Disclaimer:  They aren't mine.  Not now…not ever.  Anything recognizable belongs to JKR and Company.  Anything else is simply me having a bit of fun!

A Tense Situation

~Chapter Two~

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed with relief as he entered the Gryffindor Common Room to find his best friend conscious and resting on the sofa.  Hermione had just removed a cold compress from his forehead and was wringing it out over the small porcelain bowl that sat on a nearby table. 

Harry winced at the boisterous greeting and felt a twinge of sharp pain shoot across his forehead in response.  He hated his unwanted connection with Voldemort and he especially resented the weakness that invaded his body when such sessions were over. Not wanting to be rude, and knowing that his friend had been worried, Harry forced a wan smile to his face. "Hi, Ron."

The red haired boy smiled back but his happiness was quickly doused when Hermione determinedly walked over to him and softly admonished his actions.  "Ron Weasley, can't you keep your voice down?  You know how loud noises affect him after one of these episodes and the least you can do is speak softly for a while."

The chastised boy immediately looked repentant and shot an apologetic look to his ailing friend.  "Sorry mate, I guess I forgot."

"Again," Hermione muttered under her breath in exasperation as the familiar scene played out. 

The squabbling was brought to an abrupt halt as the portrait opened and Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall entered the room.   

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall," the three students greeted the adults almost in unison.

The Transfiguration teacher aimed an abrupt nod of her head at her charges and quickly walked over to stand beside Harry in an effort to assure herself that he was indeed all right.

"Harry," the aged voice of the Headmaster rang out kindly, "I understand that you experienced another episode through your link with Voldemort?" He raised a wrinkled finger indicating the jagged scar that ran along the right side of Harry's forehead.

"Yes sir, it's the first one in well over a year" the Boy-Who-Lived answered, altering his position so that he now sat upright on the sofa.  Looking intently at the Headmaster, he relayed the events that had led up to this particular moment.

"And you have no idea what may have caused Voldemort's current bout of temper?" Dumbledore asked softly, gazing directly into Harry's eyes as if he knew the young man was holding something back.

Harry steadily returned the Wizard's gaze while trying to decide if he should divulge what he had seen while he had been unconscious.  Realizing that the Headmaster would find out anyway, he decided to share a portion of his vision knowing that Snape would report the facts of his summoning soon enough. 

"He was very angry because he thinks that Snape betrayed him," Harry replied in a hushed voice, and momentarily closed his eyes in an attempt to block out the memory of seeing, Snape, his most detested Professor writhing on the floor under the effects of the Dark Lord's malicious curse.  "Voldemort cast Cruciatus on him and kept asking Snape if he had changed loyalties. When Snape kept insisting that he wasn't loyal to you, Voldemort came up with a plan… a way that Snape could prove his allegiance once and for all."

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore corrected softly, ignoring the gasps of surprise and concern that came from the other people present in the Common Room.  "Harry, how is Professor Snape expected to prove his loyalty? What is it that Voldemort wants him to do?"

The Headmaster saw the look of fear that flashed through the young man's eyes and noted his brief glance at Ron and Hermione. "I…I don't know, Sir," Harry stuttered, bowing his head and breaking eye contact with his mentor. He did not want to worry his friends by revealing that the Potions Master had been ordered to bring them to Voldemort by the end of the week.  Whatever else he might think of the former Death Eater, Harry didn't believe that Snape was loyal to anyone except Dumbledore and he sincerely doubted that the Slytherin would turn the two students over to the Dark Lord even if they were Gryffindors. But what would happen if he didn't deliver them as instructed? How would the Potions Master explain his failure to follow orders without suffering even further at the hands of the warped creature that demanded total allegiance? How would he be able to continue in his role as a spy for the Order?

Dumbledore realized that Harry was holding back information and having witnessed the worried look on the young man's face, he was willing to bet that whatever the Potions Master had been ordered to do involved one of the other two students currently occupying the Gryffindor Common Room.  The elderly Wizard sighed quietly, wondering if this ongoing battle with the Dark Lord would ever come to an end.  So many good people, both magical and Muggle had suffered thus far and Albus, being all too familiar with the ways of the darker forces, had no doubt that many more would suffer still. The only bright spot was the knowledge that if Voldemort had ordered Severus to prove his loyalty, it meant that the Potions Master would be returning to Hogwarts.  Harry had said that Snape had been subjected to Cruciatus and while the Headmaster worried about the physical well being of his long-time friend, he took a small measure of comfort in knowing that if nothing else, the man would be returning to Hogwarts alive.

