A/N: I'm making more progress with this story than I thought, so I'll be able to update a bit more often (at least for now!) The next chapter is going to be a bit different-it'll be entirely from Sev's POV and it'll be short, so that should be up in another week or two.

There's been some interest in Graihagh's mother (which makes me so happy you don't even know!) and I will get into her backstory this time, but probably not until later

Thanks SO much for the reviews! I was so thrilled to get them!


The Malfoy's drawing room had been a peaceful place, between the wars. The windows faced south so the room was bright even in the winter, and Narcissa liked to leave the drapes open for the majesty palms and fanged geraniums she had growing everywhere. They'd set a few leather armchairs in front of the fire and Snape used to sit there with Lucius and Narcissa and sometimes Draco, talking and playing chess or cards.

Lucius wouldn't have recognized it now. The Dark Lord had insisted on keeping the drapes closed and now the room was dim even in the early afternoon and Narcissa's plants were turning yellow. A long table had been conjured where the chairs used to sit and the Dark Lord sat at the head, watching them. The tension was as thick and smothering as a heat wave. Snape undid the top button on his collar as though it could relieve some of his stress.

"So," said the Dark Lord to Snape when he'd been seated. "How is Draco getting on these days?"

The sick fuck was amused. He'd tilted his head a little to one side, snake-eyes wrinkled around the edges, the corners of his mouth turned up. That strange imitation of a smile on his uncanny valley of a face was harder to for Snape look at than a scowl would've been. And had to play along, pretend he was just as amused as he was.

"He's been a bit under the weather," said Snape, trying and failing to sound pleased. The best he could do was neutral.

"Has he?" The Dark Lord looked straight at Narcissa, who stared back at him, her face blank and empty, but she swallowed hard, and Snape knew what it was costing her to hold everything inside.

The Dark Lord started talking to someone else then, and Snape gave Narcissa the briefest glance, a flicker of the eyes. She looked back at him just a fraction of a second.

"Tell me Severus," said the Dark Lord after he was finished threatening Avery about something. "What do you know about this so-called Muggle studies teacher?"

Snape didn't know what he was getting at. Surely they wouldn't go to all the trouble of killing her, when she was only a teacher. Or he hoped not, anyway. He'd known her since he first started teaching, when she'd been a talkative round-faced third-year with a bizarre Muggle fixation, reading Popular Mechanic under the table, wearing jeans to class. He must've given her a dozen detentions but she'd always been too wrapped up in her ideals to be afraid of him, and she hadn't changed much since then. He wished it annoyed him more than it did.

"As you might expect, my Lord. She is merely Dumbledore's mouthpiece."

"Filling impressionable young minds with his lies and filth, in other words," said the Dark Lord, his voice calm, almost contemplative. "But not for much longer."

He looked Snape straight in the eye and Snape looked back at him, willing himself to believe this was a good thing, to imagine the school as it would look when they took over, but all he could manage were murky images of black-robed figures looming over his students like monstrous shadows.

The Dark Lord turned to Yaxley to talk Ministry business and Snape had to force himself to pay attention, to listen to what they were saying. Something about bribes and Confundus Charms and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he didn't really give a shit, he just wanted to get away.

The Dark Lord dismissed them and without really thinking Snape stole a quick glance at Narcissa. He thought she'd look scared, shaken maybe, but she didn't. She was breathing fast and her mouth was tight and it looked as though she were swallowing back a thousand curses. She was furious.

She saw him watching her and met his eyes, but he couldn't talk to her there. He stood up and made his way down the hall, nearly running into Thorfinn Rowle.

Rowle didn't dare insult him there, not with everyone listening, but Snape could tell by the way he clenched his jaw that he was biting his tongue. He'd never forgiven Snape for his expulsion.

"Do watch where you're going," said Snape. He looked straight into his eyes, saw a rush of images, unfamiliar buildings and people he didn't know, but Rowle sneered and walked away before he could determine if any of them were the Corlett girl.

Snape swept out the door and walked through the garden until he reached Narcissa's greenhouse at the far end, where the neat rows and hedges gave way to trees. He stood and waited and she emerged from behind a hedge about ten minutes later, a long hood draped over her head. She turned her head to one side and then the other, to make sure they were alone.

She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Is Draco alright?"

"He's fine. He was released from the hospital wing a few days ago."

Narcissa exhaled from underneath her hood. "How is he otherwise? Has he-" She glanced around her and couldn't finish her sentence.

