A/N: Usual disclaimer. Nothing belongs to moi apart from the rather mangled versions of JKR's characters in this story, as usual.

Thanks to all those who reviewed my last three chapters – it really does make a difference, hearing feedback on my story and how it's working out for you lot. Hope it continues to do so…

Now, in this chapter, a wary Potions Master by the name of Severus Snape discovers there is no better way to shop in Diagon Alley than to do so with a petty criminal who shops regularly there without paying. Marvel at his astonishment when he also discovers that Bellatrix Black was not far wrong about her errant son, or his rather base proclivity for light-fingered behaviour. And for those who are still reading, here's a bonus Machiavelli quote for you just for putting up with this odd paragraph: for either fear or resentment makes men enemies. You have to think about that one – was canon Harry afraid or resentful of Draco, or both?

End rambling – begin chapter.


Chapter 3: Shopping With a Thief

Severus Snape sighed for the hundredth time he had done so that week. It was positively maddening sometimes, sharing his home with strangers – not that Bella could technically be considered much of a stranger, considering he'd maimed and tortured alongside her for a few years. But the boy

"For the last time, Antares, you are not going out with your hair in that disgraceful condition – " Bellatrix Lestrange – no, Bellatrix Black's harassed voice filtered down the stairs, accompanied by an irritated muttering that, no doubt, belonged to her errant son.

A son, Severus thought uneasily to himself, tapping his tightly booted left foot impatiently, whom he was rapidly beginning to think he would never be able to fathom. He sighed again, checking the sturdy timepiece on the wall of the smaller, shabbier sitting-room, noting the large, ancient hand that was dimly flashing "Time to be gone" in a faded, nearly unreadable script. Bellatrix – or, as he allowed himself to call her, Bella, was changed, by ten years of hard, uncertain living and the existence of the brat charging heedlessly down the stairs at the very moment, wild black hair barely restrained into messy ponytail.

She was quieter, for one. And she'd retained all that stern beauty – certainly possessed the same pride, the same fire he'd once aspired to, before he'd learned the ignominious truth of who the mysterious Dark Lord really was – what he really did

Severus glared at the young man, giving no notice when he gave no notice. He'd quickly come to understand some of her newly gained placidity of temper within the first week of her stay at his house on Spinner's End – which, he felt surprised to remember, began about a month ago, well before the brat's birthday and the succeeding confusion surrounding the apprenticeship tests he would take.

It was relatively simple, to be honest – the boy could be infuriating, and could aggravate one so many times a day that to react at everything he did would certainly be to drive oneself mad. And, as Severus Snape was not in the habit of driving himself mad on purpose, he soon followed Bella's unsatisfying placid lead.

"Can you get some powder for me?" the boy remarked, scratching dirty fingers in his scalp in a manner Severus and Bella had been unable to curtail. At the glare he received, he only smirked and continued. "I can't very well reach it on my own, can I Mister Snipe?"

"Snape – I keep telling you, boy, that it's Snape – " Antares Black broke out into a grin that reminded him oddly – maddeningly – of another Black. Severus supposed, angrily, that Bella's temper had had ten years to deal with her foolish son's cavalier mode of dealing with elders, and that –

"You shouldn't let it get to you, you know," Antares replied coolly, easily taking the Floo powder Severus grudgingly handed over. "You should know I only ever say it to wind you up by now."

"Wind me up?" The impertinence of the boy was simply outstanding at times, the way he talked to Severus as if –

Antares rolled his eyes amusedly. "If you think I'm stupid enough not to know your name by now – " he paused, shaking his head. "And to think you nominated me for an apprenticeship at Hogwarts – "

"I did no such thing – "

"Oh please – you'd have argued with Dumble – well, the Headmaster, if you knew I didn't have two Knuts to rub together, in-intelligence-wise." Antares stumbled a bit over the word, but looked ridiculously proud that he'd actually managed it. Severus allowed himself a sneer – not for lack of trying, of course – "The Leaky Cauldron, right?" At the older man's grudging nod, the fool threw the powder into the flames and actually stepped in, calling out the location as he spoke. Severus stood there for a minute, watching the boy's spinning form disappear – he'd told the boy several times; he was supposed to wait

"The Leaky Cauldron!" he snapped, flinging far too much powder into the flames, anger licking at his insides. It dimmed somewhat as he saw Antares standing carefully just out of range of the boisterous wizards and witches that had evidently just come out of the very grate he now stepped out of. At least the brat didn't run away, or some other such rot – "What on earth were you thinking, boy?"

