"Sir!"
Dr. Snape looked up sharply as the young orderly came rushing into the emergency room.
"What is it, Hobson?"
"We've got a man here, Anglo, mid to late thirties, apparently caught in some kind of magical explosion. He's unconscious--burns, no sign of broken bones--"
"All right, get him in here," Septimus ordered. "Now!"
No sooner were the words out his mouth than Dr. Carstairs and another orderly rushed in, pushing a stretcher ahead of them. A dark-haired man, his face obscured by dark hair and burned skin, lay sprawled on it.
"How bad?" Septimus demanded.
"Can't say right now, that was one hell of a hex. He's lucky he's still breathing," Carstairs replied, pushing his pince-nez up the bridge of his nose.
Dr. Snape turned to the second orderly. "Get the Burn Salve, and the Hex-Effects Potion. Be quick."
The orderly ran to fetch the supplies. Dr. Snape leaned forward, moving a shock of the unconscious man's hair out of his eyes, trying to better assess the damage.
No, it can't be! Burns or no burns, he would have recognized that face anywhere.
Severus...
"Snape, what are you doing?" Carstairs demanded as the orderly placed the supplies next to him. The other doctor had already taken a swab of cotton and dipped it into the salve, running it over Severus' skin.
Good God, boy, what happened to you?
Septimus shook himself, and rolled up his sleeves, picking up another swab. Gritting his teeth, he set to work.
He couldn't afford to let emotion get in the way now.
**************************************
Mariela surveyed the damage as she strode over to the site. There were broken headstones, and even the iron of the gates was scorched. Several officers, most of them Magical Forensic experts (or 'hexperts', as they were referred to by other Ministry workers) were gathered around, poking through the debris.
"Officer Chavez?"
She turned to face Alexander Bertram, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "Sir," she replied. "I responded to the call as soon as I could. Fletcher was making trouble down at the Ministry headquarters again."
Bertram nodded in his usual curt, businesslike way. "Not much to see, unfortunately. The hexperts are gathering the debris to figure out what the hell happened here."
"I heard someone was hurt," Mariela said, stepping through the remains of the gates as she followed her superior.
"Yeah--a wizard. He hasn't been identified yet, but the mediwizards took him to St. Mungo's. Maybe he'll be able to tell us what happened."
"Let's hope so," Mariela replied.
"In the meantime," Bertram continued, "I want you to interview the locals. Find out if anyone saw anything. We've got a whole crowd of gawkers," he jerked a thumb with obvious scorn in the direction of several wizards and witches avidly watching the action, "And my guess is maybe three of them actually saw anything. Find out what you can from the useful ones and get rid of the rest."
"Yes, sir," Mariela responded, and jogged off toward the onlookers.
It took roughly twenty minutes to determine that Bertram had been wrong. None of the onlookers had seen anything.
"Well, it's hard to recall," one elderly witch remarked, "I mean, you're sitting down to your tea and you just don't expect to hear an explosion. Why, it reminds me of when I was a girl during the London blitz-"
Mariela restrained herself from gnawing off her own wrist as she listened to the witch's story. No matter how useless a piece of information might seem at the time, it could always prove to be important later. She simply jotted down notes and continued to ask questions.
With any luck, she'd find something useful.
******************************
Remus Lupin almost tripped over Sirius, as he stopped dead in the middle of the road.
"What's wrong, boy?" Remus asked, righting himself and the grocery
bag. This would happen while I'm carrying groceries, he thought in mild disgust.
Snuffles sniffed the air, and barked.
Remus sighed. "This isn't that Muggle show with the collie, Snuffles. You'll have to be clearer than that."
Snuffles ran ahead, and Remus had no choice but to follow.
Then he realized what Snuffles had been sniffing. There was smoke in the air, wafting from the direction of the cemetery.
"Not your general ghostly activity," he remarked aloud, and continued walking in the direction of the cemetery.
When he arrived, the first thing he saw was a petite, harried-looking witch interviewing a wizard. Judging by her uniform and severe hairstyle, she was probably an officer of some kind. He noted that a group of others were gathering evidence from the debris.
Even from where he stood, Remus could see the extent of the damage. Part of the low wall had been blasted apart, and through the now-thin haze of smoke, he saw the cracked remains of headstones, and scorch marks on nearly everything else.
Looks almost as though a dragon had been here, he thought.
