A/N: I am such, such a bad girl. I've decided, my dear readers, to quit promising faster updates and more reviewing of reviewers. It jinxes.

If you feel the need to re-read (or skim, if you're pressed for time) the past few chapters, I encourage it. I have to learn to write quicker if I plan to be so intricate.

Thanks bunches to: Aliera, Allemande
(the way I figure with the werewolf-blood thing, human blood is optimal, but in a pinch... FBAWTFT seems to back me on this), Becky Sharp, Demeter (yes, this is your chapter!), enoimreH (it's been so long that I've forgotten how to spell that), Flamewing (how goes the MtMNovel that none of us finished? Yours still going?), JKLB, Laurus Nobilis (dead on the mark, you are), Lavander Ice (your email address isn't letting me through, dear), riverlady (ha! I bet Remus doesn't find it "so cute"; BTW, both Seekers? Where's that from? In the movie, sure, James was a Seeker, but JKR says he's a Chaser, and nowhere do we really know for certain he was on the team), Saerelle (hey, part of your name has a whole chapter to itself soon), and Semmel (nope, slow, but I'm not giving up just yet, not till I'm fat and can actually sing on key).

Chapter Seven - The Impassable Test


Day: 11 Month: 12 Year: 1976

If there was one thing Severus disliked about the holidays, it was the jokes that came from every direction, aimed for him. Whether to hurt him or just for the shooters' enjoyment he didn't know, but it did aggravate him.

"Hullo, Scrooge."

Who was Scrooge? Severus had no clue, and it bothered him. Furthermore, he was upset that he was even bothered by this. In fact, he was frightened. Frightened because in the all too fragile web of Death Eater politics, he was going to be facing things a lot worse than confusion. If he let little things like this get to him, what was he going to do when he was being tested, tortured, manipulated?

And he was angry with himself for being frightened. Slytherins generally agreed fright was a good thing, as well as a natural thing; that's how you learned. This defied Severus's law. Goodness knew he was no noble Gryffindor and he didn't care to be, but terror was, all in all, not an admirable emotion.

But he still wished he knew who Scrooge was. Somehow, he suspected it had originated with Potter or Black.

*

"Lupin, the first thing I'm warning you is that if you wish me a merry Christmas, I'm going to hex you so badly you'll wish you had never been born, and if I hear the word 'Scrooge', I'll do it double."

Severus instantly regretted it. Not because he had lashed out at Lupin, of course; he could care less about that. It was because he was angry and had lost his temper. He was not in control. He took a deep breath or so, trying to calm down. It was not easy, since Lupin was doing a lousy job of hiding an amused smile.

"Good evening, then."

The worst part about that remark was that Severus found it somewhat funny.

"By the way, that was a really awful threat. 'You'll wish you'd never been born'? How clichéd. I thought you were above that," Lupin continued, in an even sort of voice. Severus knew him well enough by now to know that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "Needling Snape" was probably Lupin's favourite hobby. Only Lupin's method of needling was a lot more subtle than most.

Still, Severus sometimes suspected that he stayed awake to think up cutting things to say in the middle of the night. If only because if Lupin didn't do that, then Severus had really met his match in wit.

"So, anyway, if we're going to get down to business," Severus hinted pointedly.

"Honestly, relax a little," Lupin suggested lazily. "Last time I checked, the sun is going to rise tomorrow same as always, there are no meteorites falling toward our heads, and I need to polish my wand anyway."

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Well, sorry, but Peter spilled his pumpkin juice all over the table at dinner."

"It should have been in your pocket and then we wouldn't've had this problem."

"You're right."

Since Severus couldn't argue with that statement, he went back to the original tack. He had a great memory during conversations, which make him tend to jump all around, and could never understand why others couldn't keep up with his thought process.

"We can't stay here very long, y'know."

Lupin had already finished cleaning his wand. You had to give him credit; Severus could just imagine that James Potter would have taken about half an hour on that task. "Good grief," Lupin said, gazing around the dark corridor, "so the Slytherin passageways have reservations? For this?"

"You keep your mouth closed about our corridors, Lupin," Severus ordered automatically.

"If you say so."

"We don't have much time."

For some reason, the two were still following the tradition of not having a real duel, even if it was only a practice one. One might wonder why they bothered, since they had smashed all other customs to bits. Perhaps it was that they were clinging to the one ritual they had yet to destroy. So it was very much like the offence-defence drills they often did with Liqumbaug in Defence Against the Dark Arts. The sort Cletus Avery was still refusing to do ever since his bout with Lupin.

