When Severus reached the Headmaster's Office, he was unsurprised to see Minerva there. He was a little surprised to see that the Headmaster was not.

"Old research room, east tower. Floo access only," she told him crisply, offering him a jar of powder. Nodding his acknowledgment, he made the transfer and stepped out of the fireplace. All the portraits had been removed from the room, but there was a long table surrounded by a generous number of chairs. In addition to the Headmaster, Catherine Clare and the wolf were present, along with Moody, Mundungus, and Kingsley. As soon as Severus moved out of the flames, Minerva joined them.

"Good, you're all here. Please take a seat," Dumbledore requested. "Thank you all for coming. As you know, the full Order will be meeting later in the week, but I wanted your input regarding some recent developments before then. Catherine?"

"Four Death Eaters launched an attack on Adrienne Kearney's home in the states roughly six hours ago, at about two o'clock in the morning local time. For those of you who don't know her, Adrienne is a potions researcher specializing in aromatics and inhalation potions who is also the widow of my late partner. The children made it out safely, but Adrienne is in the wizarding wing at Johns Hopkins in very bad shape, and it will be some time before she can be questioned. Three of the four attackers are in custody in the prison wing of the hospital – I have some contacts who will let me know when they're talking, but it looks like it won't be any time soon. Two of them have been identified as Monroe Wilkes and Gavin Trent. We don't know why they attacked or what their objective was."

"The fourth?" Severus asked.

"Dead," she said shortly. "No identity yet."

"She killed him?"

For the first time, he saw Catherine hesitate.

"I asked if she killed him?" Severus repeated impatiently.

Her report to this point had been succinct, but something changed. In the long moment before she answered him, Severus' sharp eyes caught the subtle shift of the wolf's shoulder that meant he had reached out to his wife beneath the concealing surface of the table.

"It looks like he committed suicide," she said at last.

"Suicide?" The disbelief was evident in his voice.

"The last ward on the house was a Dead Man's."

Severus leaned back in his chair and allowed his eyes to sweep the room.

"A Dead Man's, eh?" Moody said knowingly. "Didn't know you still used 'em. Crazy Amer-" Dumbledore looked at him sharply and he broke off with a slight cough.

Catherine ignored Moody's slip, but her mouth twisted slightly.

"I don't understand," Minerva interjected, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

"It's a very rare and difficult spell that can be incorporated into a protective ward – usually the last ward," Catherine said with an unusually grim expression. "I didn't know Robert knew how to cast it. I don't myself."

"But what does it do?" Minerva persisted.

"The spell is dormant until it's triggered," Catherine told them. "It must be triggered from inside the perimeter, but once it's activated no one inside can shut it down, not even the original caster."

"Imperius is useless," Moody interjected.

"Exactly," Catherine agreed. "The spell forms an impenetrable barrier which nothing and no one can pass through. It's impervious to attack – magical or mundane – although there's some evidence that magical attacks may actually strengthen it."

"So how do you bring it down?" Minerva asked.

"The original ward identifies who can deactivate it from the outside."

"What if the identified person isn't available?" Severus queried.

"It will go down some time after the person who activated it dies – provided that everyone else within the perimeter of the ward is also dead."

Minerva blanched, and Moody shot her an impatient look. "Why did you think it's called a Dead Man's?" he asked irritably. "Damned dangerous, but I suppose I can understand the thinking. If you're gonna go anyway, might as well take 'em with you."

"Once you're trapped inside, you're helpless," Catherine added quietly. "Activating it commits you to giving your life if necessary, and that's a powerful sacrifice. Any attack on the person who activated it is reflected back against everyone else inside, and anyway, that person couldn't lower the wards even if they wanted to. You can't attack the wards themselves, they only get stronger. All you can do is wait – until you die." There was another long silence.

"But Adrienne and the others got out," Severus pointed out, breaking the oppressive silence.

Catherine ran a restless hand through her hair. "The ward responded to me and I got it down. It seems to have been set not just for me personally as Robert's partner, but for anyone in the delta-six squadron, which unfortunately disappeared in a reorganization a little over a year ago." Her voice caught raggedly in her throat. "Adrienne could have –"

"She didn't," the wolf told his wife firmly. "You got it down in time. She's going to be fine." Catherine blinked hard.

"I can't help wondering why Death Eaters attacked in the first place," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, glancing at Severus.

"Her research," Severus suggested immediately. "Her laboratory is in her house, I believe." Catherine nodded. "Did they get it?"

"No," she said flatly.

"Are you quite certain?" he pressed. "There are a number of ways that her research notes, for example, could have been –"

"Severus, I said no!" Catherine interrupted angrily.

"Kate – " the wolf's voice was gentle, and seemed to defuse her temper. She ran a distracted hand through her hair and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just – I saw what was left when we finally got the wards down," she said grimly, "and, trust me, you don't have to worry about any betraying scraps of paper getting into the wrong hands."

