Many Meetings

A day later, Severus was awake and coherent again, much to everyone's amazement. He found that he remembered very little of his initial ordeal, apparently Arista had used her gift to block out the worst of the memories, so he wouldn't need to fear sleeping again. When he tried to recall what he'd endured at Voldemort's hands, it was indistinct and hazy, as if seen through a beveled glass mirror. He was very grateful for that small mercy.

The only other outward signs of his ordeal were a lock of his hair that had turned permanently white on his left side, from where his skull had cracked open, and his left leg. When Arista had healed him, the hair that had grown over the spot had changed color due to the trauma. Severus supposed he would grow used to it in time, and Albus teased him gently, saying it made him look dignified, and older than his thirty-six years.

The only other physical sign was his left leg, which had suffered sustained and intense nerve damage. Part of that damage was due to the repeated casting of the Cruciatus Curse, and part of it due to being broken and torn with a iron prybar. That much Snape did recall, and wished he didn't. The mere memory made his leg throb. Arista, good as she was, hadn't been able to restore the nerves to full efficiency, but she had made certain he could still use the leg, or so Poppy had assured him.

"For now, though, you're not to put your full weight on it, Severus," she instructed. "Therefore, you may use these," and she conjured a pair of crutches for him.

He looked at the crutches with extreme distaste, he so hated being helpless. Then he sighed and nodded. "Very well. If I must use them, I shall. Bloody damn nuisance!"

"Don't be ungrateful, Severus," Pomfrey chided gently. "You're lucky you can walk at all. Arista did an amazing job on you, far better than I would have been able to. Truly, she is a Healer beyond compare, we haven't seen her like since Nimue the Blessed, back in the days of Arthur and Merlin."

The Potions Master shook his head ruefully. "Don't mind me, Poppy. I'm never at my best when I'm injured. I tend to snap and snarl, so I'll give you advance warning, and ask you to forgive me."

"Like most men," the medi-witch said. "I'll keep that in mind. How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Very good, all things considered." He examined his arms and hands slowly, as if surprised they were still attached to him and functioning. "When Arista heals someone they stay healed, as I'm sure you know. Where is she, by the way?"

"Right beside you in the bed to your left," Poppy answered, pointing to the bed next to him. "She still hasn't woken up yet, but that's normal after a major healing like she did. Her body needs to replenish all the energy she used and the best way to do that is to sleep."

Severus coughed softly, his throat was terribly dry, probably from screaming, he thought with a shudder.

"I'm sorry, you must be thirsty," Poppy apologized, handing him a glass of cool water.

Snape sipped it gratefully, careful not to gulp it, knowing his stomach wouldn't tolerate it. "Who found me?"

"Hagrid did," Poppy replied, laying a hand on his forehead. "Good, no fever. You were a sight to behold, Severus. I fear you scared him out of ten years of his life."

"No doubt. But better he found me than one of the students," Severus said matter-of-factly. He raised an eyebrow as he caught sight of Drake asleep in the chair next to Arista's bed. "Has Lockwood been here all night too?"

"Oh yes, watching over you and Arista rather like that oversized beagle there," Poppy snorted, indicating Scout, who raised his head and thumped his tail in acknowledgement. He'd jumped half on the bed and licked the professor's entire face when Severus had first awakened. "The both of them refused to leave, so I allowed them to stay, provided they were quiet and let you sleep." She cast a fond but exasperated glance at Drake. "Mr. Lockwood didn't think he could trust me to look after Arista, I suppose. Either that or he simply needs to be close to her, like most partners with a new soulbond."

Severus' jaw dropped. "Excuse me, but could you repeat that again? Because for a minute I could have sworn you said that Drake and Arista were soulbonded."

"According to Lockwood, they are. He told me so himself, while Arista was tranced and healing you. Why?"

"Because this is the first I've heard of it," Snape muttered, frowning irritably.

"Oh dear. I thought you knew."

Snape shook his head. "No. And I should have. Although . . ." his brow wrinkled, as he tried to recall the conversation he had had with Arista before leaving that morning on his last mission. "She did try and talk to me about something just before I left. Perhaps it was about the soulbond. It's so rare, but I'm glad it's Drake and not someone else."

"Because he's a Slytherin?" Poppy guessed.

"His House is irrelevant," Snape waved a hand in dismissal. "I'm glad it's him because I know he's responsible and trustworthy and he knows the meaning of loyalty. He's a good match for her."

