There was something infinitely comforting about lying down on his own bed. Severus threw himself onto the firm mattress with a gusty sigh that nearly snuffed the candle on the bedside table. The next time the Dark Lord insisted he stay at the Malfoys', he might be forced to poison himself to get out of it. A swallow or two of monkshood would do the trick, he thought with a harsh, mirthless laugh.

It was well after midnight, and he'd only just arrived home. After forcing himself through two days of Lucius' preening, Draco's scheming, and the Dark Lord's ever-present watchfulness, his mental shields were near cracking – along with his sanity. Severus brought his fist to his forehead with a groan, grinding his knuckles against the center of the splitting headache that had not abated in 24 hours. His swift transition from Malfoy Manor to Grimmauld Place had done nothing to alleviate the strain on his mind.

Nothing. That's what the great champions of Dumbledore had done while he'd been trapped. No contacts made, no information discovered, no changes made. Treasa hadn't even bothered to put in for a shift change, even though she admitted Dumbledore had contacted her regarding the danger. There was more than a hint of stubbornness about her as she announced she planned to keep her current schedule. Foolish woman. She was doing it to spite him, proving she didn't trust him. Her obstinance could very well cost her her life, and Severus's in the bargain. Once the Dark Lord discovered that he knew she was alive…

Severus swung himself upright, legs over the edge of the bed. He held his life at little value regardless. Since the Dark Lord's return, he'd not trade it for the price of the ink and quill to write his epitaph – brief though it would be. Here lies Severus Snape. Yes, that would cover it nicely.

He paced toward the potions cabinet. Dumbledore had laughed at his concerns when he showed up at Hogwarts to complain. Since the elder wizard had not bothered to attend the meeting, Severus had had to seek him out. The sight of Dumbledore examining expense reports in his office had been the final straw…

"Do you really have so much faith in your little heroes, Albus?" Severus snapped as he stepped through the Floo unannounced.

Dumbledore looked up with a calm, welcoming smile. "Certainly."

"And you believe it justified?"

"You are in a better position than I to answer that question, Severus," Dumbledore said, looking over his spectacles at him. "Is my faith in you justified?"

"It won't be much longer if you don't get your minions to do more than meet in Black's stinkhole and talk about Potter's safety. You do know that the war will involve more than just that boy, don't you?"

Dumbledore put the papers down with a protracted sigh. "Yes, and yet everything hinges on the boy, does it not? Tell me honestly if Voldemort's every move does not still center on Harry."

Severus quelled the desire to spit as the bile rose in his throat. Yes, yes, it was true. It seemed the world truly did turn on the boy's whim.

"Then it is this weakness that we should exploit," he spat out. "The Dark Lord is singularly focused on him. We should be using this time to amass followers, supplies – not fall into the same stupid trap."

"Things are difficult for us right now, Severus," Albus said with the placating tone that never failed to set Severus' teeth on edge. He held up a different sheet of paper and spoke again in an increasingly cheerful tone. "I've officially been removed as Chief Warlock for the Wizengamot."

Severus turned on his heel to face Dumbledore. "What?"

"Oh yes," Albus tapped the page with his wand and it floated over to Severus' outstretched hand. "Cornelius threatened as much two weeks ago when I met with him and his senior cabinet about Voldemort. I confess I didn't expect it to happen so quickly."

Severus skimmed the page, jaw tightening as he read the officious language. "I suppose your intervention with Potter sped the process along."

"Undoubtedly," Dumbledore agreed, dropping the infuriating smile. "Which means they wish me to be out of the way before the hearing."

"Do the others know? Arthur, Shacklebolt?" Severus' mind was already jumping to possible solutions, but none were forthcoming.

Albus nodded. "I stopped by and told them the day after you were called – when I delivered your message to Miss Shannon. I believe the children were particularly upset with the news."

"No doubt. They probably thought it meant you were to be removed from the Chocolate Frog cards," Severus sneered.

"They were at that; young Mr. Weasley most of all, I think." He passed a hand over his face. "Tell me, what did you learn at Lucius' manor?"

Severus threw himself into the chair across from the desk, sending the letter back toward the older wizard with more force than was necessary. He knew the question was a fair one, but it wasn't the one he wanted to hear.

"Aside from the fact that Lucius intends to find your new Defense professor for you, not much," Severus said heavily. "The Dark Lord kept a close watch on me throughout the brewing process, so either someone is attempting to take over my position within the Death Eaters or I was simply the most convenient target for his paranoia this week."

Albus cocked his head slightly in surprise at the dry sarcasm. Severus was not in the habit of using it when speaking of his other master. He gritted his teeth, refusing to meet Dumbledore's eyes. Let the old man draw his own conclusions. He was sick to death of the both of them.

"The potions I handed over were a perfect batch, so you should be looking for some cases of extreme hallucinations and altered memory to show up at St. Mungo's – and probably twice as many murders."

"Any idea who?"