"He refuses to speak to me," said Snape, trying not to sound accusatory. If Narcissa had her way the boy would've told him everything. "But he doesn't look well."

Narcissa let out a low hissing noise that might've been a shit. "This is insane, Severus. He's sixteen. That cold-hearted bas-"

Snape held up a hand. "Be careful, Narcissa. This is not the place."

Narcissa glanced back at the Manor as though its windows were eyes, watching them. "I know, I know. I'd better go, but Severus, please." She put a hand to his arm. "Please, whatever you do, keep him safe."

"You do remember that my life depends on it."

Narcissa gave him an acerbic smile. "Well, then I suppose you'll keep him safe or die trying, won't you?"

Only Narcissa could deliver a threat with such grace. Snape smiled slightly. "Something like that."

Narcissa played her cloak between her hands. "Do you suppose-do you think he'll allow Lucius to come home?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think you could persuade him? I mean-you'll have so much credit with him when-"

Snape cut across her so he didn't want to hear whatever it was she was about to say. "I could try."

"Thank you," said Narcissa. She started and glanced behind her as though she'd heard a sudden noise. "I'd better go. Look after Draco."

She hurried back to the manor and Snape walked to the gates, his mind on his books and his fireplace and a pile of Mars Bars but no, he wouldn't be allowed any rest, he had to report directly to Grimmauld Place. At least Black wasn't around anymore.

But Lupin was, for the first time in months. There was an empty chair next to him but Snape made a point of looking for another one and a good half-minute had passed before he bowed to the inevitable and sat down next to him, turning his body away even though it meant facing away from Dumbledore.

"Ah, Severus," said Dumbledore as he adjusted himself in his seat. "Now that you're here, we can begin the meeting.

Snape noticed he'd pulled the sleeve of his deep blue robes over his burnt hand so it was barely showing, so as not to remind them maybe, not to show them how bad it'd gotten. Never the whole truth, that was Albus.

"Any new business?" said Dumbledore when the the usual formalities had been performed.

"Greyback is meeting with some resistance," said the werewolf, running a hand through his hair. His face was lined and he had a fresh cut on his left cheek. "There's a lot of revulsion towards him at the moment."

"Good, very good," said Dumbledore. "See if you can persuade the others to join us."

Lupin nodded, but the lines on his face deepened and Tonks' head jerked towards Dumbledore as though she wanted to object. Snape didn't care much. Lupin wasn't in any more danger than he was, and Tonks' infatuation was foolish.

"Severus, any new business?"

"The Death Eaters continue to infiltrate the Ministry. Yaxley has been bribing members of the Law Enforcement Squad. He's attempting to get close to Thicknesse."

"Which would explain why they've been a bit lax with suspected Death Eaters lately," Tonks added, scowling.

"Indeed," said Dumbledore. "I think we must prepare ourselves for the possibility that they could take over the Ministry entirely."

A certainty, more like, and Dumbledore knew it, but no one else did, judging by the concerned muttering that broke out around the table. Molly and Arthur locked eyes and Tonks let out an indignant huff.

"Then it's only a matter of time before they try to interfere at Hogwarts again," said Minerva, voice strained and thin. "Can you imagine? Another Umbridge, or worse?"

"It is a possibility," said Dumbledore.

Snape gripped the table so hard his knuckles were white. But he didn't say anything.

Molly invited everyone to the Burrow for dinner, but Snape declined as he always did. He'd just reached the safety of the front hallway when Lupin called his name, the prat. He pretended not to hear him.

"I think Remus would like a word," said Minerva. She gave him a strange look, as though he must be losing his hearing because no one could possibly be that big of an ass.

"What is it Lupin?" said Snape. "I'm in a hurry."

Lupin smiled apologetically, but he clearly wasn't feeling sorry enough not to talk to him because he opened his mouth anyway. "It's been a long time since I've seen you. I was just wondering how you're doing these days. I suppose all this undercover work has got me thinking about how difficult it must be for you. "

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously suggesting that reporting directly to the Dark Lord is in any way equivalent to running about with a pack of werewolves?"

Lupin looked taken aback and Snape could've sworn he saw a trace of anger in his eyes. He wished he'd get wound up the way Black had, that he'd lose control, but the lines on his face smoothed and his mouth lifted up in that insufferably mild-mannered smile of his that seemed worn into his face by habit. He wore it like a mask.

"Well, there are certain similarities, wouldn't you say?"

Snape said nothing to this, just stared him down. Lupin backed away.

