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It was near dawn when Severus dragged his wrecked body into the mansion.

Rubbing his head, he stumbled down towards his potions lab. There was some, his thoughts trailed off for a moment as he frowned in concentration. Something was in there. He knew that there was…some thing that would ease the pain he was feeling, though he couldn't quite think about what it could possibly be.

"Here," someone shoved a glass into his hand and he glared at the bouncing form. "Oh, take that look off of your face and save it for another place and time. Neither of us has the patience nor the desire to go into it right now-and you know it, Professor. For once in your life, would you just do something for me without fighting about it?"

"Potter," he growled, recognizing the voice and downed the drink in one gulp, though he knew there was a reason he should probably hold back on tossing it back so quickly. He moaned, feeling the immediate rush of the potion to his worst spots, reminding him exactly why he shouldn't have done what he just did.

The pain it brought back as it worked to heal him was unbelievable, yet he endured it as he knew he must. Pain was an old friend, one he knew well and trusted. It was lack of pain that he feared. To lack pain meant that something was amiss with his body. And finding out what it was would take time and energy. Two things that were of better use elsewhere.

Harry watched in concern, guiding him to the chair by the window. For the first time, he saw his nearly invincible professor vulnerable-and he didn't like the sight at all. "Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm not all right, you stupid boy. I have just experienced one of the worst nights I have ever had in all the many years that I've been doing this. A night that reminded me why I left those dunderheaded Neanderthals in the first place." He bit the words out, wincing a little in pain at the sound of his voice as he sat down slowly, relieved to be off of his feet at long last. "I walk into my lab, a place I have come to believe was sacrosanct, and find the third bane of my existence waiting for me-with a surprisingly competent potion for once."

"Third? I've gone down in your estimation," he cheekily joked, then became grim. "Look, I'm sorry about invading your privacy, Professor Snape. But I couldn't sleep. I rarely do when Voldemort has one of his special meetings." Harry noted, with a sense of shock, the shiver of fear that shook his teacher at the mention of Voldemort's name. But why? Snape had said his name before-many times.

"Why?" he idly asked, more for the sake of keeping the conversation off of him than any real interest in what the boy had to say. There were just some things that he didn't want the boy to know about, though he was pretty sure that was a futile hope. Besides, being an observant man about people, he could tell that Potter wanted to talk-and would no matter what he said. So, rather than waste energy trying to shut the boy up, he'd listen to his little speech and then send him on his way.

Harry's lips twisted into a mockery of a grin. "I get to attend."

"What?" Harry had his full attention then. He stared at him, startled and naked concern shone in his eyes for a brief moment. It was veiled quickly. But Harry would not quickly forget what he'd seen.

"Headmaster Dumbledore didn't tell you? Why…" he trailed off. "I'm not even going to pretend to be shocked, but I thought he would've told you after our experience with Professor Moody. Or rather, the false Professor Moody, don't you remember? I'm sure I mentioned it in your hearing; I had to have done that. I'm sure of it. Anyway, the headmaster figures that my scar binds me to Voldemort in some way. It was strengthened when he used my blood to regain his body."

Severus closed his eyes and leaned his head back, thinking over his words. "That would explain a few things," he mumbled.

"Sir?" he asked.

Pushing himself upright with effort, he walked off to the library. Having nothing better to do, Harry followed him, curious. Entering the room, he watched as his professor went from shelf to shelf, looking for something, almost furiously. "Here it is," he exclaimed triumphantly. "Read it and in a few days we shall put it into practice. First, I will have to pick up a few things. Where is that lazy excuse of a godfather?"

The sound of a loud yawn turned both heads towards the door. Sirius Black wandered in, stretching before he stopped, seeing their looks. "What?" he asked defensively, scratching his side. "Isn't this a bit early for you to be up, Harry?"

"Couldn't sleep," he replied, shrugging. The book he held was one he'd never seen Hermione read before-and she had studied almost every book in the school's library. Brought them to his and Ron's attention constantly too, he thought. "Occlumency for Beginners?" he read quietly, not sure that he should bring the book to Sirius' attention.

"Really?" he suspiciously asked, narrowing his eyes at the pair. For the moment, he was going to ignore the implications behind the book Harry now held in his hands. That was something he couldn't do a thing about at the moment. But if Snape was responsible for Harry's sleepless night, that was something he could attempt to fix. Something he would love to fix. "What did you do, Severus?"

"Severus?" Harry mouthed, still surprised that his godfather still was doing that.

