he returns to Hogwarts about reducing as much of your workload as possible to allow you time to complete this project. And perhaps Tonks would be so obliging as to act as your assistant."

"Me?" gasped Tonks, so horrified that she and her chair both tumbled over.

"Her?" choked Severus, watching her try to disentangle herself from her chair like a clumsy colt.

"That's a fine idea," Alastor chortled. "Tonks is as good a potioneer as we have on the force."

"She is when she can manage to avoid breaking all the glassware," Severus sneered.

"It's not my fault I have soft ligaments," Tonks grumbled.

"Good," Minerva said, brusquely ending the conversation. "It's settled. Miranda, do you have anything else to tell us?"

Miranda was tapping her fingers on the table, but as Severus could discern no pattern in her twitching, he presumed it was from an excess of nervous energy. Good. She ought to be nervous. The instant he had her alone he was going to give her the set down she deserved.

"We're at a dead in with the attack on the Lal family," she said. "We know it was at least one Death Eater. But we've had no luck at all with tracking him. You don't have any idea who it might have been, do you Professor Snape?"

"No. As I've said the last three times you've asked me," Severus replied, petulantly pleased to see the disappointment in her face.

"I hate to say this, but I think it's time to let it go," Alastor said. "There hasn't been much of a pattern in the attacks so far. There likely isn't one here either."

"But don't you think it's strange that it happened barely two weeks after Isahak's father also died?" Miranda persisted. "The man was an Unspeakable."

"Who died of natural causes," Alastor reminded her. "Unspeakables ain't any more immortal than the rest of us. Our pile of unsolved crimes keeps getting higher. We don't have enough Aurors to keep every case open because of a hunch."

"If it were Tonks having the hunch, you'd keep it open," Miranda said.

"Hey, that's not fair," Tonks protested, finally back in her now upright chair.

"Maybe," Alastor acknowledged. "But she ain't, so we won't. Why don't you spend some of that energy helping us track down Octavius Pepper? Especially since you seem to be the last person who saw him."

Miranda's eyes narrowed. "Are you implying something?"

Severus closed his eyes, a headache beginning to pound behind his eyes. "Octavius Pepper is no longer missing. He's dead."

"Oh my God," Miranda said, crossing herself. "What the fuck happened?"

Bile rose in Severus's throat. "He helped smuggle a family of Muggleborns out of the country. The Dark Lord decided to make an example of him."

"That's a damn shame," Alastor said.

It was impossible for Severus to hear the silence that fell then as anything but accusatory.

"The Death Eater raids will only become more frequent," he said coldly. Emotion was of no use to any of them now. "Perhaps if the Aurors were to actually enforce curfew, fewer people would die."

"The Aurors can't patrol every street in Britain," Alastor growled. "It ain't our fault if people are prone to doing the very thing they've been told not to do."

Severus shrugged. "A great comfort when you discover your next victim, I'm sure. Minerva, you will excuse me now, being as I now have yet another impossible task to perform."

"Do you want help tonight?" Tonks asked reluctantly.

"No." Severus started for the stairs. Help from Tonks was the last thing he wanted.

This was not lost on her. "Then I'll check with you tomorrow," she threatened.

"Do as you like."

His eyes were burning when he reached the street. By the time he turned into his customary alley to Apparate back to Hogwarts, he registered the tears on his cheeks. He wiped them angrily away. Now was not the time for such weakness. And why shed them for a man he barely knew? It wasn't as though Octavius Pepper was the first innocent person to die. He wouldn't be the last either.

Miranda calculated that it would be an hour, possibly two, before Severus's exhaustion and self-neglect overcame his (understandable) frustration with her. Giving him some time alone before the upcoming confrontation was definitely in her best interest. She had wanted to warn him about this new potions project before the Order meeting. There simply hadn't been an opportunity.

The doors of St Matilda's were thrown open, bleeding candlelight and mournful music into the night. The chill in the early spring air was invigorating, and Miranda slowed her pace as she climbed the stairs leading up to the church, eager to spend as much time out of doors as possible. She paused at the top of the stairs and leaned against the raised stone wall framing them to light a cigarette. The rise and fall of the Spy Wednesday chanting washed over her, raising the hair on the backs of her arms.

"Do you have one for me, Topolina?" asked Dante Sanguini, his eyes glinting as he emerged from the darkness.

"Always," she replied, flipping one to him.

He caught it deftly and lit it with a touch from the tip of a long finger. The night clung to him, and he wore it like a cloak.

"Tenebræ is such an inspiring moment, don't you agree?" he said as he puffed out a line of smoke.

She smiled in the dark, glad for the company. "Yes. I've liked this service since I was a girl. There's something so dramatic about it."

He joined her leaning on the stone wall, standing close enough that she had to suppress a shiver as his undead body tried to steal some of her warmth.

"And it lacks the grim austerity of Good Friday."

"That's for sure. Good Friday is the longest and dullest day of the year. I hate it."

His teeth flashed as he grinned at her. "If I could keep awake during the daylight hours, I would while away the time with you shooting marbles."