-> ->-

When Adrienne woke up in an unfamiliar hospital bed, she didn't think once about her research. What she thought about was her children. She kept trying to find out where they were and if they were all right, but she was having difficulty speaking even without the problem of various medi-witches and healers forcing potions down her throat every time she opened her lips. She didn't know whether it was her condition or the potions, but she kept slipping back into unconsciousness before she managed to get an answer.

She had no idea how much time had passed before she woke up long enough to have an actual conversation – everything before was pretty blurry – but her mind was clearer than it had been in some time, and for once she wasn't surrounded by strangers forcing potions down her throat. She wasn't alone, though – Catherine was there.

"Mes enfants?" she managed.

"Sain et sauf," Catherine assured her.

"Ou?"

"Chez moi. En Angleterre." Catherine wrinkled her nose. "Isn't that supposed to be 'Chez something else' now that I'm married?" Adrienne realized belatedly that she had reverted to her native tongue.

"Chez nous," she told her. "Sorry." Catherine shrugged.

"No biggie, but my French is pretty rusty."

Adrienne tried to scoot up in the hospital bed so she was sitting up a little more, and Catherine immediately rose to help her raise the head of the bed. "Thanks. I'm impressed that you remembered 'safe and sound' when I asked about the kids." Catherine's eyes twinkled a bit.

"I figured you would, so I looked it up in a dictionary beforehand," she confessed. Adrienne started to laugh in response, but her chest spasmed at the first sharp exhalation of air. "How are you feeling?" Catherine asked.

"Not bad, but I'm guessing that's the painkillers," she replied. "Everything is soft and woolly. How are they really?"

"Worried about you, but basically all right. Tristan's a little quiet – he's haunting the potions lab whenever there's someone there to supervise. Garrett doesn't really approve of the fact that I haven't fixed it so he can go swimming, but he can understand that charming the pool area in the dead of winter hasn't been a big priority as long as you're in the hospital – I've got a feeling he'll be less sympathetic when you've been discharged. Grace is happy as long as Annabel and Pepper are around."

"Maggie's there too?" Adrienne had been finding Catherine's recitation reassuring until then.

"Michael and Maggie moved in to help out for a bit."

"Why didn't the kids stay with them?" Adrienne demanded shrewdly.

"Because the security's better at Stone House," Catherine said calmly. "Michael's the only one who has to worry about commuting, and he's family, so he can Floo."

Adrienne was about to press the point, but then a medi-witch bustled in to attend to her and shoo'd Catherine out.

-> ->-

"Tristan?"

He and Severus both looked up from their chopping as Catherine appeared at the doorway to the potions laboratory. Severus could sense the boy tensing slightly as though bracing himself for bad news, and tried not to glower at Catherine Clare. Tristan had been spending a lot of time in the laboratory – Severus generally found inexpensive things for him to chop up to keep him occupied – and the older man was aware that he didn't want Tristan upset.

"Your mom's awake and doing much better," Catherine told him. "She wanted to see you, but they gave her another potion to put her to sleep again right away. I can take you with me tomorrow if you'd like?"

"Please," Tristan said in his quiet voice, some of the tension easing. "Thank you, Aunt Catherine."

Catherine looked as though she were going to say something else before her eyes took in the pair of them at the work table, but all that came out was, "Don't stay up too late," before she left them alone again.

Tristan went back to his chopping.

Severus, who was keeping a careful – albeit unobtrusive – eye on him noticed immediately when his chopping became a little uneven. Tristan noticed too, for he stopped cutting and stared blankly down at the imperfect ends.

"Maybe it's time to take a break," Severus said casually, setting his own knife down. He watched as Tristan carefully unfolded his fingers from around his own and set it down too.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said at last. "Maybe I better –" his voice caught slightly "– stop now." Tristan ducked his head down and slid off the stool.

Severus had some experience with people avoiding his eyes, and the way Tristan was doing it told him immediately why the child was behaving that way. Severus reacted in a way that would have surprised him if he had considered it, but he didn't consider it at the time. He simply rose from his own stool and circled the table, dropping down in front of the boy and clasping Tristan's shoulders between his hands. The dark eyes that met his were brimming with tears.

"It's going to be all right," Severus told him gently – if somewhat illogically – and then Tristan burst into tears and hurled himself into Severus' arms.

This time Severus realized how extraordinary this was.

It was not that he had no experience with children's tears – he had certainly reduced enough of them to that state (although it was decidedly preferable to the vomiting, which caused more of a mess when it occurred in the classroom) – but he couldn't recall ever having a child turn to him for comfort in such a moment. Not even the first years in his own house would do such a thing, although he couldn't imagine a Slytherin – even as child – being foolish enough to display such a weakness.