Ignoring him for the moment, the teacher stared at Sirius coldly. "I did nothing to him, you suspicious mongrel. Your godson shares a mental link with the Dark Lord. I would suggest that you allow me to teach him occlumency. You should know that I will teach him anyway, the boy clearly needs it. I just thought that I would give you a chance to act the part of parent."

"Of course," Sirius waved that off. Then his eyes narrowed suspiciously, staring holes into the professor. As usual, Severus seemed totally unmoved by the look. "Naturally, you will allow him the right to have a pensieve."

"Obviously," Severus smoothly agreed. "Going through the mind of a Gryffindor is not my idea of a good time. Especially when that Gryffindor is the Boy Who Lived and still one of my students."

"Hey!" the boy in question cried out. "That's not fair! It isn't like I asked for any of this!"

"Life is not fair. I thought you would've learned that by now," Severus icily retorted, swallowing back a yawn. Even now, he would not let his image slip, though he was beyond tired. "Mr. Potter, I would advise against telling your friends of your new lessons. They might not be so supportive of your extra-curricular activities when they discover what it is that you are learning."

"Why not?" he asked, looking uncertainly at the book he still held. "Is it part of the dark arts?" The question popped out before he could stop it, but he knew he needed to know what he was getting himself into. A part of him was aware that Snape would not teach him the Dark Arts without express permission by the headmaster. Even if he felt that it would prepare him for the coming battle, he would not do it without permission. Still, the warning set off danger signals in his mind.

Snape grimaced, easily reading his expression. Suppressing an angry reply, "Hardly, though it does have a certain hint of it. Headmaster Dumbledore practices a form of occlumency himself, as well as legilimency. But to learn occlumency also requires learning legilimency, which is a way to read minds-though it in no way actually reads minds. That ability is a myth of epic proportions that really should be laid to rest. Many powerful wizards and witches know this art."

"Is that how you know so much about what is going on?" he suspiciously asked.

"Not quite, Mr. Potter. There are ways of spying that does not include invading another's mind," he blandly replied. "Now, if you will both excuse me, there is much that I need to do before I can teach my classes." Black cloak swirling out behind him, he left the room.

"Harry, you don't have to learn from that git if you'd rather be taught by someone else," Sirius began, though he wasn't sure were he would find another teacher in occlumency as good as Snape was. Or one that was in Sunnydale, who would be able to overlook Snape's presence and what he did for the Order, who was also trustworthy enough to trust Harry's mental state to.

"Could you teach me?"

Sighing, he shook his head regretfully. "Unfortunately, legilimency and occlumency were arts that I preferred to avoid. My family…has a rather dark heritage and I wanted to avoid learning anything that smacked of that."

Though he didn't understand, Harry nodded and told him that it was all right.

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked, worried.

"Professor Snape and I have come to an agreement," he told him. "It isn't perfect but it works."

"Yes, I've noticed." He glowered darkly at the door the professor had gone in. "You have to promise me that you'll be careful, Harry. While Albus trusts that git, I don't."

"I am careful," he rolled his eyes.

"Harry, I want you to promise me, not tell me flippantly that you'll be careful." For the first time that the young man could recall, the mischievous, laughter filled eyes were bleak and full of undisguised worry. Worry that would not abate until he had made this promise and it really wasn't that big a deal-to his godfather at least.

"I promise," he finally said. Inside he wondered how he'd be able to keep that promise when danger seemed to stalk him from all sides. It wasn't like he went looking for it, trouble usually came to him and all to often in a disguise that he couldn't see through until it was almost to late.

Though not fully satisfied with the promise, there was nothing else he could do. Watching his godson yawn, he pointed to the stairs. "I'll talk to Remus, you get some sleep. Why were you up anyway? I mean, you don't really share a bond with Voldemort, do you?"

"I do," he said. "Professor Snape wasn't lying about that. But, Sirius, I thought you knew. I told you about it. I wrote to you, I talked to you. Headmaster Dumbledore even told you. Weren't you listening to us?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed. "I know. It's just that you hadn't said anything about it in a while that I thought that when he got back his body, that connection had gone away. So much for hoping for small favors."

Harry nodded, though he looked worriedly at his godfather. Although he had tried hard to hide it from him, he could clearly see that Sirius had a look of deep mistrust on his face. As though he feared what Harry would do now that another link had been exposed to the light.

It hurt.

"I'm going to go upstairs and see if I can get a little sleep. I'll see you later, all right?" The question was tentatively asked, as though Harry was afraid that things had changed between them. And would never be set to rights again.

