Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed.
I make no money, I mean no harm.

Patchwork
Good Deeds

There was no strange occurence of fright during the next night, and the night after, but still the Headmistress held a short meeting with Moody and Snape every evening, and one of the three acted as a second patrol every night. The students seemed unaware. Although they were a little shaken the first morning after the wave of fear, the incident was explained as "something not so fresh for the dinner", which was not very nice to house-elves, but not very frightening either.

Friday evening, the meeting became rather crowded. All members of the faculty were cramped into a classroom near the staff room. Vector and Sprout were, to Snape's utter discomfort, leaning to each other, whispering and giggling in the most girlish way. It grated on his nerves. They only stopped after the Headmistress entered, stood in the front and cleared her throat.

"Thanks to Peeves, who reappeared at the right moment, the staff room is unusable for human beings for at least two weeks," Minerva said after hearing reports on the subject by Flitwick and Moody. "And Mr. Filch will need some time to clean the mess that is not strictly magical. I will have to ask you all to store confiscated products of the Weasley twins' company in places that are safe from Peeves." Several teachers tried their best no to look guilty at the statement.

"Now, since we've already gathered here, we may as well go ahead with the regular meeting and save time for tomorrow morning. As you all remember, Hagrid holds his first special lesson tomorrow. Professor Grubbly-Plank?" The witch in question cleared her throat and resisted urge to stand up. Sitting at a desk in a classroom brought back memories which were somehow both pleasant and awkward.

"I have checked with Hagrid and the project is safe for all students. No more precautions need to be taken. I've also encouraged my best students to go and see the lesson, and to give example to younger students as to how they should behave in the presence of potentially dangerous animals." A wave of uneasiness went through the other teachers. Except for the Headmistress and Grubbly-Plank, they weren't informed about the nature of the animals inside Hagrid's stables. The exclusiveness and secrecy made Hagrid extremely happy, and Minerva thought it couldn't hurt to allow him that.

"Dangerous?" Flitwick voiced the worry of every other teacher in the room. "Did you say..."

"Every animal is potentially dangerous," Grubbly-Plank said firmly. "Cats and owls are equipped to fight for their survival, and yet we don't shield students from them. Children need to learn to treat animals right."

"That's settled, then," Minerva concluded, ignoring unhappy stares of Snape and Moody in particular. "Afternoon, there's the first Hogsmeade visit of the year. Mr. Filch will be checking that all the students leaving the castle have the necessary permission. Does anybody..."

Snape tuned her out. Some supervision in Hogsmeade was necessary and welcome, but he was never the one to be there. There were enough volunteers who wanted to go and have a drink at Rosmerta's, buy new supplies or even new candy, or just get some fresh air. But it was also necessary for some teachers to stay behind and watch over the first and second years, and Snape always volunteered for that.

As the duties for those present in Hogsmeade were being handed out, he mentally went over what he wanted to accomplish during the weekend. His study of the shadow was at a dead end. Perhaps Granger would... well, being the bookworm Neville claimed her to be, surely she must have covered most of the book by now. He allowed a frown to cross his features. Hooch, who chose that very moment to cast a glance at him, frowned in return. Not a matching scowl, he was sure of that, but it still made her look ugly, and Snape felt content with the effect.

Hooch scoffed as she turned back to the front of the classroom, and that made Tisha look back at him. She raised her eyebrows in silent question, got no reply - of course - and let a small smile touch her lips in spite of that. Snape's scowl deepened, but as Tisha had already turned away from him, it had no effect at all.

Snape evaded any attention afterwards, except for a curt nod to accept staying in the castle during Saturday afternoon. Tisha moved towards him when the meeting was finished, but he evaded her as well and escaped in the dungeon. It was already dark outside and the Muggle Studies Professor, for all her faults, didn't wander the dungeons at night.

"Professor."

"What is it, Miss Granger?" She was waiting for him near his classroom, almost invisible in the black robes. Snape contemplated the why - why did she choose to ruin the rest of his evening - and concluded it must have been the Potions lesson cut extremely short when Peeves had made all the confiscated goodies blow up. She had probably finished the curriculum in the unexpectedly free hour and came to pester him with questions. Well, tough luck, he thought. He didn't stop and she had to nearly run to catch up with him.

"I was reading the book Neville brought me - thank you, by the way - and I have a couple of ideas I'd like to discuss with you." She was holding a book which, as Snape realised, must have been his Dark Arts book neatly disguised as a Potions textbook.

"If you have the time," Granger said sharply as he reached his door and was about to enter.

"Very well." Snape contemplated going back to his office. It wasn't far. "Very well," he repeated and decided against it. It was already past ten, but despite the late hour, students could still bother him in the office. Slytherin students. Or Tisha. The matter at hand required discretion. He unlocked the door and motioned for Granger to enter.

