A/N: My apologies for the long wait between chapters! Needed a little break to recharge before heading toward the finish line. Between all of us, this is the last 'normal' chapter before things properly start hitting the fan. Hope you all enjoy it, along with what's to come.

As always, thank you for your reviews! I truly value the feedback and enjoy hearing from all of you.


Chapter Twenty-One: Visitors

Severus gazed out the window of the Hog's Head, his drink untouched. Beside him Lucius, Crabbe Sr., and Goyle Sr.'s spoke in hushed tones, though no one was likely to hear them due to their use of the Muffliato charm he'd created what felt like a lifetime ago. It was Lucius doing most of the talking; Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr. mostly nodded and grunted, tossing out the rare short sentence only to convey their agreement or suggest a particularly knuckleheaded idea.

"What do you think, Severus?"

Severus turned away from the window. "Pardon?"

Lucius smirked. "Distracted?" He nodded outside, toward the particularly buxom young woman exiting a shop further down the sloping path.

Severus, who'd been too lost in his own thoughts to even notice the villager, rolled his eyes and returned to his drink. "Hardly."

Lucius chuckled, a move quickly mirrored by Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr. "Poor man. We really do need to find you someone. It must be dreadful, holed up in that school surrounded by only children and the elderly."

Severus just raised an eyebrow, thinking of Charity Burbage, and said, "Hardly necessary."

"Oh?" Lucius asked, his own eyebrows rising, but Severus said nothing. His casual arrangement with Charity worked perfectly well for the two of them. He had to admit, however, that it had been quite some time since he'd managed to slip away to her quarters for an evening, mostly due to his students (the first year in particular) driving him half out of his wits.

"Moving along," Lucius said, apparently believing Severus was bluffing, and feeling gracious enough to allow him to keep his pride. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind an ear and went on. "I only asked what you thought of Crabbe's idea. Go on, Crabbe, say it again."

"Polyjuice." Crabbe placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "We become goblins and stroll right into Flamel's vault. No one would stop us because we'd be goblins."

Lucius smirked as he turned to Severus, perfectly aware of why this wouldn't work but allowing Severus the opportunity to explain. Severus shook his head and said, "Impossible."

"Why?" Crabbe frowned. "Makes sense to me."

"Goblins control the bank," Goyle piped up in support. "If we're the goblins, we control the bank."

"Yes, they do. And those goblins are very aware of how many people dream of making their way inside a vault," Severus said slowly, pressing his fingertips together. "Particularly one with a Philosopher's Stone inside. Have you any idea how many protective charms are placed not only on the bank, but on the goblins themselves? Do you know how trained for combat they are? It's not as simple as casting a summoning charm on a bit of hair, or even taking it by force. They'd destroy you the moment you tried."

"But-" Crabbe started.

"Besides, Polyjuice only works on humans transforming into other humans," Severus cut him off. "In your case, you'd turn into a hybrid human-goblin and land yourself in Azkaban faster than you could say 'Albus Dumbledore'. Even if you managed to somehow defy the odds and disguise yourself as a goblin, what then?"

Crabbe and Goyle stared at him. Severus sighed. "How would you get into the vault without a key or password? You might have the body of a goblin, but you wouldn't retain that goblin's knowledge."

"Ask another one?" Goyle suggested. "Say you forgot?"

"And have that goblin bring on an immediate bank-wide lockdown as they summon the authorities to find out exactly who youare?" Severus shot back. "Use your head, Goyle."

Goyle shot him a surly look but didn't argue. Lucius clapped him on the back, shooting a grin at Severus. "And that's why we keep Severus around. You two are the muscle we can't afford to do without. We're the brains."

Crabbe and Goyle didn't argue this. Neither of them were foolish enough to delude themselves into thinking they were the masterminds of this operation, or any operation for that matter. In fact, they brightened slightly at Lucius's acknowledgment of the talent they did possess.

"Well, do you have any ideas?" Goyle asked Severus. "Ones that aren't shooting down ours?"

"Unfortunately," Severus said, raising his glass, "I'm afraid I'm in as much of a quagmire as you are."

Crabbe and Goyle stared at him, taking a moment to figure out what the word 'quagmire' meant. Crabbe managed it first, and he frowned, raising his glass as well and downing its contents in one go. He was shortly followed by Goyle, and as Severus finished his own drink his eyes wandered to Lucius's empty glass.

"It seems circumstances call for another round." Severus rose to his feet. "This one's on me."

"Nonsense," Lucius said, reaching inside his cloak. "A professor's salary-"

"Isn't nearly as tragic as you'd imagine," Severus said before he could finish. "Particularly for a housemaster with a decade of experience who pays no rent."