"Well, I won't keep you," he said, and without another word to him Snape turned and left.

Minerva was waiting for him outside the Hogwarts gate.

"I could do with a hot drink after all that, how about you?"

Snape made a murmur of agreement and they walked to the castle in silence, Snape fighting the urge to say something every step of the way. Minerva led them to the staff room and poured them each a glass of tea and they sank in their chairs and stared at the fire.

"Do you think there's really a chance the Death Eaters could take over the Ministry?" said Minerva when she'd taken a long drink.

"That's certainly their aim."

Minerva let out an angry hiss and the air around her seemed to crackle in indignation. "Well, I'll be damned if they take over Hogwarts. So long as we stick together we can manage anything they throw at us." She gave Snape a dry smile. "Makes you wish the Weasley twins were still here, doesn't it?"

Snape wished he could've made some sardonic reply like he might have before, but he all he could do was force through a smile he didn't feel, a nervous twitch of the lips. He stared into the fire, the silence no longer comfortable. He supposed he ought to say something to break the tension, but he had no idea what.

He was spared by the appearance of Professor Burbage, who poured herself a cup of tea and sat down in an old armchair with a bit of stuffing poking out the side, and it was as though a cold wind had died down. The temperature of the room seemed to rise a few degrees.

"Nice badge, Professor," she said. "Red and gold look good on you."

Snape glanced down at his robes and only then did he realize he'd forgotten to take off the Gryffindor badge. He thought Lupin had been smirking at him at the meeting. He was damn lucky he'd been wearing his traveling cloak at Malfoy Manor.

Professor Burbage must've noticed the sour look on his face, because she gave him a placating smile. "That's such a fun tradition you all have, maybe I'll have to get in on it."

Her face was so sincere, so open, he couldn't even bring himself to be annoyed with her. "Of course none of us are likely to be wearing Hufflepuff badges any time soon," he said. "Or ever."

"That's as good him saying he likes you, you know," said Minerva. "He doesn't take the time to insult just anyone."

Professor Burbage laughed, but Snape was uneasy, and he only half-listened to them as they began to chat about the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. He wanted to do something, say something, but telling her straight out was a death sentence, if the Dark Lord ever looked into her mind.

"I've heard there are openings at Ilvermorny," he said when there was a lull in the conversation. "Didn't you say once that you've always liked America?"

Professor Burbage looked surprised. "Oh, I do. But I'm enjoying Hogwarts so much. I can't imagine leaving."

"You might not get another chance for awhile. I've heard they're much more...tolerant."

"That's what I've heard. But it seems to me all the more reason to stay here. There's so much work to be done, do you know what I mean? Especially with this war going on."

Ever the starry-eyed optimist. She had no idea what was coming, what was happening even now.

"Perhaps the war is all the more reason to go."

He was looking her straight in the eye and perhaps she sensed something, some urgency in his voice, because he could've sworn he saw a flash of understanding in her face.

"That's very kind of you to let me know about this, but I think I'm needed here."

Snape heard the finality in her voice, the beginnings of indignation. He wondered if she'd leave even if she did know. Maybe not. High-minded people like her rarely did.

They sat and talked some more, but Snape wasn't really paying much attention and after awhile he stood up and excused himself.

He was walking through the Entrance Hall when he met Dumbledore coming the other way, in his dressing gown and slippers.

"Retiring for the evening?" he said in his relentlessly pleasant way.

Snape just looked at him stupidly, because what else would he be doing at this time of night? Then he remembered.

"Actually, there is something I wished to speak with you about, Headmaster."

"And what would that be, my dear Severus?"

"I have reason to believe Professor Burbage may be in danger."

Dumbledore's expression changed, and Snape saw how tired he was. "I thought that might be the case. I suppose I could let her go at the end of term, although there's no guarantee she'd leave the country."

"There are a few teaching posts open at Ilvermorny. I doubt they'd pursue her that far."

"Perhaps not. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Severus. I don't know why I didn't think of it before."

Snape nodded and shifted on his feet, thinking of his fireplace and his books.

"Ah, I almost forgot," said Dumbledore just as he started walking away. "I wondered if you'd like to accompany me to a concert on Saturday evening?"

Snape was taken aback by this. They dined together sometimes and went for long walks in the grounds, but it wasn't very often he asked Snape to accompany him outside of Hogwarts. He'd go with Elphias or Minerva or maybe Flitwick.

"I-yes, I suppose I could."

"Excellent. It's a wizarding venue, so no need to wear a suit. You have dress robes I presume?"

