Members of the other Hogwarts Houses liked to sneer at the Slytherin common room as being a cross between a cour des miracles and an oubliette; but Cassie found it to be the cosiest part of the castle. The overstuffed chairs and sofas were the softest, embracing you when you sat on them. Tea and cocoa were ever at the ready, served up from ancient samovars, and mixed to the drinker's desired intensity. Although the shelves were full of all the books one might require for the peskiest Potions essay, they also held leisure reading from a broad (but tasteful) array of genres. Colorful lanterns set off the rich furnishings to their best advantage. And if one ever tired of the Pissarro and Degas gracing the walls, the curved windows offered a view of the wonders beneath the surface of the great lake.
Cassie was curled up in a chair in the corner on a Sunday evening, a half drunk cup of cocoa balanced precariously on the chair's wide arm. A luxuriously illustrated volume of a Hugo novel lay open on her lap, and she was tracing her fingers absently over one of the pictures. The piano sat across the room from her, silent and alone. No one ever played it but her. It had been a week since her visit to Malfoy Manor had ended. She still could not touch the piano keys without feeling sick. She lifted her book so that she wouldn't have to look at it.
In her book, Gringoire and his fellows were worrying over the lovely Esmeralda's fate when the coin in Cassie's pocket grew warm. She fished it out, hiding it behind the book to read Draco's message.
Now
It was curt, but Cassie understood what it meant. After pretending to read another page, she returned the book to the shelf, then headed out of the common room.
"Where are you off to, Cassie?" Daphne asked, glancing up from the DADA essay she had spread over the entirety of one of the sofas.
"Library," Cassie replied, hoping her tone of voice was calmer than it sounded inside her head.
Once she reached the corridor, she trotted on silent feet towards the stairwell. Every Slytherin learned early on how to muffle their footsteps. Professor Snape's office sat between the common room and the stairs that led out of the dungeon, and he made a point of coming out to chastise anyone who made too much noise when they walked. Cassie used to think this was simply another one of the professor's many eccentricities, but now she wondered if it had been for a more sinister purpose. In training them all to sneak from one end of the castle to the other, had he been preparing them to serve the Dark Lord?
Cassie was not so naive as to be surprised that many of her cohort's parents had supported the Dark Lord to varying degrees. Nor was she unaware that a number of her classmates shared their parents' sympathies. But there was another part of Slytherin house that would prefer to be left out of the whole business. She'd always believed Professor Snape to be of a similar mind to herself on that matter. Knowing that he was in the Dark Lord's inner circle disturbed her peace, and made her tremble for what would become of them all.
The professor's office door was shut tightly today. Cassie breathed a sigh of relief as she mounted the stairs, only to trip over her own feet as Professor Snape's black cloak billowed into view. She scrambled upright, biting her lip against the pain of her scraped knee. His black eyes stared down at her, so expressionless they made her shiver.
"Miss Borgin," he said, and whether it was admonishment or greeting she could not tell.
"Good afternoon, sir," she said, her voice high and false to her ears. "I hope you've had a nice weekend." Stupid! Of course he had a good weekend, murdering people for the Dark Lord.
"It was perfectly dreadful, thank you. Have you finished the DADA essay?"
How could he speak to her so calmly after what she had witnessed? "Yes, sir. I—I was g—going to the l—library t—to work on Arithmancy. It's t—too loud in the c—common room today."
He raised an eyebrow. "Then where are your quills and scrolls?"
"I—I—"
She stared up at him, unable to create even the lamest of excuses. Before the break, she'd had every intention of unburdening herself of all of the rumors and machinations that the Dark Lord was weaving through her housemates and their families to her professor. She'd finally believed that he was the one who could take those troubles from her, and guide them all through whatever lay ahead. But now she was alone. She couldn't hand him all the secrets she knew—not when he was sure to take them straight to where they might do the most damage.
A wave of dizziness went through her as she recalled the cold cruelty with which Professor Snape had murdered that poor old man.
"You are unwell, Miss Borgin," Professor Snape said, catching her under her elbow as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. "You should return to your dormitory and rest."
She wanted to yank her arm out of his grip, but she was too afraid of angering him. "I—I c—can't."
"Is someone expecting you?"
"Yes, sir," she replied in a very small voice.
Mercifully, he released her arm. She had to brace herself on the wall to remain upright, she was trembling so violently.
"Then you'd best go to him," he relied indifferently.