But since they weren't actually battling each other, it eased the transition from the instinct to be rivals to the need to cooperate and work as a team. And it was certainly the only reason they shared hexes and countercurses that the other did not know, although, Severus thought as he corrected Lupin's pronunciation of a particularly useful spell that would make the opponent see double, it definitely felt strange.

"Like this," he said impatiently. "You're on defence, okay?"

Cletus - or, in fact, just about anyone else - would have started sulking on account of Severus's harshness. Lupin appeared not even to realise he was being bossed around by his enemy. "Right."

Severus said the incantation easily and sent an invisible Double-Vision Spell. It was the first time he had ever used it on a person, and it was also the first time Lupin had ever felt it.

As one might have guessed, it wasn't a grand combination.

*

Remus could have never explained to anyone why the next moment he was on the floor. He almost refused to even say it to himself. The moment he began to see every thing in sight become two, he remembered hearing the talk of a pair of mourners at his parents' funeral.

"Audim couldn't get to his wand to get the ward set up, you know…"

"… it's such a shame; I had offered to train him to combat those sorts of hexes, we were going to start next month…"

"… it certainly wasn't his fault Melly was left to face them alone, really, what can you do when every thing you see is doubled?"

So this was the curse - the simple, childish curse he was learning now - that killed his parents.

Remus winced, and it wasn't from his twisted ankle.

*

Severus's charm had been a tad too strong, and Lupin later explained that he hadn't expected all of his sight to be doubled - somehow, he had only been focused on the thought that it would make it more difficult to see whoever used it on him. Surprised at the suddenly jumpy corridor, he reflexively ducked, swerved on his ankle, and abruptly hit the floor.

"What is it?" Severus asked.

"Very effective," was the dry, but rather shaky, response.

Concern got the better of Severus, and so he went over to help his partner to his feet. "All right?"

"Fine." Lupin laughed, a bit too brightly. "Thought that was to make my vision into two, not my foot."

"Honestly, you're hurt, can't you just moan and groan like everyone else? Must you really be so bloody happy about it?"

"Okay, I'll be miserable if you want."

"Thank you." Severus helped him hobble over to a bay hubby in the shadows of the corridor. "Think you can stand?"

"Maybe in a moment or so, if you can spare sixty seconds."

Severus spared them in complete silence, but then regretted it. Their lack of noise apparently caused the Slytherin fourth- and third-years to think they had at last left. Before they had been talking, but so far off that Severus, with his keen hearing, only barely heard them, but after about sixty seconds they began to break into song.

They had obviously been having a rally-like morale booster. It was a phase nearly all Slytherins went through at that age, when the full reality of how the way everyone outside of their House viewed them was going to affect their whole lives kicked in. If someone had been slighted badly for being a Slytherin, they went to their classmates for comfort, and found it.

Today, it had been Keith Bewilliger who had been tripped during dinner by some older Ravenclaws. The lot of them had been recovering by discussing the evils of the other Houses and what they would do to them if they could, when they got older.

"Slytherin, Slytherin, you evil child," the chant began, before picking up steam into a full blown raucous song. "Slytherin, Slytherin - "

"In you darkness runs wild!" Bill Sallby yelled spiritedly.

"Grow up to be a murderer and kill innocent babies," Cynthia Chapel led.

"You ought to rot in Azkaban, no ifs, buts, or maybes!" Mark Travers replied.

"Lead a life of wickedness hidin' behind a mask and respectable name - "

"Avada Kedarva or Galleons keep you on top of your sinful game!" Keith, Bill, and Brutus Zambini concluded.

"Slytherin, Slytherin, you evil child; Slytherin, Slytherin, in you darkness runs wild! We'll be liars, killers, and sinners to our graves; no Archangel Gabriel can our souls save!"

"Soeth sayeth the righteous ones who fear and dread the snakes," Maria Wilkes sneered in a deep chanting tone.

"And so who are we to disappoint?" Bill shouted.

"I'll always be a Slytherin, a Slytherin to my grave!" the others called back in unison, with rounds of cheers.

For a moment, Severus could not move, much less look Lupin in the eye. He was used to this defiant song and others; he had helped develop some of his own back when he was that insecure as to need them. But for someone else to hear it? An outsider, no matter how, well, sensible they might be, still an outsider? A Gryffindor? To have heard that?

