Chapter Four: Your Scent Still Lingers

Go home.

That was all he could say. Go home, Lili. There's nothing we can do about Junia right now.

She had never seen Lang so distraught: she was given to wonder whether his emotion was for the loss of Junia or the loss of an inside contact. Neither, she supposed, would surprise her.

She pulled out her wand and flicked it at the door knob. Nothing happened. She reached down and twisted it. It was unlocked.

Odd… Olivia would have left an hour earlier for a late shift at the Café.

She raised her wand again, pushing the door open carefully. It was the second day she'd had to enter her apartment this way, and she wondered if such nervousness was well-founded or a tad too jittery…

A loud squawk erupted as she entered. Hurriedly laying down her bag, she followed the sound of rustling, excited claws, wand held out in front of her like a sword.

Artibius was sitting on the kitchen table, puffing up and clawing at the wood. 

"What, you daft bat? Why do you—"

But she fell off.

She couldn't comprehend the sight for several seconds, barely able to concoct some semblance of a smile.

"Lili." Draco Malfoy said, standing and continuing to pet Artibius gently. "Finally."

"Dr-raco. How did you get in?" It was a poor attempt at sounding off-hand. She tried to straighten her smile a little to compensate.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see Draco; in fact, at any other time she might have been glad for the visit. As with Snape, it had been a long time since she'd been able to meet Draco for anything other than business. She wanted to know how things were going—things outside their normal realm of discussion; but today, just after the news about Junia, his presence didn't feel right. And, more unnerving, he had been there alone, with a golden opportunity to dig through any and everything. She mentally ran through what she had lying about, trying to think of anything that might have looked suspicious.

Luckily for her, she mused, she was Slytherin enough to know what things to keep lying about just in case…

Draco smiled, pulling out a chair and motioning for her to sit. She did.

"Your roommate let me in as she was leaving. About an hour ago, I'd say." He scooted into his own seat again, thin fingers stroking Artibius' back absent-mindedly. "I told her my name and that I wanted to see you, and she let me right in. Some Auror." He snorted.

That's why she's still in training… Lili made a mental note to discuss this with her later tonight.

"And what is it that brings you here? You never visit my place…" She tried to sit back, forcing her muscles to take on at least the semblance of relaxation.

As Draco's grin tilted, his entire face took on a quite familiar sparkle, steel and smirk. He had grown into a remarkable image of his father; same broad shoulders, gold-white hair and pressed tight smile. But she had many an opportunity to see the two Malfoys together, and there remained something in Draco—something that made him different and distinctly less imposing. She saw it now glint across the pale glass of his gaze. "I just wanted to talk to you about the wedding."

It took Lili a moment to place the words. After several blank seconds, her mind flashed to a crème and gold invitation sitting somewhere in the stack of old papers beside her bed. "Oh, your wedding. Yours and Dia's, I mean."

Draco tried to keep the smile pressed in his cheeks with minimal success. "Yes. It's this Sunday."

She nodded. She hadn't given the invitation a second thought after tearing it from its delicate gold-leaf envelope, telling herself she was simply too busy to attend; but, she knew, beneath that, somewhere untouched, other less readily confronted reluctance lurked…

"Look, Lili," Draco said, leaning forward and abandoning the smile altogether. "Dia wants you to come. So do I. When we didn't get your RSVP card, well—she made me promise I'd come to talk you into it." He reached forward and touched her hand lightly. "I know, well, maybe you might—that is Dia's afraid you might be a little upset—" He stopped, apparently deciding against this line of thought. She shifted her fingers under his, and he withdrew his hand sharply. "Well, anyway, you hardly see Dia anymore, and all of Hogwarts is—" He straightened and tried to fit the suave mask of his father's across his features. It fit with a mixture of coolness and discomfort. "Hogwarts was a long time ago. We want you to be there—please?" He truly had the voice of a Malfoy: even a request became commanding.

She didn't answer, appraising the cool glimmer in his eyes. He thinks I'm still pining after him, she slowly realized, watching his hand float, nervous, between his lap and Artibius.

It had been true: for a time Lili had indeed felt a sting seeing Draco and Dia together. It had been difficult, losing that closeness with Draco and having it handed, instead, to her once best friend. But the first time she had seen Dia gliding about Malfoy Manor alongside Mrs. Malfoy, discussing plans for redecorating the upstairs drawing room— she understood that such a life would never have suited her.

After all, two years had passed, and despite any glimmers of hope she saw in Draco's eyes, he remained on path which would lead him to claim not only his father's estates but his elder's cruelty and cold indifference as well. And she had no desire to end up with a junior Lucius Malfoy.

No, she didn't care about Draco and Dia. Let them get married and have little baby Malfoys and live happily ever after.

Or perhaps it was that 'happily ever after' that chaffed so harshly against her sense of justice. She couldn't stand the thought of attending their wedding, watching everyone so happy and coupled when she, in some desperate attempt to "do the right thing," was so—

Just say it Lili. Just admit it to yourself…

So alone.

Draco leaned forward trying to catch her eye.

She snapped back, glimpsing his stiff, down-turned lips.

"Well don't answer all at once," he said, quickly tucking his hurt look behind the Malfoy mask.

Lili was reminded of a time when he'd said those words to her with a light-hearted roll of the eyes and weak smile. It had been two years earlier—nervous, young, and asking her to the Yule Ball.

Oh yes, after all, it's been two years…we've all changed.

She smiled faintly--or tried at any rate. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's nothing to do with you. I'm just a little distracted you know." She considered the words quickly before adding, "It's the news about Junia, I guess. It's got me a bit flummoxed." Her gaze reached out, probing his pale eyes and searching desperately for something—anything.

She wasn't disappointed. Draco sat back, thankfully looking less hurt. "Ahh, I should have known. Always business." His lips pressed but were unable to form a smile.  "Well, yes, I guess I was a little shocked when I heard about it."

Ahh, she thought, trying to hold back a smirk. Draco, for every inch he looked his father, lacked the elder's cunning and shrewdness by half. She leaned forward, brow knit solemnly, ready to hear every word said—and those that weren't.