"No need to get prickly; I know you're not destitute." Lucius smirked again. "You must be aware my position on the Board of Governors grants me the ability know exactly how much you earn. And I hope you also know I'll be the person fighting for a far more substantial raise than the one Dumbledore proposed at our meeting next weekend."

"Very much appreciated," Severus responded dryly. "Allow me to thank you by getting the next round."

Lucius threw his arms in the air, conceding defeat, and motioned for Severus to go ahead. "Go on, then. I'll get the next one."

Severus made his way to the counter and waited for Aberforth to decide he was ready to wrap up doing nothing and amble his way over. The older wizard glared at him, as he always did whenever a patron dared to request service of any kind.

"Another round," Severus said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving several coins. Quietly, he added, "Same as you did before with mine."

Aberforth nodded and shuffled off, returning a moment later with three full-strength glasses of mead, and one that appeared identical but wasn't. As much as the trio waiting at the table made Severus long to drink himself senseless, he'd been drinking tinted water since the first hour elapsed.

"All right, then?" Aberforth muttered, shooting a glance at the waiting table.

"All right," Severus replied, his voice still low. "Your brother is very aware, don't worry."

Aberforth grunted, turning away with an insulted expression at the insinuation he'd involve Albus in any of his affairs, as though he hadn't contacted him every time Severus spent an afternoon at the pub with the trio. Of course, by the time he had, Severus had already informed the headmaster of the contents of each conversation.

Severus levitated their drinks and returned to the table. Safely under the veil of the Muffliato Charm, they toasted to the Philosopher's Stone and the return of the Dark Lord. As Severus swallowed the water, he once against wished he could drink himself into oblivion rather than listen to the babble around him, but he needed to keep his senses about him, especially if one of the men managed to stumble upon a decent idea, which wasn't likely.

They'd been meeting every other weekend since January, and it very quickly became clear to Severus that none of the three men intended on actually retrieving the Philosopher's Stone. For the past couple of months they'd sat with their drinks, reminisced about the old days, and pitched countless ridiculous schemes, but no one imagined they'd actually succeed in restoring the Dark Lord to his full strength. In fact, Severus doubted the three men before him truly relished the possibility.

"We shrink ourselves," Goyle offered, "And crawl through the vault's door crack."

"We'd be captured immediately because being small doesn't mean you're indetectable," Lucius shot back. "And if we're small enough to fit through a door crack it would take us years to make our way to the deepest vaults."

Severus thought of when they'd been Hogwarts students. The war had seemed grand and invigorating then, a way to elevate Pure-bloods into the position they deserved. Severus couldn't deny that; he'd been caught himself in the rising wave of unwanted Slytherins clambering to form a united identity without thinking about what that identity was. None of it seemed quite real then. Severus received the Mark less than a week after he finished school, and then everything was suddenly terribly real.

Those days had been frightening for everyone, except perhaps for the Dark Lord himself. He was a master at turning his followers against one another just enough to prevent alliances from forming, but not enough for them to collapse from within. Minerva had once mentioned to Severus how difficult it had been for the Order during those days, and how one couldn't trust anyone. It was much the same within the ranks of the Death Eaters, not because of spies controlled by the Imperius Curse, but because everyone was busy scrambling to report on one another for even the tiniest leg up in the eyes of their master. Even at their peak, it was dangerous to be a Death Eater. And then the Ministry purges that came after it all fell apart...

It was one thing to reminisce about the old days, and altogether another to work to bring them back.

Severus knew Lucius Malfoy had little desire to do more than reminisce. He'd managed to restore his family's name from the tatters it had been in at the war's end, and was considered a respectable member of society. He had money, land, and a family. The one thing he didn't have was his glory years, and Severus knew how much he missed those Hogwarts days of planning schemes and imagining what would come once the Dark Lord called for him.

Severus would bet every Knut he had that the only reason Lucius had alerted Crabbe Sr. and Goyle Sr. to the Philosopher's Stone's supposed existence within Gringotts (along with the so-called 'fake' one hidden away at Hogwarts) was to protect his own skin. If, somehow, the Dark Lord managed to defy all odds and return on his own, he'd be able to say he hadn't only been trying to help, but that he'd been rounding up the old gang on his behalf. Of course, he'd chosen Crabbe and Goyle because the two men were so thick they'd never breathe a word to anyone without permission, nor were they at risk of trying to take over the operation themselves.

"Remember the time fourth year we hexed the toenails off that Mudblood Ravenclaw?" Lucius asked. Crabbe and Goyle both chuckled. "A pity Madame Pomfrey was able to put her right so quickly."

"The one who who wrote poetry?" Crabbe asked, sniggering to himself. "With the mole?"

