Author's Note: The uncensored version of chapter four of this story is available out of general circulation, in that other section of the library. Be sure to bring a note from your professor.

Stone Walls do not a Prison make,

Nor Iron bars a Cage ;

Mindes innocent and quiet take

That for an Hermitage ;

If I have freedome in my Love,

And in my soule am free ;

Angels alone that sore above,

Injoy such Liberty.

------Richard Lovelace, ca. 1649

Snape stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his robes. They hung on him. The trousers that had hugged the line of his leg three years ago looked more like pyjamas today. He frowned, plucking at his robe. If he gathered it carefully around him he looked less like a scarecrow. He should have thought of this sooner, instead of delaying the moment of actually trying on the robes as long as possible. It was too late to make a trip to Madam Malkin's now. The arrival feast and the sorting were minutes away.

He glanced at the reflection, then hastily away. The stranger in the mirror made him uncomfortable. He took a final sip of his tea and squared his shoulders. The knock on the door came as his hand reached the knob.

"Thought I would see if you wanted some company."

"I was just heading up to the hall."

"I'll walk with you then."

"Black, I am not an invalid. I am perfectly capable of making it upstairs by myself," he scowled.

"Shall I keep three feet behind you then?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Let's go." He swept off at a great pace, robes flapping. He was silent all the way to the entrance of the hall, and mercifully Black did not try to chat. He did not allow himself to pause at the entrance to the high table, but passed quickly through the side door as though he had last been through it at lunch.

He ignored the hush that fell on the hall as he entered, and hurriedly found his place and sat. He had a moment of panic when he realised it might not be his place anymore. With the shuffling of faculty there was no telling where anybody sat now. He glanced at the center chairs and fought down the stab of pain at Minerva's absence. It was impossible to believe in the reality of her death; he had spent the last few days at Hogwarts expecting to bump into her in the corridors. Now, seeing the empty chair at Albus's right hand made her seem truly gone. With a start he realised that Albus was still standing, and was peering at him over his glasses.

"Severus. That is Professor Black's place now."

Shame scalded his insides, but he rose with stiff dignity. "Of course. How foolish of me."

"This place is for you." Dumbledore gestured at the empty chair on his right with a small smile. Snape froze. "Will you do me the honour, Severus?"

Through the absolute silence in the hall, Snape ascended the small step onto the central platform and sat himself in the Deputy Headmistress's chair. For a horrified moment he saw that no one else had been seated. What were they waiting for? What gaffe had he committed?

From somewhere to his left the clapping began. It swept the Great Hall in a deafening wave. The older students were heaving their caps in the air and cheering wildly, and the younger students, though clueless as to its cause, were merrily joining in the celebration. From the Gryffindor table a great shout went up. Dumbledore tapped on his glass for silence. He uplifted his goblet.

"Ladies and gentlemen. I give you- Professor Snape."

"Professor Snape!" Three hundred glasses rose in the air, three hundred voices took up the shout. Every eye in the hall was fixed on him. Slowly he rose and looked about him. Hooch, Vector, and Trelawney were all grinning like maniacs. Sprout and Flitwick were beaming obnoxiously; even Lupin and Black were smiling at him expectantly. He felt Dumbledore's presence behind him like a solid wall.

"Thank you." He paused. They all seemed to be waiting for something more. "It is with. . . great pleasure that I join you here this evening." His voice came haltingly, but it had lost none of its hypnotic power. The eyes of the first years widened. "You do me honour- honour, I fear, I do not deserve." He stopped and surveyed the sea of faces. Too many gaps, especially among the older ones. The Slytherin table was only half-populated. He met the sad grey eyes of Draco Malfoy at its head. Where was Zabini? And the others? Finch-Fletchley, the irritating Creevey boy, plump, earnest Hannah Abbot? His throat clenched. "In honouring me, you honour yourselves, and the victory you have all worked so hard to achieve, at incalculable personal cost." His eyes flicked again to young Malfoy. "Gratifying as your adulation is, I find it impossible, as I stand here before you, to ignore the absences I see. Tonight. . .tonight I wish to honour those who are not here with us, and one in particular-" his hand gripped the carved post of his chair- "whose loss I shall ever feel." He raised his glass and fixed his gaze on the enchanted sky above their heads. "To Minerva McGonagall."

