------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1
You'd think Muggles had nothing better to do with their time --
(Author's notes for continuity purposes: Yes, I'm aware that Area 52 doesn't exist, {beyond being a really swell place to read Stargate-SG1 slash... ;P}. Or maybe Area 52 *does* and we just don't know about it. After all this *is* the United States Government we're talking about... ^_~)

He came to slowly, much more slowly than he would have liked being a man that prided himself in being constantly alert. He blinked, bringing the room in focus and tilting his head up to bring it level...

Only to find himself staring across a table at two nearly identical Muggles. (Of course the vast majority of Muggles looked the same to most purebloods, but these particular Muggles looked more alike than most.)

It took him a couple of moments to figure out that this was because the Muggles were wearing identical robes. Or costumes. Or whatever. There was a lot of black. And a little bit of white. No other colours adorned their outfits, which made him automatically assume that the muggles were authority figures of some sort.

By this time Severus had been conscious long enough to figure out that he was in some sort of muggle holding cell... a room with a stark white interior with nothing but a chair that he appeared to be attached to, a table, and another chair on the other side of the table.

"Ah," Said one of the Muggles, speaking in a foreigner's accent. "So you've decided to join us." He made a grimace that well could have been an attempt at a smile. "I'm Agent Johnson and this is Special Agent Johnson." He paused. "No relation."

There was a bit of silence, which Severus used to his advantage to make his lip curl.

The agent, upon realizing that his joke was lost on his prisoner, made short work of shuffling his papers in front of him. He stopped when they had resumed the positions they were in before he started to shuffle them, and steepled his fingers in front of his face.

"Do you, sir," he began, "Have any idea who we are?"

Severus was silent. He didn't, but he wasn't about to tell the Muggle that. Good grief he hadn't spent half of his life being a spy for nothing. He had found out ages ago that if you're quiet long enough they'll just tell you what you needed to know...

He was right, incidentally.

"We are FBI agents," the man explained, raising an eyebrow slightly.

Severus glanced in-between agent #1 and agent #2, noting that the latter was eyeing him like he was a piece of rare meat. Or as if to gauge his reaction. He didn't give them anything beyond sneering just a little bit more.

Agent #1 cleared his throat. "Sir, do you have any idea where you are?" He asked a bit impatiently.

Severus Snape had no idea where he was either, he guessed by the ominous way the agent asked him the question it was somewhere quite bad...

The Agents looked at each other.

"Sir," Continued the Muggle that was questioning him in a harsh voice. "You are in a top secret government facility known as Area 52. Approximately 24 hours ago you and another person were found here, INSIDE this facility, with no identification and no passports on your persons anywhere. Do you have any idea how you got here?"

"Another person?" Severus repeated. He had picked up interest in the decidedly one way conversation at the mention that someone else may have made his or her way here with him as well.

"What is your name sir?" The Agent fired back at him immediately.

Severus stared at him in stark confusion, wondering what exactly, that had to do with the other person. Then he realized that they were trying to throw him, and he wasn't about to be outwitted by a Muggle. "Sirius." He replied smoothly. "Sirius Black."

The two Agent's glanced at each other once again.

"All right Sirius," The Muggle continued, his voice still carrying an underlying tone of threat. "Do you have any idea what you were doing here, on the INSIDE of a top secret government facility?"

"Another person." Snape asked again.

"How did you get here." The Muggle repeated.

There was a very long pause. The Muggle glared. So did Snape.

"Mr. Black, we suggest you talk to us," The Muggle finally said, his voice very low. "We've done as much as a background check as we could on you, and though we couldn't find much of anything, I would say by your accent that it's safe to assume that you are not a citizen of the United States of America. Do you know what that means Mr. Black?" He drawled.

Snape let out a self suffering sigh. "I assume," he began in a very snide voice, "That you are threatening me." He attempted to sit up, only to find, quite to his surprise, that he was quite tied to his chair with some sort of Muggle rope and for once magic didn't seem to be working on jinxing them away. That still didn't stop him from sneering even more at the Muggle as he continued. "It won't work." He glared. "I don't think *you* quite understand, MR. Johnson, what *you* are dealing with here."