"That's the one. Horrid girl, and even more horrid poetry. Her family eventually pulled her out of school and left the country." To Severus, he added, "This was before your time at Hogwarts. A shame. You would have loved it."

"I'm sure I would have," Severus said, adopting a wistful tone of his own and shaking his head as he sipped at his water. "Those certainly were the days."


Severus strode into the common room that Wednesday evening, a newspaper tucked under his arm. The Slytherins sprawled across the room quickly jumped up, joined by the few visiting students in attendance. The Gryffindors had found the custom of rising for the housemaster odd at first, but they weren't about to be the only ones sitting, and before long they treated it almost as a game, their competitive natures kicking in as they tried to beat even the Slytherins in being the quickest ones up.

Severus shot the Gryffindors a weary look and waved a hand at the assembled students to return to their various activities. As they flopped down into a chair, he called out, "Feet off the sofa, Miss Brown. This is your second and final warning." Lavender Brown, who was flat on her stomach near the fire with her shoes pressed against the side of the sofa, sheepishly pulled them away and called out a, "Sorry, sir."

Severus made his way to the only Slytherin who hadn't risen, not due to a lack of respect, but because she'd been ordered to sit facing the corner after her atrocious conduct at dinner half-an-hour earlier.

"Have you had enough time to reflect on your poor choices, Miss Bulstrode?" When Millicent didn't respond, instead staring at her feet, Severus placed a hand against the wall and added, "I suppose another thirty minutes is in order, then. Or perhaps an hour?"

"Sorry, sir," she mumbled, ducking her head further. "I don't need another thirty minutes. Or an hour."

"In that case, tell me what you've reflected on."

"Shouldn't throw gravy on Malfoy," Millicent mumbled, so quietly Severus barely heard her.

"Speak up."

"I shouldn't have thrown gravy on Malfoy, sir," Millicent repeated, still looking away, but audible.

"You shouldn't throw gravy on anyone, Miss Bulstrode, but I'll accept that response." Severus rolled his eyes at the child's dramatics. Millicent Bulstrode was a sensible girl, she usually took this sort of thing in stride. "Now, remember what you've learned from this great ordeal, and go join your friends."

Millicent hesitated, still not meeting his eyes. Severus frowned. Any other night she'd be halfway across the room, barely phased by the mild punishment. He placed a finger under her chin, turned her face toward him, and was surprised to find that while she wasn't crying, she wasn't far from it.

"Oh, come now," he chided her gently. "What is this? You're not one to sulk."

"I'm not sulking," she mumbled, and when Severus raised an eyebrow she turned back to face the wall. "It's nothing, sir."

"Then why are you remaining in the corner after you've been permitted to leave?" Severus asked, folding his arms and gazing down at the girl. "And, more importantly, why are you on the verge of tears, Miss Bulstrode?"

"It's nothing," Millicent repeated, swiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her robes. "Really, sir. I'm not going to cry. Everything's fine."

Severus paused, then glanced toward the fire, where the Gryffindor first year girls were gathered with their Slytherin counterparts in what appeared to be a gossiping, giggling circle. Lavender glanced at the two of them in the corner, then whispered something to Parvati, who put a hand to her mouth and looked away to hide her giggles. He turned back to Millicent, who was watching him watch the other girls. She gave her best attempt at a nonchalant shrug, but her slumped shoulders betrayed her.

"They're going to tell the entire school you treat us like babies," she admitted, letting out a sigh. "And I shouldn't care, sir, but... everyone thinks you let us get away with everything, and now they'll know the truth."

For God's sake. Severus knew perfectly well the reputation he had throughout the rest of the student body. It was a reputation his own Slytherins worked hard to maintain on behalf of their own pride. He allowed it, if only because his own house and the staff knew otherwise, and because the foolish charade reinforced the unity he'd so desperately been trying to build within his house. But now that he was encouraging his students to branch out and form connections with the other houses...

"I can hear them now, sir." Millicent adopted a high-pitched voice that was a surprisingly accurate impersonation of Lavender Brown. "'Gosh, Millicent, Professor McGonagall doesn't make us sit in the corner.'" She shook her head ruefully. It was obvious she still felt exceedingly sorry for herself, but she'd managed to get her emotions under control. "Oh, well. It was nice while it lasted."

"You poor angelic thing," Severus replied and, despite herself, Millicent smiled. As exhausting as his younger students could be, Miss Bulstrode was reliably practical when it came down to it. "Being held accountable for your poor choices? In front of others? I can't imagine it. However shall you survive the indignity?"

Millicent straightened up, giving into giggles at his words as she smoothed her robes. With an entirely too-cheeky smile, she told him, "I always do, sir, somehow."