Sirius only waved him off, ignoring both the question and the tone of voice.

Quietly, Harry left the room and stumbled up the stairs. His heart felt weighted down with a sickness that could only be dispelled in time. Time he wasn't sure he had anymore. With his head bowed, he counted the steps to his room. Some of the Slytherins pushed him aside as they went downstairs to get breakfast and work on their morning tasks.

He was almost grateful for their normal behavior.

"What?" someone drawled from right in front of him. "The Great Sirius Black couldn't handle his godson being less than James Potter perfect?"

The voice startled him and he stopped before he could crash into his teacher. "I thought you were going to bed," he told him stupidly. Studying his teacher, he could see no traces of the night's abuse anywhere.

"Now, why would I do such a thing?" he asked with perfect precision to his words. "I was merely going to clean myself up to face the day."

"But you need it, Professor. I was there, I know what happened to you," he protested hotly. His concern pushing every other thought from his mind. A part of him vaguely wondered if Snape was doing this deliberately to help him focus on something else.

"I believe, Mr. Potter, that you are the one who needs it. Get going," he shoved him none to gently towards the half empty room. Once he was sure that the young boy would not ram into the doorframe, he left the hall.

As Severus walked down the stairs, he felt Remus come up behind him. "When were you going to inform me that Miss. Summers had joined our little entourage?"

"I was going to try to catch you before you went into your room. I heard you arrive this morning," he admitted. "But Neville needed me to help him with something."

Instead of giving the expected derogatory reply about Longbottom and his inability to care for himself, he asked after Buffy's presence. There was no point in expressing an opinion everyone already knew about. "Why is she here?"

Remus walked beside him, breathing a little heavily in an attempt to keep pace. "She's not moving in, if that's what you're worried about. She just needed a place to stay for the night."

"Why is that, Lupin?" Severus noticed that Remus had trouble in keeping up. But he did not try to modify his steps in the least bit. It was not his custom to alter his movements for anyone other than the headmaster, even his students had to keep pace with him.

"She wished to have some words with Willow. The Watcher's Council went to her house. They may have informed her mother as to who and what she is. As she seemed to be to disturbed to walk home safely, I invited her to stay."

"In my room," Severus stated blandly, as though there was nothing wrong with his solution.

"Well, I could hardly leave the students alone while I escorted her to home, now could I?" he snapped irritably. This whole conversation seemed a rather pointless waste of words. It had happened and couldn't be undone, couldn't Severus just drop it?

"No, you couldn't do that," he mockingly agreed. "But you could have transfigured something into a bed for her in one of the dormitories, correct?"

"I didn't think of that," he admitted.

"Obviously," he dryly said. "Instead, you've opened her up to a world of speculation. And me to possible charges of misuse of my authority if anyone was to find out about this. Minister Fudge would love hearing about this, he's been trying to get rid of me for years. This could be just the thing he's looking for."

"All right, Severus. I apologize," he sighed. "I wasn't thinking clearly last night. There were things going on that clouded my mind."

"No, you weren't," he icily replied. "There's no way to alter what has been done. I can only modify it."

After a few moments of tense silence, Remus broke it. "What are you going to do?"

"I left her a note. I hope she has enough sense of self-preservation to follow the instructions I left for her. If she does, she will leave through the wardrobe, which will take her into one of the girls' bathrooms. Don't worry, I called it a closet for her. Since I am guessing the girls were as close to being asleep as possible when you made these arrangements, they hopefully won't notice the extra bed right beside Willow's. It will look as though she spent the night there."

"The girls will know the truth," Remus pointed out the flaw in his plan.

"I do not doubt that," he said coolly. "I do hope that they say nothing. If not for her sake, then for their own sakes, they would be pulled into this mess. Short of placing a spell on them, though, there is nothing I can do about it." As they entered the dinning room, he paused and shook his head. "If you will excuse me, I need to deal with something."

"Something? Severus, what?"

"Those girls are making a mess in the lavatory," he sighed, pinching his nose. "I knew that Americans were nothing but trouble. Merlyn, if Willow hadn't shown such proclivities for high magics, I never would've agreed to this."

"You say that about everyone," Remus commented, going to sit down at the table. He knew that he'd be of no true use if it was the Slayer causing the trouble. "Draco, please sit down. Professor Snape does not need your help."

"I never thought he did. My mother wrote me, she needs a reply immediately," Draco said, walking out of the room.

"Is everything all right?" he called after him.

