Phoenix Reborn 2

Snape lectured his fifth-year Potions class on the importance of passing their O.W.L.s. "Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are," he said, "I expect you to scrape an 'acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my...displeasure." He let his gaze linger on Longbottom, who gulped and turned pale. Maybe fear would spur Mr. Longbottom on into getting a passing grade, though Snape doubted it. Snape shook his head slightly; the boy had better hope that he never encountered the Dark Lord--he would probably turn into a puddle of jelly if Voldemort so much as glanced at him.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye." Many of his students looked relieved, including Potter, and Snape felt his lip curl into a sneer; the feeling was quite mutual on Snape's part as well. "But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," Snape said in a soft, sarcastic voice, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students."

Miss Granger looked eager to prove herself, and no doubt she would pass her O.W.L. with flying colors and apply to his N.E.W.T. class. Snape wasn't sure whether to be pleased or annoyed. She really was his best student among the fifth-years--among all his students, to be honest, except perhaps for Dylan Rosier--but her chipper, know-it-all Gryffindor manner put him off. He never praised her no matter how well she did, because he couldn't stand the thought of praising a Gryffindor student, particularly one who was a friend of Harry Potter, but that seemed to put her off not at all; if anything, she worked even harder. Snape sighed to himself. If only she had been sorted into Slytherin, he could have awarded points to his House, and given her the praise she deserved, and taken both her and Dylan under his wing and perhaps steered them into Potions as a career... But his students were looking at him expectantly, so he shook himself out of his reverie, and gave them their assignment: to brew the Draught of Peace.

Snape felt slightly more cheerful when Potter botched his potion; he had forgotten to add the hellebore. "Evanesco," Snape said gleefully, tapping Potter's cauldron with his wand, and the potion disappeared, which meant zero marks for Mr. Potter. He ordered the rest of his students to leave a sample of their potions on his desk, gave out their homework assignment, and dismissed them. Weasley and Potter glared at him on their way out, and Miss Granger gave him a quick, disappointed look that was much like the ones Lupin gave him when he felt Snape was being unfair. It made Snape feel small and petty, which in turn annoyed the hell out of him. {Don't expect me to turn into a creature of sweetness and light just because I have joined the Order, Miss Granger,} he thought coldly. {It hasn't changed my feelings towards Mr. Potter and his little friends.} His conscience was stirring uneasily, though, and to quell it he added, {Besides, Draco would find it suspicious if I suddenly started treating Potter fairly, and he would report it to his father, who would in turn report it to the Dark Lord...} He shuddered slightly, remembering the Cruciatus Curse the Dark Lord had placed on him as punishment for not answering the summons on the night of the Tournament. And that was actually the punishment that Snape feared least; there were far more terrible things that Voldemort could do to someone who betrayed him...yes, keeping the Dark Lord's suspicions lulled was a very good idea, indeed...
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Snape was walking through the classroom as he always did, checking on his students' progress, and stopped by Potter's desk. To his disappointment, Potter seemed to be brewing his potion in an adequate fashion, and he was oddly subdued. There were dark circles under his eyes; perhaps he was too tired to be his usual impertinent self--Snape had heard that Umbridge had given him detention the past couple of nights. Then Snape froze in place as he caught sight of Potter's right hand. The sleeve of Potter's robe pulled back slightly as he reached for an ingredient, and Snape caught sight of the words, "I must not tell lies" etched into the boy's skin as if with a knife, still raw and red. He was a former Death Eater and the son of wizards who practiced the Dark Arts, but the sight disturbed him deeply. It was a particularly twisted, sadistic kind of punishment...the kind Snape's father would have enjoyed--except that he was careful never to leave a physical mark on his son. That would have been crude and careless, and might have attracted unwanted attention, especially once the Headmaster had taken an interest in young Severus Snape...

Crude though it was, the malice behind that punishment made Snape shudder a little, and then it made him angry. He remembered what it was like to be young and helpless, at the mercy of adults, and the idea of a teacher abusing her position to torture a student made him absolutely furious.

{Isn't that sort of like the pot calling the kettle black?} the sarcastic little voice in his head asked.

{It's not the same thing!} Snape protested, although he felt a little twinge of guilt. All right, yes, he did torment his students at times--but only the incompetent ones, and it was all for a good cause. Really. He was teaching them to be strong, for the weak would fall before Voldemort. And yes, he treated them unfairly at times--all right, most times!--but the world would not treat them fairly either, and it was better they learned that in the safety of the classroom than out on the battlefield in the middle of a war. The enemy would give no mercy, show no quarter; the enemy would not play fairly, he would use whatever weapons he had at his disposal, which would include psychological warfare. He would strike at their insecurities and fears, ferret out their most secret and selfish desires; he would bully, taunt, seduce--do whatever he must to destroy or corrupt them. So Snape had to make them strong enough to resist him.

{You're a regular saint,} the voice said, still in that same sarcastic tone.

And Snape had never, ever physically harmed a student. He might shout and berate, and assign particularly loathsome forms of detention (scrubbing bedpans, skinning and gutting slimy creatures), but he had never struck a student, nor used magic to inflict pain on one.