"Too bad you can't. I do appreciate the offer though."

"Perhaps your friend Severus can be prevailed upon to learn the sport."

"I doubt it. He hates anything that smacks of fun. It offends his dignity." She rolled her shoulders and winced. Her entire body ached from last night's adventure.

Dante ran a teasing finger down her arm. "What ails you tonight?"

"I was running with the wolves last night. Literally."

He wrinkled his nose. "I thought I smelled something canine on you. How did you like it?"

"I'd do it again. Hopefully I won't be stiff anymore by the time the next full moon rolls around."

She wasn't sure quite how he did it, but by the time she'd finished speaking he'd maneuvered her in front of him, and was kneading her shoulders with practiced fingers. She made a half hearted protest, but quickly gave up any pretense of resisting. He was simply too good at this.

"There is something attractive about the loss of control," he said.

His cold breath tickled the back of her neck, sending a thrill down her spine.

"You're not wrong about that."

"Especially when the loss of control can be blamed on something else, like the full moon."

"Too bad vampires are so straight laced all the time."

He clucked his tongue. "You know better than that. There is something even more attractive about having the ability to maintain control, but only just."

"Sounds like Severus in a nutshell."

"You do have a type."

She shivered as he pressed his lips to the back of her neck. "Dante, behave yourself. We're outside a church, for fucks sake."

"Then distract me."

She put an arms length between them, and went back to leaning on the wall. "Did you know that the client we did the Ireland gig for is dead?"

His eyebrow twitched. "I did not. What happened to him? Something amusing, I hope."

She swatted his arm and he caught her hand. "You're horrible. He got on the wrong side of the Dark Lord is what happened. Something about sneaking Muggleborns out of the country."

"Hmmm." He ran his fingers carelessly over her knuckles. "He ought not to have played the hero."

"The thing is, I never got the impression that he was a hero."

"Sometimes people surprise you." He kissed the tips of her fingers, one by one. "Povero Tomasino. He was such a beautiful youth. Now he reeks of death worse than I do."

"You knew him before?"

"I did."

"Did you ever think of turning him?"

"No! Tomaso was not nearly enticing enough want around for an eternity. He whined. You, on the other hand, never complain."

She laughed out loud, then clamped her hand over her mouth as she recalled the open door to the church. "You don't know me that well if you think I never complain."

"And I suppose I've missed the chance to know you better. Allora, if you grow tired of your Severus, you know how to find me."

"You do know how to flatter a girl." She extracted her hand from his grasp, but softened the rebuke by placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. "I'm going to go in and catch the end of the service. Feel free to drop by for cards sometime. I expect I'll be at loose ends for a while."

"What, your Severus is not dancing attendance on you at all hours? Leaving his lady to be bored? How monstrous of him."

"You leave him alone, or no cards."

"Crudele. But I will come. It does my soul good to defeat you at the card table."

"We'll see about that. I've had a few years to practice since you played me last."

He gave her an ironic bow. "I look forward to it. Buona notte, Topolina."

Before he'd reached the bottom of the stairs, he had disappeared from her sight. She stubbed out the end of her cigarette against the wall, vanishing it with a snap of her fingers. The church was full dark by the time she walked into it. She slipped into a pew underneath the choir loft, careful not to break the holy silence. The choir above began a haunting piece, its stark harmonies filling the darkness with lamentation and regret. Miranda held her breath as the soprano reached for the top of her range. The crystalline notes pierced Miranda's soul like a lance.

It seemed to her that the music tonight was a elegy for all of them. Maybe it always was.

Severus was hunched over his the workbench in his office when Miranda waltzed in half an hour before midnight. His back ached, his stomach felt like it was attempting to eat itself, and he was starting to feel lightheaded from lack of sleep. A cauldron and three other beakers were simmering over separate flames as he worked to brew a batch of the wretched Wolfsbane for experimentation. It was as finicky and tedious a task as he remembered it too. Damn Lupin, and damn Miranda for volunteering him for this bloody business.

The scent of ginger, cardamom, and cumin cut through the fumes of the pickled myrrh he'd been breathing for the last hour.

"Can I take over so you can eat?" Miranda asked. "It'll give you more energy to berate me with."

He snorted, and the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly. She was getting too good at diffusing his temper. "You certainly deserve to be berated."

"I know I do. I just threw a huge problem into your lap that you didn't need."

"I suppose I ought to be flattered that you think so highly of my skills," he said. "Come watch these for me. Tell me the instant any of them starts to boil instead of simmer."

"Yes, sir," she replied with a teasing salute.

He swatted her arse as she took his place at the workbench, then headed to his desk. A feast of curry, pickles, naan, and neyyappam was laid out for him. He fell on it like a barbarian who hadn't seen food in days.

"How impossible is it?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him with a distinctly contrite expression on her face.

She was adorable when she was penitential. Curse her. "It will be marginally less impossible, being as I'd already deduced the ingredients in the pre-mixed component years ago, when I was making the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin."

