Peter Pettigrew squeaked. In his current predicament, there was precious little else he could do. He was spread-eagled in his worn-out pants on the rickety old bed at Spinner's End, an industrial strength binding spell on his wrists and ankles. Bellatrix had quickly tired of his whining and shoved a knobbly old pair of socks into his mouth.

"I hope those are clean," sneered Snape, drawing yet another vial of blood from the pinioned animagus.

"I didn't have you down as a solicitous host," smirked Bellatrix, flipping to the correct page in the huge medicinal potions book. "Here we go. Testing for syphilis. Instant results, lovely!"

"Mmph!" went Wormtail. They ignored him.

"Is it likely that anyone would willingly transmit a disease to him sexually?" Snape sounded dubious, thinking of all those lovely ingredients which were being wasted on biological tests for the rat.

"He might have used a professional," she leaned over him, menacingly. Bellatrix did most things menacingly. Severus shuddered. He really disliked the thought of his fellow Death Eaters at it. They were such an unpleasant collection of freaks. Bellatrix continued in that irritating singsong voice which she used to torment her inferiors. "I hope you haven't given the Dark Lord anything embarrassing, Peter. He will be most upset." Wormtail closed his eyes. He hoped so too.

Snape added the blood to a simple blend of mercuric oxide and powdered knarl spines, heated it to ninety one point three three degrees Flamelheit and sat back to watch.

"Mauve," he observed, ten seconds later. Bellatrix flipped over the page and sighed.

"Negative. Good for you, Wormy. OK, Snape, next one – Tantric Ungelpox, hereditary or acquired. Do we have any toadflax suspension?"

Snape performed a quick sterilising charm on his hand before rubbing his eyes. This was going to take ages.

…….

"Lemon drop, Severusss?"

Snape experienced a rare moment of panic. Sleep-deprivation was obviously driving him insane. He and Lestrange had spent all night testing Wormtail for every possible disease which he could have given to the Voldemort by using his arm for the resurrection potion. He had always thought he could function perfectly well without sleep, until now. Now, he was clearly going insane. The Dark Lord did not do sweets. The Light One did little else. Severus realised that something had gone badly wrong somewhere in the fabric of the universe. Which meant that he was probably going to die.

"Master?" he mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor.

"It was a joke, Severuss," came the hissing reply.

"Ahahaha!" he chuckled loudly, more out of relief than amusement. "Very good, My Lord."

"You see how well I know my enemy?"

"You are truly all-powerful, Master," he grovelled. "And so magnanimous to share a pleasantry with one so unworthy."

"Oh knock it off, Severusss," he sounded bored now, and popped a boiled sweet into his mouth with a familiar little clunk. "And get up off the floor. You're giving me a crick in my neck."

Snape did so, wondering what all this could mean. He was still convinced that death was imminent, but then, since becoming a spy, the feeling had skulked in the back of his mind most of the time.

"Unlike Dumbledore, I will not take the trouble to baffle you with flowery speech," began Voldemort, sucking on his lemon drop. Snape inched backwards carefully. The smell of Albus' breath coming out of Voldemort's mouth was messing with his head. "Malfoy has behaved like an imbecile. His impetuosity has landed him in prison, which means you are currently the only one of my servants to possess a brain."

"My Lord is most generous," Snape didn't like where this was heading. "However, Bellatrix…"

"Bella shows the right spirit, certainly, but she is undeniably insane." Severus conceded the point immediately with a firm nod. The Dark Lord continued. "I require your intellect this evening, Severusss. I am concerned about the state of my wand. You were not present on the evening when I regained my powers, but no doubt you have heard what occurred. I was unable to vanquish a teenage boy."

"Yes, My Lord, your wand and Potter's met with an unusual effect, I believe," he remembered Lucius' vivid explanation of Lily Evans and James Potter manifesting inside an impenetrable sphere of light.

"I was powerless!" he yelled, flecks of lemony spit flying from his mouth. "Find out what the hell happened and fix it! This must never happen again!"

Severus had never really thought much about wands. Foolish wand-waving was very much not his thing – the whole idea of a magical core combining with the natural essence of the soul of a tree in order to focus the innate magical traces of a witch or wizard tended to make his head spin if he analysed it for too long. He didn't think he could stand much library research on the subject, certainly not after all that time poring over Wormtail's bodily fluids. He would just have to consult an expert.

Ten minutes later, he strode into the Leaky Cauldron, peering at the gossiping clientele until he spotted them. Two hulking great lumps were huddled in the corner underneath the stairs, miserably staring into enormous flagons of ale.

"Crabbe! Goyle! Come with me!" he commanded. Recognising him, they leaped up immediately, apparently pleased to have someone to tell them what to do in Malfoy's absence. They followed him like ungainly guard dogs out the back of the pub and through to Diagon Alley before Goyle bothered to ask what was going on.

"A mission," he replied curtly. They both made excited noises.

"Where to?" asked Crabbe, ponderously.

"Are we going to fetch Malfoy?" ventured Goyle, in a startling bit of independent thought. Snape smirked. Not on your life, he though to himself.

"No, Garth. We're going to fetch Ollivander."

…….

A/N: What do you think? Worth continuing? Not sure where I'm headed with this, but there were lots of intriguing snippets in HBP which have sparked certain trains of thought...

Thanks Mon, Oya and Artemisa27 for being so quick off the mark with the reviews! You are all made of stars! x