"What about love, Severus? Isn't that important?"

"Yes, but there's no doubt in my mind about that, Poppy. A soulbond requires the deepest commitment and love otherwise it'll fail. Theirs hasn't, which suggest to me that it's the real thing."

"Oh, it's real enough. He felt her need across the castle, from all the way down in the dungeons." She eyed Snape thoughtfully. "You know an awful lot about soulbonds for a Potions Master and Defense teacher."

"I ought to. My wife was an empath too."

Poppy understood instantly what he implied. "Oh, Severus. How terrible for you! No wonder you never speak of her."

Snape glanced away for a moment, his mind filled with the image of Amelia as he had last seen her, while standing on the starry road. She had told him to go back, that it was not time for them to be together yet. How he had longed to take her in his arms, to hug her tightly and never let go! To see her and not be able to touch her seemed to him the cruelest form of torture.

I'll be right here waiting, Sev. Now go back, please. Go back, Sev.

He could still hear her voice, beloved and sweet, echoing in his mind.

He surreptitiously wiped a hand across his eyes. Good God, Snape, this is no time to get emotional. Be glad you're alive, he scolded himself. He was glad, he told himself firmly, but he still missed Amelia, and always would. Such was the price of a soulbond.

"Her name was Amelia, Poppy. She was a very special person, much like her daughter. Her death nearly broke me, worse than anything Riddle did to me. And yet, enduring that gave me the strength to endure him, which is why I'm here speaking to you now." He shifted, trying to get comfortable. "I guess what they say is true, everything happens for a reason." He grimaced as a spasm shot through his left leg.

"Are you in pain? Do you need a pain relieving draft?" she inquired solicitously.

Snape shook his head no. "Just a twinge, that's all. I need to move around, I think."

She gestured to his crutches. "Be my guest. Just don't overdo it."

He scowled at her, then reached for them, cursing his awkwardness.

He forced himself to walk across the infirmary and back twice, working the newly healed muscle, hoping to ease the stiffness somewhat. The exercise exhausted him, however, and he had to lie down afterwards, much to his disgust. Ah, well. Rome wasn't built in a day, he reminded himself, and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, he found he had slept two hours, and Dumbledore was now seated in a chair next to his bed. He was also quite hungry and thirsty. Poppy brought him a tray and he talked quietly with Albus while he ate, reassuring the older wizard that he had not compromised the Order.

"He couldn't get past my shields and that frustrated the hell out of him," Severus reported, scowling angrily just thinking about his old enemy. "He thought if he used the Cruciatus on me, it would grant him access, but he was sadly mistaken. He forgets the background I have, I'm no stranger to pain."

Dumbledore winced. "I'm sorry, Severus. Had I known . . ."

"Don't," Snape cut him off sharply. "We both know you'd have sent me anyway, Albus. I was the best man for the job, and I knew the risks. This was always a possibility."

"True," Albus sighed. "I just never expected you to be compromised so soon." He frowned down at his left hand, which was blackened and crooked into a claw.

"What's done is done. We'll just have to alter our plans a bit," Snape said. "Have you told Potter about the Horcruxes yet?" he asked in a voice meant only for Dumbledore's ears.

"Not everything. I hadn't planned on revealing things so soon."

"If not now, then when? You're running out of time, Albus." Snape reminded, nodding meaningfully at the Headmaster's ruined hand. "My potion won't hold the curse at bay forever. I've played the game to the end, now it's time for the Chosen One to step forward and play the role he was born for." There was a bitter edge to Snape's voice as he said that.

"Do you still resent the boy after all this time, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, faintly disapproving. "His connection to Voldemort may have saved your life, you know."

"Really?" Snape sneered. "And how do you know he didn't unknowingly betray me too, Albus? The boy's a loose cannon, Albus, and yes, I do resent being so dependent on a mere sixteen-year-old whose only talent is getting into trouble like his father!"

"You misjudge him, Severus. Remember, he isn't only James's son, but Lily's as well."

"I know that, and it's too bad he didn't inherit more of her brains. Some of the things he does boggles my mind. And if he's to find the Horcruxes before it's too late, he's going to have to think fast, and be one step ahead of Voldemort. It'll require more than luck if he's to succeed."

"Trust him, Severus. Like you, there is more to him than meets the eye."