"See," she said, cocky smile replacing her contrition, "I knew you were a genius."

More of his anger melted at her praise. She was a truly dangerous woman.

"I dislike having to purchase pre-mixed anything," he said.

"Papa feels the same way. He doesn't even like to buy hops for his ale brewing, and they're a bitch to grow in Kansas."

"Your father is a wise man." The warmth from the food was returning feeling to his extremities. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to feel his fingers. "Were you injured last night? You've been wincing and groaning all evening."

"I have not," she said, even as she rolled her shoulders uncomfortably. "Alright, maybe I have. I wouldn't say I was injured exactly. The wolves were just enthusiastic to have a new playmate. Especially the youngest one, Enid. She's not quite ten and was ecstatic to run with someone closer to her size. But even she was larger than I was. And I had to spend the whole night fighting the cat instincts. Hopefully that will get easier the more I do this."

Why was it that he found her affinity for children so charming? "You seem to be befriending any number of children these days."

"Children are fun. They haven't been beaten into conformity by society yet."

"How does your protégé Isahak do?"

"Isahak is doing as well as can be expected. I can't imagine losing my Papa, and I'm a grown woman. I don't know what it takes to get over that kind of loss when you're a child."

Severus swirled the chai in his mug, frowning into its milky depths. "I can't imagine what it's like to have a father worth missing."

"You must be glad yours is gone."

Her tone was the perfect balance of inquiry and statement. He might have left it there, and moved on to some more congenial topic—the smell of dungbeetles perhaps. But the opening was there, teasing him. And it was easier to speak of this when she wasn't watching him with her eyes that laughed but missed nothing.

"I loved him," Severus admitted slowly. "And the day we buried him was one of the happiest days of my life."

"It must be difficult to hold both of those emotions together."

An understatement. "As a child I was never more pleased than when he gave me his attention. He taught me to play cards and darts. On Saturdays he would take me down to the Pub and let me listen to him talking with his friends. Sometimes he would even let me play with them. It was only when I was older I realized he brought me for a distraction. With his precocious son distracting the other players, it was easier for him to cheat."

"He shouldn't have done that to you."

"There are many things he shouldn't have done to me." Severus set down his cup and folded his hands, placing his fingertips against his lips. The floodgates were open, and it was impossible to stop speaking. "We left him once, Mother and I. Went to live with her sister. Four months it lasted. Things were peaceful. I even played with my Prince cousins."

"What were they like?"

"Spoiled and superior."

"It must run in the family."

And so it did. "Touché. In the end, I asked to go back. I missed Father. One of the greatest mistakes of my life. Mother and I paid for it every day from then until he was finally gone."

"Do you really believe it was your fault?"

Tears stung his eyes again, and he worried the last bit of naan into crumbs with shaking fingers. "Of course it was."

"How old were you?"

Why wouldn't she stop asking questions? "I don't remember. Six."

"Then you weren't an adult."

"No. I don't see what that has to do with it."

"Don't you think your mother was the one who made the decision in the end? Don't you think she was the one who should have kept you safe from him? Don't you think she should have known better than to go back?"

He rubbed his stinging eyes, as much to relieve the irritation as to hide his foolish tears.

"You've made plenty of your own mistakes in your life," she went on mildly. "You don't have to blame yourself for anybody else's."

She'd cut him to the quick, dangling the hope that he might set some of his guilty burden down.

A strangled laugh escaped his throat. "I seem to recall something in that superstitious religion of yours teaching that taking on the retribution for another person's sins was a virtue."

"True. But that shit's advanced." She winked at him over her shoulder. "And I'm pretty sure it doesn't work unless you know how to do the really hard stuff first."

"Such as?"

"Forgiving others their trespasses. And—even worse—forgiving yourself for your own."

He scoffed. "I doubt that will ever happen."

She shrugged, but her eyes were soft. "You never know. There are stranger things in Heaven and Earth, my dearest Severus."

His heart was both broken and painfully full. He went to her, pressing his lips to the skin on the back of her neck in an effort to keep from breaking in two. She turned to him, taking his face in her hands and kissing him like he were a precious thing—a thing with having.

"The cauldron is boiling," she said when the kiss had ended.

"So it is," he replied. "Read to me while I finish brewing."

"I'd be happy to."

He blinked away his tears while she busied herself gathering a suitable book from her bag and a comfortable chair to sit in. By the time she was ready, he had himself mostly under control again.

"The Grandmother didn't want to go to Florida," she read. "She wanted to visit some of her connections in east Tennessee and she was seizing at every chance to change Bailey's mind."

Forgiveness had always been a mystery to him, and he stood a little in awe of people like Miranda, or Lily, or Charity whose hearts were large enough to give it. His own heart was a miserly thing, that tallied every wrong ever done to him and never forgot. He doubted he would ever have the capacity to forgive his father or his mother for the wrongs he'd endured—let alone himself.

But sometimes with Miranda, he felt like he could lay his guilt down and rest a while, before taking it up again.