"As soon as I heard about it this morning, I went to see my father. I mean, it's a strange occurrence and we didn't hear a peep about it." His eyes shifted over her, questioning. "At least, I didn't."

She shook her head.

"Well, I asked him what happened; why on earth the Dark Lord would want to kill one of his most trusted servants. Junia had been with him since the earliest times of his ascension, and then, suddenly, he up and decides to murder her and dump her in some Muggle street? Something was missing, didn't add up."

She tried to feign a curious nod, but ominous knowing burned in the pit of her stomach.

"She was a spy."

He leaned low toward the table now, voice collapsed to a whisper. She did her best to seem utterly shocked, managing to raise a trembling hand to her mouth. How much more does he know, I wonder…Perhaps that was the elder Malfoy's weakness, trusting his son too far…

"A spy? How—I mean, how did they find out?"

Draco shrugged sinking back again, pale eyes fixed on Artibius. "Father didn't know. But apparently the Dark Lord has suspected her for some time. Then, when he was certain his suspicions were indeed true, he and some others went to find her in France."

Lili swallowed. She could imagine it: Junia in some hotel room, or maybe out on a nighttime stroll. And they came up behind her, tied her, probably roughed her up and brought her back—to him. Lili knew better than to think about what must have happened afterwards, her heart already hammering ferociously, threatening to leap up her throat.

She couldn't afford much rumination; any silence might give her away. "That sly bitch," she choked, the words stabbing through the weak lump of her tongue.

Draco nodded, face suddenly drawing in on itself, tight and pondering.

She recognized the expression. There's more…She leaned in, lips parted and dry. "What? What else?"

 He was obviously loath to continue.

"Draco—what is it? Is something wrong?" This time it was she who reached out, touching his hand lightly.

He stopped biting his lower lip and swallowed with a nod. "Father also told me that they found out, torturing her, that she was working with at least one other, probably more."

The words hit her like a speeding train, razing across the thin walls of her heart. She drew her hand away from his slowly. "More—spies?" Her voice was shaking, barely able to squeeze through her constricted throat. Her mind flew into a frantic whirl, desperate to shake Draco of all he knew. "Do—do they know who? How many?"

Long years seemed to pass as she watched him, sitting, waiting to hear the death sentence. If they knew, it was already too late…

He sighed. "Well, they have their suspicions. Father wouldn't tell me much except that they managed to get one name out of her. She died quite suddenly, sooner than they expected under the torture, but they did get one name before she was gone."

"Who?" Her breaths were coming slow and hot, her brain pounding against her skull. Only a thin veil across her eyes hid her panic from the outside world…

"I don't know," he said at last. "Father wouldn't tell me of course."

Damn. She cursed, leaning back and grinding the ball of her foot into the ground painfully. Damn him. Of course he wouldn't tell Draco…

They both sat a long while, silent, keeping eyes away from each other. Lili reached out, letting her hands wind down Artibius' back in some attempt to steady herself.

One name. One tiny word she had given them, and it brought the whole world crashing down. It could have been "Lili." It could have been "Snape." It could have been someone sitting elsewhere, filled with as much dread and rage as she…

Even with a wand pointed between your eyes, Miss Lee, you must always stay calm.

He had pulled out a wand and illustrated the point.

If you don't learn this simple lesson, you'll give yourself away, and believe me, no one will try to save you… One deep breath and a straight back. "Well, I know the Dark Lord will find them. And kill them as they deserve." She pressed a difficult grin, trying to act as though the matter was closed. "And, as for your wedding, I'll be there, of course. I just—well, I'm afraid I lost the invitation. You know how disorganized I am."  

Of course I'll go now, she moaned internally. I can't afford to arouse even the slightest suspicion.

If it's not already too late, that is…

Draco's painfully solemn face erupted into a suave grin. He suddenly became Lucius Malfoy once again, and she felt herself steeling, strength and caution beating through her veins.

"Wonderful!" he said, giving Artibius one final pet down the nose. "Dia will be happy to hear it." He gave her a smaller, more genuine smile as he stood. "I'm happy too. You—well, I'll be glad seeing you there."

She nodded, accompanying him to the apartment door. "You should drop by more often," she said, hoping he wouldn't take the offer too seriously. Draco was a decent man, but he was, unfortunately, weighed with too many dangers, traps, and bits of foul news.

"Of course, of course," he said with a sweep of his hand that told her he was merely being polite. He opened the door and, striding the threshold, gave her a tilted smirk. "And don't you have a birthday coming up soon, I believe?"

Say no, say no, her mind begged her. The Malfoys always sent her incredibly expensive, elaborate and wondrous gifts for her birthday: and she couldn't use a single one without feeling a guilty, fearful tug at her heart.

"Yes, in, well, less than two weeks now."

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to go shopping." Taking her hand, he bent down and kissed it lightly.

It was too much in the manner of his father for her not to feel ice grip her stomach. She forced a weak smile.

"I'll see you in a few days," she said, taking the door knob in her sweating hand. "Tell Dia I'm looking forward to seeing her."

"I will," he said, several steps away, gray robes twirling elegantly. "Good day, Lili."

But she had already closed the door, and, sure all prying eyes were finally elsewhere, she charged across the flat to retrieve her brandy.

It's not as good as wormwood and asphodel, but it will have to do for now…

She collapsed onto the sofa, nursing the bottle vigorously.

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

"Ai-ya, xiao nu. Wo danxin de yaoming." Hui was sitting limp against his frame, inky black eyes thin and downturned. He had been chronically gloomy ever since she'd explained her situation to him; but he was beginning to look even worse now, thin lines snaking across his old face, black and deep with worry.

"I know, Hui," she sighed, tracing her finger around the lip of the empty bottle. "I'm worried too. Frankly, if it wasn't for The Banshee's Best here, I'd probably be too afraid to think straight." Though after half a bottle her thoughts weren't at their peak, she was at least able to detach herself from the fear for a few hours and consider her options.