"Yes," said Snape, although he hadn't worn them since the Yule Ball and had no idea where they were.

"Good, good. Meet me here on Saturday evening, say around half past six?"

Snape murmured his agreement. "Goodnight, Headmaster.

"Goodnight, Severus."

Dumbledore took a few steps towards the staircase, then stopped. "Ah, my memory nearly left me again. I found this at Flourish and Blotts today. I thought perhaps you might like it." He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a book. Snape took it.

The cover was bound in leather and covered with designs of birds and trees in gold leaf. An Anthology of Poems.

Snape was a bit hot around the neck. He didn't realize anyone knew about his poetry habit.

"Thank you, Headmaster," he said. He slipped the book into his pocket.

"I think you may find them useful," said Dumbledore.

Snape wondered if there was some sort of secret code hidden in them or something. He nodded and walked away.

When he'd reached his room he set the book down and took his boots off, but instead of sinking into his chair he rummaged around in his wardrobe until he found a set of plain black dress robes bunched up in a corner. Probably they'd fallen off the hanger, or maybe he'd thrown them there after the Yule ball, when his mind had been full of Karkaroff and the mark on his arm.

He smoothed them out with his hands and draped them across the back of his armchair, but they still lay in a wrinkled heap and he supposed he'd have to iron them out with some sort of charm, if he could remember how to do it.

He couldn't care less how he looked most of the time. But he'd dress up for Dumbledore, just this once.


Snape ate an early dinner on Saturday and went straight to his room to bathe and put on his dress robes, sparing his reflection only the briefest glance. He draped his traveling cloak around his shoulders, fastening it with a silver serpent, and walked up the stairs to the Entrance Hall. He'd almost reached the front doors when he stopped short and stared. Dumbledore was dressed from head to foot in robes bright yellow and red and blue, made of some iridescent material that made him look like an overgrown Snow-Cone. He was long past the point of caring what anyone thought of him, and Snape couldn't help but respect him for it.

"I think you'll enjoy this, Severus," said Dumbledore as they walked to the Hogwarts gates.

"Where are we going, exactly?"

"To the wizarding district in Edinburgh. There's a concert hall there I'm rather fond of. The acoustics are phenomenal."

Snape said no more and when they reached the gates they spun into the night air. When they stopped spinning they were standing in a quiet cobblestone street he didn't remember all that well. He'd only been there once, on some errand with Minerva.

They walked into the hall and Snape looked through the program notes they'd been given. Mahler's Symphony No. 6. He wasn't familiar with this one.

"I think you'll enjoy this, Severus," was all Dumbledore said.

The first movement flew off the stage with a frantic intensity, sweet and almost rapturous at times, but there was something dark underneath, some sense of loss and impending doom. As though his own life were being played out in music. Snape was on the edge of his seat, growing more and more uneasy, and then-

The thud of an enormous hammer echoed through the hall. Snape jumped in his seat, gripping the armrest so hard his fingers hurt. When he'd recovered himself a bit he adjusted his robes and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, but they all seemed enthralled with the music.

But still. The whole thing was unnerving, like some dark omen. He tapped his fingers against his armrest but his chest was tight and he couldn't draw in a deep breath. He rose from his seat and left the hall, pacing back and forth on the stone steps out front.

He thought Dumbledore would want to stay and finish out the piece, but Snape caught a snatch of music as the doors opened and Dumbledore stood at the top of the steps.

"Did something upset you, Severus?"

"I'm not-I didn't-it was that bloody hammer."

"Ah," said Dumbledore.

They stood in silence awhile. Snape could hear a low thrum from the hall.

"Well, I suppose I could stand here and give you words of reassurance," said Dumbledore. "But we both know they're hollow. An extraordinarily difficult time lies ahead of you, no use pretending that it doesn't."

Somehow this bleak assessment was more reassuring than any soft-spoken words of encouragement would've been. He stopped in his pacing and studied the pattern of light on the stones.

"I do regret that it had to be this way, Severus."

Snape didn't know what to say to that. Did he really? Or was everything going exactly as planned? Or was it both?

"I think Lily would have been very proud of you-"

Snape started at the sound of her name. "Don't!"

"But it's true, Severus-"

"I told you to stop! You think I'm doing this for some sort of glory...playing the hero..."

Snape was hot in the face, tripping over his words. He didn't know, no one knew. There was no glory, no heroism in this, this atoning for his own colossal fuckup. He stared the old man down, scowling.

