CHAPTER 32

Nothing seems the same anymore now that I know the truth about Snape. I can't bring myself to feel normal, can almost physically feel his pain in my chest, and throughout the day I find myself losing focus, instead thinking about Snape and how I just wish his life could have been better. I don't know how he's done it, how he's managed to keep a love like that alive for twenty years, especially when she's been dead for nearly seventeen.

I need to pull myself together before my Veritaserum defense lesson. If Snape senses something is wrong with me, I doubt I'll be able to resist the effects of the potion if he enquires about my behavior. And I don't want to face his wrath if he discovers that I know about his love for Lily Potter. He might have become nicer to me, but if he's kept this a secret for so long, he won't take kindly to my figuring it out.

Now that I know this, I'm thoroughly shocked Snape didn't murder me last year when I threw it in his face that his only defender at the lake, Lily, married his worst enemy, James. She hadn't been just defending him against his bullies. She was his friend, and he had been in love with her. I don't know how he contained his anger. I deserved some sort of beating for that. Perhaps that's why he was all too eager to attack me in the Forbidden Forest upon my return.

When the time for our lessons arrives, it is with a well-hidden heavy heart that I walk to Snape's office. I plaster a smile onto my face before pushing the door open. "Good evening, Professor," I say in a chipper voice.

He gives me a curious look before saying, "Good evening. Ready for your lessons, I presume?"

"Of course," I say confidently. Snape pours two cups of tea this time instead of just one. "Did it make you jealous that I got tea when you didn't, Professor?"

"I've learned that tea is more desirable when there is someone to drink it with." He puts some of the Veritaserum in one of the cups and hands it to me. I put sugar in it and take a sip. Snape does the same. A moment later, we both place the cups back on his desk. "Ready, then?"

"Yes, sir."

Snape sits down in front of me. "What is your name?"

"Aurelia Lestrange."

"What do people call you?"

"Charlotte Rodgers."

He sighs. "It might help if you attempt to put yourself in another's mind," he suggests. "Let's try again. What is your name?"

"Aurelia Lestrange," I repeat. Snape groans in frustration and continues attacking me with questions.

After two gruesome hours of trying and failing miserably to lie to Snape while under the influence of Veritaserum, I groggily trudge to the Slytherin Dungeon. It's after midnight, and having never been so mentally exhausted in all of my life, I think I could fall over on the spot. My fatigue was so obvious that Snape has cancelled our Occlumency lessons in the morning and we will resume the following morning depending on how long he spends trying to help me with my defense against the dreaded potion tomorrow night.

I wearily lift my legs to make it up the steps. These lessons are going to be the death of me.

Approximately two weeks stands between me and my seventeenth birthday, which is when my Occlumency test will take place. McGonagall has suspended my Conjuration lessons until after I fail or succeed in joining the Order, and while I'd like to be angry about that, especially considering I have not yet learned to Conjure anything larger than a single miniature chair, deep down I'm grateful because there's now more time to work on fighting the Veritaserum, more time to hone my ability to manipulate my thoughts to show Snape only what I want him to see or to convince him that my false memories are true.

Lying under the effects of the Veritaserum is still impossible, but over these past few weeks I've learned that I can bend the truth or keep back certain information. If Snape asks me why I'm helping Christopher and his friends, I can say it's because I felt bad for them, but I do not have to say I felt bad for them because they remind me of some of the other orphans I grew up with. Right now, my biggest issue is when Snape asks me straightforward questions, the ones that require a simple "yes" or "no" answer or the ones that cannot be bent in any way, such as asking my name.

Snape suggested that I put myself in someone else's mind and answer the way that person would, because apparently that helps to learn how to do it, but I struggle with that as well. It's been weeks, I have yet to be able to accomplish that, having been going over this in my mind all day, repeatedly, I think I'm prepared to answer all of the questions as Draco would. At least that's the plan anyway.

I enter Snape's office and take my usual seat. Just like the beginning of all these lessons now, Snape prepares a cup of tea for each of us, puts the Veritaserum in mine, and allows me to control how much sugar goes in. Once I've finished my cup, his questions begin.

"What is your name?" he asks.

"Au—" His face is already showing signs of irritation, and that alone sparks in me a strong desire to prove myself. I bite my tongue, put myself in Draco's mindset as I've been doing all day, and say, "Draco Malfoy."

Snape's irritation fades slightly. "When were you born?"

"The fifth of June, nineteen eighty."

Snape seems pleased with me, which spurs me to try harder and not lose tonight. "Who is your mother?"