Draco paused at that, almost surprised, though it didn't show on his face, and turned back. A strange look was in his eyes, fading away quickly into his usual haughty expression. "Mother gave no indication that there was trouble at home."

"That doesn't mean that something is not wrong," he replied evenly. "Sit back down, Draco. Your mother can wait until after you've eaten to write your reply."

He sniffed disdainfully, shrugging off the concern he felt coming from the professor. "I would much prefer to find out what mother wishes of me right away, Professor Lupin. Once I have done that, I shall see if I can stomach the thought of food. Excuse me, Weasley."

Knowing there was nothing else he could say, Remus nodded, "Very well, Draco. I shall make sure that something is kept warm for you."

Ron moved to the side, shocked by the politeness in the Slytherin's voice. Watching him go, he shrugged his shoulders at Hermione's look. She looked as puzzled as he felt. It was almost unheard of for Malfoy to be so considerate, even after all the time they'd spent in Sunnydale learning about cooperation and getting along.

It was almost worrisome.

656

Buffy stretched and yawned, opening her eyes to see that the room was about as dim as it had been the night before. Slowly rising, she found the note and read it. She frowned but nodded in resignation, his points were sensible. If a little paranoid, she mentally added.

Throwing open the closet, she stepped through without first checking to see if anyone was there and entered the bathroom. Luckily for the deception, the only person she saw in the room was Willow, with a bundle of clothes under her arm.

"Hey," she greeted her.

"Hey," she said, yawning. Putting her bathrobe on the hook and her clothes down on the stool. "How did you get in here?"

"First, is there anyone else in here?" When Willow shook her head, a little puzzled at the question, the slayer answered in a self-mocking tone. "Professor Snape's closet. He thinks that we could both get into major trouble if anyone found out I was in his room."

"He's right," Willow agreed. "When I went to London with them, I had to have a female chaperone to make sure that everything was above suspicion. The Wizarding World is very old-fashioned compared to our own."

"Really? Then why have we seen no female teachers around here?"

Willow shrugged, "I think its because there are more students around here. Not to mention, I've felt something blocking me from entering some of the rooms with the boys."

"WILLOW!"

"What?" she started to say. Then her words came back to her and she blushed as she realized the implications behind what she'd said. "Not like that, Buffy! Honestly, I just meant that there must be some spells keeping the males and females separate, to discourage anything between them."

"Still, the fact that you were trying anything," she smirked as she let the suggestion trail off.

"BUFFY!" she shrieked. "I wasn't trying anything. It was Draco, Ron, and I…"

"Oh, a threesome. Willow, you devil. I wouldn't have thought you were the type. Should've known you would be," she paused, finishing solemnly, "it's always the quiet ones."

Reaching out her hand, she grabbed the showerhead and turned in on as cold as it would go. "Ah, go on and soak your head, Slayer."

She shrieked and wrestled it away from her friend, spraying her. "Why don't you? You're the one with the dirty mind."

Water went everywhere, soaking them through their sleeping clothes. It dripped down the walls and knocked soap dispensers to the ground. One of the soap bottles broke and the thick, green soap inside it sprayed the wall it landed beside and the pipes underneath the sink.

"What is going on in here?" Severus coolly asked from the doorway. Buffy whirled and the water flew in his direction. A hand went up and stopped it in mid air. "Miss. Summers, kindly watch what you are doing with that thing."

"Sorry," she dropped it to the ground.

Severus said nothing for a moment, just looked around at the room. "Clean up this…mess," he finally said. The professor did not bother to ask again for an explanation, he just wasn't interested. Waving his hand, the frozen water dissipated. "I shall give Mr. Giles a call. I'm guessing that he will have some extra clothes for you to wear."

"Yes, sir." The two bent over and began to pick up the mess.

"And Willow?"

She looked up at him, not bothering to look down at the soapy mess in her hands. The feel of it was enough to slightly turn her stomach. "Yes?"

"Do not resort to using your magic," he warned. "Your magic may have started to return but you should not take advantage of it. As much as I would love to act like I trust you, I shall be monitoring the magical intake into this room."

"No, sir," she replied, upset. It hadn't occurred to her to use magic to clean up. After all, it hadn't been magic that had caused this mess in the first place. Still, it stung that he thought her capable of such duplicity.

"And Miss. Summers?"

Glancing up at him, she barely held in the resentment in her look. His words to Willow stung her and she wondered what he had in mind for her.

"This mess is not all Miss. Rosenberg's, you will not let her take full responsibility for cleaning it."

"Of course not, Professor Snape."

End, Part 11