Then Severus realised that he was ashamed - and of course he had no reason to be ashamed, none at all. None! It was Lupin's kind that ought to be ashamed - ashamed to have single-handedly caused so many to go the way of darkness because of prejudice. Noble, gold-hearted, hypocritical Gryffindors!

He stood abruptly and gave Lupin his most unnerving stare (and, it must be said here and now, Severus could be remarkably unnerving). "What're you thinking, Lupin? Oh, how wicked, how bad, eh? - for children to be singing such songs of evil? Yes, Slytherins are simply evil, right, what else could you expect of a snake? Well, you listen here, Lupin, what you heard does not leave this walls, or else I'll call the really evil Slyths to come and kill you on the spot so you can't tell. Those kids aren't murderers or bad people; they're children who have been told all their lives that they're wicked beyond all hope, who have been left confused and outside their circle of peers, who will grow up wicked beyond hope because of you, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, and - oh, gasp! - Gryffindors, the do-no-wrong, hear-our-righteous-roar Gryffindors never allowed them one chance to be good people. Don't you dare go around with your nose in the air here, Gryffindor."

Lupin finally glanced up. "You're awfully loud. I think they heard you."

Severus quieted, and realised that there was not a sound in the direction of the third- and fourth-years. Furious at his rather foolish position and his loss of temper - why, oh, why couldn't he ever control his temper? - he prepared to take it out on his nearest target.

"So? I'm not working with you because I want to be some insufferable Gryffindor; it's only because Liqumbaug suggested it, and he only said that because he wants Hogwarts to win at the Gathering - don't you think of taking me for any 'evil-to-goodness conversation case'."

"Calm down, Snape, I wasn't about to," Lupin snapped. "In fact, I'm agreeing with you, now that you brought it up that way."

This silence was the loudest so far.

"What?" Severus asked, catching himself a little too late.

"Oh, what, you don't think Gryffindors can't admit we're wrong? Well, here you go. I think I understand what you mean about them." Lupin jerked his head to where the young Slytherins had been. "Only now you're making generalised accusations as well…" He trailed off before continuing. "You've certainly given me a lot to think about. It seems like all Houses have to do a lot of re-thinking."

Severus glared at him again, but this time not as cuttingly. "They never would - not most of them, anyway."

"Maybe not right away," Lupin agreed reluctantly. "But hopefully someday. Hopefully sooner rather than later. We need to understand each other now more than ever."

"Oh, spare me the idealist philosophy." Severus had been pacing and continued for a few more seconds before shooting another challenge in Lupin's direction: "I suppose you're waxing quite sentimental, Lupin - 'oh, those poor little Slytherins. Poor things. They are in need of help so much.' Ready to start a Snake Assistance Program?"

"I think everyone needs someone who understands if they don't want to go mad or homicidal," Lupin replied calmly, without missing a hitch, "but I don't think any group of children singing proudly about being the murdering Slytherins is any worse than the problems many other children have - well, yes, it is, but I mean in terms of who needs help. I think it's a natural instinct to make light of anything that frightens them."

Severus stopped and looked at him curiously, tacitly asking him to elaborate.

"Everyone will joke about something they're afraid of, especially if there's nothing else they can do about it," Lupin shrugged.

Evan and Christoph suddenly appeared in Severus's mind's-eye, preparing to meet their soon-to-be master in only a few hours, to receive the Dark Mark, making what Severus had then thought to be lame wisecracks about the whole affair.

Had they been afraid?

Yes, of course they had been. Anyone in his or her right mind was terrified to meet the Dark Lord.

Reluctantly, Severus nodded in agreement. "In that case, your friends Potter and Black must be the two most nervous and frightened people on the earth."

Lupin gave him a light warning glare, eyes flashing dangerously.

No, actually, Severus thought further. In fact, that was James Potter's main problem. He needed to be really worried and scared, really bothered, for just once - at least just once - in his life. He might become closer to being tolerable then.

*

Remus thought for a while about what he had said to Snape. "Everyone will joke about something they're afraid of, especially if there's nothing else they can do about it."

He had been so deep in thoughts about what Snape had said about Slytherins, and so immersed in re-evaluating all his beliefs about black-and-white Houses, that it was a while before he remembered his statement, but when it did come to him later, it echoed in his head for a while.