"Then why the blazes hasn't he shown it to me?"

"Perhaps because you've always demanded it. Try asking next time," Albus suggested. Snape snorted. "You've no need to play the drill sergeant with him anymore, you know. The sword's been tempered enough."

"Maybe. It's almost second nature by now," Severus admitted quietly. "And that was what he needed, all those years, and well you know it."

Dumbledore nodded. "But now he must take that discipline and use it himself. Not an easy thing to do. What he needs now is encouragement."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "From me?"

"Yes. He respects you, you know."

Severus laughed in disbelief. "Hardly. He hates my guts."

"No. You didn't see him, after we brought you back, and he knew you had almost died. He kept saying how sorry he was, Severus, he was remorseful and guilty, he blamed himself for what happened. He was very nearly in tears."

"Over me? Oh, Albus! That is unbelievable, that Potter should feel such for me, his most hated Potions professor, the perfectionist who pushed him to the limit, who annoyed and humiliated him."

"Nevertheless, it's true. Perhaps he is more like Lily than you thought?"

"Humph! Perhaps."

"Will you talk with him then? He wants to speak with you."

"Now?"

"If you feel up to it."

Severus sighed. "All right. Send him in here. I promise not to bite his head off."
Dumbledore chuckled. "That's a start."

"So long as he remembers his manners and doesn't mouth off to me," the professor added.

"I'll remind him to be polite, although I doubt it'll be necessary this time," the Headmaster stated.

Five minutes later Harry walked into the infirmary and saw Snape sitting up in the hospital bed, doing nothing more alarming than stroking the head of his magehound. Harry hesitated for a moment, uncertain whether or not to proceed, he'd never seen Snape this relaxed before and after what the man had endured, was reluctant to break the tranquil moment.

The professor was speaking to the dog softly, and Scout was gazing at him with extreme affection. Even more surprising, Severus was smiling, and that sight alone was enough to give Harry the courage to approach his teacher. It was a miracle that Snape was alive, he looked much better than when Harry had last seen him, through Voldemort's eyes in that dark cell, writhing in agony.

Severus glanced up at the boy's approach, raising an eyebrow. "You wished to see me about something, Potter?" There was no bite to his tone now, it was merely a question.

Harry swallowed sharply. "Uh, yes, sir," he said awkwardly. He did not dare meet the other's eyes, instead focusing on the magehound, who was sitting with his head in the professor's lap. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for . . .for what happened. I never meant . . .for him to find out, I swear it. This is all my fault."

The remorse in the boy's tone was genuine, and Severus fought to keep from gaping. An apology was the last thing he had expected from Harry, of all people. The Potions Master sighed. "Potter, look at me," he ordered quietly. Harry did, and there was no defiance in his green eyes now, the way there had been almost every other time. Now there was only guilt and shame. "Why do you say that this was your fault? I don't recall you holding a wand on me and casting the Cruciatus curse, do you?"

"No, but . . .I'm the reason Voldemort found out about you, sir! He was inside my mind again and I didn't know . . .he probably heard me talking with Dumbledore."

"About me?"

Harry nodded miserably. "He told me to trust you, only I didn't believe him . . .I was wrong about you. I thought you were working for the Death Eaters, playing us all for fools."

"That was what I wanted you to think," Severus said. "That was my cover. No one was to know otherwise, save Professor Dumbledore. If you betrayed my secret to Voldemort as you seem to believe, Potter, answer this. Why did he wait so long to attack me, to accuse me of being unfaithful? He could have sent his followers out after me any time after I'd left the school and killed me that way. He could have attacked me as soon as he saw me. Why did he wait, if he knew I was a spy for the Order?"

"I don't know, sir. Maybe he didn't think it was true."

"No, Potter. The Dark Lord is very distrustful, if told someone had betrayed him or if he suspected someone of betrayal, he would not hesitate for an instant to harm the betrayer. Voldemort has no friends, only followers. Yet he waited a full day after my arrival to begin "questioning" me," Snape said, grimacing slightly in distaste. "Your conversation with Albus was when?"

"Uh, maybe a day before you left." Harry said.

"Then I'll ask you again, why the delay? If he knew for certain that I was a traitor to his cause, why not kill me as soon as I arrived? It doesn't add up."

"Then how did he find out, if not through me?"

"I don't know. Was anyone else present when Albus revealed my true purpose to you?"