"Ni yao zuo shenme ya?" Hui asked, watching Artibius turn in Lili's lap, half-asleep.

She leaned back on the bed, propping up on one elbow just enough to see Hui. "I don't know. I'm not sure there's anything I can do." She raised the bottle to her mouth, hoping.

No, it's empty, she decided, and not for the first time that night.

"What I really need to do," she said through a yawn of liquored breath, "is talk to Snape. Meet with him. Warn him. I can't go through the Ministry—they ask too many questions and would surely panic and do something stupid enough to get us both killed." She sighed. "And obviously I can't do it through the Circle. But he needs to know. He needs to be –preparing himself."

Though this was true, part of her knew it wasn't the only reason she wanted to see Snape. She could simply write him a letter and send it through an anonymous owl from the post office; but she wanted to see him, talk with him, for her own comfort. He might have answers, ideas—anything more than what little she had come up with…

She heard the slight click of the front door echo through the silent flat. She turned to glance at the clock on her bedside table. 3:18.

It was Olivia coming home from work: she hadn't realized it was so late…

"He zhu zhi fu," she sighed, looking up at Hui through tired eyes. "I'm a carp in a dry rut; all I can do is flop around and hope someone helps me…"

Hui smiled slightly, yawning himself. "Well, as they say, when you stop looking for help, it pours into your lap like a shower from Heaven." He pulled together several large piles of leaves and laid his head down on them softly. "You'll see—help will come from someone…" He yawned again, and his already thin, painted eyes were narrowing to sleepy lines. "Wan an, xiao nu. Tomorrow—things will be different tomorrow, I promise you."

She started to wish him pleasant dreams, but a second later, his breathing was already slow and steady.

She leaned back, abandoning the bottle on the mattress beside her. Help will come from someone…

But who? Who would help her? She wasn't exactly rich in friends, and most of the people she did know were the precise ones she was trying to avoid. Snape was really the only person she could trust—perhaps Dumbledore, but the Ministry had been keeping close watch on him ever since he'd begun to criticize them publicly: even he would likely prove an unsafe person to contact Snape through.

Olivia's head poked around the cracked door, the rest of her body quickly following. "You still awake?" Spying the bottle, she added, "Must've been a hard day."

Lili merely nodded.

"Bad news from Malfoy?"

You could say that…

"No. I've been invited to a wedding." She made no attempt to disguise her voice, letting it drip with ennui. "Actually the invitation was for two: wanna go?"

It had been a bit of a joke, but Olivia didn't seem to catch it. "Sure. Whose wedding?"

"Draco Malfoy and Dia Morrighan."

The other witch's smile took a strange turn, but not altogether an unpleasant one. "This will be a Slytherin affair then."

Lili shrugged. "Well, sort of. Might do you some good, though. Know thy enemy, and all that." Her limbs were growing heavy, the weight of brandy gripping every vein.

Olivia rolled her eyes but nodded. "Sure. I'll be there. When is it?"

"Sunday evening."

"Hmmm," she said, running a finger around the door knob in thought. "I'll have to switch shifts with someone that day. I'm working another late shift at the café." She spit this out with obvious distaste. "I swear, I don't even know why we're open so late at night. At this hour, no one is ever there: it's practically deserted…"

Lili shot up, heart racing.

Of course! Why hadn't she thought of it before? If there was one thing all her "friends" ignored, both Ministry and Death Eater alike, it was Muggles. No one would be watching a Muggle coffee shop, especially at night…

She charged over to the door, took Olivia by the wrists and pulled her into the room.

But what to tell her…Olivia would have to be the one there, of course. But how could she explain a late night rendezvous with their ex-Potions Master?

Another problem: could she trust Olivia to keep her mouth shut? This was the sort of delicate thing she didn't want blabbed to every Auror at the Ministry.

She looked at Olivia, whose blue eyes were now wide and confused.

Well, you'll just have to try; after all, she's not a Slytherin. Surely she would take the secret to her grave if Lili came up with some sort of Gryff-esque oath to make her swear by.

She reached up and closed the door lightly. Well, here goes nothing…

"Olivia, I have to ask you for a favor." She sat on the end of the bed, making her best pleading eyes.

Olivia merely nodded, sitting beside her. Apparently, this was frightening her a little, her hands fidgeting carefully in her lap.

Lili swallowed. All the weariness she had felt was gone, pushed aside by the rush of adrenalin snaking through her body. "Do you work the late shift again tomorrow night?"

"Y—yes?"

"And you say that the place is almost always deserted--empty of anyone?"

"Yeah."

She looked down, trying to decide how to go about this. For the first time in a long while she didn't have to muster sincerity; she just hoped Olivia wouldn't put the pieces together…

"Olivia, I need to meet someone, and I'd like to do it at Café Midnight—tomorrow night. While you're on late shift."

Olivia's eyes wavered, brow knitting. "Meet who?"

Lili swallowed. "I'll tell you, but, Olivia, this must stay a secret. You cannot tell anyone that we've met or—"

"Okay, okay: who is it?" Though she wasn't smiling, Lili could hear excitement in her voice.

"No, I'm serious, Olivia. You have to promise me you won't tell a single living soul. Promise?" She leaned forward sharply, pressing the point with her eyes.

Olivia seemed to understand the severity and nodded.

She paused a moment, trying to decide if she had the strength to say it.

Come on, just say it. Flat out is the least suspicious…

"It's Snape," she said, voice a little softer than she'd intended.

Olivia's face erupted, lips parting in disgust, eyes narrowing as if she had suddenly become nauseous. "Snape? You mean, Professor Snape, from Hogwarts?"

Lili nodded. "Yes, Professor Snape. We need to meet around midnight, and we'll need privacy—"

She stopped. Olivia's disgust had transformed into knowing shock.

Her heart sank: perhaps she had given the other witch short shrift…the pieces appeared to be falling into place.

"What?" Lili asked at length, mind whirring, trying to formulate some way of convincing Olivia she wasn't really a Death Eater without having to give away too much sensitive information or endanger the Min—

"You and Professor Snape?" Olivia said, less disgust in her voice but the same wide shock. "You and slimy, greasy-haired, yellow-skinned, 'ten points from Gryffindor' Professor Snape?"