(Of course, it never occurred to Snape--who had grown up with a rather warped view of what was considered "normal"--that psychological abuse might be just as harmful as physical abuse, maybe even more so. Lupin, if he had been present, might have pointed that out to him, but Lupin was not present, and likely Snape would not have listened to him anyway.)

Potter glanced up at him warily, and Snape continued his sweep of the classroom, but he was distracted by what he had just seen, and didn't even notice that Longbottom's potion had turned a bilious shade of green when it was supposed to be blue, and Longbottom stared at his teacher with an expression of mingled shock and relief on his face.

{What do you care, anyway?} the sarcastic little voice asked. {You hate Potter.}

{Yes, but...} Snape was unable to come up with a good reply. Yes, it was true that he hated Potter, and that he had come close to wringing the brat's neck more than once. But he had restrained himself, because teachers were not allowed to murder their students, no matter how infuriating they might be, and because it was quite likely that Potter was the only person in the world with the power to defeat Voldemort. {God help us all,} Snape said to himself sourly at the thought of the fate of the world resting in the hands of that irresponsible brat. But Snape wondered why Potter had apparently not complained about his punishment to either McGonagall or Dumbledore; surely the Headmaster would have put a stop to it if he had known about it, even if Umbridge was a Ministry agent. He thought of all the hours Potter must have spent in detention, with those words cutting into his hand over and over again, and felt a grudging respect for the boy's determination--or perhaps it was merely stubbornness. But for whatever reason, he had not gone whining to the Headmaster about it, as Snape would have thought he would.

{It's the principle of the thing,} Snape finally told his inner voice. {It doesn't matter whether it's Potter or not; no one should do such a thing to a child.} He sat at his desk brooding for the rest of the period, the brief sight of Potter's hand calling up unpleasant memories of himself as a child, writhing and screaming in pain as his father inflicted the Cruciatus Curse on him as punishment for some real or perceived transgression.

Later, in his office, Snape sat staring at a jar of healing salve on his desk. It would ease the pain of the cuts on Potter's hand and prevent a scar from forming, but Snape would rather die than be caught showing Potter even an ounce of sympathy.

There was a knock at the door and Snape growled, "Come in!"

The door swung open a crack and a house-elf walked in, bearing a tray filled with letters, and timidly said, "Mail delivery, sir."

Since the elf was wearing clothing--a sweater and mismatched socks in particularly ugly shades of violet and yellow--Snape realized it must be Dobby, the house-elf Potter had freed from the Malfoys' service; Lucius had been furious about that. Most of the school house-elves did their work quietly without ever letting the staff and students see them, but freedom had gone to Dobby's head, and he had become bold enough to walk about openly, although he was still shy and subservient by human standards. Still, that might come in handy, especially considering the fact that he worshipped the ground Potter walked on...

"Set the letters over there on that shelf," Snape ordered. "I'll look at them later." As the elf obeyed, Snape picked up the jar and began fiddling with it, tossing it up into the air and then catching it with one hand. He said in a musing tone, as if talking to himself, "I'll bet Potter could really use this healing salve for his hand." Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw Dobby's oversized ears prick up. {Good, he took the bait.} Then Snape cackled in a nasty tone, "Too bad for him I'll never give it to him!" He rose from his desk and shoved the jar onto a cluttered shelf behind his desk, where it was barely noticeable among all the other jars and bottles. Then he turned to the elf and said in his best imitation of Lucius Malfoy's overbearing manner, "I'm retiring for the evening. As long as you're here, clean up my office; I'll expect it to be spotless tomorrow morning." Without waiting for a reply, he left, slamming the door behind him.

Snape went back to his office an hour later, figuring that the elf would surely be gone by then. The office was not only clean and spotless, but the jar of healing salve had vanished. Snape grinned; his conscience was soothed without anyone being the wiser. Then he frowned, as something suddenly occurred to him. Could Dobby have stolen the gillyweed from his office last year for Potter? Potter had kept proclaiming his innocence, which meant nothing, but the Headmaster had seemed to believe him, although he did tend to be soft on the boy. Snape's office was warded with spells to keep out intruders, but the house-elves had free reign of the school since they were the ones who cleaned it, usually after hours when everyone was asleep. Snape locked his office and went back to his quarters, scowling to himself as he thought that he might have to broaden the warding spells to keep out house-elves as well...
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"Harry Potter, sir!"

Harry looked up from the textbook he'd been reading. "Dobby! What are you doing here?"

"Dobby has something for Harry Potter!" The elf grinned and handed him a small jar.

Harry read the label. "Healing salve?" His hand was throbbing after another night of detention in Umbridge's office. "I can really use this; thanks, Dobby!" The elf beamed with pride, then suddenly a thought occurred to Harry. "Er...where did you get this, Dobby? From Madam Pomfrey?"

Dobby looked nervous. "Perhaps it's better if Harry Potter doesn't ask."

Harry had a bad feeling about this. "You didn't steal it from Professor Snape's office, did you?"

"He won't notice, sir. There were lots of jars on the shelf, and Dobby rearranged them to make it look as if nothing was missing--"

Harry groaned, remembering how Snape had accused him of breaking into his office last year.