His words seemed to be accurate; he could pull up hundreds of examples to back up that statement. It was possible to find a time someone had laughed about something they feared for just about every person he had ever met… except himself.

Never could he remember laughing about anything connected to family problems - not when Athena was getting mixed up with that group of bandits, not when his parents were constantly bickering, not when Athena married Dick Wallington, not when his parents died - or his lycanthropy - the hatred, fear, or revulsion of others, the various treatments, the Registry, the transformations.

Forgetting his lecture to Severus Snape on generalisations, many of his Uncle Richaden's rantings came to mind - he was not a person, and he did not have actual human feelings. Remus squelched his eyes shut tightly for a moment, like a small child, with a shiver. The feeling of isolation that he was often able to ignore seemed to widen.

How was either Richaden or Remus Lupin to know how this one moment was to affect Remus's choices very shortly in a way history textbooks would record?

[A/N: Dear readers, you probably know this, but the above paragraph and one sentence before it are a little thing known as extremely blunt and obvious foreshadowing. Digest it well. Ahem.]

*

Day: 17 Month: 12 Year: 1976


Here was one prime problem to being a Slytherin posing as a truehearted Death Eater. Severus stared down at the book longingly. The Long Battle, a bar-none account of the war thus far, written by Alastor Moody. Moody was an Auror who had fast developed a reputation during the war. (Depending on your point of view, it was a spectacular or eye-rolling one.)

Even though he was an Auror, Severus had a healthy respect for Moody, a grizzled old man who had not fallen into the common trap of many of the self-proclaimed "Light Side" - he was neither a politically maneuvering bastard nor a sparkling-eyed idealist. Severus knew that Moody would tell it like it was, no matter whom it offended or degraded - his side or the Dark Lord's - and that it would have all sorts of kneving details on his part and the part of Death Eaters', and that all in all it would be a fantastic read.

The book was in Maude's Library in Hogsmeade, which was really a bookstore but quite a cheap one. Severus could easily afford the couple of Sickles it would cost. He could not, however, afford what the Death Eaters would say if he were seen with it.

Severus stood stock-still and stared down longingly at it for quite some time, thumbing through it.

"Not you, too!" Maude Linne herself snapped, stepping behind Severus and snatching The Long Battle from under his fingers. "These books are not gold and it's not a whole lot to spend. Either buy them or get out - this isn't a café and I can't afford to have you reading them in here without paying a Knut!"

Don't make such a big scene out of it, Severus ordered her mentally. "I'm extremely sorry, Ma'am," he said icily, before letting the book slip to the floor with a thump. Maude gave him a glare that rivaled Severus's own before turning.

Unluckily, Remus Lupin was just inside the threshold and took the burnt of her anger. "And you! Don't you dare think you're coming in here just to continue The Trio. The sign that reads 'library' is not literal - either pay or go!"

Lupin raised an eyebrow and glanced at Severus, who pretended not to see him. "Actually, Ma'am, I was going to purchase some books for Christmas presents... if you don't mind."

"Humph." Maude, who was in an unusually bad mood, stormed off. Severus left the shop into the bitter sharp cold air that was windswept down Hogsmeade's Main Street. Hogsmeade was a small village near the school, where students third-years and older occasionally got to visit on Saturdays. A trip a week or two before Christmas holiday was customary so the children could do their present shopping.

Severus was buying nothing in terms of "presents". He had sent some money to Frank, Adela, and Allison, who often pooled to buy the younger children presents. Otherwise, he did no gift giving. Not because he was particularly bitter, but because it wasn't expected of him. And frankly, he didn't care.

Most of the other fifth-years in his House were off pumping up their Big Tough Slytherin image by shoplifting and being coolly rude whenever any adult questioned them. Severus figured if it made them feel better, he hoped they would have fun, and besides, he never minded being alone. When he saw Dickon Bright trying to strike up a conversation with him in hopes of wandering around together, he disappeared over to Maude's Library, where he had been an hour. Now evicted from his favourite shop, he hoped Dickon, who was alone somewhere in Hogsmeade, wouldn't catch up with him.

He walked around aimlessly a while, just waiting for the moment that they could get back to Hogwarts. The village held few pleasures for him, except to explore the back residential streets. For some reason, he liked staring at houses and imagining who lived in them, a childish habit he was unable to break.