Her stomach lurched forward. No, she didn't think…

Of course she does, stupid. What does a late night, secret meeting between a man and a woman usually mean?

She looked at Olivia and, though her stomach was roiling, simply nodded.

I suppose it can't hurt to let her think…

The other witch breathed out heavily, cheeks puffing and wide eyes expressing her utter inability to comprehend such a thing. "I can understand why you'd want it to stay a secret. Well, don't worry; I like my friends to be able to keep their lunches, thank you."

That was some comfort. Perhaps it would be best to play up this angle; without actually saying anything out and out…

"It's very important," she heard herself saying, trying to feign something in her voice—she wasn't sure if it was love-sickness or desperation. "Please."

Olivia looked at her a moment, and the incredulity dropped from her lips, the sharpness faded from her eyes. The look made Lili shiver: she was no longer being watched by a sickened ex-Gryffindor, but by a concerned—she paused before thinking the word—friend.

Apparently, Lili, you have one more friend than you counted on…

She jumped as the other witch reached out and laid a gentle hand on her knee.

"Well, we'll have to work on your taste in men a bit, but this is an excellent first step towards actually appearing to have real human emotion." She smirked.

Lili felt a chuckle escape her, something she would have imagined impossible not five minutes previous. Shaking her head and trying to look more exasperated than relieved, she sat up straight and mock-serious. "And that was an excellent first step towards biting, Slytherin sarcasm, Miss Birch."

Olivia's smile pursed. "Wow."

There was a slight pause.

"What?"

More silence and pursed lips.

"What?!"

The other woman's smile softened. "Oh, it's just, when you called me 'Miss Birch' there—you, erm, well you sounded exactly like him."

Oh no…please don't get mushy…

"It's very sweet," she continued, making her most adorable and, in Lili's opinion, disgustingly happy face. "Maybe you weren't so off after all…"

Lili was afraid for a moment that Olivia might reach out and pinch her cheeks. "I suppose a moment of Slytherin is all I can expect from you," she snapped, pulling her leg out from under the other woman's hand.

"Yes, well, once a Gryff, always a Gryff," she sighed, standing with an impish grin. "But you should be glad of that for once, because it's my sentimental Gryffindor heart that's going to make me help you out. Tomorrow night, midnight. Tell Romeo I'll be sure no one finds out."

Lili felt a retort rising, but bit it back.

"Thanks."

Olivia's grin widened and even, Lili was amazed to note, tilted in an all too Slytherin fashion. "Now don't go trying too many human emotions in one night: gratitude and love? You might pull something…"

Lili laid back on her bed with a smile, Artibius and Hui already snoring softly. She yawned. "You know, Olivia, I think I'm a bad influence on you."

"Not nearly as bad as you think." She flipped the light switch and opened the door to exit. "'Night, Lili."

But the combination of Banshee's Best and pure emotional exhaustion had already carried Lili away to the distant peace of dreams.

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

She stole another glance at the clock. 12:06.

Stop looking, she chided herself, turning her eyes back down to the book in front of her forcefully. Olivia was watching from across the café, pretending to give the counters another good buff.

She fingered the next page of her book and turned it absent-mindedly. He'll be here. He has to come.

She had rented an anonymous owl from the Post that morning. She had even gone to the trouble of putting it in Olivia's name, just in case. It was supposed to deliver the letter to him privately in his office: Snape getting mail would be far too suspicious a sight for the Great Hall.

Meet me tonight at Café Midnight, London, 12 o'clock. My roommate has assured me it will be deserted and unwatched. We have to talk about something…Lili

She had included a map, certain Snape wasn't the sort to go about visiting Muggle coffee houses in his spare time…

Then again, I'm not the type either, she thought, pulling at the neck of her shirt half-heartedly. She wasn't used to Muggle clothing. In fact, she'd been forced to borrow this from Olivia's closet--a green shirt and black skirt that fit far too snuggly for her liking. Olivia assured her this was "sexy," but, at this particular moment, looking sexy was the farthest thing from her mind…

She began to glance at the clock but stopped herself, keeping her head stiff over the book. Just read, and he'll be here soon.

Several more pages slid past, a distinct sinking in her heart. Well, she supposed it had been a bit of a gamble. Snape was always very cautious, and this was certainly a risk. He had probably decided to ignore the letter and try to find out the information in some other way. Or perhaps he'd made the same assumption as Olivia…    

A tiny bell tinkled, and Lili's eyes shot up.

He was standing in the doorway, sour discomfort etched across his face. His lips were drawn in a stern line, dark eyes twinkling unhappily around the empty cafe. He pulled at the collar of his long-sleeved shirt, which was, to Lili's surprise, not black but a deep claret. It was the first time she had seen him in anything but black, and the color seemed to bring some warmth to his normally sallow features.

He tromped over towards Lili's table, scowling briefly at Olivia as he went.

Lili stood, giving Olivia only a sideways glance. The yellow-haired witch was smiling, trying to busy herself without having to take her eyes away.

The clicking of his feet slowed as he neared her, fingers falling away from the neck of his shirt to the edge of table. He, too, was obviously uncomfortable in the odd clothing and took a moment before saying anything. "Miss Lee."

She did her best to look over him only circumspectly, but couldn't help noticing that he seemed oddly different. His face was thin and worried, but his frowning eyes and lank form struck her violently. In the Muggle clothes she could see him: not as a teacher, a professor, a fellow agent, but as a person. He suddenly seemed much more fragile--real—not the invincible and cold ghost that haunted the dungeons of Hogwarts.

Her heart ached a little at the realization; he was just as vulnerable as anyone else…

She took a deep breath and was greeted with the familiar scent of a hundred fermented potion ingredients. The smell steadied her a little, and she realized quite suddenly that she was now staring.

"Red?" she attempted quickly, pointing at his abnormally colorful clothes and hoping that a tinge of Slytherin coolness would put them both more at ease.