She stepped inside without her usual brusqueness. He must have caught her off guard. It wasn't every day, after all, that the Potions Master of Hogwarts showed young women into his quarters.

"Hi Neville," she said and Snape's frown returned with a force even he hadn't expected.

"Welcome, everyone," he spat darkly.

"Should I leave?" Neville clearly recognised the book Hermione was holding by the way he was eyeing it.

"No, no, I was just going to organise a ball. It is the right season, after all."

"That's spring, sir," Granger corrected, while Neville grabbed his book and his essay - his essay! - and stuffed them into his bag.

"I'll go and fetch some music. That should liven the event up," he offered cheerfully. He turned at the door to throw a joyous, "Good night!" over his shoulder, and Snape was left alone in his living room with a very confused Hermione Granger.

"Perhaps we could get to the task at hand." He gestured towards the armchair Neville never used without being crudely forced to and Granger carefully sat down in it. "Which chapters have you managed to cover?"

"All of them. Although most of them weren't of help, it seemed." She opened the book and quickly turned pages. "There are many references to spells I've never even heard of, though, so I can't be really sure. This Rite of Allen Heartforth, for example..."

"You don't need to know about that," Snape said forcefully. Hearing the name of the ritual brought forward the visual: pictures of how it was done, detailed and gross, things he suddenly couldn't believe had interested him in the past so deeply.

"I can't rule it out if I..."

"You do not need to rule it out, I am ruling it out. The Rite was not used; I know what it achieves on success, as well as on failure. I am fairly familiar with the Dark Arts." He started his exclamation agitated, and finished in a quiet, threatening voice. Granger paled, but didn't give up.

"But, Professor, even if..."

"It. Was. Not. The. Rite." He had stood up and nearly shouted the words, he realised.

"Well, no, I'd think if it was as simple as that you would have cracked it by now." She waited until Snape sat back down with a sigh. "What we are dealing with is a combined spell - that's why I think it went wrong, because combined spells are so complicated..."

"I know that, Miss Granger, I can assure you..."

"... and the combination itself can change the outcome quite spectacularly."

"Spectacularly!"

"Not to mention that not every spell or ritual used in the combination has to be used as a whole," Granger finished darkly. "It's impossible to break the spell without learning how it was combined first, you know that."

"I need not to be..." Snape stopped short and closed his eyes. The moment stretched as he was preparing himself for what he had to say next, and he half wished Granger to go on talking, so he could throw her out for insolence.

But Granger, miraculously, kept her know-it-all manners in check and her mouth shut.

"You are right," he said when he couldn't postpone it any longer. "We cannot rule out any spell without knowing the others. I am well aware of it, Miss Granger." His breathing became easier as he regained full command of his emotions. "I merely..." Not so full command, must keep full command of himself! "I merely wished the darkest had not been involved. There are effects of Dark Arts I would not wish on children, no matter how..."

"Stupid?" she finished quietly. He snapped his eyes open, but the girl in the armchair next to him was grave and still a little pale. For a moment, she sat quietly, lost in contemplation.

"I made a list of spells that could be used in that combination - some of them are..."

"... not suitable for that, yes."

"... but I can't tell for all of them, I wasn't able to look them all up." She pulled a roll of parchment from her robes. Snape closed his eyes again, this time in mental pain.

The list was, of course, considerably long.

"And where have you been?" Draco spun and grinned. Tisha caught up with him and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Visiting Blaise. Hogsmeade will be too busy tomorrow."

"So you're feeling better, then?" Tisha stopped as they were passing a torch and inspected Draco's face.

"I did. I may have overdone it with the walking, though," Draco replied carefully. He had spent better part of the week in Tisha's care - the evenings, at the very least. And he had thoroughly enjoyed it.

Tisha reached up to feel his forehead and cheeks.

"You don't look too well. Come, I'll make you tea." Draco smiled as sweetly and innocently as he could. He had run all the way from Hogsmeade, as a matter of exercise, and was therefore flushed.

"That sounds great."

Tisha led him into her living room, sat him in front of the fireplace and fussed over him in such a manner he actually felt a little guilty. Just a little.

"I've been thinking... about the Manor. How to best get rid of it," he said quietly after draining his mug.

"What did Severus tell you about the protective spells?" Tisha started gathering the tea things, taking unnecessary long to do so.

"Um... I didn't ask. Yet. There was no good opportunity." He shifted uneasily. "I've been very tired lately."

"Well, I understand you can't really do anything until you finish the school, or rather you shouldn't. So there's a plenty of time to find the opportunity." Or to change your mind.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he glanced at her and stood up.

"I should go. Thank you for the tea." He hovered over her for a few long seconds, then bent to kiss her good-bye.

Only after the door closed behind him, she let out the deep, unhappy sigh.

Having seen Granger out of his living room shortly before midnight, Snape embarked on a little unplanned patrol. Just one round to calm himself down - the spells and rites they had discussed left him restless. A long walk through the quiet corridors would calm him down.