As he moved out of her path, she darted past him, taking the stairs two at a time. Tears blurred her vision as she climbed. She ducked her head to hide them from the students who passed her as she made her way to the seventh floor. The hallway was deserted, and she tripped into the alcove housing a tapestry of a troll ballet. Cassie hated it. Something about the grotesque angles of the dancers' bodies made her skin crawl.
Vincent was sitting on the floor in the alcove, Polyjuiced today to look like first year Slytherin, Marigold Avery. The snarl on his face took away from the overall impression of innocence.
"What're you doing here?" Vincent demanded.
"He called for me," Cassie replied, nodding to the wall.
"Dunno why he asked you when I'm right here."
"You're a better lookout than I could ever be," Cassie reassured him. "I'm too nervous."
He folded his arms, unconvinced and grumbling under his breath. She paced in front of the wall across from the tapestry, her eyes on the floor and her mind racing. It took several tries before the door appeared, she was so distracted. When it finally did, she rushed through it, as though waiting might make her lose her nerve. It slammed shut behind her, and she leaned against it, her heart pounding like a frightened mouse as she gasped for air.
"You might have come a little faster," Draco said, his gloved hands covered in thick black ooze.
"Sorry," Cassie panted. "I was in the common room. I didn't want to draw attention to myself by rushing out."
He rolled his eyes. "I suppose I should be glad you're not completely dim-witted."
"Thank you."
"I need you to bring me the bandages. This mess on my hands ruins the healing potion when it gets into the bowls."
"Okay," she nodded, still trying to breathe.
She scurried to the workbench, shuddering as she passed the broken Vanishing Cabinet. It was huddled up against a wall, and she swore she could hear it sighing and groaning like a living creature. She held her robes away from it, afraid it might catch hold of her if she got too close. Several bowls of a steaming green liquid sat on the surface of the workbench, with thick linen bandages soaking in them. Cassie wrinkled her nose as she pulled the first one out. The harsh, chemical smell turned her stomach, as did the way the thick potion glopped back into the bowl.
"Hurry up," Draco said.
"I'm hurrying," she replied, handing him the bandage.
He pursed his lips into a thin line as he stuffed the bandage into one of the many oozing holes that marked the ancient cabinet. Although the holes were small in diameter, he had to shove almost the entire two foot bandage into one before it stopped leaking the vile black fluid. Cassie scurried back to the bowl to fetch the next bandage, dropping it into Draco's waiting hand as he finished the first hole.
Back and forth she scuttled for what seemed like hours. Once the potion was on her hands, she couldn't touch her face. A persistent itch plagued her nose. She ineffectively scratched at it with the back of her wrist between trips. The longer they worked, the more magic the Cabinet leaked from its damaged surface. If they couldn't get it to heal, it wouldn't do…whatever it was Draco planned for it to do.
"This is disgusting," Draco said. The ooze now covered his arms to the elbow. "Why is it like this?"
"Uncle Orestes said it's best not to think too hard about what it's made of," Cassie said. There were a lot of things in Uncle's shop like that.
"Once we're finished, how often will we have to change the bandages?"
"Twice a day for the first week. After that, the holes should become shallower and shallower as the Cabinet heals."
"And after that?"
Cassie wrinkled up her nose, trying to remember Uncle's instructions. "After that I think we'll have to tend to the inside."
"Brilliant," he said sarcastically. "I'm sure that will be pleasant."
"Hopefully it will be more like the inside of a Cabinet and less like the inside of a creature."
"I should be so lucky."
Cassie's back and arms were aching long before Draco stuffed the final bandage into place. When they finished, a glowing, lidded cauldron appeared, along with a deep sink with two burnished, serpentine faucets. Cassie pulled the lid off the cauldron, and green flames leapt out. Draco stripped off his gloves and flung them into the cauldron. She slammed the lid down tightly to block the acrid smell of them burning. They scrubbed the afternoon's work off their hands in silence. Cassie had never been so glad to touch her face again.
"Meet me here after lunch tomorrow," he ordered. "We'll change them then."
"Do you think we'll have time before DADA class starts?" she fretted.
"No. And if Professor Snape know's what's good for him, he won't say a word about it."
"But—"
"No buts, Cassie. You'll be here." His lips twisted into a bitter smile. "If we don't finish this, we'll be too dead to worry about Professor Snape."
Cassie gulped. She had a sinking feeling that Draco was more right about that than even he suspected.