The standing Agent Johnson leaned forward with an expression of extreme interest on his face. As for the sitting Agent Johnson, he leaned forwards as well, apparently curious. "And, Mr. Black, what is it exactly we ARE dealing with here?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Ma-gic," He supplied sarcastically when it appeared that the Muggle wasn't going to loose interest any time soon. This was very rapidly turning into a ridiculous situation, he thought. He fully expected the Ministry of Magic to show up any second and give him a stiff lecture on how he was not supposed to be corrupting the Muggles, which would actually be nice to get him *out* of here... this situation was wearing VERY thin. On the knowledge that the Ministry of Magic wasn't about to let him continue for very much longer, he did just that. "I'm a wizard." He sneered coldly. He waited. No Ministry of Magic. Hmm. He half shrugged and continued. "A *Deatheater* to be precise..." He went on, telling the Muggles absolutely everything he knew about his failed meeting with Voldermort, knowing full well that everything he said would be wiped from memory when the Ministry of Magic showed up.

However, he was going to get a full reprimand for the extent that he was going. He finished telling the Muggles about his absolute last memory, which happened to involve Ron Weasley being dragged out of the bushes by some of the Deatheaters, which he realized, with just a slight twang of panic that there was still no Ministry of Magic anywhere to be seen.

"Is that all Mr. Black?" Agent Johnson was asking him.

Severus blinked, then nodded once quickly.

Agent Johnson reached into his pocket and a soft "click" issued from some sort of device in it. He then nodded to the other Agent Johnson, who reached into his pocket as well. What he pulled out caused Severus to start and stare. It was a needle... he would be a complete idiot not to recognize it... even Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse used the mostly Muggle invention to cure some of her students from time to time...

It also appeared to that Agent Johnson was coming right towards him with it.

Severus sneered, and for the first time during the session he actually muttered a spell under his breath, fully expecting it to do something astounding, like throw Agent Johnson against a wall. It didn't do anything of the sort... in fact it did absolutely nothing. Agent Johnson continued to advance on him.

Glaring Severus attempted to mutter another type of spell under his breath, and as like the last this one did absolutely nothing as well.

He couldn't do magic. The shock went through him like a wave. He couldn't do magic! That must have been the curse that Voldermort put on him then... and if he had done that, *that* meant that he was helpless...

Eyes wide, Severus *thrashed* as Agent Johnson reached him, grasping his bound arm. He let out a silent howl as the thin device entered him...

"Professor?"

Go away, he thought.

"Professor?"

He moaned softly under his breath, tossing his head to the side in an attempt to ignore the voice. That didn't work very well.

"Professor Snape?"

Hey... he recognized that voice. Not that he wanted to. Sighing he forced his eyes open a painful crack, sourly taking in that face, and those freckles, and that red hair.

A Weasley. Ron to be precise. He moaned again, re-closing his eyes. Most mornings he had the delight of waking up to his nice gray dungeon ceilings... to see a student's face anytime before classes started was absolute blasphemy...

His brain kicked in. Student. Ron. He sat up with a start, quickly fighting off the vertigo *that* caused. With wide haunted eyes he looked about himself, taking in the fact that he was at the back of what appeared to be rather long rectangular room, which was adorned with absolutely no furniture, and Ron Weasley was sitting on the floor a couple of feet away from him.

"Where are we?" He asked quite breathlessly.

Ron gave him a curious look before frowning. "I don't know! How m'I supposed to know?"

Severus glared at him like he was quite stupid. Which, for all intents and purposes, he was. "Well, where do you *think* we are Weasley?" He elaborated. "What was your last memory?"

Ron's face flushed slightly, a sure sign that the boy was upset, but instead of hotly snapping back a retort, he spoke carefully. "I... don't know for sure. I think we're in some sort of..." He hesitated. "... Muggle prison I guess." He went on to explain how he had been caught by the Deatheaters, while trying to make his way back to the school and call for help... (apparently Harry and him had, not surprisingly, gotten themselves into a bit of trouble.) He then had woken up in a room not unlike the first room Severus woke up, were a bunch of Muggles had asked him a bunch of questions, then had led him here. "... And then they brought you in about an hour ago," Ron made a face. "But you wouldn't wake up until now."

Severus glared, then sighed. "Thank you Weasley." He said dryly. He inspected the room very closely from were he was sitting. There was nothing, it appeared, in the room that would help him determine how to get *out* of the room. In fact the room was about as bare as it looked when he had first come to... with the possible exception of a small device that seemed to be occupying the far upper corner near the door. His eyes narrowed at it. A little red light shone from it's box-like construction. Occasionally it would move a microscopic inch and then move back again.

He had little doubt of what it was for... he didn't know much about Muggles, but being a Professor he still knew enough about Muggle Studies to get by. It was a Muggle recording device of some sort. They were being watched.

He filed that information away, getting to his feet abruptly. He let out a small curse under his breath as the simple act of getting up caused his head to swim yet again. Frowning, he pushed off and started across the room.

"Where are you going?" Ron's apprehensive voice followed him.