Dobby's face fell. "Dobby did a bad thing?" He began banging his head against the wall. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"No, Dobby, stop, it's okay, really!" Harry said hastily. "You're right, he'll never notice!" Harry wasn't so sure about that, but he couldn't stand to see Dobby punish himself, and he did owe the house-elf for getting him the gillyweed, even if it had gotten Harry into trouble with Snape later. Well, if he was going to get in trouble for it, he might as well make use of the salve, Harry decided. He opened the jar and smeared some of the thick white cream across the back of his hand. It felt cool and soothing, and immediately eased his pain; perhaps it was worth the risk, and hopefully Snape wouldn't notice the loss of one small jar. He sighed and said gratefully, "Thanks, Dobby."

The house-elf stopped pounding his head on the wall and grinned happily at Harry. "Dobby is always happy to help Harry Potter!"
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"You're less like your father than I thought," Sirius was saying coolly to Harry from the fireplace. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James."

"Look--" Harry protested.

Sirius didn't want to hear it; maybe he was being childish, but he felt like he was being abandoned. Everyone was running around doing various tasks for the Order; he didn't even have Moony's company lately: the werewolf had gone to Japan to meet with Professor Kamiyama and some of his colleagues to try and persuade the Japanese wizarding community to join them in their fight against Voldemort. The Dark Lord had not yet extended his reach to Asia, and most of the Japanese wizards were reluctant to risk themselves in a war that they felt had nothing to do with them. It was Lupin's task to convince them that Voldemort would not be content merely to conquer Britain and Europe, that if they did not stop him now, the Dark Lord would one day take his war to the Far East--and when that day came, all their Western allies would be dead and unable to aid them. It was an important mission, but it left Sirius feeling more lonely and useless than ever. He had hoped to alleviate some of that loneliness by going to Hogsmeade in dog form to visit his godson, but Harry was insisting that it was "too dangerous". The boy was too young to be sounding so responsible--he was starting to sound like Molly Weasley, for God's sake!

"Well, I'd better be going," Sirius said, unable to keep a hint of disgruntlement from creeping into his voice. "I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs. I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?"

Sirius pulled his head out of the fireplace, and behind him, a woman's voice said sharply, "Sirius Black! What do you think you're doing?!"

Sirius turned around to see his former teacher standing over him, arms crossed and scowling, as if she'd just caught a student breaking the rules at Hogwarts. Sirius forced himself not to cringe, and to keep up a casual demeanor as he dusted ashes from his palms and hair. He was no longer a child but an adult, by God, and he was not going to act like a schoolboy about to get detention! "Oh hello, Branwen," he said, trying to sound unconcerned. "I was just having a little chat with Harry."

"Have you lost your mind, Mr. Black?" Blackmore asked, glaring at him. "What if one of Harry's classmates, or worse, teachers, had seen you in the fire?"

Sirius gave her his most charming smile. "'Mr. Black'? Whatever happened to 'we're all colleagues now, let's call each other by our first names'?"

"When you revert to childish behavior," Blackmore said coldly, "I suppose I also revert to old habits and call you by the name I used when you were a student."

Sirius scowled. "Now see here! I'm not a child anymore--"

"Then stop acting like one!" his former teacher retorted. "You know how closely the Ministry is monitoring Dumbledore and his allies! Did you ever stop to think that Harry would be in trouble if he were caught talking to you? Do you not recall how he was nearly expelled this summer? Not to mention the trouble you could cause for Albus--"

"Dumbledore can take care of himself," Sirius said dismissively.

"Dumbledore is this close to getting sacked!" shouted Blackmore, holding her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "He is on very thin ice with the Ministry, and they will use any excuse they can to get rid of him! I think that aiding and abetting an escaped murderer would fall under that category! And if Dumbledore is fired, the entire school and all the students will be in danger!" Bane seemed to be picking up on his mistress's agitation, and cawed angrily at Sirius from his perch on Blackmore's shoulder.

"You're making a mountain out of a molehill, Professor," Sirius said, pointedly calling her by her title instead of her name.

"And you are doing your godson a disservice, Sirius," Blackmore said quietly.

"What are you talking about?!" Sirius snapped.

"Molly is right, you're treating him as if he were James--"

"And what's wrong with that?" Sirius demanded. "He's a lot like his father, or at least I thought he was up until tonight..."

"What's wrong is that he's NOT James, he's Harry!" Blackmore shouted, looking frustrated, as if Sirius were a student who couldn't seem to grasp a very simple, basic concept. "You should love him for himself, not as a substitute for James!"

"That's not what I said!" Sirius shouted back, getting rather hot under the collar himself. "And you have no right to talk to me this way, you're not my teacher anymore--"

"I have a right as your colleague to point out when you're behaving like an idiot!" Blackmore shrieked. Sirius was a bit taken aback. He had seen her angry before, seen her terrorize her students, seen her shout at him and Snape during the summer when she got irritated with their constant bickering, but she had always remained slightly aloof and in control of her emotions; he had never seen her lose her temper like this before. "For one thing, Harry is a child, not an adult! He's your ward, not your friend; it's your job as his godfather to protect him, not put him in danger!"

