Chapter 8

A grim smile graced his thin lips as he cast a notice-me-not spell and hurried on through the empty corridors. Almost empty, he corrected himself. He was sure that the Potter-brat was sneaking through the dimly-lit hallways, safely hidden beneath his father's invisibility cloak. James. Severus sighed, briefly nodding towards the unnamed painting next to the dungeon entrance. Just another sore spot in his past. A sore spot that should not be.

"Gryffindorks," he told the portrait guarding his quarters. Why was he still feeling so subdued?

"Nice password, professor," a silky voice suddenly drawled next to him. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Mr Malfoy," he raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I did not notice you there."

"Nor did I notice you," the blond Slytherin bowed briefly. "I was wondering if you were willing to listen to me."

"It is after curfew, Mr Malfoy," Snape pointed out.

"I am well aware of that, Sir," Malfoy was still perfectly calm. "But an unusual problem has arisen and I need your help."

"Very well, Mr Malfoy," Snape pushed the door to his quarters open. "You shall have half an hour of my time and a detention with me tomorrow evening. For being out after curfew."

xxxHP/SSxxx

"A detention?" Draco repeated as soon as the door had shut behind them. "Since when are you handing out detentions to your favourite godson?"

"Since I have a batch of cauldrons that needs cleaning," Snape smirked. "And being my favourite godson is not entirely difficult since you happen to have the advantage of being my only godson. And you never know who may be lurking in the corridors," he added almost as an afterhtought.

"Lurking in your dungeons?" Draco smiled, letting go of his haughty facade for once. "Who would be stupid enough to lurk in your terrority? The Bloody Baron would scare most of them to death."

"The Potter-brat."

"Are you sure that you aren't a little paranoid where Potter is concerned?"

Snape merely shook his head. His long legs folded themselves beneath him as he sat down in his favourite chair. Draco shook his head. "How can you be comfortable like that? Chairs weren't made for sitting cross-legged in them."

"Practice," Snape said cryptically. "Now," he accioed a glass of water from the kitchen, "What forced you to seek my advice?"

Draco's open grin remained as he shook his head, sitting down on the black couch in front of the fireplace. "Your humour, dear godfather, is quite peculiar."

Again Snape raised a single, elegant eyebrow. "Who said I was being humerous?"

"Well," Draco folded his hands in his lap. "I need your help," he announced.

Snape smirked again. "I had gathered as much. Who or what is your problem?"

Draco sighed. "A certain bunch of Gryffindors."

"Do tell me something new."

"I need to befriend Potter and his friends."

Water rained to the floor. "You what?" Snape asked incredulously, trying to regain control of his breathing.

"I need to befriend Potter and his friends," Draco repeated, grinning at his shocked godfather. "And I want you to help me."

"Sweet Merlin!" The glass almost shattered as Snape pit it down. "Why? And what makes you think I can help you?"

"My father's orders," black robes rustled as Draco relaxed into the cushions. "He wants me to find out more about Potter's dreams."

"He wants you to get close to the Potter-boy?"

"Yes," Draco nodded once. "Apparently an old family friend has taken an interest in a certain something that appears in Potter's dreams."

"That may be possible," Snape let his fingers run over the front buttons of his robes, till the tips of his fingers finally came to drum on his knees. "But why are you approaching me with this?"

Draco used the uncomfortable silence to study his godfather closely. All laughter was gone from his eyes as he finally replied. "I want you to confirm that friend's interest in Potter's dreams."

Snape eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Are you doubting your father's orders?"

"I may be," Draco answered cautiously, "He has given me a lot of strange orders lately."

Snape's fingers stilled. "And?"

"And I think he may have an ulteriour motive that has no connection with the origional source of the orders he was supposed to give me."

"That is a very serious accusation, Draco." Snape eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to his godson, resting his elbows on his knees. "Have you anything to back up your claims? Apart from the feeling that your father has an agenda of his own?"

"No," Draco shook his head, "And you know that my father always has an agenda of his own."

