A/N: I have a bowl of radishes and I'm ready to write. That's thinkin' food, that is!

Disclaimer: I own nothing… especially not Harry Potter

Happy Reading!

Chapter Five – The Smarmy Git

"Severus!" Miranda yelled, horrified at the bloody sight before her. "Severus!"

Moments later, loud footsteps could be heard as Severus ran down the stairs and down the hall. He turned sideways with the intention of stopping in front of the bathroom but overshot and skidded past the door. There was a loud thud and Severus appeared in the doorway moments later, rubbing the side of his head.

"Wuzzamatter?" he asked groggily, peering around.

His eyes went from Miranda, who was covered in blood, to the unconscious and equally as bloody mass that was Harry. Eyes narrowed, he stared at Harry for another moment before splashing over through the puddle of blood and sinking to his knees in front of Harry. After poking and prodding a bit, he healed the nasty gash on the back of Harry's head.

"Wake up, Potter," said Severus, giving Harry a sharp poke in the temple.

Harry opened his eyes warily and looked around. Miranda splashed over and dropped to one knee beside Severus, her eyes on Harry.

"What happened, Harry?" asked Miranda.

Severus pulled out a leaf from his pocket and gave it to Harry, who, upon realizing it was dittany, ate it. Miranda watched Severus with a glint in her eye. He was so, well, geeky. She herself had been labeled as 'geeky' back in school, and she knew Severus had been as well. Except for his, well, geeky knowing of all things dark and dangerous… and how to use them. She grinned at him, but he didn't return the smile as he was working with Harry. Miranda turned to the 'Chosen One', who looked genuinely confused.

"Sneezed," Harry said blearily, munching on the dittany leaf. "Knees gave out – damn burns – slipped backwards on some water." Miranda thought Harry sounded (and looked) like he'd consumed a whole barrel of firewhiskey. "Must have hit my head 'cos I blacked out." There was an uneasy pause, in which Harry sneezed and slid an inch backwards on the wet floor. Then, as an afterthought, "Sorry."

Miranda laughed and siphoned away the blood and water with a casual flick of her wrist.

"No harm done, Harry. Except perhaps the loss of a few brain cells from hitting your head – nothing you need to survive in this world," said Miranda cheerfully, crossing her legs and sitting down in a more comfortable position next to Harry, who was leaning against the wall like a drunkard. Miranda supposed being knocked unconscious could do that to you and gave herself a mental note never to offer Harry anything that was stronger than Butterbeer. "You should have seen, this one time Severus –"

She cut off to send a smirk in her husband's direction, but he had gotten up and left already.

"Severus? Oh, never mind. Harry, you best get to bed – you look like you've been knocked unconscious. Not that you need any more sleep, eh?"

After Harry had gotten up and walked into the sitting room, Miranda pranced up the steps and into her room, no longer tired, and saw that Severus was already back in bed with the covers pulled over his head. She smirked and hopped onto the bed, taking no care in being quiet. She pulled the covers off his head to find a grumpy and exhausted Severus trying desperately to sleep.

"Tired, Sev?"

He grunted in reply. She took a section of his greasy hair and began braiding it.

"What're you doing?" He groaned, burying his face in his pillow. The muffled sound of his voice added, "I'm trying to sleep."

"I'm braiding your hair."

"Why?"

Miranda paused, thinking. Shrugging, she continued her braid.

"I dunno. Bored, I guess," said Miranda.

Severus gave a dignified growl. He sat up and glared at Miranda, who laughed at the sight of the braid that she had made. After realizing that his death glare just didn't work on his wife, he turned his back to her and pulled the covers over his head once more. Miranda shrugged and lay down beside him, tucking herself next to him and putting an arm around him. In this position, she delivered a bone-crushing hug. He said nothing at first, but was forced to after a moment or so.

"You're suffocating me."

"Am I?" Miranda asked nonchalantly. "So sorry. Can't help myself."

"That makes you a clingy pain in the arse," Severus said snappishly, putting his pillow over his head and holding it there.

"No," retorted Miranda, smirking. "That makes you a smarmy git."

-

The next day proved to be just as sickly as the others. Miranda paid dearly for her adrenaline rush the previous night by being too exhausted to move from the couch. She was forced to, however, when she ran to the bathroom to throw up. During this rather distasteful time, Severus followed her and held her hair back as she regurgitated her breakfast.

Harry and Christine slept most of the time, sprawled out on his bed in the sitting room. During the day, the four sicklings quarantined themselves in the sitting room and relaxed. Sometimes they played cards, but Severus mysteriously always won, so the game lost its luster fast.

Most of the time things were peaceful, with the exception of the time Miranda and Harry had a small squabble over who got the toilet when both of them were on the verge of puking.