"Evening, your Highness," Tonks said, bumping into the doorframe as she came thundering into Severus's office like a club-footed hippogriff.
"If you would walk instead of barrel, I should think you would be able to successfully enter a room without running into things," Severus replied as he added silver shavings to their latest potion attempt a pinch at a time.
She dropped a brown paper sack on his desk before clapping him on the back so hard he nearly knocked the cauldron over. "I walk how I walk. Brought you a sandwich and a pop from Aberforth's. Take a break."
"You shouldn't have."
"You keep saying that, and yet, you keep eating everything I bring you."
He let the last of the silver drop off of his fingers into the bubbling mixture before going to the sink to scrub his hands. Tonks's exuberance was more tolerable with a full stomach.
"My mother did teach me to be polite," he said dryly.
Tonks's hair flashed a brighter pink as she laughed. "I think you might need a refresher."
"Nonsense. I remember everything I was taught. I simply choose to ignore it."
He gingerly unpacked the greasy bag, spreading the newsprint over his desk to protect it from the beef and chips. In spite of its homely appearance, Aberforth's food was good. The yellowish-green fizzy drink Tonks insisted in foisting on him to round out the meal was likewise better than he'd expected. The blend of sour, sweet, and spice from the carbonation shocked his senses awake after a long brewing session.
Tonks stood over the cauldron, stirring the contents with movements that were surprisingly precise for one so generally clumsy. Tonks's hands were deft at potions work, if only she could be convinced to stand in one place while she brewed.
"This doesn't look any better than the last try," she pronounced.
"I'm aware of that," he said between bites. "It's exactly as I told you it would be at the beginning. The toxins are all in Belby's secret mixture. Unfortunately, the toxins are what make the potion work."
"So, we're stuck. If we leave them in, the potion is as bad as it ever was; and if we take it out, the thing is useless."
"Precisely. If everyone had listened to me in the first place, we wouldn't have had to waste the last two weeks proving my point."
"Does that mean I can stop stirring this?"
He hated leaving potions incomplete, even if they were failures. However this failure was identical to the failures they'd been creating all week. It was doing little besides providing Tonks with an arm workout.
"Dispose of it," he said, taking a long sip of pop directly from the bottle like some savage.
Tonks pulled her wand from her pocket and waved it over the cauldron. "Evanesco. Well. What do we do next?"
"We tell Minerva that it is impossible. Then we move on with our lives."
Tonks began to pace the length of his office, swinging her arms to emphasize her frustration.
"I never thought you were a quitter," she said.
He winced for the safety of his glassware. "A strategic retreat is generally preferable to a Pyrrhic victory."
She threw herself into the chair across from his desk, sprawling like an adolescent who'd never been taught the proper use of furniture. As she stared up at the ceiling, her fingers tapped her palms in erratic patterns.
"We can't just—" she began. "Wait. What if—what if we're going at this the wrong way?"
"It's painfully obvious we're going about it the wrong way. By which I mean, attempting it at all." He'd always hated this potion, and if he never brewed it again, it would be too soon.
Her fingers kept tapping on her palms as she gazed upwards, her eyes focused on some dreamy point beyond his office ceiling. He took the opportunity to finish his dinner, and folded the packaging into a neat rectangle before vanishing it completely.
"If you're quite finished weighing down my chair, perhaps you might leave me in peace," he said, coming around the desk to shoo her from the room. "I have quite a heavy workload, despite Minerva's promise to lighten it."
She leapt out of the chair, knocking him backwards onto his desk. He sat down hard on the surface, sending ink bottles and parchment crashing to the floor.
"I've got it!" she cried, her eyes gleaming. "I know what we have to do."
He folded his arms over his chest and glowered at her. "Please. Enlighten me."
"Rule number one of potion creation—remember the end goal. We have to stop trying to suppress the lycanthropy."
"While I am gratified you remember my lectures, I must disagree with your conclusion. We absolutely are attempting to suppress the lycanthropy. Particularly the part of the lycanthropy that turns those afflicted with it into mindless killing machines."
She grabbed his hands. "But don't you see? We're aren't trying to suppress it—we're trying to surpass it. We have to stop trying to rip the werewolf out of the person, and start trying to integrate the person into the werewolf."
He jerked his hands out of her grasp and paced over to his work table, as much offended by her invasion of his space as by her reckless idea. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever—"
His eyes drifted over to a midnight blue vial perched in his rack of completed potions. It contained the final dose of Suspension d'Incrédulité he'd brewed for Miranda. Her flying skills were reliable enough now that she no longer required the potion's help. This vial had been languishing on the shelf for weeks now. He snatched it up, his mind racing.
