I don't own any of the cannon characters. Anything that isn't canon, is probably mine.

Thanks for beta-ing this one Ashley!

-Chapter Nine:

Six O'clock came around and after sleeping off the day's second dose of Plasti-juice Snape headed over to check on Lupin. Passing the door to his classroom he took the hidden right and finding the wall panel that marked Lupin's new quarters he activated the chime that announced visitors.

'I can't believe the Headmaster insisted on a door chime.' Snape rolled his eyes in disgust.

Lupin groggily answered the unfamiliar chime and prying his eyes open a little more identified the disturber of his slumber.

"What do you want at this hour?" Lupin asked gruffly.

With a slight twitch of his lips that was not quite a smile Snape informed him that it was six-thirty.

The unrelenting call of the waxing moon combined with the early hour to rob him of speech. Lupin stared dumbly at him for a moment before blinking and turning to consult his wall clock. It was in fact six-thirty.

"You did not have time last night to get your material ready for today. As you usually do a good deal of class prep I thought you might like to start the day earlier than you normally do." Snape calmly explained.

This courtesy earned him a shocked stare from the now wide-awake DADA instructor. Snape's robe billowed as he turned and left Lupin to wonder about his motives.

He entered his own classroom and, sitting behind his desk, continued to write terse diatribes on each scroll that had been turned in late. First-Years learned quickly that deadlines were strictly observed in potions. Snape paused to listen as Lupin hurriedly made his way up the main stair.

'Must have forgotten that there aren't any nice sunrises to wake him up down here,' he almost grinned at the thought.

'Werewolves are too influenced by their surroundings. It was a bad idea to put him down here. And then to add Black?! But there is no point in second guessing him,' Snape sighed and went back to work.

*You learned that one the hard way, * he reminded himself.

The rest of the day continued in a slow parade of thoughtless children who insisted on acting as though it were his fault they didn't measure properly or stir in the right direction.

As usual he skipped lunch and instead locking his door slept in his office. He was suddenly woken from his drug-induced sleep by a searing pain in his left arm. As the pain cleared the fog from his brain Snape recognized the summons from the Dark Lord.

'Damn, he has to pick now to call me?' he thought still feeling the Plasti-juice strong in his system.

With no classes until late afternoon he decided that it would be better to answer than not.

'He probably knows my work schedule anyway,' he reasoned.

Heading down the corridor toward his living quarters Snape stumbled slightly and put a steadying hand on the wall. Finally in his sitting room he paused to unclench his aching fist. The mark felt like a hot coal on his skin.

Flexing the muscles of his arm helped some, if he kept it up. The sheer intensity of the pain however made it hard to focus on keeping his fist moving. Gathering his Death Eater mask and a silk cloak he prepared his mind as best he could for the coming trial.

'He knows I was tested,' Snape thought, 'He'll want to know the results. I can't tell the Dark Lord that the tests were inconclusive. But I also can't tell him about Starch.'

Silently he passed by the door to the Great Hall. The meal was not quite over and a few late owls were still arriving. As he moved past the open double doors he caught a brief glimpse of children eating, talking, and acting somewhat rowdier than they would have if the Headmaster had been present. He also saw a few owls circling in the air above them.

One particular grey owl also noticed him. It shot through into the main hall and caught up with him as he reached the outside doors. Darting forward it landed on the Potion Master's outstretched arm as he reached for the door handle.

A rather startled Snape took the letter from the courier owl's beak and, opening the door watched as it flew off into the lead colored sky.

'Its going to rain,' he noticed, ' it'll be my luck that the meeting is held outside.'

'Maybe I'll be able to get pneumonia,' he thought with a mild note of sarcasm, 'if I don't treat it, theoretically I could die of it.'

Still clutching the unexpected letter he passed through the gates and entered the "free zone". Preparing to apperate he stuffed the letter into his robe, threw on the cloak and drawing his wand disapperated as the air was rent by a deafening crash of thunder.

-Chapter: 10

The dark sky and poor lighting combined to make it very difficult indeed to see exactly what was going on. Basically this was the desired effect. There were very few people who were twisted enough to want to see what was going on around them at a 'Dark Revel'.