"Excuse me, Officer," he said, as the wizard left the woman's side. "What happened here?"
"So far, we believe it's an explosion as a result of some kind of magical hex," the witch replied. "We're still trying to locate the perpetrator and determine exactly what spell was used. One wizard was hurt. Did you see anything?"
Remus shook his head. "I'm sorry, but no, I didn't. Is he all right?"
The witch's eyes narrowed. "You're not a reporter, are you?"
"No," Remus replied.
"Good. You wouldn't believe the trouble they caused--hey!"
"Snuffles!" Remus exclaimed, as the Animagus sniffed at the witch's satchel. To his surprise, the witch was laughing.
"Friendly little perro," she said, bending down to pet him. Snuffles licked her hands and face.
"Yes, he is," Remus said, smiling a bit himself. "Sometimes a little too much so." Sirius always had liked playing up to the pretty women.
"What's his name?" the witch asked.
"Snuffles," Remus responded.
The witch smiled. "Hola, Snuffles. I'm Mariela." She straightened up, and pulled a small piece of paper out of her pocket. "If you remember anything, or talk to anyone who does, tell them to contact me. All the information's on the card."
"Thank you, Officer--" he looked at the name on the card "--Chavez."
Chavez nodded. "Don't mention it." She glanced over at a new crowd of people. "Time to get rid of more gawkers. This is worse than a Muggle traffic accident," she muttered, and walked off to deal with them.
Remus was about to walk off himself, when he passed two other officers, talking in earnest a few feet away.
"We've got an ID on the wizard injured in the blast. His name's Snape--Severus Snape. He's a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the younger of the two officers said.
The other--probably his superior--nodded. Snuffles bounded over to Lupin, but stopped short at the young officer's words.
"Good. How badly off is he?"
"Still unconscious. The doctors are trying to stabilize him. He's lucky he didn't die outright."
Lucky? Not quite the word I would use, Lupin thought, glancing back at the ravaged cemetery.
"I don't like this," the superior remarked slowly.
"Sir?"
"There's a lot of rage in this attack," the older wizard replied. "Rage, and cold calculation. It's a bad combination. I don't like it."
The two officers walked back in the direction of the cemetery.
"Neither do I," Remus said, almost to himself. "Neither do I."
He glanced down at Sirius. "Come on, Snuffles. "We're heading up to Hogwarts right away."
***********************************
Dr. Snape leaned against the wall just outside of the emergency room. Other mediwizards and nurses bustled about the corridor, all lost in Septimus Snape's mind in a blur of color and sound.
Severus. It was Severus.
The man on the stretcher--my son. He could have died.
Septimus had washed his hands thoroughly, but he could still feel the cold salve, even through the gloves he had worn in the emergency room. He could still hear Severus rasping, struggling to breathe. It had been the only clue he was still even alive.
It had taken hours, but he, Dr. Carstairs, and the two orderlies had finally managed to stabilize him. Severus had been taken out of intensive care. He would live.
I've been afraid before, Dr. Snape thought. But even when I learned of Severus' betrayal--even when I thought he might kill me to silence me, I still wasn't afraid then as I am now.
Someone had attacked Severus, that much was obvious. And Septimus, no matter how angry he was with his son, did not like that idea one bit.
What am I going to do?
He could try talking to Severus--but no. That was out of the question. He couldn't even begin to imagine what he would say.
Hello, son. I know I haven't spoken to you in fifteen years and we didn't get along well even before that and you might be a Dark Wizard, but why did someone try to hex you into next week?
Even if they did speak, Septimus mused, it would more than likely turn into an argument. That had always been the way.
He closed his eyes, letting his face sink into his hands.
Livia, where are you when I need you? You always seemed to know what to do.
Without really even being aware of it, Septimus walked down the hall, joining the stream of colors and noise. He let his feet go, as they him further down the corridor, and to the left.
He thought he heard a woman calling to him--perhaps it was Dinah Brinton again. He paid it little attention as he continued on his way.
At last he stopped in front of a door--Severus' door. He hesitated, but pushed the door open as silently as possible.
The room was dark, but the thin beam of light cut a clear path inside. Septimus watched as his son slept fitfully, as though whatever had attacked him was still very fresh in his mind.
Many years ago, when Severus was still a child, Septimus had usually worked late. He had always stopped by his son's room before going to bed himself. Watching the young boy sleep....the young boy who would become as much a stranger to him as the man now lying in the hospital bed.
