Phoenix Reborn 4

This was not how Snape had planned to spend the holidays. He had wanted to spend Christmas alone with Lupin, in the werewolf's little cottage in the woods, but Lupin insisted on spending it at Black's house. Molly would need moral support, as well as help looking after the children, since Arthur was in the hospital, Lupin had declared. As far as Snape was concerned, their duties as members of the Order did not include baby-sitting the Weasley brood, but Lupin had always been a soft touch. Lupin had also insisted that he wanted to spend Christmas with Black and Professor Blackmore.

Snape was furious and jealous; he did not want to share Lupin with Black during Christmas--wasn't it bad enough that Lupin was already living with Black? But Lupin could be incredibly stubborn beneath the deceptively meek and passive demeanor he projected most of the time, and he refused to be swayed by any of Snape's arguments.

"Are you saying you'd rather spend Christmas with Black than with me?" Snape snarled.

"I'm saying I want to spend Christmas with all the people I care about," Lupin said, calmly but firmly. "That includes you, as well as Sirius, Harry, and Branwen." Snape scowled at him, and Lupin said softly, "Think of Branwen, Severus. Fourteen years have passed her by, leaving all of her family--except for Regan and Araqiel, of course--and most of her friends dead. We three are practically all she has left. We should not leave her alone at Christmastime."

Snape sulked; he hated it when Lupin made him feel guilty. "She has Black and the Weasleys," he whined, knowing he was only delaying the inevitable.

"She likes Molly and Arthur, but she was never particularly close to them in the old days. Come to think of it, she was never particularly close to anyone. It's odd," Lupin said thoughtfully, "but those years in the Demon Realm have changed her for the better--"

"Speak for yourself," Snape muttered. "I think they've turned her into a meddling voyeur. It's bad enough having Dumbledore prying into our personal lives as it is--"

"--and made her warmer, more human," Lupin continued, ignoring Snape. "Or maybe she's just more willing to show that side of herself now. For some reason, she feels closer to the three of us than to the other members of the Order, even those she worked with in the past. Maybe because we were her students, and it seems she cared about her students in an almost motherly fashion, even though we weren't aware of it at the time. I think she cares in particular for you, Severus." Lupin smiled a little. "Sirius is a little put out that you seem to be her favorite, you know. She has done a great deal for us, both now and in the past, and we should do what we can for her. I think she would like all of us to be together for Christmas."

"Oh, very well," Snape grumbled. He almost threatened to spend Christmas alone if Lupin wouldn't join him, but he was afraid Lupin would call his bluff. And the thought of a Christmas without Lupin was incredibly bleak and uninviting...

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said, putting his arms around Snape and kissing him on the cheek, all meek and affectionate now that he had gotten what he wanted. He sulked for a little while more, letting Lupin cajole him into a better mood, which happened fairly quickly. Once Lupin began nuzzling at Snape's neck and sliding his hands beneath Snape's robes, his body forgot that it was mad at Lupin; the stubborn little voice inside his head resisted a bit longer, but it was no match for Lupin's nimble hands and the come-hither look in his blue eyes, and Snape sighed and gave in. His last rational thought was, {Lupin claims he isn't an alpha wolf, so why is it that I always seem to end up doing whatever he wants...?}


Lupin really was a conniving little son-of-a-bitch, with a deviousness almost worthy of a Slytherin. After lulling him into relaxing and letting his guard down after an evening of lovemaking, Lupin hit Snape with his next "request": that since they were all spending Christmas together, they ought to get Christmas presents for Blackmore, the Weasleys, and the children.

"Absolutely not!" Snape shouted. "I was going to get something for Branwen, but that's it!"

"Molly's worked so hard cleaning and cooking for all of us--" Lupin protested.

"I never asked her to! I'm quite capable of looking after myself," Snape huffed, but Lupin made puppy-dog eyes at him, and he reluctantly said he supposed that he could spare a bottle or two of healing potion for her--no doubt she could use it, especially with the two older Weasley boys always trying ridiculous and sometimes dangerous experiments. "But I draw the line at getting anything for the brats!" he snarled, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, Fred and George aren't in your class anymore, but since you work rather closely with Harry, Ron, and Hermione--"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" roared Snape.

In the past, Lupin would have been intimidated by his anger, and backed off. But Lupin seemed to have lost his fear of Snape--or more accurately, his fear of Snape leaving him--right about the time Snape had first said the words "I love you" in Lupin's office, right before he left Hogwarts. Lupin kept nagging, coaxing, and wheedling, ignoring Snape's shouted arguments and stony silence, until Snape finally gave in just to shut him up.

"All right!" Snape shouted. "Enough!" He threw a pouch of coins at Lupin. "Do whatever you like, just don't put my name on the gift tags!"

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said sweetly. "I wanted to get the children some Potions texts; perhaps you could recommend some titles for me?"

"Weasley and Potter are hopeless, and could use some basic remedial texts, while Miss Granger is more competent..." Snape muttered as he scribbled a few titles on a piece of parchment. He paused and looked at Lupin through narrowed eyes. "I mean it, Lupin; as far as the brats are concerned, these gifts are from you; if you put my name on them, there will be a wolfskin rug lining the floor of my office. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Severus," Lupin said, his blue eyes wide and innocent.

Snape scowled; he didn't trust Lupin when he wore that look on his face. "Anything else you'd like me to do, Lupin?" he asked sarcastically. "Perhaps buy a gift for Sirius Black while I'm at it?"

"I did consider it," Lupin said with a twinkle in his eyes. "But Sirius would probably have a stroke if you did."


Snape should have known better than to trust Lupin. It was bad enough that Lupin made him sit and open presents with everyone in a twisted parody of family togetherness, but he had broken his promise and put Snape's name on the gift tags after all. The children looked like they were going to faint, and Snape felt the urge to go crawl under a rock in complete and utter humiliation. He had to forcibly restrain himself from acting on his next urge, which was to throttle Lupin. Finally, all the presents were opened, and Snape whined, "Can I go NOW?"

"You can take your presents up to your room, certainly," Lupin replied cheerfully. "But don't forget you promised Branwen you'd stay for dinner. And besides--" Lupin leaned over and whispered, "I had planned to spend the day having some truly amazing sex with you."

Snape's face turned beet red, and he stared at Lupin in horror and outrage--he certainly hoped none of the children had overheard Lupin's whisper--and got up and fled to his room.

Lupin entered the room a few minutes later, his arms full of their presents, which he set on the floor. "I'm going to kill you, Lupin," Snape said, a murderous look in his black eyes.

That look would have struck fear into the hearts of his students, but Lupin looked unconcerned. "Oh really?" he asked calmly. "That would be a pity. Then we'll never get around to having that amazing sex I promised you."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you can deliver on that promise, Lupin? 'Amazing' is a very strong word, and I have very high standards."

Lupin just smiled, and began unfastening his robes with tantalizing slowness. "We'll never know if I can live up to those standards or not if we don't try..."

Snape licked his lips and jumped up, his anger suddenly forgotten. "Let me," he purred, as he took over undressing Lupin. "It wouldn't be fair to not let me unwrap my own Christmas present..."

Lupin giggled. "I should have wrapped a bow around myself, then!"


Snape found that Lupin did indeed live up to, and even surpassed, his "very high standards". He was in a much better mood when they finally emerged from their rooms and went downstairs to get some lunch, and his mood was further improved to find that the Weasleys and the brats had gone to the hospital to visit Weasley senior. Even the fact that Black ate lunch with them and Branwen didn't irk Snape as much it normally would have.

After lunch, Branwen was in the mood to hear some Christmas music, so Lupin ran upstairs to fetch his music box. Branwen and Lupin sang along to some Christmas carols, and even coaxed Black and Snape into reluctantly joining them; Snape was still feeling mellow enough not to put up much of a fight. He sang softly, being a little self-conscious, but Branwen told him he had a lovely voice, and Snape blushed but preened a little in spite of himself, and felt a sharp little surge of malicious satisfaction at the look of sulky jealousy on Black's face.

Perhaps trying to ward off an argument between her two former students, Branwen asked Black to dance with her; he looked surprised, but accepted her request with pleasure. Snape watched with a combination of both bemusement and amusement as Branwen took turns dancing with Black and Lupin. How odd, to see the teacher he had so admired and feared, acting as merry and frivolous as a young girl...