"My apologies, Severus," he said, and there was no defensiveness in his voice, no heat. He looked at him a long time. "We're really not so different, you know."

Snape remembered something from a long time ago, Dumbledore's parents and brother and sister looking back at him from a stared at the old man.

Don't make me do it.

Dumbledore looked back at Snape, and his eyes were sombre. The music played on behind them.


Graihagh was lying on the stones and Snape was singing to her.

Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur.

He reached out to touch her face but just as he got to her his skin was slashed with an invisible sword and the blood poured from his open wounds. Graihagh opened her mouth but nothing would come out.

She forced her eyes open and looked around her room to get the images out of her mind, taking in every small detail, every poster on the wall, every plant along the shelves. She'd been having that same dream for years and she hated it, except for the song. That part she loved.

She could hear the clink of dishes from the kitchen and she glanced at her clock. Quarter to the hour, she might as well get up.

She went through her usual morning routine-a long shower, a comb through her hair, a bit of mascara and eyeliner. When she'd put on her work robes and checked her reflection in the mirror she opened her top drawer and pulled out the bollan cross that had been left to her when her granny passed. To someone who didn't know what it was it didn't look like much, just a rough, lumpy bone from the mouth of fish, but there was magic in it, everyone said. Her great-grandfather had taken it with him when he went out to the fishing, and after he'd passed her granny took it with her everywhere. Said it warded off bad luck, helped her find her way home when she was lost. Graihagh had a knack for losing things so she'd always kept it tucked away where it'd be safe, but lately she'd taken to carrying it with her wherever she went. Maybe it'd help, she didn't know.

She had a cup of tea and a bowl of cornflakes with Milo and when they were finished they stood by the door and waited for Fynn.

Three weeks on, and Graihagh still hadn't managed a Disillusionment Charm. The most she could do was make herself fade slightly, which was useless when going round Muggle Douglas, since she couldn't exactly walk around half-transparent. Milo's attempts were better but he couldn't do it as well as Fynn could, and it worried him. Sometimes they'd hear a sudden noise or feel that skin-prickling sense of being watched and they knew whoever it was following them was still around. They stayed in their flat mostly, only leaving to go to work or get groceries or visit with Graihagh's dad and stepmum. Sometimes Fynn walked with them.

She couldn't focus on her work that day. Twice she added the wrong ingredients to her potions and had to start over.

"You're as twitchy as a kneazle," said Owain when the bell over the front door sounded and she jumped. "And you've been bungling your potions all day. What's wrong?"

"I'm fine. I've just had a lot on my mind lately, that's all. I'll go and take care of the customers."

She put her pestle down and washed her hands and when she walked to the front of the shop Cate was there, looking more serious than she'd seen her in a long time.

Graihagh stood beside her. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine, I just really need to talk to you."

Graihagh glanced at the clock; it was nearly closing time. "Why don't you wait here and I'll meet you in a few minutes."

Graihagh hurried through the cleanup so haphazardly she smashed her pestle and knocked over a jar of pickled echidna eggs. Owain barked at her to clean it up and told her to shove off before he fired her, but just as she was leaving he put a hand to her shoulder. "Get some rest," he said. "You look like you could use it."

"I will."

She met Cate at the front door. "Do you want to go for drinks or something?" She felt safer, somehow, in a busy pub than she did in her own flat. Not much chance of him shooting a curse at her in the middle of a crowd.

"Actually I was thinking we'd talk in private," said Cate, and Graihagh heard something in her voice, some strained mixture of fear and excitement that made her uneasy.

Graihagh looked up and down the street but didn't see anything unusual. "Do you know how to do a Disillusionment Charm?"

"Probably not, it's been ages since I've done one." She glanced at Graihagh and she must've seen how nervous she looked. "But it couldn't hurt to try, could it?" She tapped her wand to them and Graihagh thought she felt a little something, it was hard to tell. She looked down at her arms and saw that they hadn't faded much.

"Well, let's just walk really fast."

They took the streets at a brisk walk, Graihagh glancing around every few seconds, but she didn't think she saw anyone. They went inside the flat and Graihagh locked the door behind them.

Graihagh sat down but Cate stayed standing, pacing back and forth on the rug. "I'm thinking of joining the Order."

"What?"

"Well, they really need more members and Adrian's already in, so..."

Graihagh didn't know what to say to this. She wouldn't say Cate was unskilled, exactly, but she couldn't see her keeping up with the rest of them.