"And what do you want from me?" Snape was studying the young Slytherin intently, "How do you expect me to help you?"

"Is there some truth to the claim that our friend is interested in Potter's dreams?"

Another uncomfortable silence stretched between them. "There is." Severus said finally.

"You know this friend better than I do," Draco continued cautiously, "Could you keep an eye on my father? Try to find out where his loyalties lie?"

Again Snape was almost speechless. "You truly doubt him?"

"Yes."

"I see. I will keep an eye on him. It can only be in my interest to find out where his allegiance truly lies." He paused, relaxing back into his chair. "And what do you expect me to do abour your Potter problem?"

"I would like you to team me up with the mudblood during potions or maybe give us a detention at the same time."

"The mudblood?" Snape chuckled. "Do you want to give your father a heart attack?"

"I want to get to know the girl," Draco huffed, a soft pink rising in his cheeks. "I don't want to marry her."

"But you want me to set you up with her?"

"Potter trusts her." Daco explained. "If I manage to win her over, to convince her that I am at least a bit trustworthy, then Potter will follow her judgement. It's my only chance of getting close to Potter."

"Very well," Snape nodded, taking another sip from his glass. "I will help you. You may leave now."

"Thank you, Sir," Draco bowed deeply. "It is good to know that there are still people one can rely on."

"If you only knew," Snape whispered to the now-empty room, shaking his head sadly. "If you only knew." Slowly he got up, dust whirled through the air as he threw some floo powder into the fireplace. He had another report to give to Dumbledore.

xxxHP/SSxxx

"Can you believe it?" Ron was still beaming. "Malfoy backed off! He saw us at the Qidditch pit and just backed off! I bet he was scared without his two monkeys!"

"He didn't look scared," Hermione interjected, forcefully putting down some books on Harry's nightstand. "You may find these useful for your transfiguration homework. If you decide to do it," she added with a meaningful glance at Ron.

"Mione!"

"Don't you Mione me, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione was doing her best McGonagall impression. "You really should put a bit more effort into your work!" She sat down on the bed beside Harry.

"Shouldn't you be in the girl's dorm by now?" Ron asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Ronald Weasley!" huffed Hermione indignantly. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"I don't think Malfoy was scared," Harry said quietly. "I'm sure he had another reason for backing off. Maybe Snape put him up to something."

"Harry..." the only thing that kept Hermione from rolling her eyes was the fact that she knew exactly just how ridiculous it would look. "I think you really should try to get over your obsession with Professor Snape. The headmaster trusts him, remember?"

"Yeah, but he's still a greasy git," Ron chimed in again, throwing a red pillow at Harry. "Cheer up mate! You've always got me and Mione to save your sorry ass from Snape."

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione had reverted to McGonagall behaviour again. "I doubt that Professor Snape is after Harry's backside! And he's still your professor. You should show him some respect!"
"I'll show him respect the day he starts respecting anyone but Slytherins as human beings," Ron grumbled.

Hermione ignored the redhead. "Harry?" she asked. "What is it? You are still awfully quiet."

"Nothing Mione," Harry waved absentmindedly at his friend. "And Ron's right. You should go back to your dorm before Seamus and Neville come back or McGonagall decides to check up on us."

"Very well," Hermione's back was rigid as she stood up. "I know when I'm not wanted anymore. Goodnight."

Only after quite some time did Ron notice that Harry was still staring quietly at the wall. Sighing he shook his head, snuggling into his sheets as he gathered them around him. He was too tired to deal with Harry in a strange mood right now.

Niether of them noticed the black bird perching on the window sill.

xxxHP/SSxxx

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he stepped from the last step of the stairs to the astronomy tower. A chilly wind was whirling around him, always changing directions. Night had fallen quickly but he had found himself unable to rest. And Fawkes had still not returned. Albus Dumbledore hated admitting it, but he was more than just a little worried for his familiar. If only Severus had not seen Fawkes being hurt. But it was just a vision, he reminded himself, wrinkled hans curling weakly around the stone rail. The bloody raven attacking the phoenix could be nothing but a vision.

