The office was as it had been left – bare, except for two chairs, a desk between them, a filing cabinet and a clock on the wall, below which hung a girly calendar, where a blonde with ill-advised pigtails and scanty dungarees advertised the arrival of May 1983.

Snape was blindfolded and gagged in one chair, the dark material pressing into his hair and pulling his mouth into an odd, twisted sneer, but his head was up, defiant, as Remus had always half expected it would be.

The chains Moody had Conjured around his torso held him firmly to the back of the chair, but his hands seemed quite relaxed at his hips, and it didn't seem as if he'd struggled.

As Remus stepped closer, Snape cocked his head like an attentive student, waiting for the lesson to begin, and Remus took out his wand, and cast a spell silently that swept through Snape with a fine violet mist.

It was a dangerous spell – a Dark spell – and he wasn't proud to know it, but was glad he did all the same, because it was for this kind of purpose that he'd sought it out at all.

It had taken him ten years to find a spell that swept a person's soul to determine their true intentions. He hadn't made a habit of using it, because there were easier ways, but when it came to Snape, he really couldn't be trusted to tell – or even think – the truth. Remus had talked to Dumbledore often, when he gave his reports on the werewolf situation, about what was necessary in a time of war, what one must be prepared to do, and he'd always known there might come a time when he'd have to use a spell like this. Truth be told, using it on Snape didn't even trouble his conscience much, because he knew there was only one person who deserved the pain it caused more.

He'd shared many qualities with Dumbledore, Remus thought, but Dumbledore had had faith in people where he, having been betrayed by someone he proudly called a friend, did not. Dumbledore would have listened – perhaps asked Snape for proof, he thought, whereas he couldn't be satisfied like that – he needed to see it for himself – irrefutable, magical evidence.

The mist changed colour – from violet to red. Some malign intent, it said.

Remus thought of another question, and sent the mist back at Snape again and again, until he was sure of the mist's report: Snape had animosity for him, the Order, and Harry – but his intentions were not malign.

With the barest movement of his wand, he removed the blindfold and gag.

Snape blinked twice as his eyes re-adjusted to the light from the bare bulb above, but didn't show any other reaction. Remus released the chains, and then crossed the room quietly and sank almost motionlessly into the chair opposite Snape.

"Severus," he said, as conversationally as he could muster, under the circumstances.

Snape flexed his hands as the chains slid away, and then brought them together on the table, fingertips impeccable lined up with one another. "I should have known they'd send you," he said.

Remus smiled convivially, leaning forward slightly in his seat and resting one elbow on the table, his wand loosely grasped in his other hand. "Who else, Severus," he said, "knows you as I do?"

"No-one," Snape said, in a tone that suggested he'd roll his eyes if he thought he'd get away with it. "Unfortunately. What did you do to me?"

Remus met his cold, black eyes unflinchingly as they narrowed in accusation. "I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you," he said, but he didn't wait for an answer. He suspected one wouldn't have been forthcoming anyway. "I'm assuming," Remus said, "that you have information for us."

Snape sat back a little in his chair, although Remus didn't think he'd ever seen anyone look less a picture of relaxation in the pose. "Why would you assume that?" he said slowly, drawing the words out as if daring Remus to justify his thoughts.

"You allowed yourself to be captured," Remus said evenly. "And you could have broken out of this cell in about thirty seconds, wand or not, had you have chosen to."

Snape's lip hitched into the beginnings of a surprised smirk, and he propped his elbows on the table, pressing his fingertips together harder. He regarded Remus curiously, as if he hadn't really expected him to figure it out, and had been looking forward to explaining it to him, and now was vexed about the lost opportunity.

"We can dance around it for a while, if you like, Severus," Remus said, "but I suspect delaying the inevitable will do neither of us any favours. The longer you linger here, the more suspicious your eventual escape will seem."

Remus watched as his comment earned him another cool look of appreciation from Snape. He hadn't been expecting him to figure that out, either.