Then Branwen was curtsying before him, saying, "May I have the next dance, sir?" He scowled at her, but she dragged him to his feet against his will--she was much stronger than she looked; it must be her demon blood. "Come, Severus, I thought you were too terrified of me to disobey me!" she laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't want your demonic grandfather to put a curse on me," Snape grumbled as he gave in and danced with her, but secretly he was enjoying himself a little. Somewhere along the way, without his really being aware of it, Professor Blackmore--Branwen--had become his friend as well as his teacher and colleague. She had once told him, when he was still her student, that a true friend was a rare treasure. And certainly, Snape had so few friends that he realized he ought to treasure the ones he had. Not that he would ever tell her that, of course. But dancing with Branwen reminded him of the time he had danced with Lupin last Christmas, and Snape grinned, wondering what Black's reaction would be if he danced with Lupin next...

Then Black said, "Don't look now, but we've got company," and Snape looked up to see his three students staring at him in shock. He hastily let go of Branwen and jumped away from her. Lupin made a very poor attempt to stifle his laughter, and Snape shot a quick glare his way before turning to flee the room.

But then Granger was calling out to him, and Snape, whose temper was near its breaking point, shouted, "WHAT IS IT?!" Granger cringed in fear, and Branwen suddenly turned back into stern Professor Blackmore, glaring at in him with near-demonic fury, and he found himself backing down, as if he were a child again. It turned out that Granger had only wanted to give him a Christmas present, in reciprocation for the gifts that Lupin had forced him to buy, and Snape felt his face flush. {Damn that meddling werewolf!} Snape thought, telling himself that he was annoyed, and not one bit touched by her gesture. Really. To add insult to injury, Blackmore made him thank the girl. Honestly, she was acting like his mother, which was perfectly ridiculous, considering that physically, if not chronologically, he was now older than she was. Or at least, she was acting the way Snape imagined a stereotypical mother would; his real mother would never have let a Muggle-born girl into her home. Which reminded him that Dylan Rosier, who was one of his most promising students--provided that Snape could keep him from becoming a Death Eater--had apparently developed some kind of relationship, or at least friendship, with the girl. Wonderful. {What's next?} the sarcastic little voice in his head asked disgruntledly. {Is Lucius Malfoy going to start championing house-elf rights?}

Snape announced to the room that he had endured all the holiday cheer he could stand for one day, and once again turned to leave, and this time Blackmore stopped him. "I know this wasn't exactly your idea of a good time," she said, sounding almost contrite. "Thank you for spending Christmas with us; it meant a lot to me. And could you look up for a second?" Snape gave her a suspicious look before glancing up to see that he was standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe. Before he could react, Blackmore kissed him on the cheek. Snape saw the jaws of his three students drop open in shock. Snape blushed and fled up the stairs, cursing meddling werewolves and teachers under his breath. Lupin was a very bad influence on Blackmore, or maybe it was the other way around; he wasn't really sure, but the two of them together were a very bad combination indeed...

Lupin arrived, chuckling to himself, a minute later. Snape glared at him. "It's not my fault this time, Severus," he laughed, nuzzling Snape's neck affectionately. "It's Branwen you should be mad at, not me."

"This whole thing is your fault," Snape said stubbornly, resolving not to forgive Lupin so easily this time. "If you hadn't insisted on giving the brats presents, if you hadn't insisted that we stay here for Christmas in the first place..." Lupin continued to nuzzle and kiss and caress him, but Snape remained unmoved.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin whispered. "Let me make it up to you." He unfastened his robe and the top few buttons of his shirt, then lay down on the bed and tilted his head back, exposing his throat in that wolfish gesture of submission that never failed to arouse Snape. He wrestled with his self-control for a few moments; self-control lost. Snape leaned over and bit down hard on soft, white flesh of Lupin's neck; the werewolf moaned eagerly, and whatever shreds of self-control that Snape still had left instantly dissolved...

Much later, Snape realized that he had ruined yet another one of Lupin's shabby set of robes. One sleeve was torn nearly completely off the robe, and there were shirt buttons scattered all over the floor. "My, but you were eager," Lupin giggled, trailing a finger down Snape's bare chest.

"And whose fault is that?" Snape asked pointedly.

"Mine," Lupin said happily, sounding proud rather than apologetic.

Snape shook his head slightly, biting back a smile; Lupin really was becoming incorrigible. He reached under the bed, and pulled out a brightly-wrapped package. "I wasn't going to give this to you after the stunt you pulled," he grumbled, "but since I ruined the robe you were wearing..."

"Another present?" Lupin exclaimed, tearing off the wrapping. "Oh, Severus, it's beautiful!" It was a dark blue robe, made of wool that was as plush and soft as velvet, embroidered in a celtic knot design with gold and silver thread around the edges.

Lupin's reaction to his gift pleased Snape, and he smiled in spite of himself. "Well, of course I wasn't going to give that to you in front of Potter and company!"

"Can I wear it to dinner tonight?" Lupin asked, stroking the soft wool.

"Of course, since I ruined your other robe, and I'd rather you didn't prance down to the dinner table naked," Snape retorted with a straight face, and Lupin giggled.

"I don't 'prance,' Severus."

Snape ignored him and continued, "On the condition that you don't tell anyone who gave it to you; if anyone asks, say Dumbledore sent it to you or something. I mean it this time, Lupin; I will kill you if you tell Molly or the brats that it was from me!" But he was uncomfortably aware that his threats were largely empty ones, and what was worse, Lupin was aware of it as well. Somehow the balance of power between them had shifted...no, that wasn't really true. Lupin had always had power over him; he had been obsessed with him ever since they were boys, and that was why he had hated Lupin so much when they were younger, because he had never needed anyone that way before, and he had hated the way that made him feel--weak and helpless.

Lupin seemed to sense his distress, and reached up to stroke his cheek. "All right, Severus, if you insist."

"I do insist!" Snape said sharply. "Remember, you promised to keep our relationship a secret from the children and the other members of the Order, except for Branwen and Black!"

"I remember, Severus," Lupin said quietly. "And I will keep my word."

But he looked sad, which made Snape feel guilty. "It's for your protection and mine," he said in a defensive tone, although Lupin wasn't arguing with him. "If the brats let it slip at school, and word got back to Lucius Malfoy--" But he knew that wasn't the real reason he wanted to keep it secret, and he suspected Lupin knew that, too.

"Shh, Severus," Lupin said, laying a finger across Snape's lips. "I won't say anything, I promise. Just tell me one thing."

"What?" Snape asked, a little suspiciously.

"Do you love me?" Lupin's lips were curved in a playful smile, but his eyes looked anxious.

"Of course I do," Snape snapped, but Lupin didn't look reassured. He sighed and said in a gentler voice, "I love you, Remus."

The anxiety faded from Lupin's blue eyes. "Then it's all right," he said, and lightly kissed Snape on the mouth. "I love you, too, Severus."

Lupin smiled at him in such a warm and tender way that all Snape's irritation and anger melted away. "Just promise me that next year we can spend the holidays alone together; I don't think I can stand another Christmas like this one!"

Lupin laughed. "I can't promise, but I'll do my best!" He kissed Snape again. "Merry Christmas, Severus."

"Merry Christmas, Remus."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape had to leave the next morning; he had urgent business with both the Death Eaters and Dumbledore. He returned to the house on the last day of the Christmas holidays; not to see Lupin, but to see Potter, on the Headmaster's orders. Lupin wasn't home, but Black was, of course, and he refused to leave the kitchen even though Snape had been instructed to talk to Potter alone. But then Sirius Black had never cared much about rules; typical Gryffindor...

"Er," Potter said nervously.

"Sit down, Potter," said Snape curtly.

"You know," Black said loudly, leaning back on his rear chair legs and staring at the ceiling, "I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see."

Potter hastily took a seat beside Black. For once, Snape wished Branwen were here to put Black in his place. "I was supposed to see you alone, Potter," Snape said, feeling his upper lip curl in a sneer, "but Black--"

"I'm his godfather," Black said loudly.