"Minerva McGonagall," came the answer from every throat. From the corner of his eye he saw Sinistra Vector clutch Rolanda Hooch's hand. The heads at the Gryffindor table bowed. In the silence that followed, he sat, and the hall followed suit. Albus stepped forward.

"And now, let the feast-" he clapped his hands together once, "begin!"

***************************

"If you don't want the position, Severus, you have only to say so."

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, smiling at him over a cup of lemon tea. Snape was scowling at the headmaster, arms crossed. Black was pouring himself some more tea, and Lupin was draped in the comfortable chair by the window.

"I never said I didn't want it. I simply wish-" he rose and began to pace. "I wish to be assured this is not a payment for services rendered, or some such thing."

Dumbledore's twinkle died. "I know well there is no payment possible, Severus. This is not an attempt to make up for anything. I make the offer because you are quite frankly the best person for the job. And I was under the impression that the post of Defence Master was one that had interested you for some time."

"Of course it has," he answered crossly.

"However, I understand if you are reluctant to leave Potions. I do not think I offend Sirius when I say few wizards have your natural gift with potions. I would not be surprised if, after all these years, the subject had become dear to you."

Snape's scowl deepened.

"Allow me to suggest this. If you take up the post, you need not make a permanent commitment. Try it for the year, and if at the end of term, you wish to return to Potions, I'm sure Sirius would be happy to accommodate you. Though I think I am not wrong when I say he has developed quite an affection for the subject."

"And Lupin?" He glanced at the werewolf, who returned his gaze with equanimity.

"You need have no fear on his account, my boy. Remus has expressed an interest in taking over Minerva's position as Transfigurations Master, one I think he is eminently well-suited for."

Snape shifted. "Where would I- what about rooms?"

Dumbledore looked surprised. "Have you not been to your rooms yet?"

"I have been in guest accommodations in Ravenclaw Wing, as you well know. No one has said anything to me about where my permanent rooms are."

"Why, where they have always been, of course. Did you think we had packed your trunks and moved you out? Your rooms are as you left them in the dungeons. If you would prefer accommodations closer to your new classroom, of course I shall be happy to arrange that. But I assumed you would prefer to return to your old home."

Snape sat down heavily. He contemplated his hands for a moment. "Very well then. I accept the position."

"Excellent! This is a most happy solution. Now, there is only one other thing we need to discuss. Naturally, Severus, I wish you to reassume your duties as Head of Slytherin House."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Not much to look after these days."

Dumbledore sighed. "No, I'm afraid not. Almost all the parents of our Slytherin students sided with Voldemort in the war, of course, and pulled their children out of Hogwarts. Most of them are now orphaned, and have gone to live with relatives on the Continent or elsewhere. Many have enrolled at Durmstrang. More tea?"

"No, thank you."

"As I was saying. Many of our oldest families claim there is an atmosphere of bias against purebloods at Hogwarts now. Others fear the reputation of 'radicalism'-" he said with a smile- "that Hogwarts has acquired. A hot bed of the loyal opposition, as it were. Not Ministry-friendly. Enrollment is down."

"I see."

"I need you to help rebuild Slytherin House. In fact, the position of head of each of the houses will be more important than ever. Which is why I want to ask you, Sirius, to head Gryffindor."

Sirius gave a start. "But Albus, don't you think- I mean, Remus is my senior in position and experience-"

"And he has already turned me down flat. I don't take rejection well, so don't inflict it on me twice in two days."

"May I ask why you said no, Remus?"

Lupin shrugged. "Moving into Transfigurations will be enough of a challenge. I've a lot of catching up to do if I'm going to be up to Minerva's standard. Also," he said with a wry smile, "I think Gryffindor needs someone a bit more- reliable. On all days of the month."

"Remus, that's utter-"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "He has made his decision, Sirius. Now it is time for you to make yours. Will you accept?"

"Of course I will, Albus. I am honoured. Even if I am second choice."