Snape ignored him. Reaching the door of the Muggle room, he pressed his hands against it, muttering a small listening spell against it. Once again he received quite a start...

He still couldn't do magic.

In absolute fury he backed off several paces, raised his hand and uttered a spell that under ordinary circumstances even with out his wand would have blown the door to bits. (He was *that* upset.)

Still nothing happened. Blanching slightly, he turned back to inspect Ron Weasley, who was still sitting at the back of the cell, giving him a half curious, half wary look.

"Weasley," he snapped. "Can you do magic?"

Ron started. "Without my wand?" He asked.

Severus rolled his eyes, layering on the sarcasm thickly. "YES, without your wand. You are a fifth year student Weasley, I would expect a third year student to be able to do simple spells without their wand."

Ron flushed hotly, but at least he obeyed. Reaching down and he held his hand palm up against the floor, then muttered a small spell under his breath. Snape recognized the spell instantly... it was to concoct a small heatless fire to appear in his hand... Hermione's specialty from first year, if he recalled correctly.

Nothing happened. Frowning deeper, Ron tried again, but without success.

Ron looked up, his eyes wide. "I can't do magic!" He exclaimed.

Instead of replying, Snape merely sighed, pacing back across the room to settle down beside Weasley.

"Volder... I mean, you-know-who, he must have...!" Ron was babbling quickly.

"Be quiet Weasley," Snape snarled. "And start trying to think up ways to get us out of here." He added.

They were still in the same predicament several hours later and with no break from each other, and both of their tempers were beginning to flare. They had nearly been at each other's throat once, (which had been about a hour previous) when some Muggles that bore slight resemblance to Crabbe and Goyle had come into cell. Giving out instructions in the form of a series of primitive grunts that *may* have passed for communication, they had led first Ron and then Severus from the cell.

Severus had been intensely relieved that it had only been to lead them off to some rather grundgy facilities to get them both washed up a bit.

A half an hour later, Weasley and him were once again shut in the room together, which wasn't doing much for their interpersonal relations to say the least.

"Why ARE you so mean to us in class anyway?" Ron had said out of the blue when his Potions Teacher had finished pacing around the room again for what had to be about the fiftieth time. "It's not as if we're any different just because we're friends with Harry. Not that that should be an issue anyway..." He paused. "You just *like* being..."

"Be *quiet* Weasley." Snape growled, then fixed his eyes apprehensively at the slant of light that filtered into the room from the door. He had thought he had heard footsteps again. When he was sure that he hadn't heard anything, he turned back to Ron. "Your wretched friend will be here soon to rescue us both, but until then, BE QUIET."

Ron managed to be quiet for a whole minute or so. "Harry's probably dead by now." He finally muttered darkly.

"Ron." Severus said with a small huff of frustration. "Rest assured, Potter is NOT dead because Potter will NOT die, no matter how hard Voldermort or anyone else for that matter tries to kill him."

Ron looked dubious but at least he was quiet, to Severus' great relief.

The Potions Master sighed, once again pacing about the oblong room. He made precisely two rounds about the room before he gave up and sat back down again, an extremely sour look on his face.

"A fine pair we make," Ron muttered after a moment, glaring straight ahead. "Harry may be still alive, and he may even come rescue us." He paused bitterly. "Except you'll probably berate him for something or other if he does come, you will. Fifty point from Gryffindor for being heroic and brave and saving us from the evil muggles Harry.' Never stop..."

"ARRGH! SHUT UP!!" Snape got up and turned on Ron suddenly, looming over him, his fingers flexing as if he wanted to go for his neck. Ron blinked up at him guilelessly. "Just shut up, you *stupid* boy." He hissed.

"Or what?" Ron's good sense gave way, and his chin jutted out defiantly. "You'll curse me? You can't do magic! You'll fail me at potions this year?" He got to his feet rapidly, his hands balled into fists. "You'll give me a detention? What?"

A vein on Severus' temple had begun to throb. "Don't tempt me Weasley." He hissed. "I'm sure your mother would like to see you again in a bit more than several pieces." He added, and instantly regretted his words. He hadn't meant to say that... he would never and *had* never lay a finger on any one of his students... even that insufferable Potter boy. He also wasn't usually so forthright with his threats, but the words had slipped out and now he figured it would be best if he now played it up. He gave the boy his best I'm you're evil Potion Master teacher, and I've been trapped in here all *day* with you. Push it and I just might do it' look.

Ron Weasley was a whole lot more brave when he had his friends around. He continued to glare for several seconds before looking away with a soft snort.