"Dumbledore's," he snarled, pulling a seat out from the table and sinking into it with the deliberate slowness of a coiling snake.

She sighed. He was in a foul mood—the conversation would likely be terse and unpleasant. This, she supposed, wasn't surprising as most conversations with Snape could be described as such, but she could always hope…

She sat. "Well, it's a nice color for you, if that's any consolation."

This seemed only to heighten his discomfort, and he straightened, casting his eyes about in an attempt to ignore what she'd said. "What are you reading?"

Of course. Always on the offensive in conversation…always the one interrogating and judging…

She acquiesced, giving a slight grin and brushing at the pages in front of her. "It's Chinese poetry by Li Bai. A friend of mine gave it to me as an early birthday present."

He arched an eyebrow and turned the book towards him. She'd always suspected him as a reader of poetry—even if it wasn't something he went about readily advertising. He glanced at the words now with the quick eye and deep rhythmic voice of a connoisseur:

"It's been three years. Your scent still lingers,

your scent gone, yet never-ending.

But now you're gone, never to return,

thoughts of you yellow leaves falling,

white dew glistening on green moss."

Something in the way he read it—every word flowing and baritone—made her look at the poem again, searching for something she'd missed on first glance.

He pushed the book away quickly, shifting in his seat and forcing an appraising frown. "A little simple."

She smiled weakly. Should have known.

How could she have expected Snape to be a romantic, really? Even five lines seemed to have made him uncomfortable, and she watched him for a moment as he lurked on the other side of the table, running his finger across the thin edge of a spoon.

"Can I get either of you anything?" Olivia had worked up the courage to approach them and was now standing over the table, beaming with all her might.

"Uhh, some tea," Lili managed giving Olivia a weak smile. "Earl Grey with one sugar."

Olivia nodded. "And, erm, for you, Professor?" Her voice shook with the pressure of attempting nonchalance.

Snape didn't look up, barely opening his mouth to bark the words. "Tea. Darjeeling."

Olivia blinked, as if uncertain how to respond. Eventually she merely swallowed and walked away, hurrying to prepare the drinks.

Taking only a moment to be sure she was gone, Snape let out a deep snarl. "What did you tell her? I don't believe Miss Birch is a very good choice for secret keeper."

Oh, he isn't going to like this…

She cleared her throat, trying to prepare herself for whatever uncomfortable territory this would lead them into. "Actually, I didn't tell her anything except that she absolutely couldn't tell anyone else." It wasn't a lie, strictly speaking.

"You didn't tell her anything, and she just…agreed?" His long fingers continued their track around the edges of his spoon as he glared across the table.

Tell him, Lili. Just bite the bullet and tell him…

She leaned in. "Well, I think she assumed it was some sort of romantic—" No fitting word came. She grasped about desperately. 'Liason' felt sleazy, and 'affair' was definitely not an option.

"Err, thing. Some romantic thing." Her throat was tight in a constricted whisper.

Snape sat back, watching her over his hooked nose, eyes flat and unyielding.

"I know," Lili said quickly, sure to give him no time to respond. "I know. But I think we should—"

Her insides twisted, seeing him arch an eyebrow.

"We should—I don't know—play along. It will at least keep her from thinking too hard about what this meeting could really mean."

She swallowed again, her throat uncontrollably dry. He was being too quiet. She had expected some sort of snide remark or disgusted face—but he merely sat, watching her with his deep-cut frown.

And she knew too well that's Snape silence was the most worming and dangerous response he could offer…

She braced herself.

"Very well. If you think that's best." He nodded.

Silence while her muscles unwound like loosed springs.

"Oh. Okay."

She took a moment to look him over again. His easy assent was something she'd never expected. She'd at least expected him to accept more uncomfortably, with more Snape-like grumbles. Afterall, it was an awkward insinuation: to pretend a romantic—thing—with an ex-student…secretly. Even she felt her stomach turn a little.

But he's a professional, she reminded herself. He's spent the last twenty years pretending to be something he's not…

What was one more pretense to either of them? What was one more person's misjudgment?

She leaned farther forward, straightening her napkin and spoon in an attempt to distance herself from such thoughts. She breathed deeper, pushing down her discomfort as he had taught her so many years earlier. It was another breath filled with the smell of the Hogwarts dungeons, and she marveled at how long it had been since she'd felt that stiff scent envelop her.

The memory made her stomach stop turning. She looked up and met his flat eyes with a tilted grin.

"Well, you know, if we're going to do this," she said, feeling more comfortable in her Slytherin tone of voice. "You should at least pretend to be happy to see me."

This seemed to catch him off-guard, and, meeting Lili's smirk, he granted her a tiny break in the ice. "Miss Lee, under different circumstances, I would be quite happy to see you," he said, eyes flitting across the room as if embarrassed to say so.

Olivia re-entered at just the right moment to catch Snape's small grin. She fumbled with the tray of tea and almost lost it completely.

"Oh!" she said, doing her best to recover. "Sorry, sorry. Here you go. Earl Grey." She handed Lili a large cup. "And Darjeeling."

Snape's face was sour once more, and he yanked the cup from Olivia's hand without a word.

"Oh, and I brought you a little something on the house." She laid a plate between them.

Lili came quite close to spitting her tea across the table. Snape merely stared down in disgust.

The plate was laden with small, heart-shaped biscuits. Inwardly, Lili burst into laughter.

"Enjoy," Olivia said, giving Lili a wink and hurrying out of the room once more.

Snape pushed the plate away deliberately before taking a long draw on his tea. His face seemed to, incomprehensibly, grow even more disgusted.

"Something wrong?"

"I should have known," he said, his thin, ceramic cup hitting the table with a tutting clink. "I had the girl in Potions for seven years—I should have known she couldn't even get a simple cup of tea right." He leaned back, light shifting across his face and striking the red of his shirt in a way that made his skin seem oddly warm. "I almost said 'ten points from Gryffindor.' Amazing, the habits one gets into."