"I am here on Dumbledore's orders," Snape said, hearing his voice grow quiet and waspish in spite of himself. Black always did know how to provoke him. Potter stared at him nervously, clearly recognizing the danger even if Black didn't--at least the boy had a little more common sense than his godfather! "But by all means stay, Black, I know you like to feel...involved."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Black snapped, letting his chair fall back on all four legs with a loud bang.

"Merely that I am sure you must feel--ah--frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing useful for the Order," Snape said in a falsely-sweet tone of voice, slightly stressing the word "useful". He felt a brief flash of malicious triumph as Black flushed. {Struck a nerve, did I, Black?} Snape turned to Potter and continued, "The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term."

"Study what?"

"Occlumency, Potter," Snape said, as if speaking to an idiot. "The magical defense of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one."

"Why do I have to study Occlu--thing?"

"Because the Headmaster thinks it is a good idea," Snape said smoothly. "You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?'

"Yes," Potter replied. "Who's going to be teaching me?"

"I am," Snape said. Although he didn't relish the task, he was rather amused by the boy's look of panic as he turned to his godfather with pleading eyes.

"Why can't Dumbledore teach Harry?" Black snarled. "Why you?"

"I suppose it is a Headmaster's privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks," Snape said in a silky voice. "I assure you I did not beg for the job." Rising to his feet, he said, "I will expect you at six o'clock on Monday evening Potter. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking Remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them."

He turned to leave, but Black called out, "Wait a moment."

Snape turned back, sneering. "I am rather in a hurry, Black...unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time..."

"I'll get to the point, then," Black said, standing up. Snape didn't like the look in his face, and slipped his hand into his pocket and grasped his wand. Just in case. Meanwhile, Black was saying, "If I hear you're using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you'll have me to answer to."

"How very touching," Snape sneered. Black was such an idiot; even Lupin realized that Potter was strong enough to handle the tender loving care that Snape lavished on all his students. Snape didn't like Potter one bit, but he had to admit that at least he wasn't a sniveling little whiner like Longbottom. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?"

"Yes, I have," said Black proudly.

"Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off of him," Snape said sleekly, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Black pulled out his wand and strode around the table towards Snape, who whipped out his own wand.

"Sirius!" Potter shouted.

"I've warned you, SNIVELLUS," said Black, leaning close until his face was barely a foot away from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better--"

"Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who's been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?"

"Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?"

"Speaking of dogs," Snape said softly, "did you know Lucius Malfoy recognized you the last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform...gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your little hidey-hole in the future, didn't it?"

Black raised his wand, but Potter vaulted over the table and threw himself between them, shouting, "Sirius, don't--"

"Are you calling me a coward?" roared Black, trying to shove Potter out of the way.

"Why, yes, I suppose I am."

"Harry--get--out--of--it!" snarled Black, still pushing at Potter with his free hand.

Just then, the entire Weasley family, plus Granger and Lupin, walked into the kitchen, all looking very happy. "Cured!" Mr. Weasley announced brightly. "Completely cured!" Then he and the others froze at the threshold, gazing at the two wizards who stood with wands pointing in each other's faces, with Harry standing between them, a hand stretched out to each of them, as if trying to force them apart.

"Merlin's beard, what's going on here?" asked Mr. Weasley, the smile sliding off his face.

"Sirius? Severus?" Lupin asked sharply.

Snape and Black both lowered their wands. Snape pocketed his, turned on his heel, and swept back across the kitchen, brushing past the Weasleys without comment. He looked back at the door and said, "Six o'clock Monday evening, Potter."

Lupin flashed a quick glare at Sirius, then hurried after Snape. "Severus, wait!"

"I'm in a hurry, Lupin," Snape said curtly, heading towards the front door. He didn't want to listen to his lover's recriminations.

Lupin grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to stop. "Severus, what happened? Were the two of you about to fight? Have you both lost your minds?!"

"Black took exception to the fact that Dumbledore has ordered me to teach Potter Occlumency," Snape said coldly.

"Occlumency?" Lupin asked, startled. "Because of the dreams?"

"Well, at least someone in this house is able to use their brain," Snape said dryly.

"Not many people are able to perform Occlumency; I didn't know you could."

"How do you think I was able to keep the Dark Lord from realizing I was a spy?" Snape asked sharply, but felt ashamed of himself when Lupin looked hurt. He was angry at Black, but he supposed he shouldn't take it out on Lupin. He said in a contrite tone, "I wasn't trying to hide it; I guess the subject just never came up."

"Thank you for helping Harry," Lupin said gently, reaching up to caress his cheek.

Snape stepped back, flushing. "Not here, Lupin!" he said irritably. "And I assure you I'm only doing it because Dumbledore told me to."

Lupin sighed, in that long-suffering way of his. "Well, I thank you anyway, Severus. So what were you and Sirius fighting about, then?"

"Black seems to think I might be taking advantage of the extra lessons to 'give Harry a hard time,' I believe were the words he used."

Lupin sighed again. "I'll have a word with him." He thought about asking Severus to treat Harry fairly if not kindly, but knew that would probably just make things worse. Well, Harry had survived four and a half years of Potions classes with Severus; a few more lessons wouldn't kill him. "Can't you stay a little longer, Severus?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm sorry, I can't," Snape said regretfully. "I have to get back to school and prepare for classes tomorrow." That was true, but he probably could have squeezed in at least a half-hour with Lupin; however, he didn't think it would be wise for he and Black to be under the same roof right now. "I'll--I'll see you when I can." But he didn't know when that would be, what with his duties as teacher and spy, not to mention the fact that Umbridge was watching all the staff members very closely.

"All right, Severus," Lupin said. "Take care of yourself." He briefly laid a hand on Snape's arm, then let him go.

"Take care of yourself, Lupin," Snape said gruffly, then opened the front door and left.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Potter showed up at Snape's office at the appointed time. Snape glared at the boy; he knew it was necessary, but he really didn't want to do this. He didn't want to look into the boy's mind, and he definitely didn't want the boy looking into his. "Well, Potter, you know why you are here. The Headmaster has asked me to teach you Occlumency. I can only hope you prove more adept at it than Potions."

"Right," said Potter tersely.

Snape's eyes narrowed in anger. "This may not be an ordinary class, Potter, but I am still your teacher and you will therefore call me 'sir' or 'Professor' at all times."

"Yes...sir," Potter replied.

Snape didn't like his insolent tone, but he let it pass; he wanted to get this over with. He explained to the boy that Occlumency "seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence."

"And why does Professor Dumbledore think I need it, sir?"

Was the boy a complete idiot? Snape said contemptuously, "Surely even you could have worked that out by now, Potter? The Dark Lord is highly skilled at Legilimency--"

"What's that? Sir?"

"It's the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind--"

"He can read minds?" Potter blurted out.

"You have no subtlety, Potter," Snape said. "You do not understand the fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker." He paused for a moment, then continued, "Only Muggles talk of 'mind reading'. The mind is not a book, to be opened at will and examined at leisure. Thoughts are not etched on the inside of skulls, to be perused by any invader. The mind is a complex and many-layered thing, Potter...or at least, most minds are..." He smirked. "It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."

"So he could know what we're thinking right now? Sir?"

Snape explained that the Dark Lord was a considerable distance away and that the school was guarded by many protective spells and charms. "Time and space matter in magic, Potter. Eye contact is often necessary in Legilimency."

"Well then, why do I have to learn Occlumency?"

Snape looked at Potter thoughtfully, absent-mindedly tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger. "The usual rules do not seem to apply with you, Potter. The curse that failed to kill you seems to have forged some kind of connection between you and the Dark Lord. The evidence suggests that at times, when your mind is most relaxed and vulnerable--when you are asleep, for instance--you are sharing the Dark Lord's thoughts and emotions. The Headmaster thinks it inadvisable for this to continue. He wishes me to teach you how to close your mind to the Dark Lord."

Potter seemed puzzled, pointing out that his dream had saved Mr. Weasley's life. "...I saw that snake attack Mr. Weasley and if I hadn't, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to save him, would he? Sir?"

Snape stared at Potter for a long moment, still tracing his mouth with his finger, then spoke slowly and deliberately. "It appears that the Dark Lord has been unaware of the connection between you and himself until very recently. Up till now it seems that you have been experiencing his emotions and sharing his thoughts without his being any the wiser. However, the vision you had shortly before Christmas--"

"The one with the snake and Mr. Weasley?"