For a moment, Snape eyed him cautiously, weighing him up, and then he leant forward, barely perceptibly a touch more amenable. "How do I know I can trust you?" he said, his tone as oily as ever.

"You don't, Severus," Remus said with a twisted smile. "I believe we may, at last, have found we have something in common."

Snape laced his fingers together on the desk, and, for a moment, they just stared at each other, eyes locked in a silent battle.

But Remus was nothing if not patient. The ticking from the clock on the wall didn't trouble him, and as the minutes passed, he offered Snape a pleasant smile of invitation, that he hoped said that he was prepared to sit and wait all night if he had to.

"The Dark Lord suspects that Potter is up to something," Snape said, eventually, as if every word caused him pain.

"As you yourself are no doubt aware, Severus," Remus said, smiling a little at the thought, "Harry is nearly always up to something."

Snape's jaw tightened. Even as a schoolboy and before his friends had really given him cause, Snape had loathed Remus' tolerance for mischief, trouble-making, and interference. "That as may be," he said, "but this something is, I feel, a little more significant than his usual mischief making, and in light of everything, I felt it worthy of bringing to the Order's attention."

Remus knew he had to tread carefully. Snape would not have risked his life on a mere suspicion, and risk his life he surely had. But he needed to be careful. There were things Snape did not know that it would not be prudent to let any mention – or even any thought – of slip.

"I see," he said. "How has Voldemort come to this conclusion? Evidence of some kind – has someone seen Harry somewhere he shouldn't have been – or have his suspicions been aroused by some other means?"

"Some other means," Snape said, raising an eyebrow.

Remus nodded. There was only one other way Voldemort could have reached those conclusions – the connection between him and Harry was somehow betraying Harry's emotions, in spite of Harry's best efforts for them not to.

"And does he suspect what this something that Harry's up to might be?" Remus said, choosing his words carefully. He needed to find a way to let Snape tip him off without having Snape openly divulge anything – vague conversations were always easier to hide in one's mind.

"Not presently," Snape said. "However, it is only a matter of time before Potter's ineptitude as a wizard and desire for the validation of fame betray him."

Remus sighed. Same old Severus. "You look at Harry and see James," he said, rubbing his jaw wearily. "It would serve you well to look a little closer."

"And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?" Snape said, sneering slightly.

"You know perfectly well. Don't feign ignorance, Severus. It doesn't suit you."

"How kind of you to say."

"I have been guilty of many things in my lifetime," Remus said, "underestimating you has not been one of them. A quality I shared with Lily Evans."

Snape's eyes flickered and darkened momentarily at the mention of her name.

Had Remus not been concentrating on them so fiercely, he would have missed it entirely, because as soon as the flicker appeared, it was gone – but he'd seen enough – a flash of a redhead studying in the library – to confirm what he'd always suspected. "Do not try to read me, werewolf."

"Why not?" Remus said, not bothering to try and hide the amusement in his voice. "You've been trying to read me since I stepped in here."

"Force of habit," Snape drawled, looking away and forming each word as slowly as he possibly could. "You have resisted to a level far beyond that which I remember you capable of."

Remus smiled. Coming from Snape, that was almost a compliment. "As have you," he said. Snape's eyes flicked back to his.

"Had you have asked," Snape said, "I would have opened my mind to you."

Remus waved the suggestion aside. "You would have allowed me to see only that which would be useful to you," he said. "Therefore, I did not believe it was worth asking. I will inquire, however, how you came upon this information about Voldemort's suspicions. It is not your own."

Snape ran one long, pale finger over his lips in thought, weighing up what to share, and how. "I read it in the mind of another," he said slowly.

"Which other?"

"Your old friend," he said, spitting out the word as if it was the worse kind of curse. "The Dark Lord believes him pathetic and weak, and consequently trusts him with certain information those of us with more steadfast ambitions could not be trusted with."

"You read him often?"

"His mind is fascinating, if rather difficult to get into. Fragmented, I suspect, by his time in another form."