"I wouldn't be duelling Death Eaters or anything like that. I think it'd just be behind the scenes work like recruiting and getting the word out and that sort of thing. I was wondering if you'd join with me?"

Graihagh felt trapped, desperate not to let Cate down, and even more desperate not to join.

"I don't know..."

"You wouldn't have to fight. You could do behind the scenes work with me, make potions or something."

Graihagh stood up and wrung her hands. She already had a target on her back. If the Death Eaters found out she was in the Order, she was completely fucked.

"I can't."

Cate's face fell and she stopped pacing. "Why not?"

Because she was bloody terrified, that was why, but how could she admit that? "I just-I can't."

"Can't you think about it at least?"

Graihagh couldn't understand why she was so insistent. "Do you really want to join though? Or is Adrian pressuring you?"

She'd meant it to be gentle, tactful, but she must've hit a nerve. Cate's eyes flashed.

"Of course I want to join. Maybe you haven't noticed, being here, but things are getting worse every day. There've been people disappearing, buildings collapsing, children being attacked. And we're just going to sit on our arses and not do anything about it?"

"Are you saying I don't care?"

"Well, I don't know, it seems that way. You've never really paid much attention to what's been going on."

Cate was right, she hadn't been. She'd always thought of it as a British war, something that didn't affect her.

She walked towards the window as though she could somehow get away from everything Cate was saying. "Look, I just don't know."

"Didn't you always say you wanted to do something big?"

"That was a long time ago."

Graihagh stood and looked out the window, trying not to remember, but she couldn't forget. She never stopped thinking about what happened.

Cate came up behind her and put an arm around her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I know this is all sort of spur of the moment. I understand if you don't want to. I wouldn't have asked, it's just..." she sighed. "I'm so scared. I thought maybe if you were with me..."

So that was why she wanted her. Because she was just as scared as Graihagh was, and yet there she was, still willing to join up.

Graihagh wanted so much to turn around, rest her head against Cate's, but she kept looking out the window. "Look, I'll think about it okay?"

Cate let out a long breath and squeezed her shoulder. "Thanks, Graihagh."

Graihagh felt a rush of guilt she couldn't explain. She turned around but didn't meet her eye. "Milo and I are meeting dad and Emma for dinner," she said, to change the subject. "They'd love to see you."

Cate's face fell. "I'm sorry, I really can't, my Portkey leaves soon."

"But you just got here."

"I know, I've had a lot going on."

That seemed likely enough, knowing her, but something didn't feel right. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," said Cate, so quickly that Graihagh wondered if she'd been expecting her to ask. "I'm fine, just busy." She kissed Graihagh's cheek. "I'll send you an owl when I get home, alright?"

"Yeah. Please do. And be careful."

"I will."

Graihagh watched out the window as Cate walked down the street, and she was still standing there when Milo walked in.

"Alright?" he said, taking off his shoes.

"Same as always," said Graihagh, trying to sound offhand. "Fynn walking us to dad's then?"

"Yeah, they should be here in a bit."

Milo changed out of his work robes and they waited by the door, not saying much. She could tell by the way Milo kept glancing at her that he knew something was wrong, but to her relief he didn't ask.

"So have you thought about staying with me?" said Fynn when the three of them reached her dad's house. They'd stepped into the back garden to lift Disillusionment Charms without being seen.

Graihagh glanced at Milo, who avoided looking at both of them.

"We're still thinking about it," he said.

"It'd make things a lot easier on you. And it's really no problem."

"I know. Thanks, yessir."

It warmed her some, hearing this bit of Manx slang. Milo had lived on the island with her since they left Hogwarts, and it was like he'd always been there.

Fynn clapped Milo on the shoulder and left out the back gate.

Milo glanced at the fence to make sure Fynn was out of earshot. "Do you think they mean it? Staying with them?"

"I don't see why not. They don't seem the type to make an offer like that if they don't mean it."

Milo was red around the ears and Graihagh gaped at him. "You fancy them, don't you?"

"What? No." But he'd said it much too quickly.

"Oh come on, you can't hide anything from me. I take it you haven't told them?"

"No, and I don't want you saying anything either. It'll just make things awkward."

"You don't think they feel the same way?"

"I doubt it."

"Are you serious? Have you seen the way they look at you? They'd shag you six ways from Sunday if you let them."

Milo punched her shoulder. "They look that way at everyone."

"You're being way too hard on yourself."

Milo nodded towards the back door. "Are we going inside or are you going to stand out here and be a pain in my arse?"