'But then healthily minded people don't attend them.' He reminded himself.

'Or, if they do,' he amended as a feeble cry broke a momentary lull, 'they're the floor show.'

Before joining the others he slipped on the Dark Mask. He now looked like everyone else in attendance. Black being the dominant color, and every face hidden by the smoky colored, shifting pattern of the masks. It was easy to feel anonymous, too easy.

He knew that many eyes were drawn to him because of his cape. Having a dampening effect on magic made silk an unusual choice. It not only gave away his identity it advertised that he was very powerful.

"Still the only one with such bad taste that he comes late to hide it." Lucious Malfoy's voice was unmistakable as he laughed with the few others who dared.

"Have a care Lucious," Snape murmured just loud enough to be heard by the attentive ears of those who were following the exchange.

Then with an air of bored indifference he added, "One could get the impression that you felt that I tolerated insolence."

This veiled threat drained the color from Malfoy's face and started several people whispering. Snape turned and began mingling with the few of high enough rank to warrant his notice.

Because of his unusually strong 'core magic' he had been promoted swiftly through the ranks and was, at the time of his fall, a member of the inner circle.

Known as The Fates, they were an elite group. Only the most powerful of The Master's most loyal followers were even considered for the honor. It was generally assumed that none of The Fates had fallen from favor since his return.

A black shrouded figure nervously skittered up to Snape.

"Sir," he nodded to the Master's new 'right hand'.

"Master would speak with you, now." the 'Voice of Darkness' rasped.

'How can such a shallow person have so many titles in an organization so riddled with back stabbers and traitors?' Snape thought, not for the first time, as he made his way through the throng.

Keeping the required number of steps behind his superior, he followed Wormtail to a private chamber. The door swung open at a touch from the silver hand and Snape found himself mask to face with Voldemort.

"My Lord," he murmured and knelt at the feet of the most feared man in the world.

All he could think about though was how he would tell said man that his favorite pet was dying, and the amount of time left until his appointment with Starch.

'I need to tell him. If he brings it up I'll be on the defensive trying to explain why I was hiding it. But then I don't have enough information to make a satisfactory report'

*At least the meeting is indoors, * that nasty little inner voice laughed.

Feeling a hand rest momentarily on his head Snape waited for the command to rise.

"Leave us Wormtail."

"Yes my Master."

The door opened and shut. They were alone.

'Probably not a good thing.' the kneeling figure thought.

"Rise Severus, and remove your mask. You have many things to tell me of." It was not a question.

Pushing back his hood and taking off the mask slowly, Snape tried to buy time to think.

"You have been observed," the Dark Lord spoke suddenly.

"Master?" was all he could think to say.

The conversation was not starting well.

"There was a small party of Aurors watching as you left the gates of the school." Voldemort wheezed.

Voldemort's reconstructed body had blended a little too freely with the snake. He not only hissed and wheezed when speaking, he also had a tendency to flick his tongue when being lied to. It didn't happen often.

"I was not followed."

The certainty with which the words were spoken was largely owed to long years of acting sure, even when in doubt. It never paid to show doubt to a Death Eater. Or fear.

"No, you were not," Voldemort was still standing very close. His rubicund eyes slowly passed over every centimeter of Snape's body. His attention taking in even the slight crackle of Snape's breath.

"I have been able to determine the reason why they were waiting for you," he paused to watch the effect of his words. Seeing that Snape had no idea what to make of this he continued. "You were tested at Saint Mungo's…"

Snape's eyes opened slightly wider at this confirmation of his earlier fear. "I have inconclusively tested positive for Potion Master's Rue."

At the raising of an eye-ridge (Voldemort no longer had eyebrows) Snape explained as best he could. "The Headmaster," Voldemort's eyes slitted at the use of the title but he did not interrupt, "arranged for me to see a medi-wizard he knows. I think that the Ministry was alerted when he applied for permission to perform a second round of tests." Gathering his nerve Snape finished, "I have no idea why they took an interest in it, or me, though."

"What did this 'second round of tests' involve? Ex-sss-actly."

"It was just a rather extensive round of blood work, Master."

The gleam of triumph in the ruby eyes was eloquent. Snape was beginning to feel that something very wrong had already happened.