"No, sir. We were alone, in his office." Harry frowned, trying to recall that day. "But afterwards, I ran into Malfoy, he was lurking near the statue, said he needed to speak to the Headmaster about something urgent. I asked if he was requesting a transfer to a different school and he said don't I wish and left."

Severus looked thoughtful. "I wouldn't put it past him to have been ordered by his father to do some spying of his own."

"Then you think he might have overheard us?"

"First rule in spying, Potter, assume nothing. You deal in facts, not suppositions. Perhaps Malfoy had a legitimate reason for being there, or perhaps not. We don't know. What I do know is that Lucius began asking rather pointed questions about Arista soon after I joined them at their secret base. I didn't like that at all, and I gave indirect answers to most of his queries. Perhaps that tipped him off, that I was unwilling to have my daughter serve Voldemort like I did. For make no mistake, I would have died rather than have Arista fall into his hands. In any case, you shouldn't blame yourself over something that was out of your control."

"But it was my fault!"

"Potter, for Godsake, stop playing the martyr, and let it go!" Severus snapped exasperatedly. "You and Arista love to feel guilty over things that you can't change."

"If I had learned Occlumency like I was supposed to—"

"Ah, now that is something you can feel guilty about," Snape interjected. "Your disobedience and disrespect were the reason I chose to end our sessions. My time is valuable and the last thing I want is to waste it teaching an incorrigible student."

Harry flushed. "Maybe I was wrong there, but you weren't much better . . .sir. You kept pushing me . . ."

"Of course I did! That's my job, Potter, to test you. You think I was being too hard on you? Not even close. What I did is nothing to what Voldemort would do to you if he got the chance. You've shared his mind, Potter, you know better than anyone what he's capable of. You saw what he did to me, don't think for an instant he wouldn't do it to you or one of your friends. He'd kill them quick as blinking, just like Cedric Diggory. If you're going to go up against him, you have to be hard and unyielding and be able to out-think him. That was what kept me alive for fifteen years. And that is what will keep you alive too, if you care to learn it. Well? Would you like to continue Occlumency lessons with me?"

Harry considered for several moments. At last he nodded. "I would, if it'll keep him out of my head. I'm tired of feeling him hurt people, I want to be free of him."

"The only way to be truly free of him is to kill him. Are you prepared to do that, Potter?"

"I think so."

"Not good enough! No hesitation, Potter! Hesitate and you're dead. This is a coldblooded murderer you're dealing with, not a schoolboy bully. Make up your mind. Can you kill him or not?"

"I can, sir."

"Better. We'll work on methods later."

"I know of one method already, professor," Harry began, but Snape made a swift slashing motion with a hand.

"Not here, Potter!" he hissed. "You never know who might be listening." He scowled angrily at Harry. "Never assume you're safe. Use your head for once."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, boy. Think before you act. That'll save your life more than any foolish heroic stunt, believe me. Quit acting like your father for once, and follow your mother's example. Lily was a thinker and a careful planner. She knew how to see a problem from all angles. Made her an excellent potion maker."

"You knew her well, then?" Harry asked. This was the first time he'd ever heard Snape mention his mother.

"Certainly I did, we went to school together. She lived down the street from me too."

"You were neighbors?"

"Yes, and friends as well. As good friends as you and Weasley are." He chuckled wryly. "Why so surprised, Potter? Even I had friends once. I knew your aunt too, though we never liked each other. She was a stuck-up snob, always sneering at us and calling us freaks."

"She hasn't changed all that much," Harry said feelingly.

"I'm not surprised. People like her don't. Be that as it may, I think we can resume our lessons three days from now, at six in the evening in my office." He brushed the white lock of hair off his forehead.

Harry stared at it. "Professor Snape, your hair . . ."

"Is white, yes I know. That's what happens when you crack your skull open."

Harry winced. "Arista put shields in place yesterday. But she told me they wouldn't last forever, that I'd have to make my own, only I don't know exactly how to do it."

"I'll teach you." he leveled a stern glare at Lily's son. "But you better be prepared to work next time you see me, Potter, am I clear? His dark army grows stronger day by day and you must be prepared to meet it. I've played the game to the end, now it's your turn. Make it count."

"I will, sir."

"Good. I'm going to hold you to that promise." He reached out and clasped Harry's hand in his own. "Perhaps there's more of your mother in you than I thought." Severus conceded. Then he waved Harry away. "You're dismissed. Go on, get out of here. Go play Quidditch or something. I'll see you at six o'clock three days from now. Don't be late or I'll take points."

