Severus Snape was not in a pleasant mood.
Alright, so he was never in exactly a pleasant mood, but his mood now was enough to cause an entire fortress of some of the filthiest, meanest, foulest wizards in Europe to scurry before him like the horrible students he'd once had to teach. He held clenched in one hand a piece of parchment. It'd arrived on his desk about ten minutes ago. From surly to raging in three seconds. Such was Snape's incredibly range.
His modified Muggle wheelchair sped unaided through the dark corridors, the cold within them now so familiar that he only registered it as a dull ache in his joints. The fortress was a maze, but after years maneuvering around the sharp corners, he'd come to know most of its secrets and short cuts as well as he knew his own face. Better, in fact. He'd been too busy for mirrors and idiocy like that for a long time.
He'd known this was a mistake. He'd known that there was no winning this situation, it was too much of a gamble, too risky, too unpredictable. He zoomed into the library, and roared wordlessly, slamming the parchment down on a nearby table. It was only one sheet, so the slamming wasn't very satisfactory, but the roaring filled him with a savage glee.
A tall, attractive black man with proud features and impeccably fitting robes appeared from behind a shelf, holding a stack of books under one arm.
"Severus," he greeted him, not quite smiling, but raising an eyebrow at the man glaring at him "You should work on being a little more assertive. How on earth can we cater to your needs when you don't—"
"Shut up, Zabini. I don't have time for your wit. Where is he?"
Blaise Zabini smirked, and nodded towards the back of the room. Snape revved his chair forward, and Zabini had to step neatly to the side to keep from being plastered against the nearest shelf.
Sure enough, there he was in the back, looking at some ancient parchment from the very top of one of the rickety old ladders that filled the blasted place. Snape waited at the base of the ladder, seething silently. Finally the man looked down, and though Snape couldn't see his face from the distance (it was a very big library) the smirk was tangible in the air.
"Snape," the man said, climbing down with the scroll tucked under his arm "Nice to see you again. It's been what? Fifteen whole minutes?"
"Have you seen the message?"
"Yes."
Snape gaped. "'Yes'? That's all? Don't you think—"
"No, I don't. Did you expect them to be forthcoming? We've taken an enormous risk here, Snape. It's been a struggle just convincing them that they shouldn't just leave us here—" He made a sweeping gesture which encompassed the fortress beyond the library and all its inhabitants "—to quietly rot. So far, we've been too careful."
"We had good reason to!"
The other man nodded his assent, moving over to a chair and sinking into it, brushing the dust off of his fine velvet robes. "… And Lupin wouldn't be so trusting. Think about it, Snape. The last time most of us were seen among the rest of the world was that last fight. It's natural for them to distrust us a little."
Snape seethed. "But we have no idea who he's sending. It could be absolutely anyone. Anyone."
"Not quite. Lupin wouldn't come himself. He also won't send any of his precious inner circle. We've managed to keep some sort of tabs on each of them, and none have shown any restive signs. Potter is gone, possibly dead. Weasley is popular, true, but he's also confined to bed and trapped inside his own mind. Granger has also vanished. Who else do we have to fear?"
Snape didn't answer. He ran a hand through his lanky black hair, and sighed. His aggression dissipated, and he sagged against the back of his chair. When he spoke, his voice held a hint of a plea in it "We have so much to fear. Why can't you see that?"
No answer from his companion. Snape looked away from him, staring at the shelf opposite. There were no books on this particular shelf. Just drawers. Snape knew that they held within them information on every single member of the wizarding world who'd even been connected to or drawn the attention of the Death Eaters. His file was in there, somewhere. Probably gathering mold and crumbling away.
Just like he was.
"This will never work," Snape said quietly "There's too much that could go wrong."
The man stirred, smiling grimly as he rose, clapping a hand on Snape's shoulder "It's a risk we're going to take."
"I don't suppose I can persuade you otherwise?" Snape called after him as he walked away.
"No. Go dig through files if it'd make you happier. I'll be in my office"
Snape watched the tall blonde figure leave the library, and reflected on how very good at seething he was growing to be.