"What?" Bewildered hazel eyes snapped to his, and their owner began to fidget. "Oh – I shouldn't have Flooed before you, should I? Sorry – I keep forgetting, 'cause Mum always used to go after me, and – "

"And? I told you several times, boy – "

"And I forgot," the boy returned, looking perplexed. "Honestly – just a mistake – "

"A mistake," Severus ground out, seizing Antares by his left arm and dragging him for the Diagon Alley entrance, "that could get you killed – surely you understand your mother's situation – " But the boy was wrenching his arm from Severus' grip –

"Let me make something clear, Snape," he hissed, eyes narrowed in an almost comical display of temper, "you may think you understand my mother's situation, but you don't – you've had it easy, swanning about at Hogwarts while we froze our arses in the worst slums of Exeter just trying to find food. If you've never had to drink your own blood to stay alive, then you can take your advice and shove it. And no – I won't tell you whether either of us have. Because you already know more than enough about our secrets, and trust me when I tell you that that is saying something." The boy paused to take a breath, not seeming to see the way Severus' mouth was hanging inelegantly open. "What's our first stop, then?"

"Boy – "

"It's Antares, thanks. I've said what I've been dying to say, right? We can get on with this now, can't we…?" Severus, not knowing whether to cuff the brat or laugh at his odd manners, decided, with a deep breath, to pretend the one-sided conversation had not happened.

For now. Severus tapped the brick on the entrance with his wand, keeping tight hold of it as he did so. The way Antares eyed the action bore no good omen for his conduct on receiving his own wand, as he would today, if all went well. Another twitchy brat to watch in Potions, Severus told himself firmly, eyeing the boy as his dark little head swivelled lazily. He could almost swear the boy was keeping an eye on the more wealthy wizards as they passed the pair by. He resisted the urge to shake himself, taking out a list from his robes – the hip pocket, I should – there. For all Bella's boasts, the raggedy lad had stolen not one item from the old cottage on Spinner's End, as far as Severus could remember.

"Gringotts first, to pick up the note of credit Dumbledore will have left for our use," he laid slight emphasis on the name, for really, the b – well – the brat should know by now how to say the name of the most powerful wizard in all England – "then we will go through your Hogwarts list, and – "

Antares filched the list from Severus with a move that he barely saw, scanning it boredly, leaving Snape empty-handed and – for the barest moment – empty-mouthed.

"You," Severus settled on, "are trying my patience, Black." Antares shrugged, handing back the letter diffidently, looking considerably less excited to be on the bustling street. Severus ground his teeth – this boy was so

"Not very exciting, is it, that list," said boy observed, head swivelling absently to follow a rather large, bustling witch dripping with gold. Severus nearly stopped walking – the nerve

"I do believe I must apologise for the inability of the standard student equipment list to quite live up to your expectations, Master Bla – "

"We can get everything on Knockturn, I think – apart from the wand, and maybe the cauldron and the scales – "

"You must be joking if you think I will take you shopping on Knockturn Alley, you young fool – "

"Morgana – I practically live on Knockturn Alley, of course we're going there. It says I need black robes on the list, doesn't it? I'm hardly going to be able to afford those pricey fittings at Malkin's, am I – you seem to forget that Bella and I – "

"Mother and I." Antares had stopped looking

"Whatever – that Mum and I are currently almost living off of you. Considering that she thinks Madame Malkin doesn't like her and may be sacking her at some point this month, I'd buy even my wand second-hand if I could." The boy paused for a moment – for air, he'd been speaking almost non-stop – "Actually, maybe not my wand, but – "

"Bella fears for her only source of employment, and she did not inform me?" Severus interrupted, stopping short without realising it. After all he'd said, after all he'd done, she still didn't trust him – it was more galling than he'd ever thought it would be.

"My mother, you mean?" Antares replied, giving him an impertinent look. "Why should you get to call her Bella when I can't?"