Severus aimed a slow-moving cuff in her general direction, and well before it could land she hopped up and scurried off to join the other girls. Severus made his way toward the fire as well, and as he turfed a third year out of his preferred chair with no more than a glare, he could hear Lavender Brown's hushed, syrupy-sweet voice saying, "How horribly embarrassing, Millie. You must be absolutely dying inside. My mum hasn't put me in the corner since I was six."

"Well, good for you and your mum," Millicent shot back. "Looks like I wasn't as lucky. Anyway, I'm here now. What've I missed?"

"We were just talking about our Transfiguration paper," Hermione Granger piped up. "It's a bit tricky, but I'm already halfway through, and-"

"You were talking about our Transfiguration paper," Lavender interrupted. "We were trying to find a more interesting conversation topic. But speaking of Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall hasn't ever used a baby punishment like that on us. She-"

"Oh, let it drop, won't you?" Hermione cut in. "She's embarrassed enough as it is."

Severus unfolded his newspaper, glancing sideways but not moving his head. The Slytherin first year girls sat next to Millicent, glaring fiercely at Lavender but staying silent. Hermione appeared ruffled partially on Millicent's behalf, and partially on her own, while Parvati just seemed to want to change the subject something more pleasant. Millicent rolled her eyes in an impressive display of feigned nonchalance. "Are we still talking about the corner thing? I'm not embarrassed. Better than being in detention, right, girls? And Hermione, how in the ruddy hell have you managed to finish that paper halfway already? You have to teach us your tricks."

Severus smiled to himself. Of the first year girls, Millicent Bulstrode was the most practical, yet she also had the quickest temper. He was glad she hadn't taken the bait, and that she'd even managed a bit of Slytherin-esque kindness for the Granger girl. He was even willing to overlook the language used in the process.

He returned to his copy of the Daily Prophet, the contents of which were exceedingly and welcomingly dull. He'd taken to reading the paper twice daily, keeping an eye out for any mention of Gringotts. Not that he expected the Hog's Head squad to actually try anything, not with security beefed up after the attempt on the vault over the summer, and especially not without his prior knowledge, but he stayed on alert all the same.

"Come on, you know this," Draco Malfoy's irritated voice carried over from one of the tables behind the sofa opposite Severus. The boy sat with Vincent Crabbe, who stared at his open Charms book. "Vince, it's not N.E.W.T. material. You know the wand movements already. You just need to write them down."

Vincent stared at the open book, then at his sheet of parchment. He sighed and reached for his quill. "Listen, just go on without me. I know you'd rather be with Blaise and Theo at Gryffindor Tower. I'll figure it out myself."

"I promised I'd help," Draco said in a voice that implied he very much regretted this promise. "So I'll help. Go on, you know this. All you do is-"

"Wave my wand upward, twirl it once, then... then point it down." Vincent dipped his quill in his inkpot, not looking up, his face scrunched with effort. "I know. It just takes a bit sometimes to know that I know." His quill scratched away at the parchment slowly and haltingly. "Listen, really, it's all right. I know I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid," Draco said, folding his arms, both boys unaware Severus was eavesdropping on them. "You're thicker than mud, but you're not stupid."

"You call me stupid all the time," Vincent shot back.

"Well, yeah, but you're not stupid." Draco nodded a word Vincent had written and said, "You misspelled rotation."

Severus gazed at them over the edge of his newspaper, thinking of the boys' fathers. Their friendships were remarkably similar in certain ways, but there was a genuine something between them that the men who'd given them their names had lost along the way. Severus paid silent attention as Draco continued to help Vincent as best he could without actually doing the paper for him, grimacing all the while, as Vincent grimaced his own way through things.

As they finished at last fifteen minutes later, Draco glanced over the work and gave Vincent a nod. "See? I told you you're not stupid. Some of this is actually decent."

"Thanks for helping," Vincent responded, not replying to Draco's comment. "Think we still have time to make it to Gryffindor Tower?"

They had an hour, twenty minutes of which would be spent making their way to and from the tower, which they set off toward in a hurry. Severus wished he could traverse the castle at the almighty speed the children did; if he tried it his body would scream at him the entire following day. Severus leaned further into the chair, reasoning that at least he could fling gravy at whoever he wanted with the only response being horrified stares from the staff around him. It was a fair trade.


The Board of Governors strolled up the front walk toward the castle, Severus watching them from the window of the staff room with Minerva at his side. All had dour expressions, which put the energy of the assembled staff on edge, despite the fact that these meetings conducted behind closed doors between Dumbledore and the Board always seemed to end with a salary raise and bonus for all involved.

"Last night I told Peeves if he keeps a low profile I'd consider purchasing that bugle he keeps demanding," Filius said from the window next to theirs. "He seemed quite open to the idea."

