A few drops more of the dragon's blood and the potion would be ready for its final simmer. Severus held the little vial for a long moment, contemplating. He had long hypothesized that an extra two drops of the dragon's blood in the Unctuous Unction render the same loyalty-inducing effects without the annoying personal side effects. The most common complaint Snape had from the Death Eaters was that the wizards who drank it would follow them around like lost puffskeins. The effects of the potion were more powerful and lasting than an Imperius curse, but they included making the drinker believe that the giver was his or her best friend and dearest companion. The Death Eaters had little patience for such delusions.

His hand wavered over the cauldron. The extra drops would undoubtedly cut down on the personal attachment effect… but the potion in its current state was providing a fine irritant for the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord not specifically ordered him to improve the brew, but it was certainly implied. On the other hand, Dumbledore had encouraged him to solidify his standing in the Death Eater ranks by any reasonable way possible…

One, two, three. His hand paused with the vial delicately balanced over the cauldron.

The green flash of the Floo being used behind him nearly made him jump, but the dragon's blood did not drip. His jaw tightened. Only one person could get through his grate without first requesting permission, and the privilege was rarely used.

"If you ruin this potion for me, Headmaster, I'll let you explain to the Dark Lord yourself," he snapped, still weighing his options for the dragon's blood.

"And if you ever confuse me with Albus Dumbledore again, I'll give you plenty to explain to the Dark Lord."

The vial clattered to the table, blood fizzing in the flames underneath the cauldron. Almost without conscious thought, he flicked his wand at the mess to clean it up – narrowly avoiding emptying the cauldron of three days' work. Snape turned on his heel.

"Treasa."

"Severus."

A room full of Death Eaters was much less intimidating than that hazel glare. Snape took a deep breath through his nostrils and forced his muscles to relax. Still, words escaped him.

She cocked an eyebrow in sardonic surprise. "I suppose it was too much trouble to remove my password from the network. I confess, I didn't expect to get in."

I didn't think of it… Snape pursed his lips. That was notthe right answer to give – particularly not to an angry female. "Won't you sit down, Treasa?"

It was odd, calling her by her first name. "Miss Shannon" was a ridiculous façade while they were alone, but he could hardly call her "Mrs. Snape." He struggled to remember how he had addressed her then. No title came to mind.

Treasa was looking around the Spartan laboratory, the eyebrow still infuriatingly cocked. "Where, specifically?"

He made to draw his wand, but she beat him to it. With a flourish of verawood, a comfortable armchair of midnight blue velvet appeared. She lowered herself into it with a frosty smile that found an answering icily polite expression on his face. Infuriating witch.

"Your hospitality is as impressive as ever."

"As is your wit," he rejoined blandly, drawing up a less padded armchair for himself. "To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

"Can't a wife visit her husband without cause?"

The blood stilled in his veins at her flippant tone. Surely she didn't mean to… it would be unmitigated disaster all around if she planned…

"I don't recall you taking advantage of that particular privilege ever before," Severus said, keeping his tone level by sheer force of will. "And I find it difficult to believe that a twelve-year absence has made your heart grow fonder towards me."

"It has rendered you capable of more than five minutes in my company, so am I newly impressed by its efficacy," Treasa said bitingly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Enough. If you've come for a reason other than taunting me, by all means proceed. If not, I have much work to do."

Treasa locked eyes with him. "We have to talk."

"And so we are." Severus pondered using Legilimency on her – it would take much less time than playing her game. And yet, he remembered all too well the last time he had sought to enter her mind.

"The Order must not know about our… relationship." Treasa said firmly. "I refuse to allow my usefulness to the Order to be compromised."

"I assure you I had no intention of sharing the information." He leaned forward, letting his voice drop lower. "Though I'm not certain why our marriage would compromise anything for you."

"Don't be thick, Severus, it doesn't become you," she snapped. "Don't think I haven't seen through your pathetic charade of helping the Order – and don't think the others haven't as well. I don't want my own endeavors soiled by association."

Severus gave himself to the count of five to inhale before replying. Irony was heavy in his voice when he finally did speak. "And if my part truly is a charade, do you expect to leave this manor alive? I'm certain the Dark Lord would love to carry out the plan that the Potters interrupted."

She gave a pale smile. "Dumbledore would know – and for all your faults, Severus, you're not stupid enough to risk his displeasure. Your master needs you to be close to him."

"Then I repeat, if you've something to discuss, please do so or leave. I have no time to waste in idle baiting such as this."

Her lips pursed into a purposeful line, hazel eyes burning. "I'm here to give you a warning. I will do everything in my power to aid the Order and bring about Voldemort's downfall – and yours."

He stilled, locking out any reaction he might have had. Her wand was lying across her lap, but he had no doubt she would be more than happy to use it on him at the slightest provocation.

Treasa stood, the armchair vanishing behind her. "I've spent the last twelve years forgetting everything to do with you, Severus Snape. All I'm telling you to do is make sure I don't have to remember."

She took two steps, then glanced back at him. "By the way, your cauldron is bubbling over."