"You and Molly are too overprotective; Harry's tougher than you think--"

"He's had to endure things that no child should, and dealt with them admirably, but that doesn't mean that he should be subjected to unnecessary risk! For another thing, Harry is not a duplicate of his father--he's his own person! Yes, there is a great deal of James in him, but also a great deal of Lily--and there is a part of him that is neither James nor Lily, but simply Harry. He's led a life that's completely different from the one James led, endured hardships that James never had to; that has made him less confident but more compassionate--"

"You've never liked James!" Sirius accused. "You've always hated him! Is it because he--we--used to pick on Snape? You've always made excuses for that greasy git, even when he became a Death Eater, but you won't cut James the slightest bit of slack even now that he's dead--"

"Is that what you think, Sirius?" Blackmore asked quietly, apparently having calmed down a little. She gave him a strange, somehow measuring look, as if she were trying to read his thoughts. "I didn't hate James, though I was disappointed in him. For the most part he was a good man; he was brave and loyal, and kind to most people. Few people would have been willing to befriend a werewolf, but he never gave it a second thought. But he had his faults as well, Sirius. And yes, one of them was his casual cruelty towards Severus. He never once stopped to think about how Severus might feel, never realized how much pain he inflicted on him--"

"That's not fair!" Sirius protested. "Yeah, okay, we picked on Snape, and maybe we were out of line a few times, but don't forget Snape attacked us as well! It was Snape who threw the first hex at James back in second year--"

"In a way, you are right, Sirius," Blackmore interrupted, still in that quiet voice. "I did 'cut more slack,' as you put it, for Severus. But that was because Severus had a very difficult childhood, had seen very few examples of kindness and compassion."

Sirius had no idea what she was talking about. He knew the Snapes were snooty, wealthy purebreds not unlike the Malfoys, but he didn't know what about Snape's childhood might have been especially "difficult".

Blackmore didn't stop to explain, but continued, "I expected more of James because he should have known better. He was raised in a loving family, one that taught him right from wrong, one that taught him to be kind and open-minded. And for the most part he was; he had no prejudice against those of Muggle blood, and as his friendship with Remus proved, no prejudice even against werewolves, creatures that most wizards despise and fear. But he had one very big blind spot: he hated anything to do with the Dark Arts, which meant that he hated all Slytherins. I told you once, Sirius, that the worst fault of the Gryffindors is that they see things as black and white. That is a very simplistic view of the world; there are a myriad shades of gray between black and white. He could not believe that a wizard might be interested in the Dark Arts without being wholly evil. He could not conceive that someone might be neither good nor evil, but something in between. The reason he could be so cruel to Severus and never regret it, never even see the harm he was doing, is because he didn't really see Severus as a human being, a person worthy of being treated with compassion, or even courtesy. Severus was fascinated by the Dark Arts, so James decided that must mean he was evil, and therefore worthy only of contempt."

"You make James sound so...so..." Sirius struggled to find the right word, still angry, but also a little uneasy, because something deep inside of him suspected she was right.

"He was a human being, Sirius, who had his flaws, as we all do." Blackmore sighed. "Part of the problem, I think, stemmed from the fact that everything came to him easily. He was born into a loving, wealthy, well-respected family; he had a natural talent for both academics and Quidditch; he had a charming personality that enabled him to make friends with ease. It's not his fault that he was blessed with such good fortune, of course, but it made it difficult for him to empathize with someone like Severus. Perhaps that is why Remus could see something in Severus that you others could not; he knew what it was like to be lonely and a misfit." Sirius flushed, feeling resentful; he did not want to feel sorry for Snape. "And that, I think, is what may eventually make Harry an even better man than his father was: he has suffered hardship and cruelty, but in spite of it, he has turned out to be a kind and decent person. Adversity, rather than breaking him, has made him stronger. You should not be angry that he does not want you to come visit him, Sirius; rather, you should be proud of the maturity he is showing. Because it is love that motivates him, Sirius; of course he wants to see you, but your safety is more important to him than his own desires."

Sirius bowed his head, feeling ashamed, and angry at her for making him feel that way. "All right, all right," he mumbled. "I'll stay safe at home." He got to his feet and headed back to his own room.

"And no more sticking your head into fireplaces!" Blackmore called after him.

Sirius turned back to glare at her. "You say we all have faults, Branwen; what about yours? You sit in judgment over us and meddle in our lives, but have you ever stopped to take a look at your own? Did you ever stop to ask yourself why the closest friend you have is a bird?" Bane cawed angrily at that remark. "Maybe you interfere in my and Moony's and Snape's lives so you won't have to think about how empty your own life is!" Branwen went pale, and her green eyes suddenly looked hurt and vulnerable in a way Sirius had never seen before. He abruptly closed his mouth, realizing that he had gone too far, but it was too late to take his words back. "Branwen, I--I didn't mean--"

"Yes, you did, Sirius," she replied quietly, then smiled at him bitterly. "It's amazing how you can be so dense and so perceptive at the same time."

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered.