I'm sorry, Severus. I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you betray everything I'd ever tried to teach you. I don't understand why you did it. But I have kept my silence, for better or for worse. I just wish I knew which one it was.
Severus stirred, and Dr. Snape closed the door quickly.
**************************
Fire......
He's laughing....even over the roar of the flames, I can hear his laughter.
Master....my Lord, is that you?
No....someone else. Some faceless entity I know nothing of.
No! Get away from me! Go!
Dark haze...voices...male voices...
A very familiar voice....I've heard it before...he's shouting orders...
"We're losing him...come on now, boy!"
The dark haze sweeps over me again....where am I?
Father?
Severus blinked, trying to bring his surroundings into focus. A bedroom of some kind--no, not quite. There was a woman in a nurse's uniform bending over his bed, checking his pulse. Sunlight streamed through the small window on his left.
"Where am I?" he croaked.
"St. Mungo's," the nurse replied calmly. "You've been here since about seven o'clock last night. I'm Nurse Hartford, by the way."
"How did I get here?"
"The Magical Law Officers found you when they were called in to investigate the explosion at the graveyard," the nurse replied in the same calm tone as before. "They had you brought here. Oh, that reminds me--they'll want a statement from you later on."
In a flash, the events replayed in Snape's mind. The graveyard, the spell, the fire....and the laughter.
I will find out who you are, Severus thought, as he set his teeth. Believe me, I will find out.
Severus was careful, as a general rule. He couldn't afford not to be. But one man--if indeed it was just one man--had caught him off his guard. He would not let that happen again. There were many who wanted him dead--but who wanted him dead badly enough to try something so bold?
His thoughts were interrupted as the young nurse continued. "Professor Dumbledore was here late last night. He brought you those." She pointed to a set of neatly folded robes and a dressing gown on the small table on the other side of the room. "He'll send someone to get you later on today."
"I see," Snape replied.
"You were lucky. If they hadn't found you when they did and put out that fire, you'd still be in intensive care," the nurse continued. "If not dead. That's what the doctors attending you said, anyway. Dr. Carstairs and Dr. Snape."
Severus sat bolt upright. "Who?
"Dr. Carstairs and Dr. Snape," Nurse Hartford repeated.
The voice, Snape thought. He had thought he heard his father's voice...perhaps it had not been a dream after all.
Oh, no. No.
"You two are related, aren't you?" the nurse asked pleasantly, rearranging the sheets.
Something in Severus snapped. "Leave," he snarled. "Get out of here now."
The nurse looked taken aback. "I'll do just that in a moment, sir," she replied. "But one of the doctors will check in on you later."
"And then I can leave?"
"Yes, sir," Nurse Hartford replied, rising from the chair by Snape's bed. She walked out of the room, shutting the door gently behind her.
Snape threw the covers aside, and stood up.
It wasn't as good an idea as he had previously thought. Dots of many different colors danced before his eyes, and he quickly sank down on the edge of the bed.
After a few moments, he managed to stumble over to the table and pull on the dressing gown over his detestable hospital gown. Bright yellow never was a good color on me, he thought, collapsing on a chair near the window. I look like a blasted Hufflepuff Quidditch fan!
At least it isn't Gryffindor red.
All he had to do was avoid his father if he saw him. That was all there was to it. Maybe his father would even try to avoid him. That would work out best for both of them. Even if he was on speaking terms with his father, this was hardly an ideal time for a heart-to-heart. Not that Severus had ever participated in one of those.
In truth, he reflected, it was probably best to keep himself from getting close to anyone. He had Dumbledore as a friend. That was all he needed. If someone was trying to kill him, distance was probably the wisest option. He had no doubts about his own ability to protect himself--but he could not, would not, answer for the safety of anyone else.
So safety is measured by distance from me, is it? Severus chuckled sardonically.
If that was the case, his father was the safest wizard in England.
*********************************
"Septimus?"
As clear as day, he could hear the woman's richly accented voice. The sound was still sweet and familiar to him. He would have recognized it anywhere.
But there was no one else visible on this bleak, grey landscape. It was, upon closer inspection, actually the grounds of his manor--but how desolate it looked.
"Livia! Livia!" he called into the pearl-white sky. Where was she? Why couldn't he see her?
"Septimus!" Now she was screaming.