"You tried to bribe Peeves?" Minerva asked, shooting him a look of disapproval. "For God's sake, Filius, don't you know that only encourages him?"

"He seemed quite open to the idea!" Filius repeated, his voice rising slightly. "Besides, we don't want a repeat of last year when the governors were leaving and he upended a full chamber pot-"

"Don't remind me," Minerva said curtly.

"One can only wonder where he found it," Filius said, half to himself. "Hogwarts hasn't used chamber pots in Merlin knows how many years. And how he managed to fill it with-"

"As I said, don't remind me," Minerva said, anxiety etched across her face, and Filius mercifully let the subject drop.

"I do hope they settle on better raises than last year," Pomona murmured from the table nearest the windows. She looked up and hastened to add, "Not that I'm complaining, of course. You know I do this for the children, not the salary."

Severus snorted, watching the collection of wizards disappear as they entered the building. "They can't hear you, Pomona."

"That's not why I said it!" she protested, shooting him her most wounded expression. "It's the utmost truth."

"I never said it wasn't," Severus conceded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. To Minerva, he said, "Chin up. Peeves or no Peeves, they always take care of the Deputy Headmistress before anyone else."

"I'm not nervous," Minerva said, pursing her lips the way she did whenever she was nervous. To the room at large, she said, "And no one should be. Albus told me the Board of Governors should be very satisfied with everyone's performance this year."

"But what if-" Filius began, but Severus didn't hear the rest, already being quite finished with the conversation. They went through this ridiculous charade every year, with half the staff denying that they were in a state of near panic over their performance review to be held with Dumbledore the following week. Everything always went smoothly, and no one heard anything beyond the mildest of mild criticism cushioned between wildly undeserved praise. In fact, Severus was certain next weekend the staff room would be filled with smiling faces daydreaming the myriad ways they'd spend their bonuses. Severus grimaced, imagining listening to Filius go on once more about how perhaps this summer would be the summer he finally took those waterskiing lessons.


Draco scurried down the dungeon stairs as quickly as he could. The corridors were empty and he bolted through them at top speed, slamming directly into Marcus Flint as he rounded a corner.

"Watch it, you little toad," the sixth year snarled, pressing a hand against the stone wall to keep his balance. "Or I'll hex you into next week."

"Sorry," Draco said. He meant it, too. The older students threatened the younger ones all the time, but Marcus was one of the few Draco suspected would actually follow through. "Didn't see you."

Marcus grunted, already continuing on his way, and Draco continued down the corridor at a jog instead of a run.

By the time he reached the common room the encounter with Marcus was long forgotten, and Draco launched himself into an armchair next to Harry, who'd just finished a solo game of Exploding Snap- or, more accurately, had it finished for him.

"Guess who I saw," Draco said, leaning over the chair's arm and smirking at Harry's singed, still-smoking eyebrow.

"Who?" Harry asked. "Was it Peeves? I already saw him earlier this morning. He had a bucket of dead fish and said something about preparing his aim for later, so I kept my distance."

"No," Draco said, straightening up and adding, "I saw my father."

It was all Draco could do to hide just how thrilled he was. Christmas had been an uncomfortable affair. His father was affectionate but distant, as though his thoughts were somewhere far away from Malfoy Manor. Of course, Draco hadn't been particularly pleased with him that Christmas, not after he'd gone and blabbed to Professor Snape about everything he'd told him in confidence. When Draco's mother, sensing the tension, asked what was wrong, he just told her it felt strange not to be at Hogwarts, which he was startled to discover was the truth.

While Draco still wasn't pleased with his father's decision to tell Professor Snape about their inquiries into Nicolas Flamel (along with their discovery of the three-headed dog), enough time had passed that the white-hot anger he'd felt them had since simmered into a general resentment that could be easily set aside when needed. And he had missed his father, so much so that the sight of him in the Entrance Hall caused him to cry out and rush over like a small child.

"He beamed when he saw me," Draco said importantly. "And told the other governors I was his son."

"As opposed to who?" Harry asked, rubbing at his singed eyebrow and grinning. "His great uncle?"

"You wouldn't understand," Draco said, adopting his most important tone. "My father is important. Yours-"

"Is dead, yeah. I heard," Harry said, gathering the cards he'd been playing with. "When are you going to find some new material? That bit's getting stale."

"He said he's going to visit the common room," Draco went on excitedly. "As soon as the meeting's done. He's going to say hello to all of us. You'll finally get to meet him." He paused, something only just occurring to him. "Are any of the Gryffindors coming by this afternoon?"

"I don't think so. They've been spending a lot of time with Hagrid lately." Harry paused as well, then gave him a pointed look. "Why are you asking?"