Severus felt an odd thrill of triumph as the Weasley boy shut up and returned to sulking. He shook his head slightly. He really must be loosing his touch if winning a silly confrontation with one of his students gave him satisfaction....

Either that or he was having a real *bad* day.

Agent Johnson was confused. A lot of the information they gathered from the prisoners checked out in one form or another, but there was some stuff that just didn't quite make sense. He shuffled the papers that were clenched in his hands through once, then shuffled them through once again. Whatever happened today-- whatever he recommended coupled with the "nay" or "yay" of two other men would determine the fates of the two prisoners...

Frowning he looked up, taking in the other people about him. There were three other people in the room with him, including the other agent Johnson of course. Across from him sat a representative from the International office for the Relocation and Assassination of Terrorists and other Enemies (or rather I.R.A.T.E.,) and the last person in the room was an older man who sat at the very back of the room smoking a cigarette. Occasionally the man would put his cigarette out and light another one, his withered face in constant shadow.

Agent Johnson had been commanded to ignore the last person. That was okay-- he was spending most of his time giving the IRATE man wary looks anyway.

"So," The other Agent Johnson said, starting the meeting off with just that.

"So." Agent Johnson continued. He cleared his throat as well. "This is what we have determined so far." He cleared his throat again, then continued, half reading from his papers. "Prisoner CM456 is a man of what we believe is UK decent, around 40 years of age, thin build, six feet one inches tall, shoulder length black hair, black eyes, sallow skin..." He paused for a breath. "Who, from the information we've collected," He glanced at the other agent Johnson. "Is a terrorist of some sort." He glared at the IRATE man, who was *grinning*, of all the obscene things in the world.

"And your proof of this is?" The man smoking the cigarettes at the back rasped.

The other Agent Johnson jumped a bit, then took over explaining. "As you well know, On June 11th of this year at exactly 7:13 am an alarm went off informing us that there were intruders in this building. At approximately 7:20 am prisoner CM456 and prisoner AB234 were found, unconscious on the topmost floor of this complex in room 7C. Both were unarmed, but there was a gaping hole in the roof of the aforementioned room. We have reason to believe that both prisoners CM456 and AB234 are members of a previously unknown terrorist organization codenamed "the Deatheaters" who's plans for some reason or another were fouled drastically on June 11th, which caused them to have to abort it and leave two of their members behind."

The first Agent Johnson took over again. "Now, we have reason to believe that the boy at least-- prisoner AB234 had fallen out of favor with these Deatheaters. We also have reason to believe that the boy, thanks to the dialogue we have been monitoring, was a student of the terrorist prisoner CM456. There have been references to "teacher" and "student" in their conversations. Their have also been references to things such as "wizards" and "magic", possible codenames of other operations that these "Deatheaters" were going to or have been performing. Another codename -- "Muggles" has been used, and we have reason to believe that this is their codename for citizens of the United States of America." He pierced his lips. This was were it seemed to get difficult. "They also seem to have made constant reference to two other people... the first is a Mr. Harry Potter, otherwise known as merely Harry or merely Potter. Now the boy at least seems convinced that this Mr. Potter will come and "save" them."

There were raised eyebrows all around.

"Prisoner CM456 seems more skeptical of this fact. In fact, we theorize that the boy is not aware that he has fallen out of favor with the organization... but Prisoner CM456 knows and is in part, protecting the boy from the truth. Which may have been why Prisoner CM456 was left behind in the first place." He continued. "The second person is someone they constantly refer to as "you-know-who"... we have reason to believe that he is the ring leader of this particular group, seeing as they will not even mention a name." He made a face. "Both seem to be quite afraid of him, and we infer that if this you-know-who person they keep talking about knows they are in our hands, (which he must), and Mr. Harry Potter comes and breaks them out, (which he can't), this you-know-who is going to be upset at them and quite possibly kill them anyway." He concluded his little speech, with a dramatic pause, steepling his hands in front of his face

"And your recommendations?" Rasped the cigarette smoking man from the shadowy back of the room.

"Well..." Agent Johnson and Agent Johnson gave each other significant looks before launching into their rather complex solution to the situation.

In the end the IRATE man did not agree to it completely, being of the mindset that all suspected terrorists should be extinguished immediately, but the cigarette smoking man did agree. And seeing as the Agents had been instructed that not only were they to ignore the cigarette smoking man, but also if he *did* say something, his words were to be the final say. So the plans were to go forward.

... Prisoner CM456 would be convicted on charges and evidence that they would collect tomorrow... but the boy... the boy they would let free... after *scaring* him enough of course.

They had to be sure he never wanted to be a Deatheater again.