And if that failed, he could always come upon a student out of bed after curfew. The Gryffindor Tower was still a part of the castle, therefore there was certainly a Gryffindor breaking the rules out there.

The theory, as much as he believed in it, didn't seem to prove right that night. Hogwarts was completely quiet and almost completely dark, with only a few torches burning near bathrooms the students were likely to use should they need to during night. He turned into a darker corridor where the path of torches turned towards Hufflepuff common room and frowned as another person joined him at the next junction.

"You are not patrolling, Professor," he pointed out.

"You are," Tisha agreed. "I just need a walk. Do you mind if I go in the same direction as you?" He decided not to answer and forced himself to return to his fast pace - when had he slown down anyway?

"You are worried about something," he resigned after five minutes of heavy silence.

"About Draco." There it went again! Of course it had to be Draco - she had been worried about his cold all week long. "He wants to tear down the Manor."

Snape stopped at a window and looked out on the grounds and the Forbidden Forest. Nothing much could be seen, as dark as the night was, but he wasn't really trying to see outside; instead he pictured everything Draco had witnessed in Malfoy Manor during the last year of war.

"I cannot blame him," he concluded in the end and resumed walking. Tisha shrugged next to him. He could hear her robes rustling. How could she make her robes rustle so... specifically?

"No, of course not. But I can't accept it either," Tisha whispered. Another minute of silence passed before Snape, against his better judgement, answered the question Tisha hadn't placed.

"The worst crimes of the war happened there. Nar... his mother was tortured to death right before his eyes."

"I know," Tisha said.

"And she wasn't the only one," he added grimly, thinking of Luna Lovegood in particular. He had noticed, at the time, the effect her death had had on Draco. "The place has become a stain of evil."

"It's my home," she answered. "It's been my home for centuries."

"Now, there is no need to exaggerate," Snape pointed out. "You didn't live there for more than decades."

"That is not my point!" She jumped in front of him, forcing him to stop. "There were some good chapters in the Malfoy history, too. The... the fountain in the back garden was built by Armand Malfoy the first summer after the manor was finished, and charmed by his wife Lucilla to overflow at night during the drought that followed the year after, to keep the nearby lands saturated. There are deep dents in the balustrade in the former entrance hall where Callisto Malfoy defended her children from a werewolf that broke into the manor. The statue next to the kitchen entrance was a gift from an orphanage Twinkling Star Malfoy supported for years."

"Twinkling Star Malfoy?" If Snape lifted his eyebrows any higher, they would have left his head and hit the ceiling.

"She came from a very good Yanktonai family," Tisha replied haughtily.

"I still cannot fail to notice all the good deeds were commited by the wives of Malfoys," he commented.

"They all became part of the family by marriage." Tisha put her fists on her hips as she continued, "The table in the dining room was made by Septimus Malfoy himself, complete with a self-seasoning charm. Father planted the Yoddling Yew next to the Silencing Stone when Lucius was born. And the carpet in the long hall - that was a gift to Narcissa and Lucius from my maternal great-aunt. She wove it herself, during their wedding night, and used ancient Albanian magic to grant it powers to protect them. Have you seen what happened to the carpet?" She seized his forearm - left, of course - and dug her fingers painfully into the Dark Mark there. Snape closed his eyes.

The last time he noticed anything about the carpet was when Narcissa's lifeless body lay on it. So much for the ancient Albanian magic.

"Yes," he managed in the end. "I have naturally noticed. Narcissa spent hours trying to clean the stains, with close to no result."

"Part of the magic is said to be only triggered by true heir's blood," Tisha muttered. She let go of his arm and turned a little aside. The nearest torch was behind her, so the movement actually allowed him to see more of her face. Snape rubbed the sore spot. The Dark Mark was invisible since the Dark Lord's demise, but he would probably have a little Malfoy mark in the morning.

"Then it's a shame Draco didn't bleed on it," he spat. The effect was immediate: Tisha must have processed the words before he himself realised what he said. She looked at him, spun on her heels and walked away.

He closed his eyes again. The physical pain subsided. He went over the conversation again in his head. The magic woven into the carpet, if it really was there, raised some intriguing questions. The potion he had used to save Draco's life was a pure experiment, a result of careful planning and thinking and, to some degree, desperate wishing. He had had no way to test it. Perhaps...

But before he could engage in thinking this through and setting his mind to peace, he needed to see that Tisha return to her rooms safely. He flicked his wand to make her footprints visible to him and followed them to her door. It was a direct route, he noted with satisfaction, as he finished the incantation.

As he turned towards the stairs, his left knee started throbbing with pain. A curse slipped him before he checked himself. The only consolation he had was that there was no need for him to go anywhere tomorrow. Spells and potions, he knew, offered only a partial relief. He would have to wait this out.

He pressed his lips together as he limped towards dungeons, unaware of the eyes that followed him from distance.