'What?' demanded Tonks.

'Could Snape have given you a love potion?' repeated Fortinbras. She dipped her wand into the penseive and withdrew the silver thread of memory; curving and twisting, it insinuated itself back into the little bottle set beside the rune-carved bowl.

'You've got to be joking! This is Snape we're talking about. Of course he could. But that doesn't mean he did.'

Fortinbras closed the bottle and pocketed it. 'Narcissa Malfoy has stated that you asked him to marry you,' she said. 'Shortly after you had dinner with him.'

'And very shortly after one of my colleagues gave me "Golpalott's Green".'

The senior Auror winced. 'I told you to go home.'

'You told me to send the sprogs home first and, unfortunately, they were at Hogwarts, on Dawlish's orders, hassling Snape over money.'

'So he'd've had motive?'

'Bel,' warned Tonks. 'This isn't funny.'

Fortinbras opened the cupboard door and pushed her out into the corridor. 'No,' she agreed, 'it's not. And no I don't think he did that; however, some of his former associates do and I have to investigate. The Interview Room's empty.'

Tonks followed her colleague 'Is this official?' she asked.

'Not yet.'

In the interview room Fortinbras closed the door behind her and raised the wards. 'Sit down.'

Tonks sat. 'I think I might have noticed a love potion.'

'It's hardly likely that he'd use Amortentia,' replied Fortinbras. 'Can you deny finding him attractive?'

'No,' said Tonks, 'I can't. But, from what we've seen, neither can you.' She sat on one of the pair of chairs facing each other across a table, leant back and then, immediately, straightened. 'Why, of all the things we might have got from muggles, these plastic horrors?'

'The chairs are supposed to be uncomfortable.' Fortinbras sat down. 'How long this has been going on?'

'How long has what been going on? Bloody hell, Bel, what is this? Kafka? What do you want me to say?'

Fortinbras steepled her fingers and said nothing.

'I kissed him, once,' said Tonks, 'and Shacklebolt asked the same question. Wanted to know what he'd given me. And it was just to thank him for a kindness: a potion to deal with itchy green fur, courtesy of Hogwarts' house elves when they were pissed off with Umbridge.'

Fortinbras eyebrows went up. 'That was the house elves? Well. How did Snape react to being kissed?'

'He told me off.'

Fortinbras said nothing.

'The idea was to stop him getting shipped off to Azkaban. Married to an Auror, they'd have to charge him properly and give him a chance to defend himself. The poor sod's convinced that not only do we lock people up without charge, but we then throw them off the boat. In chains.'

'I'm fairly sure that's not Official Policy,' said Fortinbras, neutrally. The older woman folded her arms onto the table and leant forward. 'Now, if there had been some sort of relationship . . .' Silence curled like smoke around them as Tonks thought desperately.

'A relationship?' she ventured finally. 'Would that need to be a physical relationship?'

'Star crossed lovers?' A small huff of laughter. 'Convince me.'

Tonks took a deep breath. 'Meetings at Grimmauld Place,' she began.

'Yes?'

'Boring.'

'Yes.'

'So Snape used them as an opportunity to practice Legilimency.'

'Plausible,' considered Fortinbras.

'Fact,' said Tonks. 'And having been interrogated by Snape, you might say that I've been sensitised to his . . . mental incursions.'

'You were? When?'

'Unlike you, it wasn't immediately apparent to the Order that I was on the side of the righteous. So they had Snape . . .' Tonks tailed off, still uncomfortable with what had happened.

'Veritaserum and Legilimency?' suggested Fortinbras softly. Tonks nodded. 'Anything else?'

Getting too damn close thought Tonks. 'No,' she said. 'But the thing is, in a room full of people, without having to see or hear him, even when no one else noticed, I always knew when he'd come in. And I always knew when he was prying and I got a bit fed up with it so I . . .' She could feel blood rushing under her skin. 'So, one evening, when he wasn't trying to be subtle, rather I'd the feeling he was taunting me, I hit him with a . . . I hit him with a vivid mental image of himself tied to my bed and me undressing him.'

'I see,' said Fortinbras.

'You should have seen the look on his face,' said Tonks. 'And it was effective, at least for the rest of the meeting. And when he tried again a week later, well I'd had some time to work on the idea.'

'I suppose that might explain the coughing,' murmured Fortinbras, rubbing her jaw. 'And why he never stayed to dinner,'

'I would certainly hope so,' said Tonks. 'I put a lot of time and effort into crafting all that smut.'

'Tonks,' said Fortinbras, 'I seem to remember, on one occasion, after he'd had a bit of a scuffle with Sirius, you lifting some hairs of his cloak. Please tell me you weren't using Polyjuice to research your imaginings.'

'I wasn't using Polyjuice for research,' replied Tonks, straight-faced. 'Even though we're taught to be thorough.'

From the look on her face, Fortinbras didn't believe her. 'And you've never?'

'No. I'd have been wasting my time trying. Spying on Voldemort, he couldn't afford that kind of involvement. And after . . . Well, I never saw him and I'd no reason to believe that he'd ever seen it as anything other than a challenge and maybe a bit of . . .'

'Light relief?'

'Something like that,' said Tonks. 'But when he risked capture by Bellatrix to help us at the exhibition centre . . .'

Fortinbras stood up. 'Ok,' she said, 'you'll find Animagus Registration forms on your desk. You need to get them filled in and submitted ASAP. Preferably, before McLaggan gets back from Saint Mungo's.' She noticed Tonks' enquiring look. 'He and the Weasley twins had an adverse reaction to dragon vomit, or rather what was in it.' Tonks shuddered as she tried to squelch the image of the three of them flopping around. 'Started sprouting feathers.' Fortinbras took down the wards with a gesture. 'Apparently, he's finally finished moulting. Well, it was his own fault. The twins were out next day but when McLaggan found out that Snape had mixed the antidote . . . was, in fact, accredited to Saint Mungo's . . . He was funny though: sitting there, half covered in befouled feathers, muttering "Well that can't be right." You know that stuff stuck like glue? I almost felt sorry for him.' She turned the door handle. 'Get those forms filled in.' With a bit of a struggle, she pushed open the door.

Milling around outside the Interview Room, scaling furniture, kicking, defecating, baaing, butting and biting, were sheep.