Kicking at the snow, he turned down an even smaller street. It was deserted until the very end, where there was one lone house on his left side, small, brick, and surrounded by tall, dark trees. For a moment, Severus began his mental picture of who lived there, until he realised… he rather liked it himself.

Keeping as quiet as possible, he walked closer, curious to see more of it. He forgot to move silently on the crisp snow, and for his carelessness, his plans were abruptly halted -

From his right, someone shouted a spell. Severus saw it coming and ducked, fumbling for his own wand. But while in his vulnerable position, someone else tackled him from behind. His ambusher still upon him, Severus gritted his teeth: crouched on the snow with head bowed to the ground was an awkward enough position, especially with someone putting their weight onto you, and he had landed on his chin and throat, thus pulling a muscle in his neck.

Adding insult to injury, someone else had seen where he had reached for his wand and now, knowing where he kept it, the someone deftly reached into the correct pocket and pulled it out. Severus, keeping a cool head and trying not to panic, leaned to the left - and then suddenly reared, throwing all his weight from his left shoulder into the person pinning him to the ground.

The tackler was far stronger than he was; Severus's attempt to throw him off simply caused a dim chuckle and for him to press Severus to the ground tighter.

"Goyle, when I give you the signal, release him and pull him to his knees. Crabbe, make sure the instant Goyle is up, your hands are on his arms. You let him get away and you will have many people to answer to."

The signal was given and the goons obeyed. Severus vaguely remembered Crabbe and Goyle - they were huge, hulking Slytherin sixth-years when he was in his first, and had made his hazing a misery, especially as he had been tall, but rather wiry, and had not started his training for Quidditch and combat, as up until then books were pretty much his life. Now it appeared they were back for an encore.

Merlin - just a year or so back, you never walked Hogsmeade alone for fear of attack from students of rival Houses. Now Severus had to worry about his fellow Slytherins into the bargain.

Now Crabbe's fingernails were driving into his arms and nearly piercing the flesh. Severus was calm about it. He had felt worse injuries while training. Goyle grabbed a lock of his hair and jerked his head up to face two more people: Lucius Malfoy and Andirons Nott.

"He doesn't look like much. What's your name?" Nott spat.

Severus kept silent. Either a truth or a lie, in this case, might be fatal.

"I've asked you a question - that's an order!" Nott cried, folding his arms over his chest. That attempt at bellowing from the tiny person nearly made Severus smirk, and didn't inspire much fear. "What's your name?"

A refusal to answer opened up Nott's hole for more verbal abuse. "Well, he came in with the Slytherins, but sure doesn't look like one. Look at that greasy hair. When d'you suppose he last washed it?" He gave Severus a kick in the shins. "Your name. Now!"

"If you do not reply," Malfoy said softly, "it will hurt. I assure you."

It did hurt. Goyle administered a swift beating. Severus tried to keep his head and chin up defiantly the entire time.

"Look here," Nott said impatiently, "Malfoy here knows Crutiacus, and that's no lie. If you don't reply with your name now, he'll have you on the ground screaming it, after we put up Silencing Charms about us. And that's just one of many questions we're going to ask."

Severus considered this. It made sense to say his name now, but then, the last thing he wanted was for them to think they had power over him. "It's not safe to give out information like that. You never know whom is for whom."

"Well label me 'shocked' and owl me to Antarctica!" Nott exclaimed. "He talks! I was beginning to think he was a dumb mute. He does seem to be a bit soft in the head, don't you think?"

I'm more intelligent than you could ever hope to be, Nott, Severus snarled mentally. As for the Antarctica deal, I'd be more than happy to.

"We're for the most powerful wizard ever to exist," Malfoy said quietly. "He is our master."

"How do I know you're not lying?" Severus countered.

"Would we use Crutiacus Curses if we were for the Ministry?" To illustrate, he murmured something and pointed his wand at Severus.

The curse was lifted in a split second, so swiftly Severus barely registered it, but even for that short a time, Severus knew it was not a little cut or bruise to shrug off. That curse was probably the most powerful and painful thing he would ever feel. Had Crabbe and Goyle not held him, he would have been knocked backward.

He gasped for breath as discreetly as possible. "No, I doubt you would."

"What is your name?" Malfoy asked again in a drawling monotone.

"Severus Snape. I am a fifth year Slytherin."

"Snape, why, I've heard of you." Malfoy's cool fingers lifted his chin up for a moment. "The little genius scholar. A bit of a force with potions. And your curses and dueling are reportedly above average."