Remus drummed his fingers on the desk absentmindedly as he thought.

That was it, then – that was his message, the reason Snape had gone to so much trouble.

Voldemort suspected Harry was up to something.

The only person who knew for certain of Voldemort's suspicions was the one person they really didn't want on Harry's trail – the one person who had a convenient disguise that allowed him to practically disappear anywhere, and the one person who most needed Voldemort's protection, and ergo had the biggest incentive to find Harry and please his Lord.

Peter.

Remus pressed his lips together as he thought fiercely.

Harry had saved Peter's life once upon a time – Peter owed him a wizarding debt – but they couldn't put too much store in old magic, not when old magic was responsible for three seventeen year old wizards sleeping rough with only their wits and magic to keep them safe.

He nodded almost imperceptibly to Snape to show that he understood, suddenly feeling wearier than he had done in a very long while.

Wherever he went, and whatever he did, Peter continued to haunt him, and Remus was beginning to suspect that he always would.

Not for the first time, his stomach twisted with yearning, yearning for this to be someone else's burden rather than Harry's, for his friends back to help him protect Harry or die trying –

But, of course, they already had.

So now it was his turn.

With a sigh he went to get to his feet, knowing what was coming next and wanting to get it over with, but Snape didn't move. His eyes fixed on Remus', and hardened, although there was something oddly smug about his expression, too. "Wormtail fears you more than Voldemort," he said.

"So he should," Remus replied, his fingers tightening involuntarily on his wand, his voice colder than he'd anticipated.

Snape smirked. "A desire for vengeance, Lupin?" he said. "I'd have thought you were supposed to be above baser instincts like that."

"If I wasn't, you wouldn't still be sitting there."

Snape's eyelids flickered in something that could have been a contained wince, and Remus wondered if he should have said that at all. "You understand, however, what I did," Snape said quietly.

It wasn't a question.

But it didn't need to be, because Remus had let him see the very grain of an idea he'd had – that Dumbledore had powers the rest of them could only just envisage if they squinted – that just as Doge and Jones weren't up to the task of capturing a wizard like Snape unless he wanted to be captured, Snape wasn't up to the task of murdering a wizard like Dumbledore, unless….

"I do," Remus said. "However, you can not possibly expect – nor want – me to sympathise."

"Naturally."

Remus nodded, and Snape returned it, and for the first time, possibly ever, he felt they understood each other – or as much as they were ever likely to.

"You have a plan for your return?" Remus said, and Snape's top lip hitched into a rather unnatural smile.

"I did not expect you to let me go without a fight."

"I daresay you will not be disappointed, then," Remus returned. "Let's get on with it – keeping you here longer than necessary really will do neither of us any favours."

"Your little friends will disagree with your decision to help me return."

"Let them."

Snape's eyebrows inched a little higher on his forehead, as if this time, he really was surprised, and perhaps just a little bit impressed. "You will need to be convincing," he said.

"As will you."

"That will not be a problem."

Remus drew Snape's wand from his inside pocket, watching as Snape's eyes fixed on it greedily. "What would you prefer?" he said.

"What would you?" he sneered.

Remus tossed Snape his wand, thinking the words Ictus-sempra. A jolt of red light flashed through the room, reflecting in the face of the stunned-looking clock, but Snape didn't flinch – even as the spell impacted his eyes never wavered from Remus', and they stayed locked while he clutched at his side. He wheezed a little as blood appeared through his fingers. "Underhand tactics, Lupin?" he said. "Which of your noble friends did you learn that from?"

The air crackled with animosity under the weight of Snape's vicious glare, and Remus felt something like a great slap of air smash into the side of his face. It knocked him sideways, but he retained his balance, just, clinging to the desk.

That'll swell, he thought, as ringing erupted in his ear.

Offensio.