"Do not interrupt me Potter," Snape said in a dangerous voice. "As I was saying...the vision you had shortly before Christmas represented such a powerful incursion into the Dark Lord's thoughts--"

"I saw inside the snake's head, not his!"

"I thought I told you not to interrupt me, Potter!"

"How come I saw through the snake's eyes if it's Voldemort's thoughts I'm sharing?"

"DO NOT SAY THE DARK LORD'S NAME!" spat Snape, hating himself for the sudden surge of fear he felt, and hating Potter for making him expose himself that way.

Potter glared at him for moment, then said quietly, "Professor Dumbledore says his name."

"Dumbledore is an extremely powerful wizard," Snape muttered. "While HE may feel secure enough to use the name...the rest of us..." He unconsciously rubbed his left forearm where the Mark was branded.

"I just wanted to know why--" Potter said in a more subdued voice.

"The Dark Lord was in the snake's mind at that particular moment," snarled Snape. "He was possessing the snake at the time, and so you dreamed you were inside it too..."

"And Vol--he--realized I was there?"

"It seems so," said Snape coolly.

"How do you know? Is Professor Dumbledore just guessing, or--"

This line of questioning was getting dangerous. Snape knew, because the Dark Lord had told his Death Eaters, but he certainly wasn't going to tell Potter that. "I told you to call me 'sir'," he said coldly.

"Yes, sir, but how do you know--" Potter began.

"It is enough that we know," Snape said, firmly cutting him off. Snape explained, though it should have been obvious, that Voldemort had deduced that he might be able to reverse the process and access Potter's thoughts and feelings in return.

"And he might try and make me do things?" Potter asked, sounding alarmed--finally. "Sir?"

"He might," Snape said in a cold voice, as it mattered to him not at all. "Which brings us to Occlumency." He took his wand and placed its tip against his temple, and began withdrawing his thoughts, which the wand drew out in gossamer silver strands, and placed them in the Pensieve sitting on his desk. There was a chance that during their lessons, Potter might be able to touch his thoughts, and Snape had a great many thoughts that he did not want Potter to see. Of course, he couldn't remove every dangerous or embarrassing thought he had, or there would be nothing left in his head at all, but he removed what he considered to be the most sensitive memories, most of them involving Potter's father and Lupin during their schoolboy days at Hogwarts. When he was finished, he carefully set the Pensieve aside on a shelf out of their way, and returned to face Potter.

"Stand up and take out your wand, Potter," Snape ordered. The boy obeyed, looking nervous. "You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of." Potter stared at him suspiciously, apparently not quite believing that his teacher was inviting Potter to attack him. {Come, Potter,} he thought in dark amusement. {I thought you would leap at the chance!}

"And what are you going to do?" Potter asked apprehensively.

"I am about to attempt to break into your mind," Snape said softly. "We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude for resisting the Imperius Curse... You will find that similar powers are needed for this... Brace yourself now...Legilimens!" Snape attacked, and a series of images flickered before his eyes: a fat boy riding a red bicycle; a dog chasing Potter up a tree while the fat boy and what looked to be his parents laughed; Potter sitting under the Sorting Hat; Granger in the hospital wing, her face covered with thick black hair; Dementors swarming around Potter beside the lake; the face of a girl...Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker...

{No!} Snape heard Potter shout, but in his mind, not aloud. {You're not watching that; you're not watching it, it's private--}

A sharp pain stung Snape's wrist, breaking his concentration, and thus, the spell. He lowered his wand and rubbed his wrist. Potter was kneeling on the floor, looking angry and shaken.

"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" Snape asked coolly.

"No," said Potter bitterly as he got to his feet.

"I thought not," Snape said. He had expected more from Potter, considering how he had resisted the Dark Lord last summer. "You let me get in too far. You lost control."

"Did you see everything I saw?" Potter asked nervously.

"Flashes of it," Snape said. The fat boy and his parents were probably Potter's Muggle family; quite an unpleasant lot, apparently. For a moment, he almost felt sorry for the boy, and Snape sneered in an attempt to ward off the unexpected and unwanted surge of sympathy. "To whom did the dog belong?"

"My Aunt Marge," Potter muttered.

"Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been," Snape admitted. "You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand."

"I'm trying!" Potter protested. "But you're not telling me how!"

"Manners, Potter," Snape said coldly, and the boy glared at him. "Clear your mind, Potter," Snape instructed. "Let go of all emotion..." He could still feel Potter's anger at him coursing through his mind. "You're not doing it Potter... You will need more discipline than this... Focus, now... Let's go again...on the count of three...one--two--three--Legilimens!" This time he saw a dragon, then James and Lily Potter waving from inside a mirror, then Diggory's dead body lying on the ground...

"NOOOOOOO!" Potter screamed, falling to his knees.

"Get up!" Snape said, fear and anger making his voice sharp. The boy was letting him in too easily; he would never be able to block Voldemort this way! "Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!" Above all else, Snape feared exposing his emotions and weaknesses to anyone but Lupin, and he could not understand how the boy could expose himself so, why he wasn't fighting harder to block Snape, whom he after all considered an enemy of sorts...

"I--am--making--an--effort," Potter said through clenched teeth.

"I told you to empty yourself of emotion!"

"Yeah? Well, I'm finding that hard at the moment!" Potter snarled.

"Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!" Snape said savagely. Didn't the boy understand what was at stake here? "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily--weak people, in other words--they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!"

"I am not weak," Potter said in a low, angry voice.

"Then prove it! Master yourself! Control your anger, discipline your mind! We shall try again! Get ready, now! Legilimens!" More flashes of memories--the unpleasant Muggle man, more dementors, Arthur Weasley running down a windowless corridor...a black door at the end of it... Snape realized that Potter was seeing the Department of Mysteries, and quickly broke off the spell.

"I KNOW! I KNOW!" shouted Potter from the floor where he had fallen on all fours.

"What happened then, Potter?" Snape asked, staring at the boy intently.

"I saw--I remembered...I've just realized..."

"Realized what?" asked Snape sharply.

"What's in the Department of Mysteries?"

"What did you say?" Snape whispered, a sudden chill feeling of fear clutching at his heart. The connection between Voldemort and Potter was deeper than he had thought--dangerously so; the boy should not have known that...

"I said, what's in the Department of Mysteries, SIR?"

"And why would you ask such a thing?" Snape asked slowly.

"Because that corridor I've just seen--I've been dreaming about it for months--I've just recognized it--it leads to the Department of Mysteries...and I think Voldemort wants something from--"

"I HAVE TOLD YOU NOT TO SAY THE DARK LORD'S NAME!" screamed Snape. This was not good; here he was telling the boy to empty himself of emotions, while Snape was losing control of his. He tried to get a grip on himself, and attempted to speak in a cool, unconcerned manner, but wasn't sure he entirely succeeded. "There are many things in the Department of Mysteries, Potter, few of which would understand and none of which concern you, do I make myself plain?"

"Yes," said Potter, rubbing the scar on his forehead, which further unnerved Snape.

Snape decided that was enough for one night; he didn't think he could take anymore even if the boy could. He told the boy to come back on Wednesday, and ordered him to work on emptying his mind of emotions. He took down the Pensieve and began replacing his thoughts back in his head although he wished he could permanently rid himself of some of them...
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The very next day, the Daily Prophet reported that nine Death Eaters had broken out of Azkaban. Snape had known the Dark Lord had been planning something, but not precisely what. Perhaps Voldemort still didn't completely trust him.

And soon, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, that toad Umbridge, had issued a decree stating that teachers were banned from giving students information not strictly related to the subjects they were paid to teach. Which meant none of the staff could discuss current events, such as the prison break, with their students, and incidentally, meant that Snape was breaking the law by giving Potter Occlumency lessons. Although if that were discovered, Snape would be much more worried about Voldemort's reaction than the Ministry's...
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The students had been given the day off on Valentine's Day, so Snape snuck out of the castle, taking care that no one saw him leave, and met Lupin at the werewolf's cottage in the woods, as they had previously arranged. Snape absolutely refused to put up with the snide remarks Black would undoubtedly come up with if he showed up at the Phoenix headquarters with flowers and chocolates. Well, with chocolates and a bottle of wine, actually; Snape had been too embarrassed to actually purchase flowers. Snape bought candy all the time in Hogsmeade, but it would probably cause a great deal of gossip if someone spotted the Potions Master buying flowers on Valentine's Day.