"Quicksilver," he muttered.
"What?" Tonks asked.
"Silence, girl. I'm thinking."
"Call me girl again, and I'll—"
"I said, be quiet." He began to pace, turning the vial over and over in his hand as he thought. "Better yet, take notes."
Tonks glared at him, but scooped up an ink bottle, quill, and parchment from the floor. "Ready, your Highness."
"Quicksilver is more potent and less immediately deadly than ionic silver."
"But isn't it more deadly over time?"
"Yes. But if it is more potent, we will need less of it. Two drops at most. One if we are clever. Quicksilver and ashwagandha together may be enough to overcome the thrall of the madness."
She frowned as she scribbled his words on the back of someone's DADA essay. "I don't understand."
"Think, Tonks. Before you could transfigure a pin cushion into a hedgehog, you had to believe it was possible to transfigure a pin cushion into a hedgehog. Before a werewolf can be in control of his change—"
"He has to believe he can be in control of his change," she finished. "That's brilliant. But do you believe that's possible?"
"I believe anything is possible. Come. There is much work to be done."
It would be exaggerating to say that solving the potions problem went completely smoothly after the breakthrough. For every inch forward Severus and Tonks gained, there would be some obnoxious setback. The amount of supplies they burned through and ruined cost a small fortune. Spending every spare moment in Tonks's presence, even in a professional capacity, began to grate on both of them. With Miranda picking up most of Tonks's Auror shifts, in addition to working her own, he hardly saw her in the weeks leading up to April's full moon.
In spite of all the difficulties, they managed to pull together a draft of the potion with no time to spare. It was an inelegant draft, and Severus had no doubt it would taste absolutely foul, but it was complete. He did not dare hope for success tonight, even as he painstakingly transferred the potion from beaker to vial. Tonks paced around him, too excited to be trusted with the delicate task.
"We're going to be famous, you know that, right?" she said. "Tonks and Snape, inventors of the New Moon Potion."
"Should this damned thing actually work—which is most unlikely—the write up in the Journal will read Snape and Tonks, inventors of the New Moon Potion," he replied.
"Just because you're older than me doesn't mean you get to go first."
"It's alphabetical. Not to mention meritocratic. Age has nothing to do with it."
"You—"
A sharp knock on the door saved him from the rest of the argument. "Do answer that, Tonks. I'm rather busy at the moment."
"Busy my arse," she muttered, but went to answer the door. "Remus! I didn't think—I mean—how are you?"
Severus rolled his eyes at the dramatic change in Tonks's tone that accompanied Lupin's arrival. She sounded annoyingly like a flustered teenager. He much preferred it when she was rational.
Lupin cleared his throat awkwardly. "Fine. I'm fine. Are you ready?"
Two more empty vials stood on the rack, and Severus refused to be rushed into filling them. "We will be soon enough."
"I'd like it to be noted in the record it's not my fault we're late this time," Miranda said, skirting around Lupin and Tonks who were still gawking at each other in the doorway.
"On the contrary. This entire misadventure is your fault, Miss Rose," Severus replied.
She ignored him. "Is there anything we can do to speed things up?"
"Yes. You can all be quiet," he said, his nerves beginning to fray as the clock ticked.
Drop by viscous drop slid into the waiting vial. As it hit the charmed glass, the potion turned from a sickly orange to pitch black. Excellent. So far everything was proceeding exactly as it should, saving their unavoidable tardiness.
"Of all the days to be late," Lupin muttered.
"Snape's almost done. Stop worrying," Tonks said. "It's going to work, I can feel it."
Severus let the final drop fall into the vial. "It won't kill them. That is all I can say with any certainty."
"I have every confidence that it will be stellar," Miranda said with more hope than Severus thought the occasion deserved.
"It'll have to do," Lupin said. "Are you ready now? We're going to have to run at this point."
Severus stoppered the vial and secured it in the little box with the other doses.
"Lead the way," he said as he stowed the box in a pocket of his robes.
Lupin and Tonks were halfway down the hall by the time Severus and Miranda caught up with them. They went the long way out of the dungeons, (Severus had no intentions of alerting either Tonks or Lupin to his secret entrance) taking the winding stairs two at a time. As soon as they were clear of the entrance doors, they were running through the grounds, past the lake, to the edge of the wards.