"For Merlin's sake, Antares – just answer the question – "

"It's not that she doesn't, erm, like you or anything," the boy ventured, seeming to sense the underlying impatience in Severus' impatient rejoinder, somehow also saying the very thing Severus had been horrified to see pop up in his treacherous brain in reaction to the fact. "She's not sure – she's got good instincts with people, though, so she's probably…well, right. Unfortunately." Antares paused again, looking sharply up at Severus with those too-old hazel eyes – "You're not angry she didn't tell you, are you? She barely even told me, really – "

"I feel nothing of the sort, I assure you," Severus snapped back, even more irritated that the boy should be able to see so easily into his thoughts, or even guess at them, "I am merely disappointed that she thought not to inform me, that is all."

"Right," Antares muttered, not managing not to sound as wholly unconvinced as he looked. "You – you won't tell her I said anything, will you?" He looked really anxious now, a rare expression for him. Eyeing him critically, Severus had the nasty thought that it suited him rather better than that mocking, arrogant little set of his face.

"No," was his only reply to the boy's guarded, yet earnest plea, and it seemed to satisfy him. Severus shook his head inwardly – for all the boy's faults, he did seem to care deeply about Bella, which was, in Severus' eyes, his only redeeming factor. It would also be rather convenient at Hogwarts, he supposed, as they passed the bustling Madame Malkin's and drew closer to Gringotts. Fear of the Headmaster looked ever more unlikely to surface in this boy, but fear of his mother – now that would probably keep him in line, and with far less fuss and posturing on the boy's part, as would be inevitable in Albus' presence.

"Wow," Antares breathed as they entered the marbled and gilded banking hall, his voice taking on a tone of awe that suited it far more than the one of childish scorn.

"Have you never been inside?" Severus found himself inquiring incredulously – surely Bella would have had some cause to be here –

"Yeah right," Antares snorted quietly, eyes darting here and there, his skinny, ragged frame stiff with what looked more to be admiration than fear.

"She never had an account? I was of the opinion that she did, from what she said of your Great-Aunt," Severus continued, unable to resist prying further. No telling whether the boy would retort with some other cheeky comment or veiled insult, but it was worth trying.

"Nah, gave it up ages ago. I remember the fees alone were about as much as what we were earning at a point," Antares remarked quietly, seeming to be in a forthcoming mood. "It wasn't hard to decide, really. Just a bit of logic." He looked longingly in the direction of a plump, demurely dressed young woman who was leaving the hall with her bag of Galleons slung haphazardly across her shoulder, fingers actually twitching.

"That's a shame," Severus remarked slowly, steering the boy somewhat out of temptation's way for the busy little desk in a corner of the hall that handled letters of credit and such matters, an uncharacteristic twinge of pity rising again and again as Antares' head swivelled smoothly, hungrily, in almost all directions. "An account is needed to receive your scholarship funds, and it will be hopelessly complicated to open one in your name – "

"I'm going to get a Gringotts account?"

"Eventually," Severus conceded, rolling his eyes at the boy's visible perking up. "For today, we will simply withdraw enough funds to purchase what you will need from my account – the goblins are very conscientious about allowing such privileges for scholarship customers." But Antares was staring glassy-eyed into space, probably imagining the unthinkable luck of getting a filled Gringotts account essentially, to him, for free.

The short line was brisk, and Severus soon found himself conversing rapidly with the surly-looking fellow – Cranook, or something, he was sure of it, he'd met the bastard once before. On mentioning the amount that he wanted withdrawn from his account, however, he became immediately aware of an insistent tugging on his sleeve.

"Not now, boy – "

"Five hundred is bloody ridiculous," Antares said anyway, ignoring the shrewd stare Cranook was now giving him. "If I get everything but my wand second-hand at the right places, it shouldn't be more than two-fifty, honestly – "

"Two hundred and fifty, including your needs for the school year?" Severus snapped in return, wishing they could just get this over with –

"Two hundred and fifty is more than enough, even if I go mad and buy amended second-hand robes and gorge myself and five friends on cake on the Express," the boy replied insistently, jutting out his chin in a manner that was oddly familiar. "Trust me – if we run out, we can always get more…"

"Professor Snape?" Cranook said insolently, sharp eyes sweeping interestedly over Antares as he stared stubbornly up at a frustrated Severus. "If you would be so kind – "

"Two hundred and fifty Galleons, Cranook," Severus cut in tersely, fingers itching to rub the bridge of his nose. It was far too early in the trip to be utterly sick of the sound of the boy's voice – "Thank you. Come, you – " he jerked unkindly on the irritatingly satisfied Antares' arm, practically having to drag him away from the dry stare of the goblin, who was now attending just as rudely to a harried-looking Indian witch.