Severus secretly thought his ability made him more than "a bit of a force" and "above average", but Malfoy's support slipped away abruptly and his chin fell to his chest. Every muscle was still stinging from the curse.

"What do you say about that, Snape?" Nott asked.

"I have certain talents." He was never one to be overly-modest, but it might be required for this delicate situation.

"You could be a valuable asset to just about anyone," Malfoy said, apparently casual.

"Your classmates say you plan to serve our lord," Nott said.

Knowing that Nott expected him to respond, Severus said nothing. The snow was seeping into his legs and making them numb from cold.

"Yet we must admit concern," Malfoy continued. "You have never come to any sort of meeting, or shown active interest in supporting us."

"As you said, I have an aptitude that is a bit… above average. My teachers watch me very carefully."

"And so you want to avoid suspicion?" Nott said. It was half a question and half a mock.

"It would not do to incur it," Severus said neutrally. There was a short pause.

"So you want to serve us," Nott summarised with a nasty sneer. "Tell us this, Snape - do you honestly and truthfully place your entire life and self into service to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, our master, the greatest wizard of the world?"

"Yes."

"Look up at us and say it!"

Meeting their eyes and saying it truthfully might be more difficult. Both Nott, Malfoy, and Severus knew this. . He looked up into Nott's eyes. They were fanatical and crazed… Andirons Nott had taken this oath seriously and honestly. Nott had thrown his whole being into the Dark Lord's charisma and power. "Yes."

Severus chanced a look at Malfoy before they shoved his head downward to face the ground again. Malfoy's eyes were cool, calculating, and intelligent, Severus reflected. Very much like himself, Malfoy was playing the game. He had no blind adoration for his current "master". Everyone knew Malfoy hated Muggles and liked power. The Dark Lord was the perfect match for him, but if Malfoy ever found another who was even more perfect, he would use it to his advantage. Malfoy was in it for himself. Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy were a lot alike. Actually, it was vaguely encouraging. Malfoy was second-in-command, to Severus's deductions. If someone as unorthodoxly a Death Eater as Malfoy could rise to that height - alive - well, then. Again, they were that similar.

In more so than just intent, too. Malfoy was no doubt intelligent. In fact, Severus felt he might have met someone with just as much smarts as himself. This had happened rarely before. His undoubted assurance in adults' invincibility had long since been shattered. Dumbledore… yes. Perhaps. The old wizard was eccentric and softhearted, but not stupid. He was cleverer than Severus, and in turn, Severus resented that.

His father… quite possibly. He was ruthless and had good intuition. Did that make someone intelligent? Liqumbaug certainly kept his domain in good order, and little missed him. He was no fool. Who else? A mental image of Lupin's kind but shrewd eyes flashed into Severus's mind. What had quiet Lupin experienced to give him the same edge as himself? Whatever it was, he had to reluctantly add that name to the list.

And now Malfoy. It was a small handful of people who matched Severus's mind, and only one who exceeded it, but they never failed to make him feel unnerved. What did Malfoy want so badly that he had devoted a life to politics and power? Merlin, that must make for a tiring life.

Goyle shoved his neck down so he was staring at the slush again. Blood from some of the harder blows had dribbled onto the ground.

"You know, Snape, like yourself, we have no way of knowing if you're lying. And your actions have yet to convince us," Nott said with barely concealed anticipation.

"Have they convinced you anything otherwise?" Severus asked reasonably.

Nott ignored the question. "Perhaps we ought to see if you continue to say the same without having to think it over. Crabbe?"

Crabbe delivered a punch straight into Severus's temple. Without having time to suppress the reflex, he gasped. It had been too sudden. He was going to have to be more careful, more focused. Malfoy was repeating the question of loyalty. Severus answered yes. Goyle took his hand and shoved his fingernail under the skin of Severus's. The question was repeated before Severus had time to ungrit his teeth. The answer was repeated as well.

Harsher, more numerous kicks and blows. The same question, the same answer. The beatings were done again, the four young men taking a warped pleasure off of his pain. Malfoy tried to trip him up now by re-wording the question in the exact same tone as before: "Do you refuse to serve our lord?"

"No. Never." That didn't sound quite right. "I would never think of doing so."

The routine went on a few more cycles, and then Malfoy and Nott set up strong Silencing Charms in a circle. Only they could hear each other, and the street was devoid of people. Then Malfoy applied the Crutiacus Curse and kept it on him longer.