"Narcissa Malfoy."

"Your father?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Very good," Snape says, genuine pride in his eyes that fills me with warmth and contentment. "Now, Charlotte, why do you want to join the Order of the Phoenix?"

My Draco psyche fails me. "I want to destroy Voldemort." I moan at my mistake, tears pricking my eyes, and sit back heavily into my chair.

Snape meets my gaze, and the pride he showed just a moment ago is now gone. "If the Dark Lord learns that you are part of the Order, you will need and viable excuse. Try again. Why do you want to join the Order?"

I gag on my words before I can say them. My brain just doesn't want to lie, and so I cough a few times but do not speak.

"Try harder. Why do you want to join the Order?"

"I—" I stop myself from speaking.

"Why do you want to join the Order?"

I don't even try to speak this time and instead stare blankly at him.

"Silence is a poor alternative to answering a question. The Dark Lord will require an answer from you. Therefore, I require an answer. Why do you want to join the Order?"

"I want to be a part of the destruction of Voldemort," I grind out.

Snape grunts at my failure. "You have to get better, Charlotte."

"I'm trying!"

"You're not trying hard enough!"

"I am! Regardless of what you believe, I am putting forth an effort for this. It's been weeks! Do you really think I haven't been trying? You don't know what it's like! Have you ever been under the influence of this stuff? It's more difficult than you would think."

"You believe I've never been questioned with Veritaserum before?" he asks, his voice coated with mockery, his eyes looking downright victorious at my outrage. "Do you not know who I am? Do you not already know that the Ministry does not trust me? Do you not think that they submitted me for questioning after the Dark Lord's fall? Do you think they would just take my word for it without any doubt?"

I bite my tongue, frustrated that with a few simple questions he had destroyed my entire argument. I'm failing miserably and don't know what to do anymore to make this simpler. There's no chance of me joining the Order at this rate. I have just over two weeks to develop a strong enough defense against Veritaserum that I can lie under any circumstance. I lean forward to rest my head on my knees. Maybe I should give this up. I won't be able to accomplish it. Surely Snape knows this by now and just doesn't want to break it to me, especially considering all the effort he's put into helping me. Finally, I pull myself back up and rest against the back of the seat. "I can't do this," I say. "And I think you and I both know that. You're just obliging me at this point, aren't you? Trying to make me feel a little better about my failures?"

"I do not oblige people, Rodgers, as I'm sure you know by now. And you're not going to give up."

"I don't a see any point in continuing!" I laugh bitterly. "I'm not going to learn this in two weeks!"

Snape closes his eyes as if praying for patience. Then he says, "You and I both know that my loyalties are to Dumbledore—"

"Do we?" I ask, an annoyed tone slipping into my voice that, for the briefest of moments, seems to disappoint him. But if he's so confident with his abilities not only to manipulate all of his thoughts but also to lie under Veritaserum, how can I know anything of the sort? How can I trust that this man isn't just helping me so that Dumbledore will not question him? How do I even know if I'm right about the Lily thing?

He meets my eyes. "Yes, we do." He takes the top off the Veritaserum and pours a few drops into a cup of tea. I hold out my hand, expecting him to hand it to me, but he puts it to his lips and drinks all of it. I feel my mouth drop open but can't close it. Severus Snape continues to surprise me. "When I first joined the Order of the Phoenix, the Dark Lord questioned my motives."

"Why did you just drink that?"

"When I told him my reasons, a certain someone—your mother—convinced him I was lying. The Dark Lord then put me under the influence of Veritaserum. Had it not been for my skills in Occlumency, all would have been lost."

"Why did you just drink that?"

"To show you that it's possible to fight of the effects of Veritaserum."

"So . . . you want me to ask you questions like you've been doing to me?"

"That would be the general idea," he says.

I smile viciously. "What is your name?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"That was an easy one. Even I can lie about that. Are you a pureblooded wizard?"

"Yes."

"Are you a part of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"No."

"Are you a Death Eater?"

"No."

He makes it seem so simple, which is the most annoying in the world. "Well . . . those are basic." He smirks at my failure. Then an idea occurs to me: if I want to know the truth about whether I'm correct about Lily, all I have to do is ask. "Have you ever been in love?"

He pauses for a split second. "Yes."

Apparently, he truly wants me to think that he has never been in love. I know he has, which means he's trying to confuse me, but I'll get the truth out of him somehow. "Did you hate Sirius Black?"

"I'm not even going to waste my time lying about that."