"I won't. See you later, sir." Harry went, thinking how different Snape was now from before. Was it possible that his sneering attitude had all been a mask? It seemed so, for while he'd been sharp, he'd also been far more compassionate that Harry had ever expected.

When he glanced back at Snape over his shoulder, he saw the indomitable professor had fallen asleep.

* * * * * *

Severus stirred, hearing voice babbling somewhere nearby.

"He's lying so still, Drake," murmured Trish worriedly.

"That's because he's asleep," Drake replied, faintly exasperated. "What d'you want him to do, dance a jig?"

"He's not . . .dead, is he?"

The note of hysteria in her voice roused him to full awareness in an instant. "I'm fine, Trish," he said quietly, opening his eyes and sitting up. "Sorry, but you'll have to wait a few more years for your inheritance," he teased gently.

Trish stared at him as if she'd never seen him before, a myriad of emotions chasing themselves across her face. "Huh? I heard . . .everyone said you were dead, that he'd killed you, Severus!" Overcome, she began to cry.

"Now, do I look dead to you, Tricia Greenbough?" he demanded lightly, trying to get her to stop sobbing. Instead she cried harder. "Oh, please don't do this . . .Come here," he drew her down on the bed, where she promptly put her head on his shoulder and wept. He patted her back soothingly. "There now. It's all right. I'm fine."

"Not entirely, Dad," said Arista from the opposite side of the bed, laying a hand gently on his other shoulder, reading him with her healing sense. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to fix all the nerve damage in your left leg, if I'd gotten to it immediately maybe I could've—" there were tears in her eyes too.

"Arista Eileen, don't you dare apologize for this," Severus interrupted her, incredulous. "I'm lucky to still be breathing, for Godsake! You did the best anyone could have possibly done, so don't you dare feel guilty, young lady!"

"But it wasn't enough," she protested. "You'll limp on that leg and it'll be stiff forever."

"So what? That's a small price to pay for my life, Healer Snape, and well you know it. No one expects you to work two miracles, Arista, especially not me." Then he hugged her to him as well. For long moments they remained so, content to be near each other.

"Umm . . .I'll just leave you all alone, okay?" Drake coughed uncomfortably, muttering half under his breath, "Before you make me cry too, God help me."

"Come back here, Drake," Arista called, sitting up and withdrawing from her father's embrace. "You're part of this family too, or at least you will be eventually, remember?"

"Oh. Right." He cleared his throat and drew himself up to his full height of five eleven. Severus looked up at him expectantly. "Sir, Arista and I have something to tell you."

"We're soulbonded," Arista began quickly, coming to stand beside him.

"And I'd like your permission to marry her," Drake blurted, before he lost his nerve.

Trish stopped crying and gaped at them. "Holy God! Talk about a whirlwind romance."

"There's no such thing with a soulbond, Trish," Arista laughed. "What you love now, you'll love forever. Right, Dad?"

All of them looked at Professor Snape. He narrowed his eyes at Drake, and the younger man met his scrutiny squarely, unflinching. "Yes. You do understand what you're getting into, Lockwood? This isn't some game, this is for life, with a soulbond there's no possibility of divorce. Well, legally there is, but not otherwise."

"I know that, sir. Arista explained everything to me. It's forever, beyond death even. Like you and Amelia."

"Exactly like that," Severus agreed softly. Then he lost his stern air and smiled at them. "Congratulations, you two."

Arista frowned. "You're not surprised at all. You knew all along. How?"

"Poppy let the cat out of the bag, I'm afraid," her father admitted slyly. "She assumed I knew about it when I asked her why Drake was sleeping in a chair next to your bed, Arista." He slanted a glance at Drake. "Have you bought a ring yet?"

"No, sir. I figured it was better to ask you first."

"Smart of you. You have my permission to marry her, Drake, on one condition."

"That's it?" Arista's jaw dropped. "You're not gonna threaten him with death or dismemberment if he gets out of line with me or something?"

"I don't need to. Soulbonded pairs rarely stay angry at each other for longer than a day. Besides, he already knows if he does anything to hurt you, I'll kick his ass good, right, mister?"

"Yes, sir. But you and I both know I never would, so you needn't worry on that score. You mentioned you had one condition, sir?"