Severus willed himself not to yell. He would never lower his pride like that, or give them that satisfaction. But as one second turned into three, it was no use. Involuntarily, his teeth unclenched, and he cried out against his will. The curse was removed.

"Do you serve our lord?"

It was impossible to please them. If he replied "yes", they weren't convinced and the torture went on. If he replied "no" - well, then he had just signed his own death warrant. He hadn't even written a will, he reflected inconsequentially, and then almost laughed at the thought.

"Yes." He could barely force out the one syllable.

Goyle wore sharp metal rings. Severus was introduced to them several times, still saying "yes". And "yes". And "yes". It was practically shorthand for one of Frank's favourite one-lines: "Thank you, Sir, may I please have another?" But just when he began to wonder if they intended to kill him, Malfoy lazily ordered them to stop. Severus willed himself not to sigh in relief.

"That'll do for today. Snape has some chances to think about where his loyalties lie… and has learned what a true follower faces. They do not hide in dungeons away from the world. Snape, it's still difficult to believe you."

"I hope, Lucius, that one day I shall prove to you that I am trustworthy. Until then I take your… interrogations… without complaint, all for dedication to my master, and yours," Severus murmured. Not a bad speech, he reflected, although he hadn't been able to help the sarcasm placed on "interrogations".

"I, too, hope the same, Snape. You could be very useful. Until then, we must watch you warily. As you yourself said - if you are truly loyal, this should mean nothing to you but a chance to prove your dedication."

Severus heard the distrust in Malfoy's voice. He knew very well that Severus was doing the same as him - lying. But Nott seemed convinced. It was hard to tell what the lugs thought. If they even did. Their body mass seemed to have taken away from their brains. But Severus knew that everyone's attitude was that the spotlight was on them, honey darlin', and if you thought someone didn't have emotions, you were walking into the jaws of the lion and digging your own grave and a bunch of other cheerful metaphors. It would bite you in the end. Most likely before the end.

"Release him," Malfoy told Crabbe and Goyle. They dropped him unceremonially. As Severus had been using their support to stay upright, the sudden loss of them made him fall on all fours, face in the snow. He swallowed what little was left of his daily allowance of pride and stayed that way. Showing weakness would make them underestimate him - and it was always handy to have to fool people who underestimated you. There was laughter from above him - softly amused on Malfoy's part, cruelly gleeful on the others - and they walked off.

They were gone. Oh, thank Merlin, they were gone. He had thought he was prepared, and had been too close to wrong for comfort.

It'll be easier now. I know what I'm up against. I won't have to waste thought on what they're going to do, only how to handle it. Why, then, if he had gotten so much experience, did he feel oddly like crying? Not from pain, just from the damned hopelessness and stupidity and loneliness of it all! I won't make the same mistakes. Once bitten, twice shy, after all. It's just a… a chess game. Clichéd analogy, but there you are.

And everyone knew that Severus Snape was a master at chess.

He pushed himself up, thankful for all the combat training he had put in. He was damp and bloody, a most conspicuous combination for the rest of the school. Now was the time a person wished they had watched Madam Pomfrey more carefully whenever they had to go to the hospital wing. Still on his knees, he groped for the wand Nott had dropped and used some cleaning and drying charms.

His robes would hide most small cuts and injuries, or he could act if they weren't there and no one would know. But fingering his face, he found more blood and bruises than anywhere else. Wearily, he cleaned them and wondered how to explain them away. Remus Lupin occasionally came to school with similar marks. What did he always say? There were the infamous quips: "I got into a fight with a rosebush and lost" and "Don't you recognise the signs of having used Floo powder?", but often it was simply "Let's just say that you should never offend an owl and leave it at that, shall we?"

It was a transparent lie, but the Slytherins would appreciate hearing him taunt Lupin's tired old excuse and the assurance that Severus was still plotting how to get him for his horrendous crimes against Cletus, and, most importantly, they'd be too distracted, starting to make half-baked jokes of their own, that they wouldn't think any more of it. No more questions, not even any more need for lies.

Satisfied with this plan, Severus stood and bit his lip. His leg had fallen asleep. A few more tentative steps later, he nearly laughed out loud.

After all the efforts of Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Malfoy, the thing that make his walk most uneven and awkward was not their wounds but a sharp tingling that most people found funny. Severus felt a lot better.