The headmaster rolled his eyes. "Academics. Now. The final matter is even more important than the others. In this time of rebuilding, I will need a deputy that I can rely on above all others, to be my right hand, to know instinctively what is best for Hogwarts and serve the school, if necessary, with his very life. Severus, I want Minerva's chair to be yours at more than just mealtimes."

Snape looked up and hastily replayed the conversation in his head. He had a tendency now to drift away from conversations in which he was not an active participant. Surely he can't have been paying close enough attention.

"I'm sorry, Albus, did you ask me to-"

"I am asking you to serve the school to which you have dedicated your life as Deputy Headmaster."

He sensed Black and Lupin watching him. "I don't know what to say, Albus. Are you sure that would be wise?"

"I am sure it is the sanest and wisest decision I have reached in many a long year. And now I want your answer."

"I accept," he said slowly. "With reservations."

"Marvelous!" he exclaimed as though he had not heard the last words. "I could not be more pleased. Sirius, Remus, I ask that you accept Severus's decisions in all things as mine. Well. The future looks bright indeed. You three will be the core around which we will rebuild the finest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the world."

"And you think that's a good thing?" Lupin's skepticism was plain.

He had a point, Snape thought as he glanced at the three of them. A werewolf and two convicted murderers, one with Death Eater on his resume. The core of the faculty. God help them all. But Dumbledore was beaming at him as if he were the Regius Professor of Classics, so he made an effort to twitch the corners of his mouth into something resembling a smile.

"Shall we celebrate with some sherry?"

"No, thank you, Albus." Black rose and stretched. "I've got to get the dungeons ready for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw second years at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. I'd better go secure all volatile substances."

"Good night then, Sirius. Why don't you take Severus to his rooms, as long as you are headed that way? I want to chat about Transfiguration with Remus for a bit."

He offered no comment to Black on the way to the dungeons, but swept briskly along. He paused at the door to his quarters. Black answered his unspoken question.

"The wards are unchanged. Step right in."

He had accustomed himself to reaching into his mind and discovering a gap where he least expected one, but thank Merlin that did not happen tonight. Homines id quod volunt credunt, he muttered under his breath. The door swung open, and he stood in his office.

My God, he thought. Albus was telling the truth when he said everything had been left exactly as it was. Black must have used a different office. Every last stack of papers, every book was exactly as though its owner had stepped out moments ago. All was carefully dusted. The house elves must have been busy.

He ran his fingers over the books on the shelves. He had an oddly vertiginous sensation. Conscious of Black watching him, he wheeled around.

"Have you nothing else to do but stare at me, Black?"

"Not much." He turned to go, but paused at the door. "We've all got a lot to do to get ready tonight, but Remus and I were planning on going to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow night. Sort of our own arrival feast tradition. We'd love to have you join us, if you'd like."

"An evening of carousing with you and Lupin. Sounds execrable."

"It was just a thought. Good night, Snape."

"Black. Wait."

"What?"

"I wanted to say- that is. I appreciate the state of my rooms."

He said nothing for a minute. "You're welcome."

"Good night."

"Good night then."

*********************************

"Mr. Potter!" Snape's voice had lost none of its power to terrify, especially when bellowed across a crowded cloister. "Unhand that boy at once!"

He jerked Harry backward by his collar and placed himself between the warring students. Harry's lip was swollen and cut, and the other boy's nose was running blood. They were both panting and glaring at each other.

"Twenty points will be deducted from each of your houses for this ungentlemanly display. Give me your name at once," he demanded of the unknown boy in his most threatening manner.

"Nigel Milholland. Sir." The sullen boy glared up at Snape.

"Your house and year."

"Ravenclaw. Fourth year."

That explained why the boy looked unfamiliar. He was large for a fourth year, easily a match for the slightly built Potter.

"Mr. Milholland, you will be serving your detention this evening with your head of house, Professor Vector. Mr. Potter, you will serve yours under Professor Black. If I hear so much as a whisper suggesting that either of you have engaged in inappropriate behaviour until then, I will deduct fifty points and have you both expelled. Mr. Potter, come with me."

He turned with a swish of ebony silk and strode quickly to his office. Harry had to practically jog to keep up. When Harry was through the door he slammed it with a crash.

"You will explain yourself at once, Mr. Potter."