"I believe you, Sirius, but there are some things that cannot be mended by mere words." Blackmore sighed, but looked more sad than angry. "It's odd that you and Severus hate each other so much, considering how alike you are--"

"I'm not like Snape!"

"You both lash out without thinking when you are angry, and hurt both yourselves and the people who care about you. You are both arrogant and stubborn, and hate to admit that you're wrong. The difference between the two of you is that Severus is aware of his faults, and is trying to change--slowly, and with limited success, but at least he is trying. And he has been working hard to atone for the mistakes he has made in the past, even at the risk of his own life. But you, Sirius--when will you change? When will you grow up and leave the past behind?"

Sirius spluttered, glaring at her with both guilt and anger in his eyes.

"And yes, Sirius," Blackmore continued in a soft voice, "you are right. I have trouble connecting with people; ever since I was a child, I have always felt I was different, always felt somehow apart from everyone else. Perhaps it is my demon blood; perhaps it's just me. I did love my students, as if they were my own children, but I could not, or would not, express that love to them, and that is the mistake that I must atone for. I failed to save my Slytherin students from Voldemort, and I failed to teach my Gryffindor students compassion."

She swept out of the room without another word, but long after she had left, Sirius kept seeing that look of sorrow and guilt in her eyes. That look made him feel ashamed of himself, and he had the sinking feeling that he had just behaved as badly as Snape--no worse, because Snape was just a Slytherin, and Sirius was supposed to be the "noble" Gryffindor, who should have known better...
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Snape was already in a bad mood when he arrived to teach his Potions class; today he had the dubious honor of being observed by Professor Umbridge. Lovely. He arrived to find Potter and Weasley wrestling with Longbottom, which was rather strange--he had thought they were all friends. But it gave Snape a chance to vent some of his ire on them, and snapped, "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

The students took their seats, and Snape said in a low, sneering voice, "You will notice that we have a guest with us today." Snape was quite sure that Lucius Malfoy would make sure he kept his job no matter what Umbridge reported, but he still resented her being in his classroom at all. He tried to ignore her and went about with his lesson on Strengthening Solutions. Snape had bent over to inspect Dean Thomas's cauldron when he heard Umbridge say from behind him:

"Well, this class seems fairly advanced for their level. Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

Snape slowly straightened up and turned to look at her; out of the corner of his eye he saw Thomas flinch at the look of cold fury on his face, but Umbridge just gave him her toady little smile. {How...dare...she!} he silently raged. {No one tells me how to teach my classes--no one!} The Headmaster himself had never intervened in Snape's classes--except to make sure he didn't fail Potter--but Dumbledore had never questioned his teaching methods, though he knew the Headmaster didn't really approve of some of them. {I am going to kill Lucius Malfoy,} he thought, grinding his teeth together. It had been Lucius who had arranged for Umbridge to be sent here.

But Umbridge was asking him how long he'd been teaching here. "Fourteen years," said Snape curtly.

"You have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. His hands twitched, and he had to restrain himself from throttling her for embarrassing him in front of the students like this.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?"

"I suggest you ask him," Snape said jerkily. He was very, very close to losing his temper. He wondered if a Cruciatus Curse would wipe that smug look off her face.

"Oh, I shall," Umbridge replied sweetly.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Oh yes. Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of the teachers'--er--backgrounds..."

{My background is that my parents taught me the Dark Arts from the time I was able to walk, and that I was a Death Eater; put that on your damned clipboard, why don't you, you old hag?!}

Umbridge turned away and began questioning Pansy Parkinson about the lessons. Snape turned to find Potter's potion congealing and giving off a strong smell of burning rubber. He took out his frustration on Potter, saying maliciously, "No marks again, then, Potter," and emptied the boy's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

"Yes," said Potter, obviously furious, but unable to talk back to his teacher for fear of more punishment. Snape felt a little better, and circled the classroom in search of another victim...
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Lupin returned from Japan to find things between Branwen and Sirius oddly strained. Neither of them would tell him what had happened, but Sirius seemed subdued and there was an uneasy, almost guilty look in his eyes whenever he looked at Branwen. As for Branwen, she was even more quiet and introverted than usual. Lupin missed seeing the merry and mischievous side of herself that she had revealed to them over the summer.

"How did things go in Japan, Moony?" Sirius asked.

Lupin shrugged. "I presented my case. Kamiyama is sympathetic to our cause, but his colleagues are still skeptical. Nothing gets decided quickly in Japan, Sirius; they must debate among themselves and weigh the merits and risks of getting involved, but at least they agreed to think about it and didn't turn me down outright."

Sirius scowled. "They'd better not take too long to think about it, or Voldemort will be knocking at their door by the time they make up their minds!"

"It's only human nature to be leery of putting oneself and one's loved ones at risk for the sake of strangers," Blackmore said in a slightly didactic tone, sounding more like her old self. "Look at World War Two, and how the Americans did not want to get involved in a European war until Pearl Harbor was bombed. And if the situation were reversed, and the Japanese were asking us to help rid them of a Dark Wizard, would our British wizards be so eager to help?"

Sirius shrugged and said reluctantly, "Probably not. We can't even get the Ministry to protect its own people, much less someone else's!"