Lupin Apparated into the cottage a minute after Snape arrived. He apparently had not had any similar reservations, because he was holding a bouquet of roses and a huge heart-shaped box of candy. "Happy Valentine's Day, Severus!" Lupin said, giving him a kiss and handing him the presents.

"Thank you, Remus," Snape said, blushing slightly. "Here, these are for you," he said a little gruffly, handing Lupin the bottle of wine and a box--square, not heart-shaped--of Honeydukes fudge.

"Thank you, Severus," Lupin said, sounding pleased. He really looked gorgeous--he was wearing the robe Snape had given him for Christmas, a dark blue trimmed with gold and silver embroidery. Snape reached over and ran his hand through Lupin's gold-and-silver hair, which to him, was much more beautiful than the gilt thread on the robe. Lupin smiled at him, that familiar mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Do you remember what you told me once, when I was teaching at Hogwarts?"

"I told you a great many things, Lupin," Snape said, feigning a haughty tone. "I can't possibly remember them all."

Lupin opened the box Snape had handed him and popped a piece of fudge into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, then said, "You told me chocolate was an aphrodisiac."

"That's right," Snape murmured. "Does it seem to be working?"

In response, Lupin kissed him, long and slow. His lips parted willingly for Snape's probing tongue, and Snape tasted the sweetness of chocolate still lingering in his lover's mouth.

"Yes," Snape said huskily. "It seems to be working. Even a trace amount is sufficient, it seems..."

Lupin smiled, his blue eyes glassy with desire, and tugged on the front of Snape's robe, slowly stepping backwards in the direction of the bedroom as he said, "Shall we conduct some research, Professor Snape?"

"Yes, for the sake of science," Snape agreed, letting Lupin lead him to bed.


Much later, Snape leaned back on Lupin's couch; the owner of that couch was sitting on Snape's lap feeding him chocolates from the now half-empty heart-shaped box on the table beside them.

"How's that aphrodisiac working, Severus?" Lupin asked slyly.

"I'm not as...shall we say...resilient as a werewolf," Snape said dryly. "Give me some time to recover." Lupin laughed, and Snape smiled, drinking in the sight of him.

"You look like you'd like to eat me up, Severus," Lupin said, laughing again.

"Perhaps later," Snape purred.

Lupin blushed and reached for the glass of wine on the table and took a sip. Then he offered it to Snape, holding it to his lips as he drank. "That's what's known as an indirect kiss, you know," he said playfully.

"What?"

"Two people drinking from the same glass."

"Where on earth did you get that from?"

"From a manga comic book that Miyako sent me. There's a teenage couple sitting in a cafe, you see, and--"

"Honestly, Lupin, you'll rot your brain with those things."

Lupin just laughed. "Speaking of teenagers, how are the Occlumency lessons going with Harry?"

Snape scowled. "Do we have to talk about Potter NOW?" he asked waspishly.

"I'm concerned, Severus," Lupin said seriously. "It isn't safe for Harry to write to us, so he hasn't been able to tell us how things are going." In a lighter tone he added, gently running a finger over Snape's pouting lips, "Besides, we have to do something while we're waiting for you to, ah, 'recover'..." Snape flushed slightly, and Lupin leaned over and whispered into his ear, "We can end the conversation as soon as you feel up to returning to the bedroom."

Snape's blush grew deeper, and he gave the werewolf a suspicious look. "It's not close to the full moon yet, is it?"

Lupin smiled back at him innocently. "No, I guess it must be all the chocolate..."

Snape sighed and gave in. "Actually, I'm worried about Potter. He's not progressing as fast he should be. He seems to have difficulty emptying his mind of emotions; he lets his anger control him--"

"He's just a child, Severus. Most children his age have trouble controlling their emotions--"

"Most boys his age don't have the Dark Lord prying around inside their heads!" snapped Snape. "He's seeing things he shouldn't, Lupin! He's seen the Department of Mysteries!" Lupin looked alarmed. "He's too close to Vol--to the Dark Lord! He doesn't even seem to be trying!"

Lupin gently stroked his lover's face, trying to calm him down. "I know it's difficult, Severus, but please be patient with him. It might be hard for you to understand, because you had such control over your emotions at his age, but most children don't--"

"I learned in self-defense," Snape said in a low voice. "Fear is a good teacher. And the stakes are even higher for Potter than they were for me."

Lupin felt that familiar feeling of sorrow mingled with tenderness that he always felt whenever Severus talked about his childhood. He wished he had been able to protect Severus from all the people who had hurt him; his feelings were also tinged with guilt because some of the people who had hurt him had been Lupin's friends... He kissed his lover on the forehead and said, "I think he's probably trying to empty his mind of emotions as you've instructed, but he doesn't really know how. Aren't there some--I don't know, breathing or meditation techniques you can teach him that would help?"

"I don't know," Snape mumbled. "I'll try."

"Thank you, Severus."

Snape scowled at him again. "You know, all this talk about Potter isn't really helping to put me in the mood..."

Lupin smiled and let him change the subject. "How about this, then?" he asked, tilting his head back and exposing his throat. "Does that put you in the mood?"

Apparently it did. Snape wrapped his arms around Lupin's waist, pulling him closer, then kissed Lupin's throat, biting and sucking at the soft skin there. Lupin growled softly, a low, hungry sound.

"I think," Snape said in a slightly hoarse voice, "I'm sufficiently recovered. Shall we retire to the bedroom, then?"

"What's wrong with right here?" Lupin growled.

"Are you SURE it's not the full moon?" But Snape laughed and pushed his lover down onto the couch. "We're behaving like hormonal teenagers, making out on the couch..."

"I don't recall making out on a couch when we were teenagers, do you?"

"Well, no..."

"So we should try it at least once, don't you think?"

Snape agreed. Their exertions tumbled them off the couch onto the floor, but by then they were so caught up in passion that they barely noticed...
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"You're still having trouble emptying your mind, Potter." Snape added in a snide tone, "I wouldn't expect you, of all people, to find that so difficult."

"I'm trying...sir," Harry said, grinding his teeth in frustration.

He expected Snape to berate him further, but instead his teacher just frowned for a moment, then said, "Take a deep breath, Potter. Hold it. Now let it out. Again. Keep doing that at the same pace, and imagine your anger, your emotions leaving your body as you exhale."

Harry was surprised to find that did calm him down a bit. {He could have just told me that from the start,} he thought a bit disgruntledly, then realized he was starting to get agitated again, and took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Good," said Snape in a tone of grudging approval. He paused, seeming to think for a moment, then said in a soft voice, "Imagine building a brick wall around your inner self--impenetrable, unbreachable; no one can touch you or your emotions..."

Harry stared at his teacher; was that what Snape had done as part of his Occlumency training? But the Potions Master's black eyes were unreadable. Harry tried to picture the brick wall in his mind, though he felt a little silly doing so, but imagined laying brick and mortar, tried to picture a wall solid enough to keep Voldemort out...

"Prepare yourself, Potter. We shall begin. One--two--three--Legilimens!"

The brick wall was apparently not solid enough; Harry found himself kneeling on the floor again.

"Get up, Potter," Snape said impatiently. "The last memory, what was it?"

"I don't know," Harry said wearily; the memories had all been blurred together. "You mean the one where my cousin tried to make me stand in the toilet?"

"No," said Snape softly. "I mean the one concerning a man kneeling in the middle of a darkened room..."

"It's...nothing," said Harry. Snape's dark eyes bored into his, and remembering what Snape had said about eye contact and Legilimency, Harry blinked and looked away.

"How do that man and that room come to be inside your head, Potter?"

"It--it was--just a dream I had," Harry said, still avoiding Snape's gaze.

"A dream." Snape paused, then said in a very quiet, deadly voice, "You do know why we are here, don't you, Potter? You do know why I am giving up my evenings to this tedious job?"

"Yes," said Harry stiffly.

"Remind me why we are here, Potter."

"So I can learn Occlumency."

"Correct, Potter. And dim though you may be, I would have thought that after two months' worth of lessons you might have made some progress. How many other dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?"

"Just that one," Harry lied, glaring at Snape.

Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Perhaps...perhaps you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special--important?"