Harry examined his shoes. "I thought this was a matter for my head of house, sir."

"I see you have lost none of your impertinence, nor your disregard for authority. You will explain to me this instant why you, a prefect of this school, felt it necessary to attack a boy three years your junior."

Harry wiped his lip. "He was being insolent, sir."

"To whom?" Snape barked.

"To a faculty member."

"I see. Harry Potter as the self-appointed chastiser of the insolent. I'm sure you are in no position to appreciate the irony. Which faculty member were you defending with such manly vigour?"

Harry lost himself in his shoes again.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape circled closer and leaned in. "I am giving you a direct order. Let me assure you, the years that have intervened between the last time we stood in this exact position have not deprived me of my ability to punish those who disobey my orders." His purr was menacing.

"Now I will ask you one more time, Mr. Potter. To whom was Mr. Milholland being insolent."

Harry swallowed. "To you, sir," he whispered.

"I see." Snape crossed his arms and thought for a moment. "Mr. Potter, you will tell me exactly what was said."

Harry stiffened in horror. "Please, sir."

"Silence! On your honour as a student of this school, repeat to me every word that Mr. Milholland said."

Harry took a deep breath and stared at the wall. "He said he would rather eat Flobberworm turds than have to sit in a classroom and be taught by murdering Death Eating scum. Sir."

"And?"

"And-" Harry faltered. "And that his parents didn't die so he would have to go to school to traitorous bastards who got their jobs back by sucking Dumbledore's mildewed cock."

"Mr. Milholland is a very eloquent individual. And what did you do?"

"I demanded he take it back, sir."

"And he refused, I take it. By saying?"

"By saying. . . by saying I was so interested in defending faggots that I must be getting it good from- from the slimy git myself."

"Hm." Snape walked to the window and gazed out meditatively. "One more thing, Mr. Potter. I still hold you on your honour. Is Mr. Milholland the only student you have overheard making such remarks?"

"No, sir." Harry's voice could barely be heard.

"Don't worry, I'm not interested in names. Tell me, Mr. Potter. Is it your intention to thrash them all?"

Harry raised his head. "Yes, sir," he said fiercely.

Snape resisted the fatal urge to laugh. He regarded Harry thoughtfully. When over the last three years had the scrawny big-eyed Triwizard Champion become the muscular, deep-voiced young man before him? The eyes were the same, though.

"Let me ask you a question, Mr. Potter. Mr. Milholland's words may have been a bit crude, but were his sentiments roughly what yours would have been at the beginning of your fourth year?"

Harry flushed. "I-"

"Truthfully, Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir."

"And yet you managed to walk the halls of Hogwarts unassaulted. Tell me, have you heard of Rufus McQuarrie?"

"No, sir. Even prefects haven't yet learned everybody's-"

"Oh, be quiet. Rufus McQuarrie was the professor of Arithmancy in the 70s. I'm surprised you have not heard your godfather speak of him."

Harry shook his head, wary of the conversation's turn.

"No matter. Professor McQuarrie was a mean, petty, sadistic little man who made it the business of his life to persecute and torture me at every available opportunity. He was universally loathed, especially by Slytherins, for whom he had it in. Of course, at the distance of some decades I see he was probably just a barmy old coot, and I was a particularly irritating little know-it-all."

Harry raised his eyebrows in bewilderment. Snape sighed.

"Have you never heard of an object lesson, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head.

"Plus ca change, I see. The point is, it is not such a bad thing to go through your school days hating one of your professors. It can be a useful diversion of sorts, and better than many I can think of. Dislike of McQuarrie created a kind of bond among students who otherwise might not have had much occasion for fellow feeling. There was once-" He cut himself off with a frown.

"It's not the same, sir."

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's not the same, the way you felt about McQuarrie, or the way I felt about you in fourth year. Things have changed since the war. What Milholland was saying, it wasn't a schoolboy grudge. It was hatred. I thought- I thought the war would mean an end of hatred, that all that would be over and we could start afresh. And here it's just started all over again."

So. Still a boy after all. Snape sighed. "It was ever thus, Mr. Potter. Wars are not fought to end hatred, or for any other noble abstraction. They are fought to survive. We survived. That's called winning. Mr. Milholland's parents did not. That's called losing, no matter which side they fought for. And he is bound to resent the winners all of his life."