Lupin said, "Professor Kamiyama's granddaughter, Miyako, has the true Sight, and has been having disturbing dreams of snakes and skulls, which perhaps has made our Japanese friends take us more seriously than they otherwise would have. But she is very young, and the visions are not clear, and they are not willing to commit themselves solely on basis of a teenage girl's dreams. All we can do is wait."

Lupin sighed. He was by nature a patient man, but the tasks he carried out for the Order--recruiting amongst the non-humans as well as the Japanese wizards--were at times frustrating. Even if Sirius had not been a fugitive from the law, he was too impatient and hot-tempered to be entrusted with diplomatic missions. Lupin's own patience was stretched thin by the very slow, unrewarding pace at which the missions were proceeding. The Japanese were loathe to commit themselves to a foreign war, and the British non-humans were loathe to aid the human wizards who treated them as second-class citizens at best. Lupin knew he could not really expect to gain new recruits at this point, but was working at building up a relationship of trust, which required him to move slowly, with painstaking care, so that he did not alienate their potential allies.

At least the tension between Sirius and Branwen seemed to be slowly smoothing over with time. Lupin might have tried harder to find out what was going on between them, but he was distracted by his worries, and then the approach of the full moon drove all such thoughts out of his mind completely...

Lupin was, as he had told Hermione, much healthier than he had been two years ago, thanks in part to the improvements Severus and Professor Kamiyama had made to the Wolfsbane Potion. But he had not been entirely honest; his well-being was due not only to the potion, but to Severus's presence as well. Kamiyama had told Lupin that the wolf's aggression was being channeled into what he delicately referred to as "the mating instinct," and Severus brought out the wolf's more nurturing side, the part of the wolf that wanted to love and protect its mate.

Severus had kept his promise to visit as often as possible when the moon was waxing during the summer, but now that school had started, it was harder for him to get away. And without Severus, Lupin felt the wolf stirring restlessly within him. He kept pacing around his room without even realizing he was doing so, working off the wolf's nervous energy. Lupin the man understood why Severus could not be here, but the wolf inside him did not. It whined unhappily and snarled irritably, wanting its mate's loving presence, wanting the hunger inside it satisfied.

Lupin was tired, cranky, and quite frankly, horny. Self-gratification did little to placate the wolf, because it was not just sex the wolf wanted; it wanted the touch, taste, and scent of its mate. It wanted Severus. Lupin was just about ready to crawl out of his skin with frustration. At this point, he would have welcomed the pain and nausea he used to feel before the full moon, because at least it would have provided a distraction from his loneliness and the wolf's desire.

Of course, he had gone through this before last year, but somehow it had been easier to bear then; Lupin wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just that when he was alone in his cottage in the woods, he didn't have to worry about being polite to other people, and could be as cranky and self-pitying as he wanted. The presence of other people got on his nerves; he didn't dare go out on any missions this close to the full moon. Branwen seemed to sense that he wanted to be left alone, but Sirius did not, and he found himself quarreling more and more with Sirius as the week went on.

One day when they were in the kitchen getting ready for dinner, Sirius made some snide crack about Snape, the kind Lupin would usually have ignored, but today he snapped, "Oh, grow up, Sirius! I'm sick of listening to your insults about Severus; Branwen is right, you're acting like a child!"

"Like Snape is so mature himself," Sirius sneered, sounding rather miffed. "I don't know what you see in that greasy-haired git--"

"You take that back!" Lupin snarled, baring his teeth and grabbing Sirius by the front of his shirt.

"Moony!" Sirius exclaimed, looking startled and a little frightened. "Take it easy!"

"Remus," said a quiet voice, "let him go."

Lupin turned, his mouth still twisted in a snarl, to see Branwen standing behind him. He blinked, and the wolf's anger receded as sanity returned. He suddenly realized he was still holding onto Sirius's shirt in his clenched fists, and hastily let go and took a step back. Sirius was still staring at him in shock, and Lupin groaned and dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. "I'm sorry, Sirius," he said. "The wolf is feeling a bit testy."

Blackmore glared at Sirius. "You should know better than to provoke him this close to the full moon."

"Is it close to the full moon?" Sirius asked, sounding surprised, and Blackmore rolled her eyes. "Well, it's not like I can ever go outside to look at the moon, or the sun, for that matter!" he said in a defensive tone. "Besides, I thought the potion was supposed to help..."

Lupin groaned again, crossing his arms on the table and laying his head down on them, letting his hair fall across his face. "Maybe you should just lock me in my room until the full moon passes!"

Blackmore gave Sirius the same look she used to give her students when they were being particularly dense. Then she sat in the chair next to Lupin and began stroking his hair, as if he were a small child, and said in a gentle voice, "You miss Severus, don't you?"

"Yes," Lupin mumbled, not raising his head from the table. "It's not just the potion that makes the transformation easier; it's Severus. The wolf wants him so badly it's driving me crazy!"

"Maybe you should contact Severus," Blackmore suggested.