Somewhere, underneath Severus's certainty that this would all come to nothing, beat a reckless excitement. The New Moon Potion was an entirely original invention—based far more on his Suspension than on Belby's bothersome brew. As they ran through the rapidly fading spring afternoon to test it, he could not help feeling proud to have brought it into being.
Now, if only the thing would work.
They passed through the edge of the wards, and Miranda turned to him, her hands outstretched. They had barely stopped running before she was pulling him through the darkness of Apparition. They came up once for regrouping in some rat infested alley, and were off again. This time they landed in the middle of a thick ring of trees. Severus had to admire the flush of health on Miranda's cheeks. Two months ago she wouldn't have been able to stand after that much expenditure of magic.
Lupin and Tonks appeared nearby, startling a squirrel and sending it dashing into the underbrush. As they got their bearings, Miranda pulled a long black cloth from her pocket.
"Apologies in advance, professor, but I'm going to have to blindfold you for the rest of the journey," she said, stepping towards him.
"I beg your pardon?" he replied. "I must have misheard you."
Lupin was already tying a blindfold over Tonks's eyes. "It can't be helped. It was hard enough to convince Cadfael to let you come in the first place."
"If they had come to the castle, we would not have been forced to trespass on their sacred grounds," Severus said pointedly. "Not to mention the fact that the entire experiment would have been better contained."
"Seeing as it's Cadfael and his kin who are being experimented on, I think it's perfectly reasonable they would want to be as comfortable as possible during the process."
"Come on, Snape. You aren't scared are you?" Tonks teased, her hand already firmly in Lupin's.
"Don't worry," Miranda said, her tone mild, but her eyes dancing. "I'll hold your hand the whole way there. I promise not to let you trip."
"Humiliation upon humiliation—" Severus muttered, but he knew the argument was lost before it'd even begun. "Well, you'd best be on about it."
Miranda tied the cloth over his eyes and took his hand, though she scrupulously did not lace their fingers together.
"I promise you can do the same to me, later," she murmured. "Since you're being such a good sport now."
Minx. "You can be sure I will. Lead on, Miss Rose."
The trek through the woods was completely miserable. It seemed to him that he tripped over every root and rock in their path, in spite of Miranda's pointing out the obstacles as they came. Branches and brush caught at his robes and lashed at his face. His stomach started roiling as his senses became completely disoriented.
"When we get there, keep your hands where they can see them," Miranda said as they tromped along. "Try to think peaceful thoughts. They can tell if you're agitated."
"Walking into a wolf's den on the night of the full moon always puts my mind at ease," Severus replied as he mentally cursed everyone involved with this endeavor.
"How many wolves' dens have you walked into?"
A cold chill that had nothing to do with these infernal woods went down his spine. "I don't wish to speak of it."
Miranda dropped the matter, though he fancied he could feel her curiosity, even while blindfolded. Let her wonder. He had no intention of speaking of that incident now.
After a few more twists and turns, they stopped dead.
"You can take the blindfold off now, Professor," Miranda said. "We're here.
Severus all but ripped the fabric from his face and dropped it into Miranda's outstretched hand. The setting sun was hidden behind the forest, though its light still shone blood red and ominous across the sky.
"We thought you weren't going to make it," said a nauseatingly wholesome looking man as he led his disgustingly perfect little pack out of a wretchedly quaint tree house.
"We like to live dangerously," Lupin said, embracing the man. "Cadfael, this is Dora Tonks, one of our master potioneers. Dora, this is Cadfael, his daughter Enid, Beatrix, and, of course, Olwen."
Tonks was quite enamored of the entire company. While she said everything that was sociable and right, Severus busied himself setting up his potions rack on the low stone wall. Someone had to see to the business of why they were actually here.
The child escaped from the group and trotted over to him, watching him curiously with her large brown eyes.
"Do I get to try it tonight?" Enid asked.
Severus glowered at his makeshift setup, his patience well and truly spent. Miranda, sensing the danger, caught hold of the girl and swung her away from his workspace.
"Not yet, Enid," Miranda said. "Professor Snape and Auror Tonks want to test it on the grown ups first."
"Not fair," Enid complained, pouting.
"I know. We'll try to make it up to you."
"Are you running with us tonight again?"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Try not to be such a fraidy cat."
"I'll do my absolute best."
The others were soon crowding in on him, watching him far too closely as he added a drop of the shining quicksilver into the first vial.