One particularly nice day, Severus was lying in his usual spot on the floor. Harry and Christine were, as usual, sleeping, and Miranda was sitting with her back propped up against the settee, staring at Severus with a vacant expression. He suddenly sat up as if in alarm and she jumped. She crawled over on all fours and set herself down in front of him, her headache making her slightly dizzy.

"You alright, Sev?" she asked weakly, her head spinning.

He gave a slight jerk of the head, eyes closed and lips pursed. The shadows around his eyes were more prominent than usual, what with him being sick. He suddenly leapt to his feet and darted off in the direction of the bathroom, a hand clapped to his mouth. Miranda got to her feet, swayed slightly, and chased after him. He dropped down in front of the toilet and promptly threw up. Feeling slightly queasy, Miranda pulled his hair away from his face and held it back for him.

"Nothing brings two people like a good virus, eh Severus?" She said in a slightly sarcastic voice.

He lurched again and, after a few seconds, reached up and flushed the toilet. She let go of his hair as he stood and summoned a cleansing mint from the medicine cabinet. After popping it into his mouth he stalked out of the bathroom, looking distinctly ill-tempered, which, Miranda thought, was surely a sign of recovery.

-

Draco Malfoy, flanked on either side by a Death Eater, was half lead and half carried into the Dark Lord's chamber. He was dropped before Voldemort's throne to see a man that he hadn't seen in years: his father. Lucius had a look of shock written on his face as he stared at his son, but made no other motions of recognition. Draco had a bead of sweat trailing down his pointed nose as he crawled across the floor and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"My Lord, I have waited long years to return to you," Draco said in a low voice, trying not to beg for mercy from the half-human that could easily kill him.

"Young Draco," said the icy voice that belonged to the most feared wizard of all time, sending terrible chills down Draco's spine. "Have you been hiding from me?"

"N-no! No, my Lord, I would never. I was kidnapped by the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore himself," lied Draco, carefully using Occlumency and making it look as if he was not.

"I do not believe you," Voldemort spat. "However…"

"Yes, my Lord?" Draco stammered nervously, picking himself up off the floor and onto his knees.

There was a rustle of a cloak and Draco felt the icy touch of the Dark Lords fingers on his chin. His head was forced up and he was made to look upon Voldemort, though he did not want to. And he had thought that, finally, he would be safe. He had been wrong

"My dear Draco, I have a job for you, a chance to redeem yourself," Voldemort said in his silky calm voice, his red eyes glinting in the shadow of his hooded cloak.

"My Lord, it would be an honor –" Draco began, but he was cut off when the Dark Lord grasped Draco around the neck with one strong hand, razor-sharp nails cutting into his flesh. Draco fought back an anguished cry.

"You will not mess this up, Draco," Voldemort said, picking up a struggling Draco by the neck.

"No, my Lord," choked Draco, trying not to fight the talon-like grip. Everything was going fuzzy.

"If you do, Draco, I will have your life."

Draco felt the Dark Lord release him and he fell to the ground, clutching his throat. Upon drawing his hands back, he saw that they were stained with blood – his blood. He bowed low so that Voldemort would not see the tear escape from his eye and drip off his pointed nose.

"Yes… Master."

-

By the following week, everyone had been cured of the nagging illness. Severus returned to work and Harry began self-defense training with Miranda. Miranda found this to be refreshing and oddly amusing, for she had taken the same exact lessons with Severus just a few years ago when she was hidden at Hogwarts.

"Here now, Harry, bend your knee like this."

"Er…"

"Yes, just like that. Excellent," she said to Harry, who was standing beside her.

Christine sat with a large bucket of popcorn, watching the training session as if it was a show or something of the sort, her legs barely long enough to jut out from the settee on which she sat. Harry was just about perfectly healed now, at long last, and he was trying to regain some of his lost muscle mass through training.

Training had been Miranda's idea, as being able to fight without magic had saved her life (and dignity) the last time she had faced Voldemort. Harry was doing well thus far. They had covered the art of bojustsu with ninja sticks, as Miranda called them, and nunchucks, which Christine took great joy in flinging around.

Severus opened the front door to see Harry sitting on the ground, having just been defeated in one-on-one combat with Miranda. He smirked. Miranda helped Harry to his feet, handed him a lollipop, and then crossed the room to greet Severus.

"G'day mate," she said cheerfully, hugging him tightly around the middle.

He banished his briefcase to his study with the flick of his wrist and eyed Miranda warily.

"Why are you talking like that?" He said, staring down his hooked nose at her.

She shrugged and pulled him by the hand into the sitting room.

"Come on, Severus, you've got to teach Harry how to fight," Miranda said.

"Can't you?"

"No, I don't know how to, you know… knife."

"Ah, of course. Fine, then." He turned to Harry, who stood and pocketed his lolly. "Potter, can you use a stiletto?"