"No need to take my arm off," the boy muttered half-heartedly, head still twisting this way and that, which it continued to do until they had left the cool banking hall and were once again in the slightly stuffy Diagon Alley. Antares gave a final sigh, scratched at his hair again, then set off for Knockturn Alley with an unnerving amount of confidence in his thin little frame. "Right, here we go…"

The next hour turned into an eye-opener of the extremely fascinating kind. Antares proved himself true of his – rather miserly – word, not deigning to neglect the least Knut in his haggling, sometimes cajoling the unwilling proprietors into giving out extras. He was obscenely chatty with the stuffy witch that ran the run-down second hand robe shop in the darker, more dangerous street, and consequently got an extra-thick winter cloak for nearly nothing. Severus tried not to stare, now, at the violent negotiations taking place over a set of slightly worn, yet serviceable ingredient scales between Antares and some shifty-looking old hag.

"You might as well rob me, you young bastard," she was snarling now, despite her shameless palming of the Galleon and few Sickles Severus had grudgingly handed over.

"Why would I pay to rob you of a set of fucking scales, Harrina?" Antares said, amusement finally showing itself in his – shockingly crude – language. Severus shot him a sharp look, which he ignored, giving the hag a parting smile with a rather nasty tinge to it, for an eleven-year-old. "Honestly, can you imagine that?"

Severus grunted in reply, and Antares shrugged, checking the list the older man was running his weary gaze over.

"Great, just Potions things left," he remarked unnecessarily, already turning himself in the correct direction. Severus followed easily, relieved that the boy, at least, was proving himself to be smart enough to keep out of trouble. Really, it was almost a pleasure watching one so young haggle like an unscrupulous adult. "Ooh – haven't seen that in there before…" Antares halted suddenly at the dirty windows of Burgin and Burke's, peering at some odd-looking item.

Then again, Severus thought darkly, Antares also had the most questionable taste in 'interesting' items, some ranging from the relatively innocuous (a snake-shaped candle holder that had glowing amber eyes) to the outright dangerous. The current item Antares was oohing and aahing over in the dirty shop window belonged to the latter category – a fairly long length of woven, bloodstained silver hangman's rope.

After prying the brat from the window – no telling what kind of curses were on that unsavoury item – Severus half led, half dragged him into the smaller apothecary, telling him sharply to find and amass the ingredients he would need for Hogwarts so he could take his time to talk with young Dalwell, the underfed, ominously cheerful clerk, about the special order of mandrake roots he'd made earlier that week. Unfortunately, the level-headed, adult conversation Severus had been half-looking forward to was not to be.

"Terry! You twat, where've you been hiding your scrawny arse this last month?" Antares looked up from the large barrel of beetle eyes, a mere hint of guilt already showing itself in his form. Severus gritted his teeth, hoping the idiot boy wouldn't be foolishly indiscreet –

"Bella and I got lucky," he said, trudging over with his arms full of the ingredients he'd already collected. "Remember that stupid Asian kid, pretty much getting his head bashed in by Ming and that lot?"

"The one what nicked Ming's bag of charms? He's still alive?" the clerk leaned forward conspiratorially over the counter, his body language obviously settling into a position suitable for a long, seedy gossip. "Bet he is – bet you went playing the hero again, never could resist that, could you, Terry? But tell us anyway."

"Don't be daft, Tim, I just ran up and distracted them, that's all," Antares said, scowling slightly. "And got paid for running his skinny arse out of Knockturn to boot – I wasn't playing the hero – "

"Yeah, yeah," 'Tim' replied, shaking his head as he motioned Antares forward with his booty so far. "Whatever you say – hey, this is a school set you're doing, isn't it?" Antares' expression lightened considerably as his hazel eyes went dreamier than usual as he set the ingredients on the counter – a good set, actually, everything fresh. Severus inwardly rolled his eyes – this was so –

"Yep – starting in a week or three, more or less." The boy's chest seemed to swell with pride. "And it's Hogwarts, too." And, from there, the conversation degenerated further into rapid, nearly unintelligible questions and answers and random statement.