"No!" said Lupin, lifting his head up a little. "He's got enough to deal with at school; he'd be here if he could. I don't want him to wear himself out running back and forth between here and Hogwarts, and I don't want to put him in danger if anyone becomes suspicious why he's leaving school in the middle of the week--"

"All right, we won't say anything to him then, Remus. Shh, it's all right..." Blackmore continued to stroke his hair tenderly, and Lupin subsided, resting his head on his arms again. Normally, Lupin would have been too embarrassed to let her do such a thing, but the wolf was in control now, and the wolf found it soothing. The gentle touch of her hand on his hair was not unlike the comforting touch of a mother wolf licking and grooming her cubs. Lupin sighed, and made a contented little growling noise deep in his throat.

Sirius watched in amazement, not sure whether he was more surprised by Lupin or Professor Blackmore. Of course he had known for years that Lupin was a werewolf, but except for the actual transformation, Lupin was so good at keeping himself under control that Sirius was shocked to see him acting so wolf-like. As for Blackmore, he was still having trouble viewing her as a comrade and a friend instead of a teacher, although since he had worked with her before as an Auror-in-training, he had adjusted better to the change than Snape had. But he still couldn't get over seeing her act so motherly; not just because of her normally imperious manner, but because she still looked so young--all three of her former students looked older than she did now: Lupin with his prematurely graying hair, Snape with lines of bitterness etched into his face, and Sirius still looking haggard from his imprisonment in Azkaban. Sirius noticed for the first time how young and pretty Branwen was; it wasn't as if he had ever thought she was ugly, but like all of her students, he had been too much in awe and terror of her to think of her as a woman. Well, all except for Evan Rosier, who'd had the balls to ask Blackmore for a dance at the Yule Ball during their fourth year. That had rankled a bit, because Sirius had prided himself on being thought of as bold, and popular with the girls, but Rosier's reputation had temporarily eclipsed his after that little stunt. Sirius shook his head slightly; lovely though she was, he didn't think he could ever regard a woman who had given him detention in a romantic way.

Blackmore continued to stroke Lupin's hair until the tension had gone out of his body, leaving him limp with relaxation. His breathing had become slow and even, and Sirius wondered if he had fallen asleep, but Blackmore rumpled his hair in a playful manner, and he looked up and smiled at her. She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Why don't you go upstairs and get some rest, Remus?"

Lupin yawned and said docilely, "Yes, Professor."

He got to his feet and started to leave the table, but Sirius stopped him, resting a hand on his shoulder as he said, "I'm sorry for being such a stupid git, Remy."

"I forgive you, Sirius," Lupin said, giving him a hug. Then he turned to leave, looking over his shoulder on the way out as he said indignantly, "And Severus's hair is NOT greasy--it's shiny!" Fortunately, Lupin flounced out of the room before Sirius could open his mouth and say anything that would negate his apology.

Sirius scowled at his departing friend. Since when did Remus ever FLOUNCE? "I can't believe that slimy git can affect Remus so drastically!" he grumbled.

"Didn't Remus explain it to you, Sirius?" Blackmore asked impatiently. Sirius shook his head, and Blackmore sighed. "Well, I suppose he thought you might react badly, but you're clever enough to have figured it out on your own."

"Well, if you wouldn't mind enlightening this dunce, Professor..." Sirius said sardonically.

"Remus is healthier, partly because of the improved potion, but mostly because he is no longer fighting the wolf's instincts. And it is safe for him to do so because the wolf's energy is being channeled towards...well, its mate...instead of in more destructive directions." Blackmore smiled. "Haven't you noticed how much time Severus and Remus spend alone in their room when the full moon is near?"

Sirius flushed. "Every time Snape comes over they lock themselves up in their rooms; I don't know how you can tell the difference! And I never read that in any textbook on Dark Creatures!"

Blackmore laughed. "Well, apparently it's a very recent discovery! Severus should publish a paper on it...but I suspect he would be too embarrassed! But seriously, the presence of its mate pacifies the wolf, and conversely, it seems that Severus's absence causes the wolf distress."

Sirius groaned in dismay. It was bad enough that Moony was in love with that greasy git, but now he was in essence physically addicted to him as well! "Is this some sort of werewolf thing? Because wolves mate for life?"

"It's a myth that werewolves mate for life," Blackmore replied. "But of course Remus is as capable as any human being is of falling in love, deeply and permanently. The wolf loves Severus because Remus loves him, not the other way around." She gave Sirius a smile that was completely devoid of any hint of sympathy. "You might as well get used to it, Sirius; if their bond survived nearly twenty years of separation and strife, it is likely a permanent one."

Sirius sulked, although he had already come to the same conclusion; he just hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, hoping that Remus would come to his senses one day.

"Severus has his faults, Sirius," Blackmore said quietly. "But one of his best virtues is that he accepts the wolf in Remus, and has helped Remus to accept it as well. He has never viewed Remus as a monster because he was a werewolf."

"But after he saw Moony in the Shrieking Shack--"

Blackmore gave him that impatient look again, the one that said he wasn't as bright as she had thought he was. "He didn't hate Remus because he was a werewolf; if he pretended to, it was only because he was angry that Remus didn't trust him with his secret. I suspect if Remus had told Severus the truth, it would only have made Severus more protective of Remus than he already was." Blackmore smiled, wryly and sadly at the same time. "If anything, it would have reassured him; not many people would accept a werewolf as a lover, so that would have meant that Remus would be less likely to leave him."