"I'm coming!" He had no idea where she was, but he would find her. He would always find her. The scream came again, this time from just beyond the garden wall.
He took off in a run, and scaled the wall. It seemed to grow taller and more slippery the harder he tried to climb it. "Livia! Livia, I'm coming!" he shouted, not knowing whether she could even hear him or not.
The cold grey stone cut into his hands, but he paid it no attention. Gritting his teeth, he finally reached the top of the wall--and promptly tumbled down to the other side.
He looked up sharply. He was no longer outside, but in the drawing room of the manor. It was lit now only by a roaring fire, and the windows outside showed a dark night sky.
"Shh!"
"Who's there?" Septimus demanded, looking around. "Livia?"
At last he saw her. She stood up from her chair facing the fireplace, and turned to him, the shimmering material of her pale gown reflecting the fire.
She looked exactly as he remembered, with her dark Slavic complexion, her waist-length, straight black hair....her black eyes...
Like Severus' black eyes...
"You'll wake him," Livia informed him. "Hush!"
"Who?"
Livia simply pointed to the hearth rug. Septimus did a double take. Severus was lying face down on the shaggy material. At first, Septimus thought he was simply asleep.
No--something was terribly wrong...
A dark stain, black in the firelight, was now spreading from the area around his throat. Septimus rushed past his wife, and turned his son's motionless form over. A horrible, ragged gash ran across his throat. Septimus looked down, and saw that his hands and sleeves were now stained with his son's blood.
"No!" Desperately, Septimus shook Severus' shoulders. "Please, son! Please, wake up!"
"You killed him!" Livia screamed, turning on him. "You murdered our son!"
"No! Livia, no!" Septimus cried. "Please believe me!"
"Murderer!" In his wife's eyes, the beautiful onyx eyes he had adored, he saw only hatred. Her hatred cut deeper than any knife ever could.
"No! No, Livia! Please!"
And then the fire from the hearth raged, surrounding Severus, surrounding Septimus himself. Livia's screaming accusations could still be heard. Septimus simply held Severus' lifeless form closer, as the flames licked the hem of his robes---
Dr. Snape flew through the corridor. At least, that was what it felt like--he didn't even think his feet were touching the ground. He needed coffee. A shower. Anything to make himself forget...
Why did I have to go and doze off in the break room? He'd thought he'd gotten enough sleep the night before. He had left the hospital at about eleven, and had gone to bed at midnight. It had been a restless night, and when he finally had managed to fall asleep, he had done nothing but dream incoherent, disturbing nightmares that left him in a cold sweat. He thought he'd left them behind.
Apparently, they hadn't left him.
He had to see Severus. He was probably still asleep. Septimus could go and see his son, just to make sure. Perhaps that would do something about his pounding heart, now lodged firmly in his throat.
And then he could be on his way.
Septimus stopped in front of the door. Yes, this was Severus' room. Was it only last night that he had been here?
His hand hesitated briefly on the doorknob. Drawing in a deep breath, he pushed it open. The first thing Dr. Snape saw was that Severus' bed was now empty. The second thing he noticed was the tall, lanky man that stood in front of the window, clad in a dark grey dressing gown. Before Septimus had a chance to close the door, the man had turned around.
At that moment, Septimus Snape's heart leapt clear out of his throat and somewhere into the stratosphere.
*********************************
Severus turned warily toward the open door. "Who is it? If it's you again, Nurse, I--"
He stopped short.
It wasn't the nurse at all, but a man--a doctor, as indicated by his uniform, and the blue band tied about his forehead as a mark of his position. The man was tall and lanky, like him. He had the same large hooked nose and angular features, though his were lined with age. His long black hair was shot through with strands of silver-grey, and his eyes were a deep shade of slate blue.
Father.
A thousand emotions swept through Severus at once, each fighting for their turn. His black eyes narrowed, as hot anger rose in his throat and won the battle. Anger--the winner and reigning champion.
"Well."
It was a tone he used with particularly troublesome students, or people he truly did not care for. Like Sirius Black, or Remus Lupin.
"To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" Severus demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. "The last I heard, I was no longer your son, and you no longer my father."
His father raised his eyes to meet Severus' own. "I--wanted to see if you were all right," he replied quietly.
"Oh, yes," Severus sneered. "Yes, I am, as you put it, all right. Don't think I owe you anything, Doctor. I know that you helped to save me--but it was part of your job. You couldn't let me die."