Severus shook his head. "The Dark Lord wouldn't risk putting all the information in the hands of one person. He knows better than to extend that kind of power to any of us."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll alert Miss Shannon to be on the lookout –"

"Speaking of our young mediwitch, she told me tonight that she will not change her shifts. You did tell her that Death Eaters will be coming to her ward, didn't you?" Severus attempted to recreate the same dry tone he had just employed, but found it rather lacking.

Albus had apparently noticed as well. "I gave her the message, yes. She didn't seem overly concerned. It has been over a decade since any of Voldemort's followers have seen her – perhaps they will not recognize her."

"She's a fool."

Too late, Severus checked the emotion behind the words. He kept his eyes on the rug, tracing the path of the purple threads through the blue and silver mosaic. He could feel Dumbledore evaluating his reaction. Desperately, he made an effort to cover.

"Treasa Shannon made many powerful enemies. I don't know the exact nature of the dispute, but I know that most of the inner circle was most anxious for her death. Unless she wants to oblige them, she should stop being so stubborn."

He risked a glance at Dumbledore, who was observing him, that insufferable twinkle back in his eye.

"I've noticed you seem to take an eager interest in Miss Shannon."

"What?" Severus snorted, immediately invoking his Occlumency shields. His headache jumped in intensity, but he felt slightly calmer with those memories buried. "Don't be absurd, Albus."

Albus raised his eyebrows. "Tell me, Severus, is it her stubbornness that attracts you, or the fact that Sirius seems to have taken an interest in her?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "Black takes an interest in most single witches, does he not? I believe I heard him attempting to flirt with Minerva tonight."

"I'd say the poor man deserves a little happiness after twelve years in Azkaban."

Severus got to his feet. "And those of us who were smart enough to avoid the dementors' hospitality are simply to smile and pat him on the head for his idiocy?"

Dumbledore leaned back and watched him pace toward the Floo. "Perhaps. Are you leaving?"

"I haven't slept in approximately 30 hours. I'd like to get back to my own house before I fall asleep on your rug." Severus pressed his forefinger against the throbbing center of the pain between his eyes. "I'd recommend pushing Miss Shannon to change her shifts unless you want to recruit a new mediwitch within the week."

Dumbledore reached for another expense report and nodded. "Would you deliver the message tomorrow, Severus?

Severus snatched the vial of Dreamless Sleep from the top shelf. He paced back toward his bed, taking a healthy swig. With any luck, the potion would take effect before he had time to ruminate much more. He was fairly certain his head would split if he didn't get some sleep soon, and the prospect of his visit to St. Mungo's was not aiding his pursuit of rest.

He threw himself on the bed on top of the covers and released another sigh, letting his eyelids grow heavy. One last groan escaped.

"Damn Albus."

He couldn't remember the last time he had visited St. Mungo's. The sight of the waiting room alone was enough to remind him why he had ignored Slughorn's recommendation that he become a Healer. Severus strode through the waiting area, pausing only long enough to ascertain that Treasa's ward was on the fourth floor. He had no patience for talking to people.

The door to the ward was locked, but his reflexive Alohomora worked, rather to his surprise. He stepped through the door, snorting softly. St. Mungo's was about as secure as a Muggle house.

Treasa was bending over a patient, adjusting sheets and blankets. As she stood, straightening the bouquet of flowers on the table, she caught sight of him.

"Severus!" she hissed, eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed the sudden dark intruder.

"I'm here to deliver a message from Dumbledore, nothing more," Severus said, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry, I have no intention of coming any closer, and my wand is stored."

Treasa eyed him warily, a rather odd smile on her face. She nodded toward the bed. "You're lucky Gilderoy is napping. I daresay he could have chased you away before I had to do anything."

Severus controlled the urge to jump as he realized that Treasa's patient was indeed the idiot Lockhart. Figures he would end up here. Probably the only place in the Wizarding World that could handle him.

"Can we talk freely here?"

Treasa nodded, stepping away from the bed. "Fewer lucid people here than anywhere else in the building. Those that can actually pay attention won't care to or understand."

"Very well." Severus nodded, reaching into his robes. Treasa tucked her hand into her own robes and half-withdrew her wand. He rolled his eyes and took out several vials. "Your trust is truly touching. Dumbledore has requested me to remind you of the need for a different work arrangement. Since you seemed so set against changing your schedule –"

"I don't see why I should run from the little –"

"- I propose an alternative," Severus completed his sentence icily, holding the vials out to her. "Polyjuice potion. Keep a vial on hand for each shift. If you see anyone who looks suspicious, you can stay out of their way until they leave. I trust you remember the faces of those most likely to harm you."

Treasa reached for the vials with a dubious expression. "This is your grand plan?"

"It will work, since your common sense seems to be flagging." Severus said sharply. "I would assume you aren't anxious to meet any of the Death Eaters in your usual form."

"There are protections on this place," Treasa said defiantly. "I'll be fine without your interference."

"Yes, protections like the lock on the door to this ward that I could have opened in my sleep?" Severus said, irony heavy in his voice. The woman was extraordinarily hard-headed

Treasa looked down at the vials, apparently weighing something in her mind. She looked up, as if about to speak, when her face blanched. Severus turned to see a face framed in the doorway.

Macnair.