Snape's chair flew back against the wall, splintering and depositing him on the ground in a scramble of flailing limbs and swirling robes. As Snape struggled to collect himself, Remus hit him with it again, smashing him back into the wall – a flurry of plaster erupted and settled into his hair, turning it from black to grey in places – but Snape needed only a moment to recover before he retaliated, bracing himself against the wall and sending red sparks across the room, toppling Remus from his chair with a forceful blast to his chest.

Remus landed awkwardly, catching his elbows and the back of his head on the ground, but he couldn't let the pain shooting through him and vague dizzied feeling stop him – Snape was getting to his feet and aiming his wand. From the ground, gritting his teeth, Remus fired through the legs of the desk.

Ever bero.

A flurry of blue sparks in the form of an uppercut caught Snape rather off guard, and flung him back into the filing cabinet which rang out a note of protest at the contact. Remus repeated spell, delivering blow after blow (he was supposed to have had the upper hand, after all) until Snape's head lolled and he blinked at the room, giving Remus the time he needed to disentangle himself from the chair. With a pounding heart, even though he knew none of this was real – that Snape didn't mean him any harm, they were just doing what was necessary – he forced himself to stagger upright.

Snape aimed across the desk and almost lazily slit Remus' chest open. It wasn't deep – Remus had inflicted far worse on himself – but the blood seeping through his shirt looked effective and impressive.

He sent the same spell back at Snape, giving him a nasty gash across one thigh, and Snape winced, but sent back another blast of air that caught Remus in the chest and knocked him backwards into the wall, winding him viciously and crumbling the plaster behind him.

Ico, Remus thought, a little more vindictively than he had intended as he stepped forward and jabbed his wand in Snap's direction.

Snape stumbled backwards, clutching his shoulder as crimson blood spilled onto his hand. He glared and knocked Remus from his feet, and for a second Remus lay on his back, staring at the ceiling of the office, unable to do anything else.

After a moment, he took a breath and tried to bring the single, bare bulb above back into focus. He could hear Snape coughing on the other side of the room, and he sat up, gasping for air, and regarded him through a haze of plaster dust.

Snape wiped his bloody mouth on the back of his hand defiantly.

"Enough?" Remus said when he'd caught his breath.

Snape nodded, and Remus scrambled to his feet. "Where are we going?" he said, leaning heavily on one side of the desk and praying he had enough adrenalin to get him through what was to come.

"Spinner's End," Snape said.

"Where you were captured?" Snape nodded. "How many should I expect?"

"Probably two. Five at most."

"Generals or foot-soldiers?"

"One General," Snape sneered. "The rest, fodder."

Remus raised an eyebrow and attempted a chuckle. "I take it we'll require a big finish," he said.

"If you're up to it."

"Well neither of us is as young as we once were, Severus," Remus said, removing Moody's anti-Apparation wards, "but I find having one's life in the balance is always rather invigorating, don't you?"

Snape let out a brief snort of either derision or amusement, Remus couldn't tell which since he wasn't sure he'd ever heard one without the other before. "After you," Remus said, with a wave of his hand and a slight bow, indicating that Snape should take his le –

Crash –

Thunk.

The door flew open and bounced off the wall behind it, and Tonks stood, framed in the doorway, her wand thrust out in front of her. Before Remus had time to react, a purple hex flew through the room, aimed straight at Snape's heart –

"No!" he shouted, and darted in front of it, staggering back against the desk as it impacted.

He clutched at his shoulder, all air having apparently fled his body in once. "Tonks, it's – "

He struggled to get out more words of explanation, but she ignored him, and immediately fired a coil of rope at Snape, binding him to the spot with his arms pinned to his sides. He, of course, didn't protest, but looked rather bored and irritated by her interruption. "What's going on?" she said, casting a furrowed, concerned scowl at Snape and then dashing to Remus' side when she'd surmised he posed no immediate threat.

"You always were a little – trigger happy, Nymphadora," Snape said, and Tonks glared.

"You want another gag, Snape?" she said.