"No, they don't," Harry protested, his fingers clenching tightly around the handle of his wand.

"That is just as well, Potter," Snape said coldly, "because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."

"No--that's your job, isn't it?" Harry shot back, before he could stop himself. He waited for Snape to yell at him, to take points off Gryffindor, to sneer at him that he could not control his emotions. But there was a curious, almost satisfied expression on Snape's face when he answered.

"Yes, Potter," Snape said, his dark eyes glinting. "That is my job. Now, if you are ready, we will start again. One--two--three--Legilimens!"

Harry tried to concentrate this time, tried to imagine the brick wall protecting him. He could see a hundred Dementors swooping towards him from the lake...but he could also see Snape standing in front of him, muttering under his breath...and Snape was growing clearer while the Dementors were growing fainter. It was working!

Harry raised his own wand and shouted, "Protego!"

Snape staggered, his wand flew upward, away from Harry--and suddenly Harry's mind was teeming with memories that were not his: A pale, hook-nosed man shouted at a small dark-haired boy who was crying, a broken toy lying on the floor at his feet; the man raised a wand, and then the boy was writhing on the floor screaming in pain, while a beautiful woman with dark hair and golden-tan skin watched, a cold and indifferent expression on her face...A greasy-haired teenager lay in dark bedroom, pointing his wand and shooting down the flies that flitted in through the open window...The same boy, a year or two younger, lay sprawled in the mud, while another boy--Harry realized it was a young Lupin--smiled and held out a hand to him--

"ENOUGH!"

Harry staggered back, feeling as though he had been pushed hard in the chest; he hit some of the shelves lining the office wall and heard something crack. Snape was shaking slightly, and was even paler than usual. Harry felt something wet on the back of his robes, and realized one of the jars he had bumped into had cracked and was leaking.

"Reparo!" hissed Snape, and the jar sealed itself once more. "Well, Potter," Snape said, his voice a little shaky, "that was certainly an improvement. Panting slightly, he straightened the Pensieve, as if to make sure his thoughts were still in there. "I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm...but there is no doubt that it was effective..."

Harry remained silent, afraid to say anything; he was certain he had broken into Snape's memories, and he was sure his teacher wasn't too happy about that, even if he had made progress. Harry wasn't too thrilled about it himself. He was sure those memories were scenes from Snape's childhood, and the thought that the crying little boy was the bitter man standing in front of him was extremely unnerving. Even more unnerving was the fact that Snape's father had used what appeared to be a Cruciatus Curse on young Snape, who could not have been more than five or six. Was that why Snape had turned out to have such a nasty, sour disposition? The thought was very disturbing; Harry hated Snape--he did not want to feel sorry for Snape, whose sole joy in life seemed to be tormenting Harry.

"Let's try again, shall we?" Snape's tone of voice was neutral, but there was a look of intense loathing in his eyes, and Harry felt sure he was about to pay for what had just happened. They moved back into position with the desk between them; Harry felt sure it would be much harder to empty his mind this time.

"On the count of three, then. One--two--three--Legilimens!"

Harry had no time to do the breathing exercise or build up the wall in his mind. He found himself hurtling down the corridor toward the Department of Mysteries, the black door up ahead growing every larger, and he could see a faint blue light emanating from behind the door. The door flew open, and he was through it at last, in a circular room with black walls and floor lit by blue-flamed candles. There were doors all around him--he needed to go on--but which door to take--?

"POTTER!" screamed Snape.

Harry opened his eyes, finding himself flat on his back on the floor. Snape was standing over him looking furious--and possibly a little frightened? "Explain yourself!" shouted Snape.

"I...dunno what happened," said Harry, sitting up. "I've dreamed about the door...but it's never opened before..."

"You are not working hard enough!" Snape snarled. For some reason, he seemed even angrier than he had been after Harry had seen into his own memories a few minutes ago. "You are lazy and sloppy, Potter," Snape was ranting, "it is small wonder that the Dark Lord--"

"Can you tell me something, SIR?" said Harry angrily. "Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord, I've only ever heard Death Eaters call him that--"

Snape opened his mouth, but before he could speak, a woman's voice screamed from somewhere outside the room. "What the--?" he muttered, gazing up at the ceiling. The sounds of a muffled commotion could be heard; it seemed to be coming from the entrance hall. "Did you see anything unusual on your way down here, Potter?" Snape asked. He was frowning, but now looked more concerned than angry. Harry shook his head. From above them, the woman screamed again. Without another word, Snape left his office, wand still held at the ready, and Harry followed him.

They arrived to find Professor Trelawney in hysterics, which were probably partially fueled by the now-empty sherry bottle in one hand. It soon became clear that Umbridge had fired her and was about to throw her out of the castle. Even though he thought she was a lousy teacher, Harry still felt a little sorry for her. Snape watched with an expressionless face, but his jaw dropped open when Dumbledore announced that he was giving Trelawney permission to live at the castle even though she was no longer a teacher. Umbridge looked even more shocked, and a great deal more unhappy. But she was about to get an even bigger shock--Dumbledore introduced their new Divinations teacher, the centaur Firenze. Snape slipped off, heading back towards the dungeons, but he didn't seem to expect Harry to follow him, which was a relief; it was probably best to let Snape have a chance to cool off before their next lesson.
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Snape sat brooding in his office, wondering how someone as incompetent as Potter had managed to break into his mind. He kept seeing those images over and over again in his head. He remembered the first incident, how he had accidentally dropped and broken his favorite toy, a beautiful clockwork dragon. It was really too delicate and expensive a toy for a young child, but it had been a birthday gift from a couple who were friends of his parents, who had been more concerned with making a point of giving expensive, impressive gifts than they were in making an attempt to find something actually suitable for a young boy. At any rate, he had broken the toy and begun crying over it, as children do. His father had been furious; "A Snape does not cry," he had said coldly, as he cast a pain-giving curse upon his only son. "Particularly not over something so trivial." Snape remembered screaming and writhing in pain, and remembered how his mother had not intervened, but stood by and watched, a cold and indifferent look on her beautiful face. That was the day he had begun to hate his parents, and he wasn't sure which one he hated more--his father for placing the curse upon him, or his mother for not trying to help him. That was the day Snape had begun to guard his emotions, to not trust anyone, for fear of being punished, for fear of being betrayed. He glanced at the shelves lining his office, and saw a distorted image of his face reflected in one of the glass jars. He scowled, thinking sourly to himself that he had inherited the worst features of both parents: his father's hooked nose and pale skin, and his mother's golden complexion, which though it looked lovely on her, only served to add a sallow tinge to his already corspe-like pallor. He had also inherited her thick, black hair, but Lupin was the only one who seemed to find it attractive; those childhood taunts about his "greasy" hair still stung, even after all these years...

Lupin had asked him once, when they were still blissfully in love as teenagers, if he was worried that his family would object to him taking a poverty-struck Gryffindor as a lover, and Snape had blithely replied that his parents would disown him but that he didn't care. It was not only love that motivated him to make such a statement; he had eagerly jumped at an excuse to leave his family. Being disowned would not have been a sacrifice, but a relief: to escape that cold house and the parents he hated, to escape the need to make a cold, loveless marriage like his parents', Snape would willingly have given up all the wealth, status, and power that he would have been entitled to as heir to the Snape family. Of course, even though he had lost Lupin, his parents had ended up disowning him anyway, for fear that he would sully the precious family name after he had been publicly branded a Death Eater. It was a rare case of his father acting in premature haste, for it turned out that Snape was never officially charged with any crimes, and never stood trial. His parents were of course too proud to reverse their decision once it was made, but they quietly let it be known that they would pardon him and accept him back into the family if he would come to them and ask forgiveness. But Snape had no desire to return to the family he hated, and remained stubbornly unrepentant. Hogwarts had become his home, and he never left it, not even on the holidays, except on business--at least until Lupin came back into his life. He had not seen nor spoken to his parents in over fourteen years.