"Is there anything else that you would like to tell me, Harry?" Dumbledore queried with a sad smile.  "Anything at all?"

"No, Sir," the youth replied nervously.  He was fairly certain the Wizard had seen through his feeble attempt to protect his friends and a feeling of shame settled over him as a result of such a dishonest act.  Harry could only hope the Headmaster would understand his reluctance to disclose such information in the presence of Ron and Hermione once Snape returned and revealed Voldemort's orders.

"Very well," Albus answered, knowing that he would hear no more on the subject. "I think that it would be advisable for you to rest quietly for the remainder of the day."

Harry started to protest but the Headmaster merely shook his head.  "No, I must insist that you follow my orders on this.  You will go to the infirmary where Madam Pomfrey will administer a Dreamless Sleep potion. Once you have had the opportunity to partake of a good night's rest, you will be discharged and allowed to return to your classes."

The Deputy Headmistress was finding it more than a little difficult to hold back a smile upon seeing Harry's doleful look of resignation.  It wasn't until she realized the Headmaster was speaking to her that she turned her attention away from her prized Gryffindor student.

"Professor McGonagall, perhaps you would be so kind as to escort Mr. Potter to the Infirmary and make his excuses to the Professors whose classes he will miss this afternoon?" the Headmaster questioned.

"Of course," the Gryffindor Head of House agreed and waited as Harry stood up and reluctantly walked to the portrait.  "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, I believe that if you hurry you will still be able to make it in time for the remainder of lunch before attending your afternoon classes."

Knowing a dismissal when they heard one, Ron and Hermione quickly gathered their books and sent their friend a sympathetic look of understanding before exiting the Common Room.  Professor McGonagall and a silent, bone weary Harry Potter followed them through the portrait moments later.

Perhaps if they had stayed just a little longer they would have seen the Headmaster, lost in thought, staring vacantly at the Gryffindor banner that hung proudly on the wall? His facial expression was one of deep concentration and worry as his mind replayed his conversation with the young man who had come to matter so much to him.  Finally, with an audible sigh and a slight shake of his head, he exited the Common Room to return to his office where he would await the return of Severus Snape.

/^\^/^\^/^\

The Hogwart's dungeons were currently dark, quiet and completely deserted; just the way the Potions Master liked them, especially when sneaking back to his quarters outfitted in Death Eater garments.  Thankfully it was dinnertime and most of the students were happily eating in the Great Hall. It had taken him an unusual amount of time to return to the castle after absenting himself from the Dark Lord's presence.  Apparating to the Forbidden Forest had taken more energy than usual given the level of concentration that was required on account of his severely weakened condition and he had decided to rest before making the long trek from the entrance gates to the castle. He allowed himself the luxury of a derisive snort, realizing that after Saturday evening he wouldn't have to worry about such things any longer.  For that matter, he wouldn't have to worry about anything, as he was certain Voldemort would indeed follow through with the ill concealed threat to extinguish his life.  'Of course he won't actually end my life until after bestowing upon me the honor of demonstrating his skill with every form of torture and dark curse he's ever learned. And let us not forget the sadistic pleasure he will garner as he joyfully parades my pain riddled carcass about as an example to the other Death Eaters.'    

Reaching the entrance to his private chambers, the battered Wizard drew his wand and released the numerous wards placed on the door.  It wasn't so much that he worried the students might break into his chambers but rather someone like Lucius Malfoy: A man who had no compunction about entering another Wizard's domicile even when the wizard wasn't present. Snape had learned his lesson the hard way shortly after joining the Death Eaters so many years ago.  Even after all this time, his temper still flared as he remembered walking into his home to be greeted with the sight of Lucius unabashedly rifling through his private paperwork and personal belongings.