She smiled in earnest now, taking a sip at her own tea. It had no sugar, and she had to begrudgingly admit that Snape was right about Olivia's skills with preparing liquids of any sort. She could only imagine what horrors Olivia had managed in Snape's class…

"You could get another, if you like?" she offered, abandoning her own cup and feeling more at ease.

"No, no. Please," he said, sighing and pinching at the bridge of his nose irritably. "Just tell me what this is about. I can only assume it's important if you insist on calling me to a Muggle café to pretend romantic relations in the middle of the night."

Ahh, a much more Snape-esque response. This at least made put her on familiar playing ground: business was easy—it was normal human relations that made conversation with Snape more difficult…

"I talked with Draco Malfoy yesterday. He was waiting for me at my apartment when I got home."

Snape's hand fell from his face, and the deep stillness of his gaze let her know he understood.

She sighed, unsure how to deliver the rest of this news. "He came by to ask me to he and Dia's wedding this Sunday. I assume you were invited?"

Snape nodded with a snort.

"But, well, we got to talking…" She swallowed. "About Junia."

Snape's eyes connected with hers, ferociously attentive. Somehow, she felt as though a fire was being lit in her chest, heat from his gaze.

"They have a name."

He sat for a few moments in grim comprehension, eyes falling heavy to the table before him. "A name?"

"Yes. Only one. Draco said she died unexpectedly under torture." A knowing glance passed between them: they both understood what this had been like, both had seen and heard it before. "But they got one name."

The light seemed unwilling to touch his eyes, yet they gleamed with grieved darkness. She had seen him this grim only once before: the day he had visited her at Malfoy Manor and held her burned arm in his hand…

"It's me."

She swallowed, a deep burning behind her eyes, a reluctance to consider this seizing her entire body. "We don't know that. It could just as well be—me. Or…was there anyone else she knew about?"

His mouth barely opened as he spoke. "I don't know. We aren't supposed to know the names of anyone else. But she knew at least of one other--of that I'm sure."

Lili wanted to ask whom, but, under the circumstances, knew better. She settled for a grave nod.

They sat in silence for a long while, diving in and out of thought. Lili was trying desperately to consider the consequences and ignore them all at once. She was used to seeing a bleak future stare back at her: but this—this could mean no future. Or a future she didn't want to envision.

She glanced across the table at Snape, trying to imagine that he was right: that it was his name. To think he would be gone: that the dungeons of Hogwarts would be taken over by another…that few would likely mourn him…and that he would die, screaming, begging—as they all did before the end…

Her eyes snagged his briefly, and she was barely able to swallow her sorrow.

"Thank you," he said finally. "It's good that I heard this now. Whatever comes, it's better it not come—unexpected."

She nodded slowly, mouth pushed tight to keep from betraying her emotion.

He pulled a wad of Muggle money from one of his pockets and laid it gently on the table. "I suppose that's enough," he said as he started to rise.

"Wait."

She couldn't stop the words, a sickening feeling of panic crawling up and strangling her heart. "What—you're going?" She had been unable to mask the desperation in her voice, and, looking back at her wide, green eyes, Snape froze and sat again.

"Is there more?" he asked, settling back into the chair uncomfortably.

She scrambled for something to say, something to make him stay. She couldn't stand to be left alone with the weight of this, with so many horrible visions playing in her head. "Well, no, but—I just thought maybe we could discuss what we should do."

Snape's thin, white lips cracked into what seemed to Lili an obscenely inappropriate smile. "'Do,' Miss Lee?" he asked, shaking his head. "There isn't anything we can do." Seeing her disapproval at his sneering dismissal, he straightened his mouth into it usual frown and shrugged heavily. "What's happened has happened: finding a way out of this is—impossible."

Her heart plummeted down to her stomach. No. No. He couldn't be giving up so easily. This was the same Severus Snape who had lectured her endlessly on ingenuity and solving every problem with the intellect. This was the same Snape who, two years previous, hadn't let her give up hope—who had led her through the darkest sadness and showed her a way to live. And now, faced with a situation even grimmer still, he was contented himself to stand up and leave her sitting there, letting fate do as it willed?

No, no. I won't let him do this. To himself, to me…

She straightened her back and ran her fingers around the edge of her tea cup carefully. She was doing her best to imitate his lecturing stance, but found her own posture far more quiet and reserved, more reminiscent of Dumbledore's meandering stories...

Well, you could do worse, Lili…

She cleared her throat purposefully: in this, at least, she managed enough of Snape's demanding composure to get his attention. "You know, when I first arrived at Zhong Mo Xue, let's see, well, more than nine years ago now—I had the worst difficulties. I couldn't learn the language, I had no friends, and people made fun of me because I learned so slowly." She paused, giving Snape a chance to object. If he was confused by the turn of the conversation, he didn't show it. "Two months in, the Headmaster called me into his office and asked me what was wrong. And I told him, breaking down into tears, that no one would talk to me and that I couldn't even learn simple things because speaking Chinese was impossible." She forgot for a moment where she was, remembering Headmaster Zhi's peaceful gaze and smiling, lined face. He had listened, silent, tugging lightly at the end of his whispy, white beard…"And, you know what he said? He quoted me a proverb." She swallowed, meeting Snape's eyes with as much strength as she could find in her. "Shan gao, shui chang: you he bu ke?" She spoke the words clearly and slowly, watching Snape take in every syllable with a deliberate gaze. "It means, 'Mountains are tall, rivers are long: is anything impossible?" The sounds rang in her ears, and they still gripped at her heart, remembering the quiet, smiling face of her Headmaster…

Snape sat a moment, eyes distant, as if appraising the value of these words.

"Poetic, but none too realistic, I'm afraid," he decided finally, voice caught between grief and impatience.

She let out a frustrated sigh, sitting back in her chair brusquely. Trying to encourage Severus Snape was about as pointless and dangerous an endeavor as trying to tickle a Norwegian Ridgeback. "Well then, let's just give up. Wait for the death sentence to come tapping us on the shoulder…or meet it like Junia did, in some dark alley on holiday…" She was teetering dangerously close to tears, and turned her face from his, cursing herself for losing control and trying to will the sorrow away.