Snape's thoughts turned towards the second memory, less painful though still unpleasant. It had been a hot summer night when he was fourteen years old. He had been lying in his bedroom, bored. His parents paid no attention to him, except when they were teaching him something or punishing him for something, and none of his so-called Slytherin friends had invited him to their homes during the summer. He had no real friends, merely people who associated with him during the school year because of family connections. They weren't friends the way Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew were friends... Snape's mood had turned sour, and he opened his bedroom window and idly began shooting down the insects that flew into his room, taking a malicious pleasure in being able to hurt and kill something, even something as small and insignificant as a bug. His mother would be furious if she found out he had let vermin into the house--their house of course had charms cast upon it that repelled annoying pests like insects or mice--but since his mother ignored him for the most part, it was highly unlikely that she would ever find out. He vaporized the insect corpses with a quick flick of his wand, destroying the evidence...

The third memory was both pleasant and painful at the same time. During Snape's second year, Slytherin and Gryffindor had gotten into a quarrel one gloomy day, over whose turn it was to practice on the Quidditch pitch. They had decided to settle it with a match, except that the rain came pouring down, driving everyone but Potter and Snape out of the sky. The two boys had jostled each other trying to grab the Golden Snitch, and Snape had fallen off his broom into a puddle of mud on the ground. He remembered the other students' taunting laughter, and remembered most of all Remus Lupin's friendly smile as he came over and offered Snape a hand up. That was the first time he had really noticed Lupin, and that sweet, kind smile had started an obsession that continued to this very day, because no one had ever smiled at Snape that way before...

Snape sighed, his mind returning to the present. He might have to put a few more memories into the Pensieve for Potter's next lesson; clearly he had not removed enough of them. Once more he wished that he could remove some of those memories permanently and not just temporarily. He wondered what would happen if he tipped over the Pensieve and spilled out those silvery, gossamer thoughts, but he was not quite brave enough to try...

Damn that Potter brat, anyway! He would not have to relive these memories if he didn't have to teach the boy Occlumency! Potter had seemed to be making some progress at the start of the lesson, but then that image of the Department of Mysteries had appeared in his mind. The visions were getting more vivid, Potter kept moving further down the corridor with each "dream"...the connection between the boy and the Dark Lord seemed to be growing stronger rather than weaker, which terrified Snape. If Voldemort was able seize control of the boy's mind, they would all be dead, and it irked Snape that the brat didn't seem to see the risk, didn't seem to be taking the lessons seriously.

And of course there was the boy's insolent attitude. When Snape had told Potter, "It is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters," the brat had replied, "No--that's your job, isn't it?" But although Snape had been annoyed, he had also felt almost smug, because that was in fact his job, and it was one that only he was capable of performing. Not even the golden boy, Potter senior, could have done it, because he could never have brought himself to even pretend to be a Dark Wizard; he would have considered it degrading and beneath him, and probably Black would as well. Lupin would have been willing to do it, if he thought it was necessary, but he wasn't a good enough actor to pull it off. Snape--slimy, greasy, sneaky Slytherin though he might be--was the only member of the Order capable of infiltrating the Death Eaters and obtaining the information they needed, and it gave him a great deal of satisfaction to know that at last there was something he could do that the noble, golden Gryffindor Potter could not...
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Harry had not had a chance to clear his mind before his Occlumency lesson; he was still upset about Dumbledore being ousted as Headmaster when their D.A. meetings had been discovered, and he had just had a fight with Cho about Marietta squealing to Umbridge about the meetings.

"You're late, Potter," Snape said coldly, as Harry closed the office door behind him. Snape was removing his thoughts, as usual, and placing the silvery strands in the Pensieve. "So, have you been practicing?"

"Yes," Harry lied, avoiding Snape's eyes. With everything that had been going on, he had not practiced clearing his mind, or building the mental image of a brick wall, or even the breathing exercises.

"Well, we'll soon find out, won't we?" Snape asked smoothly, apparently suspecting the truth. "On the count of three, then," he said lazily. "One--two--"

Just then the office door banged open, and Draco Malfoy ran in. "Professor Snape, sir--oh--sorry--" He stared at them in surprise.

"It's all right, Draco," Snape said in a casual tone. "Potter is here for a little Remedial Potions."

Malfoy looked positively gleeful. "I didn't know," he said, leering at Harry, who felt his face burn.

"Well, Draco, what is it?" Snape asked, a little impatiently.

"It's Professor Umbridge, sir--she needs your help. They've found Montague, sir. He's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor."

"How did he get in there?" demanded Snape.

"I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused..."

"Very well, very well," Snape said irritably. "Potter, we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening instead." He turned and swept out of the office with Malfoy, who mouthed, "Remedial Potions?" behind Snape's back before he left.

Harry felt somewhat relieved; he had twenty-four more hours to practice. But on the other hand, Malfoy would probably tell the whole school Harry was taking Remedial Potions... He was about to leave, when the silvery-white light coming from the Pensieve caught his eye. He was filled with curiosity...what was it that Snape was so keen to hide from him? Could it have something to do with the Department of Mysteries?

Harry looked over his shoulder, his heart pounding. Surely, he had enough time to take a quick peek; it would take some time to free Montague from the toilet, and he was the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, Snape would surely accompany him to the hospital wing and make sure he was all right... Harry walked over to Snape's desk and hesitantly prodded the contents of the Pensieve with his wand. The silvery stuff began to swirl very fast, and Harry leaned over, peering at it intently. He took a deep breath and plunged his face into the Pensieve, and suddenly he found himself falling through cold blackness, spinning furiously as he went, and then--

He found himself in a classroom; the students seemed to be taking a test. Snape was at a desk right behind Harry, scribbling with his quill as he stared intently at his test paper. Teenage-Snape looked to be about thirteen or fourteen years old, and had a stringy, pallid look about him, like a plant kept in the dark. His hair was lank and greasy, and brushed against the desk since his head was bent low over his test, his hooked nose barely half an inch from the surface of the parchment.

"Five more minutes!" a familiar voice called. It was Professor Blackmore, looking much the same as she did now, walking between the rows of desks. She passed by a boy with untidy black hair...Harry hurried over, sliding dreamlike through the aisles, and stopped in front of the desk and stared at his father. There was no mistaking it; the boy had the same thin face, same mouth, same eyebrows, same untidy hair as Harry. James yawned and rumpled his hair, making it even messier than before. Harry's heart was already pounding with excitement, and it started beating even faster when he saw Sirius lounge back in his chair four seats away and give James a thumbs-up. He was very good-looking--his features not yet made gaunt and haggard by twelve years in Azkaban--and a girl sitting behind him was staring at him hopefully, though Sirius didn't even seem to notice her. And two seats away from the girl was a young Lupin. He looked a little pale and peaky (was the full moon close?), and seemed absorbed in his exam. Wormtail sat nearby; a small mousy-haired boy with a pointed nose who anxiously chewed his fingernails and snuck quick peeks at his neighbor's paper when Blackmore's back was turned.

"Time's up; quills down," called Blackmore. "Please remain seated while I collect your papers. Accio!" She waved her wand, and the rolls of parchment flew up and landed neatly on her desk. "Class dismissed."

The Marauders filed out of the room; Snape remained behind to talk to Blackmore about the test. Her expression was stern, but there was a very faint smile on her lips as they spoke briefly, then she handed him a book saying, "I think you will find this interesting, Mr. Snape. It's a bit advanced for most people your age, but I'm sure you will be able to handle it..." Snape smiled at her, looking pleased and proud. Harry had never seen him smile that way as an adult, a smile of pure happiness not tinged with sarcasm or bitterness...except perhaps when he had been dancing with Blackmore on Christmas Day. Could Hermione be right? Was Snape in love with Blackmore? Had he had a crush on her even as a boy?

But right now, Harry was much more interested in seeing his father. Snape walked slowly out of the classroom, and Harry hurried on ahead to catch up with James and the others. They were heading out of the castle and down the lawn towards the lake, laughing and talking together. "I'm sure I aced that test," Sirius bragged.

"Me too," said James. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a struggling Golden Snitch.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Nicked it," James said casually. He played with it, letting it fly away and then seizing it again; his reflexes were excellent. Wormtail watched in awe. Lupin smiled and shook his head slightly.

Apparently school was over for the day; perhaps this was the last day before spring or summer break, because there were a number of students by the lake, including a group of laughing girls who had taken off their shoes and socks and were cooling them in the water. Lupin sat down, pulled out a book, and started reading. The girls were gazing Sirius's way admiringly, but he ignored them, looking haughty and bored, but handsomely so. James continued to play with the Snitch, Wormtail applauding every time he made a particularly difficult catch. Harry found it annoying, but James seemed to enjoy the attention. His father also kept rumpling his hair, keeping one eye on the girls by the water's edge.