"Merlin's bloody garters – how can you afford it? Did they – "

"Yeah, havin' a bit of help from the school – "

"Got your robes, then, have you? That's a bit less than an ounce – here, let me – " Antares fidgeted as the clerk began to rapidly add up his purchases, looking round as he answered – or rather, did not.

"Couldn't find the powdered bicorn horn anywhere – or is that usually on the list?"

"Help from the school, eh? You lucky sod – Hogwarts is right costly, but they're the best in Britain – "

"Yeah, I got my robes from Lady Tamlyn. You know, that dotty old – "

"No bicorn horn on the list, Terry."

" – she even gave me a winter cloak for almost nothing – "

"She gave you what? Oh, Professor Snape – you're here about the mandrake roots, aren't you?" Severus sighed, nodding. Finally he'd actually been noticed – "They'll be in tomorrow – our supplier had a terrible delay coming over from France last night, poor sod fell off his carpet – "

"Aren't those illegal?" Antares cut in, eyes sparkling foolishly. Probably at the thought of owning one such carpet, the young fool –

"As long as the roots are here by the end of next week, I couldn't care less if your unfortunate supplier drowns himself on the way home. This is the third time he's delayed – "

"And we're very sorry, sir – my uncle should've known not to trust that fuzzy old coot. We're at a shortage, though, and he was the only one – "

"Spare me," Severus cut through the clerk's blather as soon as he could, gesturing towards a fidgeting Antares, who was eyeing a barrel of live adders with very round eyes. "What do I owe you?"

"Not much, just – about – two Galleons, really."

"Two? Just two?" Antares piped up uncertainly, before Severus could say anything. "That's really low – " To the tired Potions Master's chagrin, 'Tim' winked back at him, pocketing the shockingly tiny payment from Severus' grudging hand.

"Isn't everyday I get to help someone who deserves it, is it?" he said easily, stashing away the coins. "And you'd best be off if you've not got hold of your wand yet, Terry – I heard Mr. Ollivander's closing up shop earlier than usual today."

"Thanks Tim! See you sometime – "

"Which you certainly will not," Severus hissed, hurrying the irritating boy along – if the happy-go-lucky clerk had informed them that Ollivander's would be closing 'earlier than usual', then the shop would almost certainly be on the point of closing now – and that would mean rescheduling the apprentice testing at Hogwarts, which would be nigh impossible so close to the start of term. "Come along, boy – "

"I was just saying goodbye, for goodness' sake – it's not like I see him every day, or like I even want to – "

"I will tell you this only once, Antares," Severus worked out, dragging him past Borgin and Burkes and propelling him through the much denser crowd to the left, where Ollivander's lay. "There are certain kinds of people it is not in your interest to befriend, once you are a student of Hogwarts. Your 'Tim', I am not sorry to say, belongs in that category. You would do well to associate yourself with the best of those you meet at Hogwarts, instead of – "

"You missed something, Professor," Antares retorted, squirming angrily out of his grip – such a trying little – "Blacks do not grovel. Blacks do not beg. I'm not going to lick someone's boots just because they had the luck to be shat out in the right house or out of the right witch, thank you – "

"Language, boy. Do yourself the favour, then, of not revealing your origins to those who would think less of you for them in your house," Severus snapped in return, heart lightening as he saw the absence of the antique letters reading 'CLOSED' on the grubby shop window. This trip would be over soon, thank Merlin – "Especially not if you are sorted into Slytherin." The boy huffed slightly in disgust.

"As if a Black could be sorted anywhere else," he muttered under his breath as Severus propelled him through the door, only to find –

Oh buggeration

– Alice Longbottom-Lupin, or whatever aberration of a name she called herself now, the Boy Who Lived in tow. Severus sighed inwardly, chancing a quick glance around the still, silent room, and nearly sighed again with gratitude when he found that her irritant of a husband was not present. Still, it meant that Ollivander had certainly not closed for the day, and that, even if the odd old man had planned to after serving the illustrious – Severus sneered – couple, he would not do so now, if only for politeness' sake.

"Good afternoon, Madam," Severus rolled out, glaring down at the fidgeting, over-excited Antares in an effort to make the dratted boy keep still. Alice Lupin (he'd drive himself round the twist bothering to mention the name of her first, equally disgustingly illustrious husband) smiled uncertainly his way, nudging her sleepy-looking son out of his (undoubtedly insipid) inner reverie.