Harry's eyes flickered over towards Miranda, who had taken a seat next to Christine and was helping herself to the bucket of popcorn. Bemused, Harry cast his gaze back on his stern ex-professor.

"Er, no, Sir. I've never tried before, I mean, aren't they for, well… girls?"

Severus strode over to the nearby desk and took out a ruby-encrusted dagger-looking weapon, sheathed in a decorated case. He tossed it to Harry, who barely managed to catch it.

"Here, Potter, have a stiletto."

Harry unsheathed the stiletto and examined it. It was truly a beautiful thing; it had a polished, thin four-sided blade and was strangely light for all its metal. He wondered vaguely if it was magicked feather-light.

"Cool," said Harry whimsically, admiring the blood red glint of the rubies.

Severus rolled back his sleeves and Harry noticed that Severus had wrapped his wrist so that his Dark Mark wasn't visible. This intrigued and confused Harry and, upon looking at Miranda, found that it was new to her as well.

"Okay, Potter. Lesson one: try to stab me."

Harry fought back a laugh.

"With pleasure, Sir," Harry said politely, and rushed towards Severus with the stiletto ready in his hand.

The next thing he knew, he was on the ground. Gasping for breath, he sat up and looked around. Christine was laughing and clapping for her father, who was obviously trying to look professional. Even Miranda was laughing.

"Nice one, Uncle Harry!" Christine said squeakily.

Rubbing his head, Harry snatched up the stiletto and got to his feet.

"Lesson one, Potter," said Severus in his unpleasant voice that he reserved for Harry alone. "If you hold a weapon like you did, you will get knocked to the ground. Clear?"

"Crystal," Harry said, promising himself that he would never show weakness towards Severus' taunting.

"Good. let's try that again, shall we? Watch closely…"

-

Later, once Harry was too exhausted to move and Christine was playing quietly in her room, Miranda dragged Severus' old cauldron into the sitting room and pulled up two chairs. After lighting a fire underneath it and rolling back her sleeves, she sat down and took out a long scroll. She unfurled it and read it slowly, her brows furrowed. Severus appeared in the doorway, his arms full of different materials. Wordlessly, he strode over and dumped them at Miranda's feet. She looked up from her parchment.

"What took you?"

Severus sat down in the chair adjacent to her and sighed.

"I was stalled," he said slowly, "by a woman in the apothecary."

Miranda snorted and punched Severus in the shoulder.

"I told you! You are a smarmy git," she joked, but he did not laugh; on the contrary, he looked deeply upset.

"It was Narcissa Malfoy."

Miranda dropped the jar of beetle eyes she had been holding and it fell to the floor, shattering and sending shards of glass in every direction.

"What?"

"My thoughts exactly," Severus said calmly, though a vein in his temple was twitching. "She said she's a spy for the Order now, working as a double agent. She said that the Dark Lord knows where we are – at least, he knows our general area. She does not know how he knows. I made her swear not to reveal that we are still around. I don't trust her."

"I don't blame you."

Severus cast a wary eye over at Harry, who was fast asleep, spread-eagled on his bed. He bent over, repaired the broken jar, and handed it back to Miranda, who began measuring ingredients.

"What was she doing in this area, anyway?" Miranda asked skeptically, carefully measuring out the beetle eyes and handing them to Severus so he could grind them to a powder.

"I haven't the faintest idea," replied Severus, taking the beetle eyes and grinding them with his pestle. "And that is what bothers me."

"Well, you know what that means," Miranda said cheerfully, pouring a yellow liquid into a measuring glass.

"What?"

"We'd better hurry our arses up and figure out this potion," she finished. Severus stared at her, his lips pursed and his face expressionless except for his slightly narrowed eyes. She smirked and held out a hand. "Hand me the dittany, por favor. We have a lot of work to do."

-

The next morning, Severus, having stayed up late into the night to work on the potion, staggered into the kitchen, feeling distinctly like a zombie. Miranda was rummaging in the refrigerator, a carrot sticking out of her back pocket. Severus yawned mightily and narrowed his eyes. Miranda straightened up, looking slightly confused, and saw Severus.

"Oh, you're up," Miranda said. "Good morning."

"Okay," Severus replied without listening, walking over to the table and sitting down, his head in his arms.

Miranda laughed and conjured up a cup of coffee with a shot of waking draught and slid it down the table. It stopped in front of Severus, who groggily looked up from his arms. He took the mug by the handle, tilted his head back, and downed the beverage in one swig. When he lowered the mug, he looked distinctly more awake. He smacked his lips.

"Mmm," he said thoughtfully. "I got pretty far through the potion last night."

"Clearly, given that you didn't come to bed until about two hours ago."

Severus shrugged and stood. He walked over to where Miranda was standing, her back to him, and pulled the carrot out of her back pocket. With a startled shriek, she jumped and spun around. He held up the carrot with a questioning look. She laughed.