Graihagh knew it would be useless to press him any further. She turned the door handle. "Love you too, you little cunt," she said, ducking through the door before Milo could land another punch to her shoulder.

She locked the door behind them and went into the kitchen, where her stepmum was setting the table.

She looked up at them and smiled. "Go ahead and sit down if you like. Your dad'll be right down."

Graihagh smiled back and sat down next to Milo. Her stepmum was a nice woman who'd eased into their lives without much friction, and Graihagh was fond of her. She just couldn't explain why it bothered her so much that she wasn't her mother, when she wasn't even supposed to like her mother.

Her stepmum knew all about the wizarding world. They'd sat her down the day after the wedding, Graihagh's dad nervously running his hands through his hair while Graihagh had the talk with her. She'd been upset at first, thinking they were taking the mickey because she left bread outside for the little people and had a thing for fairy houses, but when she realized they weren't joking she'd turned into a kid at Christmas, asking Graihagh a thousand questions and squealing when she showed her a water-making charm. But she didn't know the things Graihagh had done with her magic.

Her stepmum sat down across from her and poured herself a glass of water. "So how are things at your shop?"

"Busy. I got ten orders for Hair-Growth potion today."

"Sounds like something I could use, d'you think my hair looks a bit thin?" She tipped her head down and held out a strand of hair.

Now that she mentioned it, it did look a bit thinner, but she'd never tried any of her potions on Muggles. "Er-looks good to me."

Her dad came into the dining room and squeezed her shoulder before he sat down.

"So how's your week been?"

"It was alright," she said, which wasn't true at all, but she wasn't ready to break the news just yet.

"How about you, Milo? Work going alright?"

"Yeah, not bad" said Milo, and Graihagh knew he was thinking the same thing.

Her dad cut up a lamb chop. "We hired another mechanic at the shop," he said, and Graihagh wondered why his face was so red. "She's about your age and she's, you know..." He lowered his eyes and cleared his throat and Graihagh couldn't help smiling, because she knew how far he'd come, that he could even suggest it.

"She's a flaming homosexual you mean?" she said. She delighted in this, saying the words out loud without any embarrassment whatsoever. Her stepmum chortled over a mouthful of mash and a bit of it hit Graihagh's face.

"Er...anyway, she's dead friendly," her dad went on. "And you know, responsible." He put a bit of emphasis on that last word, probably remembering the first and only woman Graihagh had ever brought home, who'd been fresh off a one-year sentence in the Jurby Hilton for passing bad cheques. Graihagh had broken it off when the woman decided she wanted to get serious and put her life back together.

"I don't know if she's really my type," said Graihagh. She'd probably want a relationship after they'd slept together, in other words.

Her dad put down his fork and rubbed the back of his neck and Graihagh could feel his confusion, his disappointment, his fear that she'd become an embarrassment after all the times he'd stood up for her.

Graihagh was so keen to break the tension that her news about Thorfinn nearly came flying out of her mouth. But her stepmum beat her to it.

"There's something I've been wanting to tell you."

Graihagh's dad recovered himself and smiled in a self-concious sort of way and she knew what was coming before her stepmum had said a thing.

"We're going to have a baby. At the end of November."

"Congratulations," said Milo.

Graihagh set her fork down and glanced at her dad, who was grinning now. So. He'd finally have a kid who wasn't a fuckup, with a woman who wasn't a fuckup. Who went to ordinary schools and did ordinary things and lived an ordinary life and didn't put them all in danger.

"Wow. That's-congratulations."

Her dad knew she wasn't thrilled, she could tell by the way his smile faltered. But her stepmum didn't notice.

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, but it's a bit risky at my age and we've had a few losses. I wanted to be sure."

"Oh yeah, I understand. Yeah, that's mighty. Congratulations."

She felt her dad watching her, worried she'd ruin the moment maybe, and shot him an apologetic glance and picked up her fork. She pushed her peas and mash around her plate as her stepmum chatted away about nursey decorations. She wanted a magical theme, which Graihagh supposed was a compliment, but she only half-listened. By the time they'd finished eating and sat in the lounge awhile she was tired and didn't feel much like walking home in the dark. She could tell by the way Milo kept glancing out the window that he didn't either.

"Is it alright if we stay here tonight?" she said.

"Of course," said her dad. "You don't need to ask. Either of you."

She and Milo used to stay often enough they still had some spare clothes and things there, so after Graihagh had congratulated them again and said goodnight and they went upstairs to get ready for bed.