"Good afternoon, Professor – to what do we owe this honour? Neville," she nodded meaningfully in the still drowsy boy's direction, and Severus found himself hard pressed not to direct a properly invigorating insult his way. There'd be time enough for that, wouldn't there? He fought the urge to close his eyes in despair. Seven years of time – it was enough to make a man ill.

"Good afternoon, Professor Snape," the Boy Who Lived droned, eyes taking in Severus for what apparently was the first time. "Sir."

"And who is your young friend, Professor?"

"There's no need to be civil to me, Alice, when you'd rather ignore me and finish purchasing your vaunted offspring's wand," Severus finally burst out – who did she think she was, concocting strained, well-meaning conversation with him while she stroked the (pudgy, he thought viciously, definitely pudgy) head of the young brat that had put paid to the bloody Dark Lord, thereby topping every one of Severus' painstaking achievements put towards the true downfall of his one-time master.

"There's no need to be rude to my mum," Neville Lupin piped up, his voice going rather small towards the end as Severus focused his glare on him. "She didn't – "

"Why, Severus Snape – haven't seen you in these parts recently," a soft, familiar voice said, interrupting Severus before he'd even got out the proper response to such disgusting – "And what have we here – Alice Longbottom – oak and unicorn hair, springy, wasn't it?" Mr. Ollivander smiled genially down at a wide-eyed Neville, who was staring raptly in his direction. "Shall it be Mr. Lupin first, or shall it be…" his voice trailed off as he looked in Antares' direction. Severus could not keep from following the heat of the man's gaze – no telling what the brat would be – oh, for Merlin's sake –

"Black! Put those down at once!"

Antares jumped guiltily, hurriedly dropping the wand boxes he'd been poking at in the corner of the storeroom, unnoticed until now. His gaze, however, was anything but contrite – the stubborn expression in his hazel eyes was quite possibly the –

"Mr. Black," Ollivander said slowly, as if tasting the word on his tongue. "You will be second, I presume – and, unfortunately, my last customer for the day. See that you replace those wands, lad. Properly." And, with that, the thoroughly unnerving old man swept down a series of dusty boxes and began to encourage Lupin the Younger to try them out, while directing the worn measuring tape Severus remembered so clearly – he'd wanted dearly to hex it on his first visit to the shop – darting over to Antares, who was abashedly replacing the wand boxes he'd been poring over. Ollivander grew more excited the more wands a pale Neville (calling him Lupin any longer just raised old simmering grievances) did not suit in the least, bustling importantly about, until –

"Wow…" A shower of gold-red sparks filled the room with the typical showy brilliance of a child destined for Gryffindor from the womb. Antares gave a sort of half-disgusted, half-wistful sigh, slim hands twitching as he eyed the untidily stacked boxes lying here and there in the aftermath of Ollivander's trial with the Boy Who Lived.

"Well done, Neville," Alice Lupin whispered tearfully, prompting an eye-roll from Severus. Really, it was nothing but a wand – a holly and phoenix feather wand, to be exact. An unusual combination, Ollivander had smilingly said, on presenting the overawed young fool with the unremarkable thing, but nothing more. It pleased Severus more than it should have, that Neville Lupin had had no more accolade than that – maybe it would deflate his fat head a little before he arrived at Hogwarts –

"And now, for Mr. Black," Ollivander said, putting away the Galleons Alice Lupin had cheerfully paid him in a dusty till, a somewhat stern expression crossing his face. Antares quailed visibly at being called forward, but kept his chin level, prompting another burst of alien sympathy from Severus. He knew what it was like, to be suspected and looked down upon, for nothing more than a name and shabby clothes. Ollivander handed the reluctant young boy one of the discarded wands lying nearby – the gall of him, giving him that overproud little shit's cast-offs – "Maple and dragon's heartstring, just the very thing…yes, give it a good swish…"

Antares swished it rather violently, eyes narrowing a little, and Severus felt a sharp spark of anger at the old man, for daring to try and –

"Well, well. Obviously not – here, Oak and dragon heartstring, how's that…no? Hmm…" Ollivander sorted carefully through the boxes, pale eyes narrowed in contemplation as he passed over several open boxes, before stopping and snatching one up. "Right – Birch and dragon heartstring, a bit odd, but…aha – "

As Antares, whose interest in the process was beginning to overcome his hurt pride, gave the wand a careful, bored twirl, weak bubbles blossomed from its tip. Ollivander snatched the wand back, nodding satisfiedly as he repackaged it immediately.