Draco didn't answer. Just as he felt uncomfortable for reasons he couldn't explain when he thought about the tattoo his father kept hidden, he felt a similar sense of unease at the thought of his father coming by the Slytherin common room and finding Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom sprawled about like they owned the place. He didn't know what his father would say, but he knew he wouldn't approve, even if he couldn't reason exactly why beyond it simply wasn't something that was done.

"Well?" Harry asked, and Draco made a face, wishing he'd just let the subject drop.

"It's..." Draco shook his head. "You wouldn't understand, Potter."

"Because my parents are dead?" he asked, but it wasn't with the usual sarcasm. He looked at Draco as though he were genuinely trying to understand what it might be like to have a former Death Eater for a father.

Draco didn't answer, instead continuing to shuffle, though the deck was well and truly rearranged by this point. The unease in his stomach was rising. Just a few months earlier he'd have been horrified by the thought of Gryffindors spending time in the Slytherin common room. He still wasn't in love with the idea, but...

Draco didn't want to, but he had to admit the Gryffindors weren't nearly as terrible as he'd decided they were. Just as the Gryffindors were begrudgingly admitting the Slytherins weren't nearly as terrible as they'd imagined.

Draco grimaced. He shuffled faster and faster, thinking of what his father would say if he could see the things that were happening inside his head.

"You might want to-" Harry started, but it was too late. The deck of Exploding Snap cards lived up to their name with a terrific bang, and Draco found himself launched out of his chair, landing on his back in a startled, disheveled heap.

"Shut up," he said as Harry roared with laughter, grabbing the outstretched hand he was offered and allowing himself to be pulled up.


Severus knew where Minerva would be. Every year during the Board of Governors' meeting she picked one of the most isolated ramparts, transformed, and curled into a ball as she gazed over the castle grounds, fretting over imaginary fears as she convinced herself she was doing nothing of the sort. Severus typically let her be, but he didn't fancy spending the day entirely by himself, and the thought of spending another moment in the staff room made him want to fling himself out the window. He'd thought of seeking out Charity for a brief sojourn- they hadn't spent a night together since last term, but there'd been a few stolen moments in hidden corridors and forgotten classrooms- but she was visiting her mother for the weekend.

And so Severus found himself approaching a particularly tense-looking cat staring over the lake. He paused, then said, "I've always wondered if you've had secret adventures about the castle with Filch's cat that no one knows about."

The cat turned to look at him and rolled its eyes in a very human manner before hopping down from the wall and transforming back into the head of Gryffindor. "Hardly. I'm afraid I'm not nearly important enough for Mrs. Norris to waste her time on."

Severus snorted and turned his head to take in the scenery. Even when he'd been his most miserable at Hogwarts, he'd always found comfort in the castle itself, and the grounds around him. He watched as Hagrid exited his hut accompanied by several first-year Gryffindors. Even from his current height, Severus could see his hand was wrapped in an enormous bandage. He wondered what ridiculous creature in the forest Hagrid had attempted to befriend (there was always at least one per year, the incident several years before with the merpeople in the lake an all-time highlight) then turned back to Minerva.

"I have no idea why I'm so nervous," she said, shaking her head and looking quite cross with herself. "I've been here for nearly thirty-six years. It's ridiculous."

"Perhaps this is the year they decide you've been a fraud this entire time," Severus said gravely. "I've heard they're considering gathering a mob to run you out of the castle. How good are you at catching mice? I'd imagine they're somewhat filling in a pinch."

Minerva swatted his arm, but she relaxed slightly, and they both leaned against the stone wall behind them. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and retrieved two bottles of butterbeer, which he placed on the wall. Minerva raised her eyebrows and waited, to which Severus smirked in reply and retrieved the flask he'd stashed alongside them.

"You drink entirely-"

"Too much. You've mentioned it," Severus commented as he opened the bottles of butterbeer and poured a generous amount of bourbon into each. "The vast majority of it with you. My goodness, Minerva, you're a terrible influence. And on a former student, no less."

Minerva swatted his arm again, but she accepted the bottle he offered. "It's one in the afternoon."

"I won't tell your housemaster if you don't tell mine," Severus said, and with a reluctant snort Minerva clinked her bottle against his.

"This is decent," Minerva commented in mild surprise once she'd taken a sip. "Where did you find it?"

"Lucian Bole's father," Severus said with a smirk. "By way of his son, who thought it wise to smuggle it to school after the Christmas break. Somehow they always think they've found the perfect hiding spot, and somehow their contraband always becomes my contraband."

Minerva laughed and shook her head. "Another inspection? Those poor children."

"Those poor children? If you had any idea of the filth they stash away in their dorms I'm certain you'd have an entirely different impression of those poor children."