His voice struck her ears, rough but not intentionally so. "Then what, Miss Lee, would you suggest we do?" It was not a challenge: merely a question.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her mind. "Go to the wedding," she sighed, making sure not to meet his eyes again. "If we don't, it could look suspicious. And there we can feel out the situation a bit more. I mean, the whole damn gang should be there."

Snape was silent for so long that Lili finally forced herself to look back at him questioningly.

He was leaning forward in his chair, dull eyes watching her with a strange warmth she had never before seen. His lips were parted slightly, his hands laced in front of his mouth in appraisal.


He was impressed. He was impressed with her persistence and her answer. But it was different than the look she'd gotten for preparing a particularly difficult potion well…

No, he was looking at her in a different way: suddenly, she was his equal. Suddenly, she no longer felt pinned under his gaze—no longer appraised. She was overcome with urge to forget about Junia, about this whole situation, and merely engage him in a normal conversation, open and real. She wanted to speak to him as a human being—as a friend: and she knew now that this was possible…if only…

"You're right of course," he said, with an approving nod. "We'll go to the wedding on Sunday. See what can be seen, and hopefully, hear more than can be heard."

She wrangled with his gaze, refusing to let go of what he had given her—refusing to let him slip back behind the stone mask of the dour Potions Master. "Professor—"

It was a bad beginning to a discussion among equals, she decided, and, grabbing her courage together all at once, tried again. "Severus—"

His eyes widened a little but she ignored it, plunging forward anyway. He'll just have to get used to it…

"I just—how are you doing?" The words seemed awkward, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table, and she hurried to support them. "I just, well, I never have a chance to ask you that. Or to ask you anything really. How—have you been?"

If she had been speaking Greek, perhaps Snape's harsh, confused face might have seemed fitting.

It must have been a long time since anyone asked, Lili thought, refusing to give in to a face that was clearly meant to deter the question.

She kept her eyes in his, unwavering.

He cleared his throat, shifting back in his seat and watching her with a mixture of bemusement and interest. "As always: happy, cheerful, savoring every day."

She couldn't help but smile. A Slytherin answer, to the very bone of it.

He seemed to enjoy her reaction, relaxing a little and laying a long, bony arm down on the table lightly. "Things are going as they always go, Miss Lee." He paused, and, considering for a moment, "Lili."

Their eyes connected ,and they both understood. This was now a friendship—a Slytherin one, and a secret one at best—but it had crossed over, and she felt a smile she couldn't surpress.

"My students this term are—well, let's just say the best among them make Neville Longbottom look like a candidate for the Order of Merlin." He sneered, shaking his head. "And just the other day I had a student—"

She listened carefully, her brain barely able to comprehend the situation and keep up with what was being said all at once. Snape was speaking, and she was listening: but not as they had before. It was something she remembered from a time long before this. It was…a normal, friendly conversation. With Professor Snape.

Severus, she reminded herself. Severus.

Every next word seemed to come more easily to him, and by the time he'd finished relating the story, his sneer had tilted into somewhat of a smile.

"Poppy had her work cut out for her after that one," he huffed. "I don't even know how they got in that position, but…" He trailed off, brushing over her face lightly with his black eyes. It was a face she had never seen from him: the face of a man whose burden is lifted, if even for a moment.

It didn't last long.

His face sank back to the table, and she could see his body trying to close back in on itself. She tried desperately to think of some reply, some word to encourage him to continue.

But she didn't need to try. He continued, though his entire body seemed sunk and weighted.

"And then—there was Junia."

Lili felt her heart lurch. His voice had unraveled into a strained despondence, and she was afraid of what was to come…

His long fingers were resting on the spoon now, gripping it loosely, languidly. "I can't believe she's—gone." He swallowed, and Lili recognized the look of aborted tears. "It's just, we worked together so long. She knew the risks when she turned, but, don't we all? You just never expect it…" His eyes brushed hers, and he straightened a little, obviously still uncomfortable with such emotion. "She had a heart condition—that's probably why she died so unexpectedly under the torture. Perhaps lucky for her." He gritted his teeth a moment, and never having seen him show anger before, Lili sat back slightly. "It's a horrible life you lead when a heart condition can be counted a blessing in the end…"

The thought was heavy: too heavy for her. She felt the friendly conversation slip away, replaced with reality: the reality of two people utterly lost…

Why? Why couldn't she merely have one normal friend? One normal day, free from pretense and planning and pretending to be a million things she hated. She wanted to smile, and not feel a weight pushing at her heart. She wanted to enjoy herself, without the wolf of reality running just at her heels…

But he was right, and there was no escaping it.

And soon, it could be her, crumpled on the front page of the Daily Prophet just above quotes from Hermione Granger. Yes, I always knew that Elizabeth Lee was a Death Eater…

She began to feel tears stinging in her eyes, and this time, they came so rapidly she had no time to banish them. A sob bubbled out of her throat, loud, and she leaned forward on the table, covering her face from Snape's sight, trying to force herself back into submission.

And all at once, she felt a strange warmth surround her. It was one she'd felt only once before—two years earlier—and one she'd never thought she'd feel again.

She parted her hands, and Snape's lips were on her cheek, pressed light and tender, his scent seeping into her with a smooth heat. She opened her eyes wide and saw his looking back, stare as black and close as the surface of a night-clad lake. The soft warmth of his skin danced close to hers, long hair ticking her cheeks as he pulled away. She wished at once he wouldn't move away; she had begun to lose herself, her weight, in that moment—in the contact so sudden and enveloping…

For a moment after, she saw nothing and felt nothing, still reeling from the kiss. She felt as if she'd woken from a dream and forgotten her place and reality. She was only vaguely aware of Snape's eyes, flitting over her as he sat back, shifting uneasily.

"Oh! Oh, I—I'm so sorry! I'll just…be…in the kitchen…"

Lili looked up, snapped back into reality.

Olivia was standing just inside the café, looking positively mortified. She was glancing between Lili and Snape quickly, fumbling to make her way back into the kitchen.