"I believe we've found your wood, young man – now for the core – "

Birch wands were produced again and again, mostly of dragon heartstring or unicorn core, and again and again, some weak, muted effect occurred, and Ollivander would sigh and furrow his brow, looking curious.

"Most curious, this – never had someone so set on a wood, yet without a…core – here, try this, won't hurt, Birch and phoenix feather…aha." Ollivander's pale eyes shone solemnly down at Antares as he gently took the wand from the boy's impatient fingers. "But not quite…not quite." The man continued to produce a stream of similar wands without a success, until – "Hmm…wouldn't hurt to try those…" He darted away between the shelves, humming to himself, singularly absorbed in his task. Not a moment later, he emerged with five more boxes, looking apologetic.

"I'm afraid these are the last few wands I could find, Professor," he said formally, shifting the ungainly narrow boxes in his arms as he came opposite them. "If none of them chooses Mr. Black, I may have to do a custom – Mr. Black, do not – " But Antares was already reaching for one of the boxes surreptitiously, and in jerking his hand away, he managed to knock them out of his arms and onto the floor.

"Sorry," the boy offered hastily, but he was staring at the only box that had not opened uncertainly, with oddly quivering fingers. Mr. Ollivander ignored him, picking up the unopened box with an oddly wary expression on his face. He silently opened it and gave the wand to a clearly unnerved Antares, who gave it an awkward, hurried sort of half-swish –

Beautiful golden thread shimmered softly in the air, falling gently to the ground in a shower of tiny golden sparks. Mr. Ollivander's face paled oddly, then regained its inscrutable look. "Well, I believe you have found your wand, young Black. That will be seven Galleons, Severus." Pale eyes pierced the confused Potions Master, following him even after they'd paid and started to exit the shop.

"That was so…" Antares trailed off, looking apprehensively at his innocent-looking new wand, then up at an equally flustered Severus. "There's nothing wrong with birch, is there?" Severus gave the boy his most concentrated look of disdain and a dismissive shake of the head immediately, just to reassure him. Of course there was nothing wrong with birch as a wood – perhaps a bit effeminate in the wrong hands, and Antares was anything but. He ducked a harassed, low-flying owl – stupid fool, sending a message by private mail in daylight and tried to rein in his anger at Ollivander.

What on earth had the man been thinking, pigeonholing a Black in that manner? Neville Lupin's cast-offs, indeed –

"I can't believe he tried that Lupin boy's leftover wands on me," Antares persisted, carefully stashing his wand away. "Was it the thing with the boxes? I was just curious, really, and they were just lying there – "

"Perhaps," Severus allowed untruthfully. "It was unspeakably rude of you to do so." The look on the old wandmaker's face gave him pause – perhaps the wand was Dark in some way. But, then, birch – birch was nowhere near Dark as far as woods went. So –

"Are we going home now?" Antares said softly, interrupting his thoughts. "I'm sorry I ruined that – "

"You did nothing but display an error of judgement, Antares," Severus snapped, tugging him through the busy archway between Diagon Alley and The Leaky Cauldron. "Come – we have spent more than enough time here, I tell you – "

And that was finally, mercifully that. Although Severus would later remind himself to discuss Ollivander's strange behaviour with Antares, now was not the time, when Bella was grinning down at the excited boy and touching his wand almost as reverently as he was.

"Well done, Tares," Severus heard her whisper, during the brief hug that followed her examination of the suspect wand. He tried not to pause in his walk up the stairs. Tried not to linger to hear the soft-spoken affirmation an utterly changed Bellatrix Black would give her son – affirmation that stung oddly at him in a way it had never, and would never do for Alice and her brat son.


A/N: Yikes, this chapter didn't come easy. I tried to do it in a different POV, dropped it for a while, then started messing with it again, because I felt like it. My head hurts a wee bit. Forgive me any ghastly errors towards the end - I'm rather sleepy at the moment, and will change anything that's not done properly if it's pointed out to me. Please review – how did you think I did on the Ollivander scene, eh?