Remus took an agonising deep breath, blinking as he started to see stars, but before he could gather himself enough to start to explain, Kingsley and Moody appeared in the doorway. They were still carrying brooms, wands drawn and pointing straight for Snape, and both looked more than a little perturbed by the scene in front of them – the chairs on their backs, plaster falling from the walls, dust in the air, and Snape, re-bound but not gagged or blindfolded, and not so much as a drop of contrition on his face.

Snape looked pointedly at Remus and let out a long sigh. "I think your friends have questions, Lupin," he drawled.

"First things first," Tonks said, glancing at him. "Are you all right?"

Remus massaged the place where her hex had hit him with his fingertips, encouraging blood to flow and take off the numbness, and Tonks dipped her head, meeting his eye searchingly, and not a little apologetically. "Well it smarts a bit," he said, experimentally moving his shoulder around in its joint.

"Lupin?" Moody growled. "I left that prisoner bound and gagged, and then I saw you duelling. What's the meaning of this?"

"Severus requires a convincing return – "

"Return?"

" – to the Death Eaters."

"The Death Eaters?"

Moody's good eye blinked uncomprehendingly, while the other span in its socket. Remus could tell Moody was stunned, because he only ever repeated what he said in moments of internal conflict – his two desires to follow Remus' orders as their leader and a desire to smack him round the head for being a berk waging a war behind his magically whirring eye.

"Yes," Remus said quietly.

"But, Remus – " Tonks started, at the same time as Kingsley said:

"You don't expect us to – " And Moody chimed in with a:

"Lupin, he's a traitor – "

Remus held up his hand for quiet, and then pressed on. "Severus and I have talked, and I believe he did what was necessary – " As protest threatened to erupt again, Remus held his hand higher, trying to arrest it. "Even if you don't believe that, surely none of you will dispute that if he has brought us valuable intelligence – which he has, at great personal risk – that he is of more use as a spy in the Death Eater camp than locked up at Grimmauld?"

"Lupin – "

"I'm sorry, Alastor," Remus said, "but this isn't up for debate. How we feel about what he did shouldn't cloud our judgement as regards his usefulness. Dumbledore wouldn't have let it cloud his."

Moody's jaw tensed. "How about the fact that he obviously fought with you, lad? Is that up for debate? Or is my concern for you being a bloody mess clouding my judgement?"

"We needed for it to be convincing that he only barely escaped with his life. We were about to return, make a lot of noise so the Death Eaters who are looking for Severus can find us, whereupon I barely escape with mine – "

"No you're bloody not!" Tonks shouted. "Of all the idiotic – "

She stopped mid-flow when Snape sighed. "Aurors. So quick," he said, "as always, to jump to small picture conclusions."

"Don't you dare talk to her, traitor," Moody spat.

Snape let out a sniff of dissent, but apparently decided it wasn't worth arguing and studied the crumbling plaster on the wall. "Remus?" Kingsley said. "You can't in all honesty think it's the best thing to do to return him to the Death Eaters? What about what he did? Shouldn't he be punished?"

Remus sighed. He'd always known he'd have to explain all this, but he'd planned on doing so later, when the job was good and done – the seconds were ticking, and the longer they left it….

"Severus has his orders," he said, "as I have mine, and Harry his. It's possible that none of us can see the full picture as Dumbledore saw it, but for now, based on what I know, I believe it is vital that Severus return. And as convincingly as possible."

Remus waved his wand in Snape's direction, and the rope disappeared. As Moody, Kingsley and Tonks bristled as one, he met Snape's eye, willing him to read that a swift exit may well be necessary. He straightened up, making a mental note to get Tonks to tell him what spell she'd hit him with later, because it really had been most effective.

"You're not going alone," Tonks said, meeting his eye, her gaze loaded with concern.

"I am."

"It could be a trap."

He sighed a little, his fingers tightening on his wand. How he wished he could tell her he loved her – or kiss her, just in case –

"It isn't," he said, and Disapparated, hoping Snape was following hot on his heels.

A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Reviewers this time get a sneaky peek into a HP character of their choosing's innermost thoughts…. ;)