"Both of you graduate school before you marry. Love is no substitute for a decent education."

"Agreed," they said at the same time.

"Then I've no objections," Severus declared, smiling. "Welcome to the family, Drake."

"Thank you, sir," Drake said, and grinned back at him.

"We were going to wait anyhow," Arista added. "No sense in rushing these things."

"I've applied to the Dark Hunter Academy in New York," Drake announced. "If I'm accepted, I can go there right after I graduate. That'll extend our engagement for at least two years."

"Yeah, it's going to take a year at least to plan the wedding," Trish said happily, springing up and hugging both of them. "Maybe more with Voldy on the loose."

Arista grimaced. "Don't remind me. Speaking of that, how did you manage to get back to Hogwarts, Dad? Did one of Them bring you here?"

Snape shook his head. "Never. Once I was dead, they'd have probably given my remains to Nagini or something. I used my magic to fly myself back here, with a spell stored in my ring." He indicated the spellophone ring on his right hand.

"Voldemort didn't take that from you?" Drake exclaimed, eyeing the ring with interest.

"No. Why bother removing a communication device from a dead man? I certainly wasn't in any shape to use it once he was done with me." Severus said grimly. "It never occurred to him, the arrogant bastard, to check the ring for enchantments besides the standard spellophone charm. Actually, the spell was one part Apparition to one part Mobilicorpus, and it's a one-shot thing. I had just enough strength to touch the ring with my left hand and whisper the keyword before I passed out."

"I never knew you could combine spells that way, professor," said Trish.

"It's very difficult, but Colin told me how the Hunters use that spell as a last ditch defense, and gave me instructions. Fortunately for me, it worked."

"Hunters are famous for their ingenuity," Arista declared proudly. "What about your wand, Dad? Did they break it?"

"The one I had, yes."

"The one you had?" she repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"They broke my wand, naturally, so I was helpless against them. But what they broke wasn't my real one, but a duplicate. I knew there was always a chance of discovery, so I never took my real wand with me when I went to meet with the Death Eaters. Ever since Nightshade disarmed me that time, I've always been careful to never allow my real wand to fall into the wrong hands. So I created a duplicate with several offensive and defensive spells stored in it. I could duel with it, but not much else. Yet it fooled them. And my real wand remained hidden."

"Sneaky, Dad," Arista said admiringly.

"That's why he's a Slytherin," Drake said proudly.

"I would have summoned my real one to me when they broke the other, except they Stunned me before I could." Severus added, anticipating Arista's next question.

"How many were there?" Drake asked.

"Four, including Voldemort. I blocked three hexes—his, Lucius', and Bellatrix's, but Pettigrew caught me from behind, the coward!" the Potions Master spat. "One day he'll pay for his treachery. You know what happened afterwards." Suddenly he began to cough, his throat was unbearably dry.

Arista quickly summoned a glass of water and held it ready for him to drink when the spasm had eased. Severus took it after a while and sipped at it. "Thank you." He raised his head and looked around the room at the clock on the wall. "It's the middle of the day, why aren't you two, at least, in class?" he asked, indicating Trish and Drake.

"Dumbledore excused us on account of it's being a family emergency," Trish explained glibly.

"Both of you?"

"Uh huh. I told him about the soulbond," Drake admitted. "He said, under the circumstances, I wouldn't be able to concentrate on my classes, and excused me."

"Humph! You teenagers will use any excuse to get out of class," Snape snorted.

"Unfair, sir," Trish defended herself. "When I heard what had happened, I was so upset I almost passed out right in the corridor. There was no way I could've gone to class and learned anything after that."

"Same here," Drake put in.

"I suppose not," Severus said reluctantly. "But now that you've seen for yourselves that I'm recovering and so is Arista, might I suggest you finish your afternoon classes?"

"The Headmaster excused us for the whole day, Severus," Trish told him.

"Oh, he did, did he?" He shook his head in disapproval. "So be it. But don't come whining to me later, miss, about all the work you have to make up. That goes for you too, Lockwood."

"Make-up work?" all three of them chorused, exchanging glances of mutual dismay.

"Lots of it," their teacher said.

"No fair!" cried Trish.

"You've got to be kidding!" groaned Drake.

"Aww, come on, Dad! We didn't miss all that much," Arista sighed.

Professor Snape said nothing, contenting himself with smirking gleefully.