"Cadfael, Beatrix, this is Professor Severus Snape," Lupin was saying.
"If the formalities are concluded, perhaps we might move on to business," Severus said irritably. "The sun is not going to wait for us."
"Well said. We're ready when you are," Cadfael replied, putting himself forward with a despicable display of courage. "I'll take the first vial."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "I trust Lupin has impressed upon you the experimental nature of this potion. We have no idea if it will do half of what we hope."
"I'm aware, and I'm ready."
"His Will is up to date and everything," Beatrix said wryly. "I'll be taking the second vial."
"I guess that leaves me with the third," Lupin said.
Severus handed the first vial to Cadfael, who drank it down in one gulp. His expression was stoic, though he coughed lightly as the brew went down.
"Will it kill us?" Beatrix asked, her aristocratic features betraying no concern.
"No, it's perfectly safe as far as that goes," Tonks replied.
"It tastes like bog gas," Cadfael said.
"Delicious," Beatrix replied, taking the second vial and drinking it down. "How I love bog gas in the evening."
Severus quickly prepared the final vial and passed it to Lupin, who was hand in hand with Tonks.
"It can't be worse than Wolfsbane," Lupin said, raising the vial to his lips. "Cheers." He choked it down bravely, licking his lips to get the last of the drops. "I was wrong."
"Don't let it come back up," Tonks warned, though she squeezed his hand sympathetically. "We've been working day and night to make it."
"How do you feel, Tad?" Enid asked.
"A bit queasy, but it's passing," Cadfael replied.
"Fast work makes for bitter potions," Severus said dryly.
"I don't feel any different," Lupin said. "Is that bad? Usually with the Wolfsbane I'm too dizzy to stand by now."
"You shouldn't feel anything yet," Tonks said. "That's the point."
Lupin looked so dubious and disappointed that Severus was inclined to hex him.
The sky had turned to the purple of evening by then. Severus hastily packed up his equipment, while Tonks pulled their brooms from her rucksack.
"Get into the air, both of you," Lupin said, glancing at the darkening sky. "Even if this works, I don't want to have to keep Enid and Olwen off you."
Severus bristled at the idea of taking orders from Lupin. He took his broom, but left it resting against the wall while he narrowly observed the volunteers and scratched notes on a scroll of parchment. Only when he heard the first cracks of the werewolves' bones breaking and reforming did he mount his broom. Even then, he hovered low enough to the ground to watch the process minutely.
"Please let it work, please let it work," Tonks was muttering under her breath.
Her broom hovered directly beside his. He had to resist the urge to fly away for more space. The entire sky was at their disposal, and she still managed to crowd him. Below, Miranda's limbs were contorting into her Animagus form. She trotted in a slow circle around the werewolves, her tail twitching as they scratched and howled.
The painful cries still echoed through the clearing when two of the wolves tore off into the forest. A third, larger werewolf was hard on their heels.
"That is disappointing," Severus muttered.
"Shhh. Look," Tonks hissed back.
The remaining two wolves approached Miranda slowly, their mouths open and panting. Miranda trotted over to them, rubbing her forehead against each of theirs in turn.
"Severus, I think we might have done it," Tonks breathed.
"That is typical behavior between werewolf and a familiar Animagus. It means nothing," Severus retorted.
Miranda, ever reckless, was back in her human form before he'd finished speaking. His wand was in his hand in an instant.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted.
Unafraid, she put her hands on the werewolves' foreheads. They made no move to attack her, nuzzling their large heads into her hands.
"It's fine!" she called, her eyes bright. "You did it!"
"Put your wand away," Tonks whooped as she skidded back to earth. "She's fine."
Tonks tossed her broom on the ground and tackled Lupin. The two of them rolled over and over in the grass. Tonks's laughter rang through the clearing, and she buried her face in Lupin's ragged fur. The remaining werewolf watched this display with her head tilted, then trotted off into the woods with a prim and sprightly step.
"Brilliant. Very professional, Tonks," Severus said as he landed next to Miranda.
"Come on, Severus. I'd be doing the same to you if I didn't think you'd hex me," Miranda said quietly. "You did it!"
Miranda's face shone with such admiration and love that Severus's ears grew hot.
"Yes. Well." He tugged at his sleeve and raised his voice, hoping to bring Tonks back to the matter at hand. "If we hope to observe the others, we should follow before they are completely lost to us."