Removing his wrinkled cloak with trembling fingers, he tossed it on a nearby chair and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.  Whilst a good pain-numbing potion would probably be the more prudent course of treatment for relieving the more uncomfortable after effects of the Unforgivable, a large portion of Fire Whiskey definitely couldn't hurt. He sat down and stared hatefully at the mask that stared silently back at him.  It was the most potent sign of the Death Eaters and whilst it served as a symbol of fear to most, to Severus it was nothing more than a reminder of the mistakes of his past:  Mistakes that had placed him into servitude and cost him his freedom throughout most of his adult life; Mistakes that could potentially now cost two of Hogwarts students their own lives. 

Angry at his own foolhardiness and the consequences not only to himself but others, he finished off the whiskey and threw the empty glass into the fireplace with as much force as he could muster.  A sense of malicious contentment coursed through his veins as he watched the fragile glass shatter into hundreds of tiny shards that glimmered softly against the stone grate.  Now if he could only do the same to Voldemort then all would be well!  'But that would be Potter's job,' whispered a small voice that rose unbidden from somewhere in the back of his mind.  'That ridiculous prophesy! It's nothing more than the ramblings of a nutcase and will very probably cost the boy his life in the not so distant future.'  Oh he would agree that James Potter's brat might, in time, very well become a powerful Wizard but it wasn't something that would happen in the immediate future.  Now, as a result of all the attention bestowed upon the boy by the Wizarding World, coupled with the Dark Lord's own insecurities, not only Potter but those closest to him were fair game in the ever present battle between good and evil. 

The Potions Master ran a shaking hand through the limp strands of hair that had fallen about his face.  Snape had realized as soon as the Dark Lord began to outline his plan to emotionally cripple the Boy-Who-Lived that he would most likely be ordered to eliminate Hermione Granger. After all, the girl stood for everything that the Death Eaters stood against.  She was Muggleborn, intelligent, and definitely on her way to becoming a very powerful Witch.  In short, she was proving, without a doubt, that the archaic ideals spouted by Purebloods such as himself were nothing more than mere propaganda designed to ensure their own supremacy.  Severus felt an all too familiar rush of loathing as he remembered how blinded he had been in his own youth and how he too had once embraced such flawed ideas.  The fact that she was one of Harry Potter's best friends would only serve to make her final demise that much sweeter for the Dark Lord and his followers.

'Weasley was a surprise though,' he thought, thankful his shocked expression had been hidden behind the loathed Death Eater mask when Voldemort revealed his intentions.  Snape had assumed the Dark Lord would spare Weasley, at least for the time being, on the basis that he came from a Pureblood wizarding family.  Unfortunately for magical families such as the Weasley's, tolerance and acceptance of Muggleborn Wizards and Witches automatically pitted them against the ideas on which Voldemort was building his base of power. There was to be no place in the 'new order' for those who had any sympathy for the victims.  Severus had to admit that the disappearance and death of Ronald Weasley would send a powerful message to the Wizarding population.  Obviously the Dark Lord was ready to take this war to a new level and soon it would be obvious to everyone, Pureblood and Muggleborn alike, that the stakes had just become that much higher.

Snape closed his eyes and leaned back against the overstuffed chair, willing the tremors that ran through his limbs to subside.  He needed to report to Dumbledore soon so that plans could be made but first he needed to be able to walk, preferably without the embarrassment of falling flat on his face, to the Headmaster's office. 

Flicking his wand in the direction of the fireplace, he cast a hastily muttered Reparo and watched as the shards of broken glass knitted themselves back together into their original form. 'There is something less than satisfying in being able to instantly repair something that one has destroyed in anger,' he mused. With a few final flicks of his wand, he cast a cleaning charm on the newly repaired glass and directed it back to its proper place in the liquor cabinet. Grabbing a clean robe, he stalked to the door, lowered the wards, and determinedly exited his chambers.  Whether he liked the idea or not, it was time to talk with Albus Dumbledore about the future, or at least what was left of it.  

/^\^/^\^/^\

TBC

Author's Note:  Wow! I can't believe the response this story has received thus far and I would like to send out a heart-felt THANK YOU to those of you who have taken the time to leave a review or email me directly. Your comments and encouragement mean so much!  As always, my very sincere thanks to OzRatBag2 for taking the time to run through my writing with a fine tooth comb and make it presentable for posting. 

~Jules