Harry considered. Did a part of him resent Sirius and Remus for surviving when his parents did not? He wanted to shout no, but knew it would be a lie. He cast his eyes down.

"Clear out of my office, Mr. Potter. I have work to do. I will inform Professor Black of your detention tonight."

"Yes, sir."

"And Mr. Potter."

"Yes, sir?"

"Next time you are tempted to assault a fellow student, consider using your wand. This is a school of witchcraft and wizardry, for heaven's sake."

After he had scurried out, Snape sat lost in thought for a long time, chewing on a quill.

*****************************

"Snape!" Sirius called down the crowded hallway, striding after the new Defence Master with robes billowing. Snape set his mouth in a thin line.

"Professor Black."

"What the hell is going on? Harry says he has detention with me tonight. Since when do you mete out punishment to members of my house?"

"Since I was appointed Deputy Headmaster. Is there a problem, Black?"

"Damn it, Snape. I told you Remus and I were planning on going out tonight. It's the first day of classes. Couldn't you have cut him some slack for the first twenty-four hours?"

"Did he tell you why he was assigned detention?"

"He told me it was for disorderly conduct in the halls. What the hell, Snape? Did he spit? Forget to tie his shoes?"

"I see. He must have taken care to ice that lip, then, before he spoke to you."

Sirius stopped in mid-stride. "He was fighting?"

"Mr. Potter was brawling with another student considerably his junior in the courtyard. I intervened and punished them both."

"Did you even try to find out who started it?"

Snape gestured to his office door. "Perhaps we should continue this in my office."

"With pleasure."

Snape rattled the oaken door on its hinges when he slammed it. He had forgotten how good that felt. Twice today, now. God, but it was good to be back. He made no attempt to conceal his snarl.

"Professor Black," he spat like it was a curse word. "I do not expect that you and I shall find many points of agreement in our tenure as colleagues. Nor do I expect that I will be able to persuade you to my point of view, or vice versa, on many occasions. But I do expect," and here he lowered his voice to a dangerous pitch, "that you will never again question my authority in front of students. If you find it necessary to challenge my decisions, you will do it here, behind closed doors. Do I make myself clear?"

Sirius stiffened. "Perfectly."

"And if you do not find yourself able to comply with this," Snape leaned closer, "I will tie your leash to the thickest stake I can find and chain you in the Forbidden Forest on the full moon as werewolf bait."

Sirius lunged, and Snape moved just a fraction too slowly to escape the ex-Beater's right hook. Slytherin came back with a mighty swing, and the battle was joined.

*********************

"Well. This is an edifying sight to be sure." Dumbledore stood, arms folded, surveying the bloodied mess of his Potions Master and Defence Master, who stood heads bowed before their headmaster. He flipped open his pocket watch. "Twenty-one hours and seventeen minutes. That is exactly how long you have lasted as colleagues before attempting to kill each other."

He snapped his watch shut and glowered at the two offenders. "And where have I seen this before, I wonder? Twenty-five years," he thundered. "Twenty-five years have not been enough to give either of you sufficient maturity where the other is concerned."

"He-" "But he-" They began at once.

"Silence!" roared Dumbledore in a voice that would have quelled the Great Hall.

"Now," he resumed in a calmer tone. "I am going to do my best to forget that this entire incident ever happened. And the two of you are going to do your best," he said, fixing them both with his piercing glare, "to make sure that this never happens again. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, Headmaster." "Yes, Headmaster."

"Very good. Now. Get out of my office. One more thing," he called as they hastily departed. "You will both serve detention this evening."

"What?!" They both cried at once.

"You heard me. Do you think we ought to hold our students to a higher standard than we hold ourselves? Yes? Something you wish to say, Severus?"

"No, headmaster," he mumbled.

"Good. I will see you both at seven thirty this evening. You will await me here. Agreed?" He seemed satisfied with whatever noises they made. "And gentlemen? The password is 'arrested adolescence'." He waved the door shut behind them with a flick of his wand.

Endnote: Snape's ward is a quotation from Julius Caesar: "Men believe what they wish to."