But he wasn't conscious of a feeling of disgust as Tristan sobbed into his robes. He wasn't inspired to berate him for behaving in such an appalling way. Instead, he was wishing he could ease his pain. He found himself holding Tristan as if mere contact would help – such a ridiculous idea – and heard a stream of nonsense coming out of his mouth that didn't at all sound like it could have been produced by Severus Snape. It did remind him vaguely of something from his own childhood, although the memory eluded him when he tried to pin it down.

Tristan's bout of tears was surprisingly brief, ending on a hiccough. "Sorry, sir," he said in a very small voice. Severus deftly retrieved a handkerchief out of a pocket in his robes and started mopping Tristan's face until the boy took the handkerchief from him.

"You should be," he said dryly. "You're quite old enough to carry your own handkerchiefs." For some reason, Tristan found this amusing, and blew his nose into the handkerchief rather harder than expected in response. Severus waited patiently as Tristan finished clearing his nose.

"I meant for being so silly," Tristan explained at last, clutching Severus' now damp handkerchief tightly in both hands. "I didn't cry before or anything, and Aunt Catherine said Mom's going to be fine and I get to go see her tomorrow. It's a really stupid time to cry."

"Human emotions are rarely orderly," Severus pointed out. "I fail to see why yours should be any more so."

"I guess not." Tristan, who seemed to be recovering a bit, looked over at the work table. "I think I'll stop now."

"If you wish to go up to bed, I will clear up your station," Severus said, rising to his feet. It was actually a major concession on his part. He – like every other Potions Master he knew – was absolute in his expectation that anyone working at a station always cleaned up after themselves immediately. Age had nothing to do with it – it was simply the way it was done.

Tristan nodded in acceptance, but then stood there shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. Severus quirked a brow up in inquiry.

"Are you coming up too?"

Severus blinked. He didn't normally stay at Stone House during the term, even if it meant waking Catherine or the wolf to Floo him back to Hogwarts when he was finished working. Then it dawned on him. Tristan wasn't asking if Severus was staying, he was asking if Severus was going to tuck him in. If it weren't for his long experience in hiding his emotions, Severus had a feeling his jaw would have been hanging open.

"You want me to tuck you in?" Severus asked weakly, sure that he must have made a mistake. Tristan nodded somberly. "I don't know any bedtime stories," he objected faintly, saying the first thing that came into his head. Great response, Severus. Really brilliant.

"That's okay." Tristan clutched the wadded-up handkerchief in one hand and reached out to take Severus' hand in the other.

It was a bizarre experience – for Severus at least. Presumably there were adults all over who tucked children into bed at night and didn't think anything of it, but he wasn't one of them. Tristan led him upstairs to one of the bedrooms where his brother was already asleep in one of the twin beds. He took a pair of pajamas from the wardrobe and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Severus standing around blankly wondering what he was supposed to be doing and wishing he had been able to come up with a better refusal. Apparently a lack of bedtime stories wasn't a strong enough deterrent.

When Tristan came out, he was wearing his pajamas – dark blue with gray piping – and was still clutching the handkerchief. "I washed my face and brushed my teeth," he announced expectantly.

"That's, er, nice. Good." The boy was looking at him sympathetically.

"You haven't done this a lot, have you?" he asked.

"No." Maybe he could get out of it.

"That's all right. I can tell you what to do," Tristan said kindly.

Damn, Severus thought.

"Now, you just pull the covers back so I can get in, and then you tuck them in around me afterwards," he explained.

Okay, I can do this. It wasn't really that horrible. In some ways, it was almost – pleasant.

"Then you say something about my sleeping before you turn off the light."

"Something about your sleeping?" he echoed stupidly.

Tristan nodded. "Mom says, 'Dors bien mon petit.' Dad used to say, 'Sleep tight, kiddo.' Aunt Catherine usually says, 'Sleep well,' and Uncle Remus –"

"I get the idea." Of course the wolf knew how to do this. Severus kept himself from grinding his teeth. "I hope you sleep well tonight," he said at last, feeling the formality a little out of place. It also seemed like something was missing, as if the ritual were incomplete, but Tristan was apparently satisfied with this, and shut his eyes obligingly. Severus was moving gratefully to turn out the light when they flew open again.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Did you want your handkerchief back?"

Did he want his handkerchief back? His damp and crumpled handkerchief which was probably full of mucus? Not if he could avoid it.

"You can keep it," he said evenly, surprised when Tristan smiled at him before closing his eyes again.

He tried not to seem as though he were fleeing the room after turning out the light.

-> ->-

A/N – I've definitely been a little slow on the updating lately, but we now all have an incentive to finish things up any stories we have in the works that will become AU after book 6 is published! I know that this romance has been slow to develop, but I'm assuming that you realize that getting Adrienne and Severus back in the same house will be another step in the right direction. If you're wondering what was omitted from the bedtime ritual, it was the kiss on the forehead – I can't quite see Snape managing that just yet, and I think a perceptive child would sense that. They'll need to work up to it.

Comments and even criticism (constructive, please) are always welcome.