"You're right," Septimus replied evenly, his expression unreadable. "I couldn't."
"No, that wouldn't have helped your respectable image, would it?" Severus snapped.
Septimus lowered his eyes, his back to the doorjamb. Severus had managed a blow to his father's armor, and he continued his battle march.
"Why are you here?" Severus demanded. "You've shown no interest in me for fifteen years. You have no right to be here now."
"Oh, yes I do," Septimus said at last as he looked up, his eyes flashing. "As a parent--perhaps not, since I did relinquish that, as you say. But as a doctor, I do have the right."
"No. No, you don't," Severus replied, his fiery anger giving way to cold fury. "Doctor or not, you disowned me. You don't want to see me, and I have no earthly desire to see you. I am a disgrace to the family, you said so yourself. Don't you remember? Back in the days when I still called you 'Father'?"
"Severus--"
"Stop." Severus held up one hand. "Just get out. You are the last person that I want to see right now. Get out!"
Septimus looked as though he wanted to argue--but then he simply lowered his head, and pulled the door shut behind him without a word.
Severus sank into the nearby chair, pressing his fingers to his temples. I don't need this, he thought. I don't need this, not now...I hate you, Father! Why are you doing this to me? Why do you pretend you care? I know you don't. You can't possibly. You feared me that night, when I told you what I really was. You thought I would kill you to protect my secret.
I didn't. I could have--I'd seen it done often enough. But I had no desire to. And you did not turn me in to the authorities, as you certainly could have. Probably to protect your precious family honor. I can't allow myself to think it was because you loved me. How could you have loved me, Father, and still disowned me?
Distantly, he recalled the question he had asked himself on the night of the McKinnons' murder.
When would things start making sense again?
***************************
"All traces of magic had been wiped from the scene," Bertram read from the report on his desk, running his hands through his thinning white hair. "The perpetrator literally vanished without a trace. In a puff of smoke, you might say."
Mariela blinked. "That's impossible. Spells like that don't exist!" She glanced around the Magical Law Enforcement chief's office, her eyes lingering on the window just above his head.
"I'm aware of that, Chavez," he pointed out dryly. "My guess is that more than one person was involved in this. My theory is that someone did the dirty work, and someone else cleaned up the mess before we got there."
"In that amount of time? He or she wouldn't have had more than ten or fifteen minutes, and cleanup spells take longer than that to--"
"Not necessarily," Bertram interrupted. "That would depend entirely on the witch or wizard. If it's an expert we're dealing with--and I think it is--they could do it in that amount of time, and still get away without being noticed."
Mariela frowned. "How--oh. The crowd."
"Exactly. Who would notice an extra person in that mob?" Bertram asked.
"In any case," he sighed, a dropped the paper onto the clutter of his desk, "I've just received an order to call off the investigation."
"What?!" Mariela cried. "From who?"
"Someone very high up," Bertram replied dourly. "Those doltish bureaucrats won't breathe a word. But Cornelius Fudge himself visited me this morning and told me on no uncertain terms what my instructions were."
"That's ridiculous! Why would he do something like that?" Mariela dug her fingernails into the back of the chair placed in front of Bertram's desk.
Bertram threw her a pitying glance. "I keep forgetting you're new around here," he said. "This is how our wonderful English Ministry works, my dear lady. My guess would be that someone very highly placed is involved. That, or someone very highly placed instructed Fudge to get the investigation called off."
"That's ridiculous!" Mariela said again.
"Of course it is. It's politics," Bertram replied scathingly. "I'm just telling you because I know you were heading out today to talk to the victim."
"I'm still going to," Mariela replied stubbornly.
"You can't," the older officer informed her. "No more investigation, remember? Get a handle on that Spaniard's temper of yours, Chavez. I don't like it any more than you do, but orders are orders. The attack on Severus Snape is none of your concern."
Oh, yes it is, Mariela thought, though she had to clench her teeth to keep from saying so. Ever since she had learned that he was the victim of the attack, she'd been determined to speak with him.
Alexander doesn't know. He doesn't know my mother worked for Severus' father, he doesn't know about my connection with that family at all. Telling him would do little good. It would just be more of a reason to insist that she not be involved.
Taking a deep breath, Mariela managed to calm down. She would talk to Severus, all right--but not as an officer. No...as one friend to another...