"They're already gone," Tonks protested. "We can run them through the questionnaire in the morning."
"We have no guarantee that the potion is potent enough to last through the night, Tonks. It will take both of us to effectively monitor the affected werewolves."
"Cor, how can you stand to be that responsible all the time. Don't you get sick of it?"
"Perhaps if others would act their age, I would not be required to compensate for their lack."
"I'll take that as my cue to get back in cat form," Miranda said. "See you on the other side."
"Calm down, Snape. I was only joking with you," Tonks put in.
Miranda shifted back to her Animagus form and headed off into the forest in search of the rest of the werewolves. Severus averted his eyes as Tonks gave Lupin a final kiss on the forehead, before retrieving her broom. Lupin went to the edge of the trees, waiting for Severus and Tonks to mount their brooms. When they were aloft, Lupin entered the forest at an easy pace. Tonks was practically bouncing with excitement. Severus wondered how she was managing to keep her seat on her broom.
Tracking the werewolves through a dense, unfamiliar forest was a sobering task though. The trees tangled together so tightly that flying between them was impossible. Even after they located the rest of the group, there were long stretches of time where they lost sight of them entirely. The chill damp of the night air made Severus's bones ache, and his muscles grew numb from the constant flying. But neither the physical discomforts, nor Severus's melancholic temper could overshadow the thrill of the apparent success of the New Moon Potion.
Eventually the werewolves settled down near a creek that twisted through the forest. Miranda and the smallest wolf splashed in and out of the water while the others rested on the bank. Tonks's broom drifted closer to Severus's as they watched overhead.
"We really did it," she said. "How about that?"
"It is too early to call it an unqualified success. But the preliminary results are encouraging," he allowed.
"This could change everything. No more hiding. No more worrying you can't send your kids to school or find a job. It's going to change the world."
"I wouldn't get so ahead of myself if I were you. Even if the New Moon Potion is ultimately more successful than the Wolfsbane, it will take years to effect the sort of societal changes you hope to see. Generations even."
"No it won't. Change is coming. I can feel it."
She was so positive it made his teeth hurt. "Believe whatever childish fantasy you will. You're asking for disappointment though."
"Whatever." She peered down at the werewolves for a time before speaking again. "Snape, what do you know about Miss Rose?"
The abrupt change of subject made his hands turn cold. "I know she's been working for Albus for some time now. And that her lack of punctuality is appalling."
She shook her head impatiently. "I know all that. What I mean is, why is she here? On this mission?"
Though he was somewhat comforted that Tonks appeared to still be ignorant of his relationship with Miranda, her line of questioning still troubled him. "She is here because Albus ordered her to be here."
"But it makes no sense. I'm a Metamorphmagus. I can spend all night in an animal form easily. Why did we duplicate our efforts training her when I was already here?"
He eyed her incredulously. "Jealous, are we?"
"Hardly. Just puzzled. Frustrated. Maybe even angry."
The idea of a jealous Tonks ought to have amused him. But now that he was faced with it, he found he could not enjoy the schadenfreude.
"Unlike you, Animagi smell like animals when in animal form. You would still smell like a human. The wolves would attack you before you could blink."
"They wouldn't if they got to know me. Remus doesn't."
"And a stupid risk you took finding that out, too."
The tips of her hair were flashing red and angry. "I'm a grown woman. I'll take whatever risks I want."
He closed his eyes to gather the remnants of his patience. "Think, Tonks. Use that brain I know you have."
"Excuse me?" she snapped back.
He turned to look her dead in the eye. "You're so desperately in love with Lupin that even non werewolves can practically smell it on you."
Her face turned as red as her hair. "So what if I am?"
"It makes you a bad soldier. You would never leave Lupin behind, even if the good of the Order demanded it."
Her face fell. "Shit. I hadn't thought of that."
He should have left it, but he couldn't. "That's why Albus is in charge of the Order instead of you."
She glared at him. "You can be a real prick sometimes, you know that Snape?"
The wolves had grown bored with their resting place, and were off into the darkness again. Tonks shot after them, clipping through the tree tops as fast as she could go without crashing her broom. Severus gave her a wide berth as they followed the pack, feeling rather like he'd kicked an overeager puppy.
It didn't help that he knew exactly how Tonks felt—he would never leave Miranda behind either.
End Notes:
cour des miracles: court of miracles; in Early Modern France this was the term for the slum districts of Paris
oubliette: a secret dungeon with access only through a trapdoor in its ceiling