Her granny's old room was right across from hers and she could picture the way it'd looked when they'd moved her in, the floral-print bedding and houseplants and the bizarre antiques she'd picked up over the years. Graihagh liked to imagine she was still there, sleeping or doing a crossword puzzle and waiting for Graihagh to bring some tea and bonnag so they could sit and share the skeet. She hadn't been in there since she'd passed, never even opened the door. Milo had slept there a few times but didn't like it, said it didn't feel right. He slept on the settee when he stayed over.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed in her pyjamas when there was a knock at the door and she heard her dad's voice. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

Her dad came into the room but he didn't sit beside her, just stood awkwardly against her chest of drawers. Never a good sign.

"I get the feeling maybe you're not happy about our news."

"No, I am, really. I was just surprised, that's all."

She knew perfectly well her dad didn't believe this. "Emma thinks very highly of you, you know. Talks about you all the time."

"What, you think I don't like her?"

Her dad absently picked up a comb and played it in his hand. "Not exactly. You just haven't spent much time with her, is all."

Graihagh didn't know how to explain that it was precisely because she liked her that she didn't want spend time with her.

Her dad set down the comb. "I've heard you've been going out quite a bit lately."

He went quiet but Graihagh heard every word he didn't say. Everyone knows you hang round with burnouts, why are you embarrassing me, you'll turn into your mother if you don't stop.

"Yeah, well, not so much anymore."

Her dad looked at her expectantly, probably waiting for her to tell him that she'd been doing a lot of soul-searching and had decided to quit drinking and start mentoring at-risk youth or something, when the real reason was something far less inspirational.

"Thorfinn Rowle is out of Azkaban. I think he's been following me."

Her dad let in a sharp breath and sat down next to her. "Are you sure? Can't you do anything about it? Contact your ministry?"

"I don't know. Technically he's not supposed to leave the UK, but with this war that's going on everything's a mess." She rubbed her forehead and looked back up at him. "Listen, I don't know if he knows who you are but be careful, please. Keep your doors locked, watch for intruders, tell me if you see anything suspicious. Promise?"

"I will, don't worry. Just be careful. I don't want anything happening to you."

"I'll be careful."

They sat in silence awhile and Graihagh picked at her nails. "You won't tell Emma why he's after me, will you?"

"I've told her you were attacked-"

"But you didn't tell her why, did you?"

Her dad sighed. "Graihagh, that was years ago. You made a mistake, that's all. I'm a lot more worried about the people you've been hanging round with, to be honest..."

"She doesn't know about that either, does she?"

Her dad sighed again. "She knows a bit. Not all of it."

Graihagh didn't say anything to this, an they were quiet awhile.

"I remember when you were born," said her dad. "You were a tiny thing. But you had a set of lungs on you. You were the loudest baby in the ward."

He stared into the space in front of him, remembering. "God, I was just a kid, really. Your mum too. I'm just glad you're granny was there, we didn't have a clue."

Graihagh gave him a sideways smile. "Helped you out a bit, did she?"

Her dad let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I don't know if you'd be here if it hadn't been for her. We probably would've let you crawl around starkers and put Coca-Cola in your bottle."

Graihagh raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. "You mean you didn't? I'm impressed."

Her dad smiled and went quiet again.

"Sometimes I wonder if I did the right things..."

Graihagh looked him straight in the eye. "Don't. You did amazing." It's not your fault I turned out the way I did.

She wondered if he'd been thinking the same thing. But when he stood up he squeezed her shoulder. "'Night Graih. I love you."

"Love you too."

Graihagh turned out the light and got under the covers but tired as she was, she couldn't fall asleep.

She wondered how much Thorfinn knew about her family, if he was watching them even now. There was no way she could join the Order, not with all their lives at stake.

But Cate had always been there for her, talking her down from her panic attacks, taking care of her when they went out and she got messed up, telling her she wasn't a bad person. Here was her chance to pay her back for some of it, to make up for what she'd done.

She and Thorfinn and Milo hadn't planned to go after Cate. But she was the one who would've died, and Graihagh never stopped thinking about it.

She curled up on her side and pulled at her hair until her eyes watered, but there was no release. She got up and went to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

She doubted her dad had ever taken a sleeping pill in his life, but maybe Emma did, maybe she even had some of the good shit. She rummaged around in the medicine drawer but all she found was a box of asprin, a bottle of antidepressants and some prenatal vitamins.

She went back to bed and stared at the ceiling.