She would get to the bottom of this. With or without the Ministry's permission. She could not let a calculating lunatic roam the streets, attacking people--especially not when they were her former friends.
She left Bertram's office with a slight smile. I will find out what's going on here, she vowed.
And I will find out why.
***************************
We didn't start the fire...we didn't light it, but we tried to fight it...
Anthony leaned back, humming the old Muggle song under his breath as he lay flat on his back in bed.
It was easier than he'd thought. Loki Lestrange had been right to say that he needed the practice--though he was no stranger to the Dark Arts. Still, he never thought he'd be inflicting them on others....
But Snape was different. He was a murderer, one that the law could not touch.
What if I'm becoming like him? What if I'm no more than a murderer, after all is said and done? Anthony thought, staring up at the ceiling.
You aren't. Your motive is justice, remember that. His is--oh, who knows? Petty hatred and God knows what else. You can't be expected to understand the mind of a Death Eater.
When will things start making sense again? I don't know how much longer I can take all this...damn you, Snape!
Am I any better than he is?
Yes...no....I don't know.
Dad, if you can hear me, help me now. I need something. A sign--anything!
A knock sounded at his door. Anthony blinked once, twice--yes, the knock was coming from his door. He got up, not bothering to reach for a dressing gown--he hadn't changed out of his clothes from the night before.
He crossed the small hotel room, and opened the door. He smiled.
"Hello, Mr. Malfoy."
***************************
Dr. Reilly finished checking Snape's heartbeat at last. "Well," the elderly doctor said. "It looks as though you're ready to leave."
More so than you could guess, Severus thought.
The doctor marked the piece of paper on his clipboard, and glanced up. "Well, your heart rate is normal, and the burns have healed in a remarkably short time. Everything seems fine. If you experience any discomfort, though, I understand you have a very skilled physician at Hogwarts. Poppy Pomfrey is one of the best."
Snape nodded impatiently. "Yes, I know."
"Good. Headmaster Dumbledore sent someone to escort you back to the school," Dr. Reilly informed him.
"Who?" Snape asked.
"A Mr. Lupin."
Of course, Snape thought bitterly. Now my suffering is complete. In forty-eight hours I was nearly killed, saw my father, and now must endure Lupin again. Wonderful.
"If you'll follow me, Professor Snape?" Dr. Reilly asked, tucking his clipboard under his arm as he stood.
Severus followed the doctor out of the room, grateful at least to be getting out of the hospital. There wouldn't be much danger of running into his father back at Hogwarts.
Thank whatever gods or goddesses there may be for that!
*******************************
Lupin tapped his fingernails on the front desk in the reception area of St. Mungo's Hospital. All around him, doctors and nurses were bustling about, as patients and their families milled around in the waiting area.
He turned back to the desk, and nearly did a double take at the profile of the man now standing beside him, facing the opposite side. "Sev--" he stopped short, studying the man's face as he turned to look at him.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I thought you were someone else." There was a definite resemblence, but this man was not Severus Snape. For one thing, he was about thirty years older, and for another, he was wearing a doctor's uniform.
"That's been happening to me quite a lot today," the doctor replied, his blue-grey eyes twinkling.
"Mr. Lupin?" the receptionist asked. "Professor Snape is here."
Lupin glanced up, and saw Severus heading in his direction, walking beside an elderly doctor. He looked back to the other doctor. "Well, it was nice--"
He stopped again. The doctor was gone.
Strange, Lupin thought, glancing back at Severus.
"Are you all right?" he asked, as soon as Severus and the elderly doctor reached him.
"Let's just get out of here as quickly as possible," Snape replied in his usual curt manner.
Lupin nodded, not surprised by the rebuke. "Very well. If you're ready, there's a carriage outside."
"Good."
Snape continued to walk. Lupin sighed, and turned to follow. The doctor he had been talking to was staring intently in his direction. With all the people around, Lupin hadn't even noticed him slipping into that shadowy corner of the room.
Snape stopped as well, and turned to look in the direction that Lupin was peering. "What is it?" he demanded.
Lupin shook himself. "Nothing. It's nothing. Let's go."
He and Snape headed out the door, stepping into the bright sunlight outside.
Strange, Lupin thought again.
(A/N: The lyrics from Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire" are the property of Mr. Joel and his record label, not I. I only borrowed them for my own nefarious purposes.)