"You're supposed to be lying to me though. Did you hate James Potter?" He just watches me, looking almost bored now. "Do you hate Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"That's better. At least you're lying now—"

"I'm not lying," he interrupts me.

"Very well then. Did you hate Lily Potter?"

I'm guessing on more of an instinct that anything, Snape quietly says, "No." Then, as if he thinks I didn't register what he's just said, he adds, "Why are you so interested in the Potters?"

"I'm asking about all the Marauders—they're the only people I know you knew when you were young," I say. "Besides the Death Eaters, of course." He narrows his eyes at me. "Lily just happened to be married to James Potter." Only after I've said this do I realize that I have accomplished it: I've lied to him under the influence of Veritaserum. I smile but don't mention it. "Did you hate Remus Lupin?"

"Choose a different line of questioning."

"Just one more. Do you still hate me?"

"If I hated you, I wouldn't be helping you learn Occlumency."

"I don't know how to take that considering you're supposed to be lying to me." He almost smiles. "If you could have physically harmed Umbridge last year and get away with it, would you have done it?"

"It depends on what might have warranted such an action, but the answer is most likely yes."

Hmm. I thought everyone would've enjoyed a chance to hurt Umbridge. Maybe that's just me and my parentage. I don't like that thought much but should probably learn to live with it, unfortunately. "Professor McGonagall. Is she a friend or a colleague?"

"A colleague."

I click my tongue. "Fine. Did you purposefully give me the bad guest room at your house?"

"I would never purposefully do something like that." I huff and sink down into my chair. "Giving up so soon?" he asks mockingly.

"Yes. I mean, how am I supposed to know if you're lying or not?" His left eyebrow raises for just a short moment. "Besides, it's obvious that you're more skilled in this than I'll ever be."

"You'll become a member of the Order. You can learn how to do this."

I roll my eyes.

"You have a little more than two weeks, and I will not stop until you can lie as easily as I can when under Veritaserum."

My heart sinks because it's impossible for me ever to be able to lie as proficiently as he can. Wanting nothing more than to wallow in my self-pity regarding my failures, I look at the clock and almost sigh in relief as I stand to my feet to leave.

"Where are you going?" he asks me abruptly.

"Our lesson time is up, Professor."

"I don't believe I gave you permission to leave."

I stop moving. "But our time is up."

"Time is up when I say it's up."

"But . . . it's late."

"The last time I checked, you didn't care about Quidditch, which is the only thing taking place in the morning. It would be easy enough for you not to show up and raise no questions for doing so." His eyes darken. "You will stay here until you've lied to me at least once—and I don't mean pretending you are someone else. I want an outright lie."

I sit back down, frustrated because telling him of my earlier success would allow me to leave but would regrettably cause far too much chaos that I'm not in the mood to try to deal with at the moment. "All right then, Professor."

"Why do you want to join the Order of the Phoenix?"

I open my mouth to answer but stop. Would it be best to tell the truth then lie later? Seeing as he cannot know that I've already lied to him and lying too quickly would betray my secret, I say, "I want to take part in the Dark Lord's defeat."

Snape mutters something to himself.

"I'm trying."

He just stares at me in complete disbelief, as if failing is something I strive to do. Which . . . it currently is, I guess, but he doesn't know that. "Why do you want to join the Order?"

Again, I pause, thinking about how to give off the appears of struggling. "Well . . . I thought . . . it'd be useful . . . to have someone in the Order, someone who can find out their plans . . ."

"And if I told you that I already have an informant inside the Order and that you don't need to put yourself at risk?"

"Well . . . I play the part of Charlotte Rodgers quite brilliantly, if I do say so myself. Everyone at Hogwarts believes me to be completely against the Dark Lord. I'll come of age in two weeks' time. They will wonder why I did not join the group designed for the Dark Lord's defeat. I have to keep up appearances."

Snape gives me an inquisitive look, his eyes moving around my face as if searching for something. "How long have you been able to lie under the effects of the potion?"

My heart nearly stops. "I . . . I think I've been able to do it this whole time. I just didn't know I could. I told myself that I couldn't because I felt that it was too difficult. I think if I hadn't convinced myself of my inability to do it, I would have lied to you a while back." I stand to my feet. "Are we done here?"

"Hardly. Sit down." I obey. "Just because you lied to me once does not mean that we are through. In fact, we're far from it."

I sigh but do not put up a fight.