Sirius gave Blackmore a skeptical look, but remembered what Remus had told him at the start of the summer: that the real reason Snape hated him was because Snape was jealous of his and Remus's closeness, that Snape had difficulty grasping the concept that Remus could love more than one person at the same time. But Sirius still had trouble believing that Snape was capable of loving anyone.

Blackmore sighed. "Don't you see that he's always loved Remus? I admit that he doesn't always express it in the best way, but he hasn't exactly had many good role models; I met his parents while I was teaching at Hogwarts, and I assure you, they are in their own way, as bad as your mother, though more subtle. And he had no kind uncle to lend him a hand, no one like the Potters to act as a surrogate family. It's a miracle that's he's turned out as well as he has, considering his upbringing; I suspect Albus can take most of the credit for that."

Sirius still looked skeptical, stubbornly refusing to let go of his old image of Snape as a sneaky, slimy bastard. Maybe he was being childish, but he did not want to feel sorry for Snape, did not want to see him as person with virtues as well as flaws. And he was a little irritated that Blackmore and Lupin kept trying to force him to.

"If he didn't love Remus," Blackmore continued in a quiet but persistent voice, "then why did he help Naoto Kamiyama to develop the Wolfsbane Potion, when he and Remus were still estranged, and he had no hope of reconciliation? Why would he help someone he believed was a monster and had supposedly tried to kill him?"

"I don't know," Sirius said sullenly. "Maybe he saw it as an intellectual challenge."

"Severus does like a challenge, yes, but there were many equally challenging projects he could have chosen to work on, but he chose that particular one, and took no credit for his role in it. Honestly, Sirius! Remus was right--you need to grow up!" He glared at her, but she glared right back at him. "Think of someone besides yourself for once! Hate Severus if you want, but keep it to yourself so you don't hurt Remus; he has enough to worry about without you adding to his burden. We are his pack now, Sirius; if Severus cannot be with him for the full moon, he will need our support more than ever."

That was the one argument that could sway Sirius. "Yes, Professor," he said, bowing his head. He felt guilty when he thought of Remus being overwhelmed by the wolf, goaded in part by Sirius's thoughtless comments.

"So no more nasty comments about Severus, at least until the full moon passes."

"I'll behave myself," Sirius said in a rather surly tone. Then he frowned as he thought about what she had said earlier. "Did Remus tell you all that stuff, about the wolf's energy being channeled into its 'mating instinct'?"

"No, but Severus told me a little about it, in a very general way, when he showed me how to brew the potion, and I was able to infer the rest on my own. Besides," she added with a sheepish little smile, "I watched them in Araqiel's scrying pool when they were in Japan working on the potion with Kamiyama."

Sirius grinned in spite of himself. "Snape thinks you're a voyeur, and I'm beginning to think he's right! You seem to take a rather unseemly pleasure in the details of his and Lupin's love life, Professor."

"My sole concern is the well-being of my students, Mr. Black," Blackmore said in a lofty tone.

"Right," said Sirius, unconvinced. Then in a slightly hurt tone he said, "How come you never seem to take an interest in my well-being?"

"You seem quite healthy to me, Mr. Black, aside from a short temper and an oversized ego," Blackmore replied coolly. Then she added with a mischievous smile, "And besides, you have no love life for me to meddle in."

"Well, it's a little hard to meet women when I'm cooped up in this moldy old house all the time," Sirius complained.

Blackmore said with a wicked little gleam in her green eyes, "Why Sirius, did you want me to set you up on a blind date?"

"No!" Sirius exclaimed, throwing up his hands as if to ward her off. God only knew who or what she might set him up with--one of her grandfather's demon lackeys, or worse, a Slytherin! He shuddered at the thought of her trying to set him up with a female version of Snape; he had no idea why she liked the slimy git so much, nor why Remus did, for that matter...

Blackmore just laughed, and Sirius thought darkly that it was no surprise that she had turned out to have demon blood. But for all that his former teacher complained about his short temper, Sirius was a little more careful about what he said after their last quarrel, in which he had come close to saying something unforgivable. Actually, it probably was unforgivable, but she had forgiven him anyway. In mutual unspoken agreement, they dropped the subject and ate dinner, talking about more pleasant and less touchy topics, such as how Harry might be faring at school this year.

But he did not forget their discussion, and he tried hard to keep his temper in check and be nice to Remus until the full moon had passed, although it almost killed him to hold his tongue and not say anything bad about Snape. And both he and Blackmore stayed with Remus when he changed; as soon as the transformation was complete, the wolf tilted back its head and let out a lonely-sounding howl. But Blackmore sat next to him on the floor, and began petting Lupin and scratching behind his ears, not unlike the way Snape did. For a moment, Sirius thought Lupin was going to flop down in her lap, but apparently that was a privilege reserved only for Snape. He did settle down on the floor beside her, though, whining softly but looking less miserable. Sirius transformed into Snuffles-the-dog and curled up beside the wolf, and Lupin let out a little sigh, seeming to take some comfort in the presence of his two friends.
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