"I imagine my students have half a brewery tucked away under their beds, along with enough cigarettes to open my own corner shop," Minerva shot back. "But if they're smart enough to be subtle, I let them think they're getting away with it."

"Incredible, isn't it?" Severus said dryly. "It's almost as though we're two different people with different methods."

Minerva laughed again, and they both drank. He didn't tell her he only held his inspections rarely, and only to keep his students on their toes. That, and because every so often they revealed the sort of items Minerva didn't have to worry her precious Gryffindors might hide. His searches during his first few years of teaching tended to unearth multiple dark objects, many stolen from parents who hadn't noticed they'd gone missing. These were the sort of items their possessors had no good explanation for owning beyond being intended for harm. They still turned up now and then, mostly among first and second years who didn't understand quite how dangerous they were, and who quickly learned from their irate housemaster exactly what might happen if they were to use them.

The items Severus had turned up at his most recent inspection were exceedingly boring, and the punishments he doled out to their owners that evening were both swifter and milder than expected (though, as per usual, the aggrandized stories spread throughout the common room implied they'd been flayed senseless). He'd played up the 'furious housemaster' bit, but was silently relieved to see the dark items that had once been commonplace in Slytherin had been replaced with more age-appropriate contraband. Particularly contraband that Severus could enjoy himself once confiscated.

As much as Minerva thought he was too hard on his students, he didn't surprise them with nearly as many inspections as he once had. He trusted them in a way he once hadn't. But, then again...

Severus frowned, his thoughts wandering. For the most part, his students came to reject the worldview their parents had taught them. Some went so far as to cut ties with particularly devout parents, while others paid enough false lip service to the Dark Lord's ideology to maintain a functional relationship with their families. But not every student was a Terrence Higgs, and Severus worried about the ones who only seemed to grow more fervent the more time passed.

"Something's on your mind," Minerva said, studying him.

"Something's always on my mind," Severus replied, not elaborating further.

Lucius had said something at one of their earliest Hog's Head meetings, something that had disturbed him. He'd said it casually, almost to himself, under the impression Severus strove to maintain that a fake Philosopher's Stone was at Hogwarts and the so-called 'real' one was hidden away at Gringotts.

"If only," he'd said, "The Stone were at Hogwarts. The younger children wouldn't be much help, but the older ones... There are some bright minds there. They could be useful."

It was an empty idea, one Lucius didn't imagine acting on, because he had no reason to. And yet Severus's mind had lingered on it, thinking of the students he still treaded carefully with because he hadn't quite won them over. The Dark Lord had vanished, but with Harry Potter at Hogwarts something in the air had changed. There were cloaked figures lurking about and whispers of days long since past. Severus had no doubt the Dark Lord still existed in some form, and that he wouldn't rest until he regained his former glory. If and when that came, the ideological battle between his students and their parents would become more than heated debates over the dinner table, and that thought worried Severus.

Hence the inspection he'd carried out upon returning to the castle from the Hog's Head. He hadn't expected to find anything sinister, but the results comforted him somewhat, as though to remind him that those dire days weren't yet upon them. Maybe they never would be, though Severus was very rarely an optimist.

"Our plan," he finally said. "For this summer. You're preparing?"

Minerva turned to look at him. "Of course. Any second thoughts?"

Severus shook his head. "None at all." He paused, thinking of Quirinus, who looked sicker and paler by the day, and whether or not their suspicions of the man were correct. The possibility that an alternative he wasn't aware of was true made him so uneasy that he took a larger-than-intended drink from his bottle and nearly sent its contents down the wrong pipe. Minerva slapped his back as he coughed, and he waved a hand irritably.

"I'm fine," he insisted, then turned to face the grounds once again, uncomfortable with a deep-seated suspicion that something big was coming.


"What time is it?" Draco asked Millicent, who replied without missing a beat, "It's time to get a watch."

Draco glared at her, then at Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were sitting with Millicent and Pansy around a tattered game of Snakes and Ladders.

"It's a quarter past five," Lavender offered, peering at the watch of a third year on the sofa behind her.

Draco made a face, to which Millicent didn't pay much mind. "Can we help you with anything else, then?"

"He should be here by now," Draco said, ignoring her question and frowning. "Why isn't he here yet?"

"I don't know," Millicent said, reaching for the die to roll her turn. "Maybe the meeting went long."

"It shouldn't go this long." Draco shook his head, then turned to Lavender and Parvati. "When are you leaving?"

"When they bloody well feel like it," Millicent said before they could answer. "You're being rude."

"No I'm not," Draco said, crossing his arms the way Millicent used to when she was eight and about to throw a tantrum.

"Yes you are," she replied. "You've asked them that three times now. They may not be Slytherins, but they're our guests, whether your father approves of them or not."