Hours later, when Snape feels that he's questioned me enough and received a decent amount of lies, I go back to the Slytherin common room, completely and utterly spent but not wanting to go to sleep just yet because I want to rejoice in my victory over Veritaserum. Snape says I haven't yet mastered Occlumency, but in my mind, I'm close enough to be able to claim that I have, at least to myself. Our lessons will continue, of course, until Dumbledore tests my abilities, and Snape has already told me that we will not stop there, either —we'll continue to practice to ensure I keep everything sharp and effective, especially as my duty closes in and forces me to spend more time around the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters.

But right now, all I want to do is sit down in front of the fire to bask in my accomplishment and try not to get too fretful about the changes so quickly approaching me.

"Charlotte?" a voice asks.

I force myself to look away from the fire and see Christopher standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the boys' dormitory. "What are you doing down here? You should be in bed."

"I could say the same to you." He walks over and takes a seat next to me on the sofa.

"I just got done with some lessons with Snape."

He looks at the clock. "But it's like"—he looks at the clock—"three in the morning! Why are you just now finishing."

"It's a really long story. Why are you up?"

"Jacob talks in his sleep, so I thought I'd take a break from listening to his dreams and come enjoy the common room for a while."

"Do you do this every night?"

"Not every night, but a couple times a week."

"That's awful. How you manage to get anything done in the day with such little sleep is beyond me."

He smiles. "It's not easy."

We're quiet for a few minutes. Both of us simply watch the flames of the fire until Christopher whispers, almost inaudibly, "Do you ever have a feeling that something bad is going to happen?"

Of all the conversations I thought this boy could have brought up at a time like this, the idea of something bad happening was never on that list. I look over at him to find his deep blue eyes, brimming with tears, watching me closely. "Sometimes," I say. "Why do you ask?"

"What happens when you have the feelings?"

"Different things." I can't go into detail about my past with him because he's not prepared to ear that sort of truly and will undoubtedly never be ready for that. He deserves to retain his innocence for a bit longer, as long as possible before Voldemort or his followers strip that from him.

"Do . . . do people ever die . . . when you have these feelings?" he murmurs.

"It depends. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he whispers.

"Christopher, you can talk to me. No one's around. No one has to know."

He takes a shaky breath, then turns his whole body to face me and crosses his legs beneath him. "Charlotte . . . I—I keep—I keep having these awful dreams . . ."

"Is that the real reason why you can't sleep?"

"Jacob does talk in his sleep but . . ." He shakes his head. "The dreams are the main reason I can't sleep."

I cross my legs like him, pull them under me, and turn my whole body to face him, giving him my full and undivided attention. "What happens in these dreams?"

"You're closer to You-Know-Who than most people think, aren't you?"

"What makes you think that?" I ask, keeping my nerves out of my voice brilliantly and feeling very accomplished at fighting back the Veritaserum when Snape is not present to witness it.

"The first time you tutored us . . . you were so passionate about how awful he is. People only speak like that when they know his horror firsthand." I don't know what to say, but luckily, he continues, "My parents talk about him the same way, not as passionate as you of course, but close to it."

I tense. "Why?"

"My older sister—Helena," he whispers. "She was sixteen. But she . . . she was killed last July."

I take his hands in mine and give them a gentle squeeze. "Christopher . . ."

"You would have liked her," he goes on.

"Did she not go here, to Hogwarts?"

"My parents wanted to home-school us . . . but when Helena . . . when she died, my mum said she couldn't deal with the stress of that anymore. Teaching us, I mean. It was a lot on her, and she was . . . devastated, to say the least, when Helena died." He looks down at his hands in his lap and tries to catch his breath.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"You remind me of Helena," he whispers, still refusing to look up at me. "That's why I started speaking to you in the first place. Helena and I were the only ones to inherit the blue eyes of my father's family. Yours are icy blue rather than deep blue, but they remind me of hers." His tiny body trembles, and all I want to do is comfort him though I don't know how. "I . . . I hope that doesn't bother you."

"Of course it doesn't."

"I miss her so much!" he cries, pulling his hands from mine and hiding his face in them.

"I understand."

"Will . . . will you stay down here with me?" he asks, almost completely inaudible.

I smile sadly at him. "Yeah." I readjust on the sofa, propping my feet up on the table in front of me and leaning against the arm rest. Christopher scrunches himself together on the sofa and rests his head in my lap. I begin playing with his hair, which still manages to be perfect this late in the day and makes me slightly envious. "I'm not going anywhere."

We sit there on the sofa until Christopher cries himself to sleep. I close my eyes and let sleep take me as well.