"There it is!" She said, laughing and taking it from him. "I forgot where I put it when I got Harry's Pumpkin Juice."

He handed it wordlessly to her, his brows raised sardonically. She took it, grinning, and put it back in her pocket.

"I'm ninety-five percent through the potion," Severus said quietly.

"Really?" Miranda looked impressed. "You already added the sulphite and sodium benzoate?"

"Yes."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Wow," she said. "That really is something."

"Thank you."

She laughed and closed the gap between them. Harry walked into the kitchen, and, when he saw his ex-professors snogging, turned and abruptly walked from the room, unseen and horrified. Miranda and Severus broke apart and she pulled the carrot from her back pocket. She turned and marched towards the door, taking a bite from the carrot as she did so. She walked into the sitting room, asked Harry if he was okay (he looked a bit peaky) and sat down in front of the cauldron again. Severus followed and sat down beside her, and they began their work.

Miranda flicked her wrist and the remaining ingredients that needed to be added spread themselves out on the nearby table while Severus lit a fire under the cauldron and began checking to make sure that everything was in order.

Harry watched the two people work, amazed at their fluency in the art of potion-making and how well they worked together regardless of the fact that they were complete opposites. Their procedure was simple enough: Miranda measured out everything first while Severus tested the potion's consistency and made sure everything was okay to proceed. He and Miranda both added ingredients and talked about the little things such as how many stirs and whatnot. They were constantly referring back to the parchment to make sure that they were brewing correctly and adding the right amount of whatever. Harry, who had no idea what the potion was for, decided to ask.

"Miranda, what's this potion for, anyway?"

Miranda, without looking up from the cauldron, handed Severus the lacewing flies and replied, "Well, Harry, do you remember once upon a time, when you were in detention with your friend Ron, Severus and I were making a potion?"

Harry nodded and said, "Yes."

Miranda looked up briefly before turning her brown eyes back on the potion.

"Well," she said slowly, concentrating more on the potion than on her words. "We're combining that potion with the remedy. To block the killing curse and revive you shortly afterwards."

"Wow," said Harry, amazed. "You know, if it works, you could sell it and be famous."

Severus looked up at this and shot Harry a look of loathing.

"Do you not think, Potter?" Snape snapped. "If this potion got out on the market, everybody would buy it."

"So?"

Severus scoffed.

"So then everybody would be immune! People on both sides of the battle. Death Eaters. Even the Dark Lord."

Harry said nothing, for he knew that Snape was right again. Instead, he fell backwards on the bed and silently fumed. He hated it when he lost a battle of the wits – especially with Snape. He did make sense, though. If Voldemort did ever manage to get a hand on this potion, the war was over. Sure, Voldemort was mortal again, but only Harry had the ability to kill Voldemort, who was not easy to find. And even if he did find him, if Voldemort had this potion, he could not easily stab him. He would not be able to get close enough. Voldemort would have killed him before he reached arm's length. Harry wondered what exactly this potion was going to be used for, then, and if it would work. Moreover, who would test this potion for effectiveness? Who would test it for side effects?

Suddenly, after many minutes of silence, Miranda broke it with something unexpected.

"Uh oh."

Harry sat up quickly to see Severus staring quizzically at Miranda, whose eyes were fixed on the parchment.

"What is it?" Severus snapped, taking the parchment from her hands and reading it over as if looking for something that had been newly written there.

"Well," Miranda began, fighting the urge to laugh and trying to keep a straight face. "We can't add the last ingredient."

Severus' eyes quickly dropped to the bottom of the page, searching for an answer to Miranda's befuddling statement.

"Why not?" He began, and then he evidently found the answer, for he set his jaw.

"Apparently," began Miranda, "certain – ah – requirements must be made to add the last potion ingredient." She gave Severus a sidelong glance and snickered. "Er… purity."

Severus and Miranda both turned to Harry, who quickly turned a delicate shade of pink.

"Er, sorry, Professors," Harry said slowly, forgetting that Miranda and Severus were not his professors anymore. "No can do."

"Hmm…"

Miranda tapped her chin patiently, thinking of a possible solution as Severus did likewise, staring at the parchment. Then, at the same time, the answer came to them both. Severus and Miranda exchanged a glance, both with their brows raised, and turned to face the staircase.

"Christine!" Severus called loudly.

Moments later, Christine appeared in the sitting room, a cowboy hat on her head and a Western gun holster around her waist. He smiled pleasantly at her parents, looking from Severus to Miranda to Harry and then back to Severus.

"Yes, Daddy?"

A/N: Holy cow, this chapter took way too long for me to type. Writer's block to the max. And anyway, I've completed a chart for my story and a chapter guide. There should be, by the time this is over, nine chapters. Possibly ten, but no less than nine.

I love torturing Draco, the poor kid.