"If he wants us to leave that much-" Parvati started, her expression slightly exasperated but equally willing to maintain the peace.

"No," Millicent interrupted. "He's being a tit. You're staying."

Draco glared at the three of them fiercely, then said, "I'm going to find my father. I don't know why he's taking so long."

"Maybe you can find your manners while you're searching for him," Millicent called after him as he stormed out of the common room. Turning back to the Gryffindors, she rolled her eyes. "Don't mind him. He's an arse."

"He doesn't have to act as though we're some terrible secret that has to be hidden away when his father is around," Lavender said darkly, watching as Millicent finally rolled her die and moved her plastic piece onto a square containing a snake.

"Try not to take it personally." Millicent grimaced as she slid her piece back to an earlier square. She hated this game, as did all of them, but the older years had taken all the good ones as per usual. "It's only because you aren't Slytherins, not because of your personalities. Not to defend him, because it's all rubbish, but imagine if your parents dropped by and we were in your common room."

"They would be fine with it," Parvati protested, but facing the raised eyebrows of both Millicent and Pansy she relented and said, "All right. I see your point." She paused, then shook her head and, "Parents don't make any sense."

"Welcome to Slytherin," Millicent said with a snort, then asked, "Have you ever been in your sister's common room? She's in Ravenclaw, isn't she?"

Parvati nodded, then, with a glance at Lavender, lowered her voice and whispered to Millicent and Pansy, "Can you keep a secret?"

The two girls nodded eagerly, and Parvati grinned and said, "We switch places sometimes, just for the evening. I stay in the Ravenclaw dorm overnight and Padma stays in Gryffindor Tower. All the girls know. They picked up on it straight away, but no one else knows. Sometimes we even go to each other's classes."

Millicent and Pansy broke into giggles of their own. "Brilliant," Pansy said, whispering as well. "I wish I had a twin sister to try that with. Has she ever been here?"

Parvati shook her head. "Would you be angry if we tried?"

Millicent and Pansy looked at each other, then shook their own heads. "It would be fun to try to figure it out," Millicent said. "Tell her we'll be keeping our eyes open."

"What do you think Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall would do if you were caught?" Pansy wondered aloud. "I wonder if they'd be more impressed than angry."

"No clue," Parvati said with a shrug, her voice resuming its usual volume. "We haven't been caught yet."

"She wouldn't put you in the corner, at least," Lavender added.

Millicent shot her a sour look. While she'd received plenty of flack for the Great Corner Incident on Wednesday, any teasing had mercifully died down by Friday afternoon. And yet here they were, Sunday night, and Lavender was still beating that dead horse, right after Millicent had defended her against Draco.

"Let it drop," Parvati said, elbowing Lavender, who quickly said, "I wasn't trying to call you out specifically, Millie. I only mentioned it because Pansy wanted to know what Professor McGonagall would do, and I just wanted to tell her that she doesn't use baby punishments on us, like Professor Sna-"

"Miss Brown." Professor Snape's voice cut through their conversation and the girls practically jumped out of their skins. He was sitting in an armchair near the fire at a distance they'd assumed he couldn't hear them from; Millicent hoped their earlier whispers about twin-swapping had been more silent than their current conversation.

"Miss Brown, I believe I've warned you repeatedly about shoes on the sofa," Professor Snape said, rising up, making his way over, and gazing down at Lavender impassively. "In fact, I told you on Wednesday that I was giving you your second and final warning."

Lavender gazed back up at him, suddenly much more timid than she'd been just a moment before. She quickly pulled her feet away from the sofa behind her, murmuring, "Sorry, sir."

"Perhaps ten minutes in the corner might remind you," Professor Snape said, nodding at the same spot Millicent had found herself in just four days before.

Lavender's expression turned to one of horror. "But, sir-"

"Or would you rather return to the Gryffindor common room and spend your evenings there until you're ready to follow the rules of my common room?" Professor Snape asked, raising an eyebrow. "Ten minutes, Miss Brown."

It took all Millicent had not to grin like an idiot as Lavender reluctantly stood up and trudged to the much-discussed corner. Honestly, it wasn't the worst retribution Professor Snape could dole out, not by a longshot. Millicent would much rather take a so-called baby punishment than the wrath he'd unleashed on them the night they'd gone 'dueling'.

Professor Snape met her eyes for the briefest of seconds before he turned away to return to his chair, and despite his stern expression, she detected the faintest of faint twitches around his lips directed at her. Millicent flashed a grin at him and turned back to the game of Snakes and Ladders. The Gryffindors (even Lavender Brown) weren't as bad as she'd been led to believe, but she loved being a Slytherin more than anything.