Lili swallowed, afraid to meet Snape's eyes.

Afraid but every limb trembling with a rush of shock…

"Please forgive me, Miss Lee." His voice was low, and she could tell he was fighting to keep it level and matter-of-fact. "I had no other choice. You were crying—and I saw Miss Birch come in—" He was stumbling in a way thoroughly unlike himself. "And since we are trying to make her think, well, it didn't seem fitting that she should see you cry—"

"I understand," she said quickly. She didn't really understand, but didn't want to hear him tumble over explanations, making an already awkward situation more unpleasant. She swallowed and wiped at her cheek without thinking.

She understood the action to some degree: she was crying and he was looking grim—hardly the scene they were trying to portray for Olivia. The kiss was to quiet her and scare Olivia away. Rational. Cut and dry. Just as they pretended coolness at Death Eater meetings.

 

He had no other choice.

She told herself this and didn't allow her mind to question it further.

He had no other choice.

She straightened, doing her best to ignore the panicked fluttering in her stomach.

"I—should be going." Snape stood, pushing forward the wad of Muggle money once more, his face taut and angry, as it always was when he felt particularly embarrassed.

But she was in no mood to disagree. The kiss had drained her strength, and it was all she could do to stand, feeling disoriented and awkward. "Yes, it's getting late." She swallowed.

All that they had built up, crashing down because of one tiny…

No, not tiny. Anything that could make her shake from nervous tension was not tiny.

She tried to smile at him but it was too twisted to be recognizable as such. "I'll see you at the wedding on Sunday then."

He nodded curtly, eyes darting across everything but her. He was obviously anxious to make his retreat…

It was the first time she'd seen him cowed. It was not a sight she cared for.

The bell tinkled again, sounding heavy, as he opened to the door to leave. Instead he rushed headlong into another man.

"Oh, er, excuse me," the other man said, as Snape stepped back to let him in. He was a thin wisp of a being with skin so white it out-sallowed even Snape's. His tiny, wire-rimmed spectacles reminded Lili of beady, blind mole eyes, and he swept them for a long while between she and Snape, as if wanting to ask something.

Snape brushed past him and was half-way out the door when Olivia's voice came shrill from across the café.

"Oh, Sam!" Olivia dashed across the café and practically leapt into the man's arms.

Snape and Lili exchanged curious glances.

"Liv, Liv," he attempted through the mass of her hair that had found its way in his mouth. "You're choking me."

Olivia dismounted, beaming and brushing at his disheveled clothes affectionately. "What are you doing here? I didn't think you'd come to visit so late."

He opened his mouth to say something, but Olivia interrupted.

"Let me introduce you to some of my—" Her eyes met Snape, and the word 'friends' froze on her tongue. "Er, this is my roommate Lili."

The thin man reached out and shook her hand weakly and with a forced smile.

"And this is one of our old professors from Hogwarts," she said, indicating Snape from what she considered a safe distance. "Professor Severus Snape." It was clear that even saying his name made her uncomfortable.

Snape took the scrawny hand with some reluctance.

"This is Sam Nunberg. He's my new, er, boyfriend." She giggled slightly, and Lili felt as though she might lose her dinner. "No worries, he's a wizard as well. Works for the Ministry. Graduated from Durmstrang five years ago."

He smiled wanly at this, trying to nod and yet politely extricate himself from their company as quickly as possible. "Liv," he said quietly.

"Well, what is it?" she asked him loudly, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him further in the café. "What brings you here?"

Snape made ready to exit again, and, this time, Lili, grabbing her book in one hand, prepared to follow.

"Dementors."

The man's voice had come weak and afraid, and both Snape and Lili froze in their spots.

The entire café was silent and every eye riveted on the thin wizard now shaking and pushing at his sliding, coke-bottle spectacles.

"Dementors? What do you mean 'dementors?" Olivia's face had fallen, her voice both angry and afraid.

He swallowed. "Dementors…they're…missing."

Lili and Snape turned almost in unison, rounding on the slight man violently.

"What do you mean they're 'missing?'" Snape barked, burrowing into the wizard with burning, black eyes.

"J-just that," he stuttered, deciding to keep his gaze on Lili rather than the more imposing Snape. "I just heard while I was up doing my late work at the Ministry. They've gone missing and no one knows what could have happened…"

Ice filled Lili's veins as she wilted back into her chair. Missing…how can they be missing…

Two years previous, the Ministry had finally conceded to remove the Dementors as guardians of Azkaban and replace them with highly trained dragons. It was the very reason her father, an expert on dragons, had been called back to England. Since then, the Ministry had kept the Dementors somewhere—though no one knew where—safely away from the grasp of anyone sinister enough to desire their services.

Snape and Lili's eyes met, dark and understanding.

He gave her a nod and disappeared out the half-open door.

Even the tiny bell felt too heavy to ring.

Voldemort had the Dementors. But why? Why now? And what would he do with them?

At the worst, it meant war. A horrible, devastating war.

She felt the flood gates open, but, inside, she was too tired even to cry.

Her eyes met the pages of the book now cradled loosely in her arms.

It's been three years. Your scent still lingers,

your scent gone, yet never-ending.

But now you're gone, never to return,

She slammed the book shut, wanting to forget Snape's voice, whispering the words in her ear.

But now you're gone, never to return.

She lifted her fingers to her cheek, his scent still lingering in the air.

This was the end. One way or another, this was it.

So many feelings fought within her, that she did her best to ignore them all, staring out into the black shadows of night.

Outside, it began to rain.

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

A/N: I bring you this chapter from Beijing…I didn't get a chance to upload it before I left (since ff.net has been sooo crazy), but here it is now. It's quite long, and I keep hesitating to put it up because I don't know if I've gotten the feelings right: and I keep feeling that people are out-of-character…please let me know what you think.

I don't know if I'll be able to put chapter 5 up before I get back to the States, but I have a 12 hour train ride coming up next weekend, so it's possible…

Please, let me know what you think!!! :o)