"A vision for what?" He raised his head, long hair falling back as he stared up to the blackened sky. Myriads of starts glittered above, glowing with cold fire. A pale moon was half-hidden behind a single cloud, still shining bright enough to bathe the castle and the surrounding wood in a silvery twilight. The unsteady wid danced through the forbidden forest, bowing the trees as it went. On the first glance everything seemed quiet and peaceful and yet there was commotion everywhere.

"Please come back, Fawkes." The quiet words were like a silent prayer. The phoenix had never left him before and he wondered what could have prompted the bird to do so now. It could not be a simple coincidence. Too many things were happening at once.

xxxHP/SSxxx

Moist warmth surrounded him as he slowly opened his eyes again. Harry groaned as pain flared through his scar.

"He is aware of your dreams," a well-known voice that had been haunting Harry for days whispered. "Voldemort knows what you dream."

"Does he know about you?" the boy asked, turning towards the bird with a sense of dread.

"He knows of me," the bird laughed silenty. Claws scraped over stony sand as it hopped down from a dead bough it had been sitting on. "But he has no idea who I am."

Harry shivered again as he looked around the stony black landscape he had already seen in his last dream. The strange, red twilight was different this time, though he could not say why. Everything looked just as gloomy as he remembered it.

"Are you the raven?" Harry wispered, sitting down cross-legged on the dark sand.

"Haven't you asked me that before?" The bird cocked its head, beady eyes staring up at the boy.

"I think I did." Harry shivered. The humid air made his robes cling to his body. "If Voldemort is aware of my dreams," Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Does he know what we are talking about?"

"No," the bird shifted on its feet. "Do you know why it is necessary?"

"Confusion clouded Harry's eyes. "Why what is necessary?"

"Your dreams." The bird answered without elaborating.

"No." Harry shook his head. "Why am I dreaming of you again."

"Maybe because you haven't understood yet." The bird was laughing silently again. "You will never find what you seek as long as you don't understand your dreams."

"But..." Harry stared incredulously at the spot where the raven had been sitting. It was gone. From one second to the other, without a trace. "I want to wake up..." he whispered, wrapping his arms around himself as he got up. He trembled in the humid warmth. Why was he always alone? A sudden shadow darkened the already gloomy twilight. The knot of apprehension in his stomach made his insides burn as he looked up. The cloud was back.

The cloud changed once more and this time he forced his gaze to stay looked on the pale grey. The soft curves of the whispy, grey cloud wavered, became a clear outline. He did not even notice that he had stopped breathing at some point. He was staring up at the shape of a giant bird. A raven. The shape wavered again and this time he had no idea what he was looking at. Harry was sure that it was important never the less.

The new shape of the cloud loomed ominiously above him, seeming to glare down at him. His fingernails clawed themselvs into his forehead as the pain in his scar returned again. Waves of burning fire seemed to singe his veins, travelled from the scar through his whole body.

"No!"
Harry sat up, soaked in sweat and shivering violently. He was finally awake again. Groaning he let himself fall back into the pillows. Luckily he had remembered to put up the silencing spells around his bed this time. A sticky warmth trickled from his scar and into his hair and tangy, salty taste filled his mouth. Blood. He knew the taste only too well. Still shivering he forced himself to relaxed, listening to Ron's even snoring in the bed next to him.

xxxHP/SSxxx

A soft, green light filled the cold room. A single chair, that looked more like a throne was the only furniture within it. Nagini hissed agitatedly as she slithered through the cold cave once more. Her master was restless this night. The hiss resounded strangely in the silent hall. The figure on the throne was motionless, except for its fingers, which were tapping a strange rhythm on the armrest.

"He has been dreaming of the bird again," the cold voice sounded surprisingly human. "Nagini!" the dark lord calmed visibly as the giant snake curled almost reverently around his feet. "It seems that my spies have lost their skills," the red-eyed man hissed in parseltongue. "We should make sure that they still know their duties, don't you think?"

Nagini would have purred if she had been a cat. It sounded as though she might get some entertainment soon.