"Put that away, will you?" Sirius finally said. "Before Wormtail wets himself with excitement."

Wormtail turned pink, but James grinned and pocketed the Snitch, saying, "If it bothers you." Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one he would have stopped showing off for.

"I'm bored," sighed Sirius.

"This'll liven you up, Padfoot," James said quietly. "Look who it is..."

"Excellent," Sirius said. "Snivellus."

Harry turned to see Snape passing by, his nose buried in the book Blackmore had given him. He was so absorbed that he did not see James and Sirius stand up and walk towards him. Wormtail watched with a look of avid anticipation on his face; Lupin glanced up from his book, then looked back down, a faint frown line appearing between his eyebrows.

"All right, Snivellus?" James asked loudly.

Snape reacted as if he were expecting an attack. He instantly dropped his bag and book, and reached into his robe for his wand, but before he could raise it, James shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and Snape's wand flew out of his hand.

"Impedimenta!" shouted Sirius, pointing his wand at Snape, who was knocked off his feet halfway through a dive towards his fallen wand.

Harry watched in horror as his father and godfather taunted the helpless Snape while several of the watching students laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular. Wormtail sniggered, and Lupin looked upset, but still pretended to be reading his book.

"You--wait," Snape panted, struggling against the spell, as he stared up at James with a look of pure loathing.

"Wait for what?" Sirius said coolly. "What're you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?"

Snape let out a stream of blistering swearwords, and James said coldly, "Wash out your mouth--Scourgify!" Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape's lips as he choked and gagged--

"Leave him ALONE!" shouted a girl with green eyes and dark red hair. It was Harry's mother. She stared at Harry's father with every sign of great dislike. "What's he done to you?"

"Well, it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean..." James said. Most of the other students, including Sirius and Wormtail laughed, but Lily and Lupin did not. Lily and James continued to argue, with James promising to leave Snape alone if Lily would go out with him.

"Not even if it was a choice between you and the giant squid, Potter!"

But in the meantime, Snape had managed to shake off the Impedimenta Jinx and retrieve his wand. "OY!" shouted Sirius, but Snape had already raised his wand; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on James's face, spattering his robes with blood. James whirled about; another flash of light, and Snape was dangling upside down in the air. Another flash of light, and Snape's trousers fell down--no, up--revealing a pair of skinny legs and a pair of graying underpants. The small crowd roared with laughter; except for Lupin, who was beginning to look ill, and Lily who was even more furious.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" she screamed, and James broke the spell. Snape tumbled into a heap on the ground.

Snape was pulling up his trousers, while James said, "It's lucky for you Evans was here--"

"I don't need help from filthy Mudbloods like her!" Snape spat.

"Fine," Lily said coolly. "I won't bother in the future. And I'd wash your pants if were you, Snivellus." James was about to hex Snape again to make him apologize, but Lily chewed him out, saying that he was as bad as Snape, and that he was a showoff as well. "I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK!"

James called after her, but she didn't look back. Disgruntled he turned back to Snape; there was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside down in the air. "Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?" James asked.

Before anyone could reply, Lupin said, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"A raven. I think Blackmore said she might come down to the lake when she was finished grading our papers."

"She couldn't possibly be done already," protested James, but he looked around nervously.

"I don't want to serve detention with Blackmore," Wormtail whined. "I don't want to be demon-bait!"

"She doesn't summon demons, you moron," said Sirius, but he looked nervous too. "Ah, what the hell--we've had our fun; let's go." Apparently Lupin and Sirius had not exaggerated Blackmore's reputation, because the mere mention of her name put a damper on the festivities, and soon all the students were dispersing. James flicked his wand carelessly, and Snape tumbled back to the ground again.

Snape lay there, staring after James and Sirius with a look of sheer hatred in his eyes. Lupin lingered behind for a moment, gave Snape an apologetic little smile, and silently mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

"Remy, come on!" Sirius called, and Lupin hastened after his friends. Snape stared at Lupin's retreating form, with a very strange expression on his face. He still looked angry, but there was something else as well--hunger? Jealousy?

Then the scene before him blurred and swirled, and Harry found himself falling through blackness again. He landed in the Shrieking Shack. Lupin, a year or two older this time, lay curled up on the floor, groaning in pain. It must be the night of the full moon...

Snape emerged from the secret tunnel and said softly, "Remus? Are you all right?" Harry was shocked by the concern in Snape's voice. And since when did Snape call Lupin by his first name?

Lupin looked up at Snape, fear and horror--and guilt?--in his blue eyes. "How did you get here?" he demanded.

"So nice to see you too," Snape said sarcastically, sounding more like his normal self. "Black told me how to find you."

"Sirius did?!" Lupin cried, sounding hurt and betrayed, and Snape smiled, a look of dark satisfaction on his face. "Get out!" screamed Lupin.

"What?" asked Snape, sounding hurt, which confused Harry even more.

"Get out now, Severus!" Lupin shrieked. "Hurry, before it's too late!" Then he fell to the floor, writhing in pain.

"Remus!" Snape shouted, looking frightened and concerned. He knelt down, reaching out as if to help Lupin, who pushed him away, flinging him back against the wall.

"Get out!" screamed Lupin. The scream turned into a low growl, and Snape and Harry watched in horror as Lupin transformed into a wolf.

{Lupin told me Snape just got a glimpse of him at the end of the tunnel!} Harry thought. {He never said Snape was in the Shack with him!}

"Oh God," whispered Snape as he backed away, but it was too late. Lupin pounced and knocked him to the ground. Snape grabbed the wolf's head, wrestling it away just in time as Lupin's jaws snapped shut a mere inch above his face. The wolf snarled, nothing but madness in its blue eyes, as Snape struggled with the wolf and whimpered softly, "Please, Remy, please..." Lupin blinked, and the madness receded from his eyes for a second as the wolf hesitated.

Then suddenly James emerged from the tunnel, shouting "Expelliarmus!" The wolf was hurled away from Snape, crashing into a broken table across the room. James grabbed Snape's arm, pulled him to his feet, and dragged him into the tunnel--

Then a hand closed over Harry's upper arm with a painfully tight grip. Wincing, he turned to see who had hold of him, and to his horror he saw a fully grown, adult-sized Snape behind him, white with rage.

"So...been enjoying yourself, Potter?" he snarled.

"N...no," stammered Harry, trying to pull his arm free. He was terrified; Snape's lips were shaking, his face was white, and his teeth were bared.

"Amusing man, your godfather," said Snape, giving Harry a violent shake, causing his glasses to slip down his nose.

"I--I--"

"What else did you see?" Snape demanded. "Did you see your father as well?"

"Yes--I mean, no--" But it was too late; Snape's face turned from white to red.

"Yes, your father was quite amusing as well; quite the prankster," Snape said through clenched teeth. He threw Harry from him with all his might, and Harry fell hard on the dungeon floor. "You will not repeat what you saw to anyone!" Snape bellowed.

"No," said Harry, scrambling to his feet and putting as much distance as possible between himself and Snape. "No, of course I wo--"

"Get out, get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!" screamed Snape.

As Harry hurtled towards the door, a jar of dead cockroaches exploded over his head. He wrenched the door open and ran down the corridor, not stopping until he had put three floors between himself and Snape. He leaned against the wall, panting and trembling. He rubbed his bruised arm, but barely noticed the pain. What bothered him much more than his arm--or being shouted at and having jars thrown at him--was that he knew just how Snape felt, how it felt to be humiliated in the middle of a circle of onlookers, and that judging from what he had seen, his father had been every bit as arrogant as Snape had always claimed.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

With a trembling hand, Snape took out his wand and retrieved his memories from the Pensieve. Then he sank to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. Which memories had the boy seen? There were so many memories to hide...what had he seen? He had seen the Shrieking Shack; had he seen Black calling him "lover boy," taunting him with the knowledge that he had guessed Snape's feelings for Lupin before he sent Snape to the Shack? Had he seen the subsequent arguments with Lupin? Had he seen Lupin and Snape making love? The boy had seen some memory involving his father; Snape could tell by the look in his eyes--which one? Probably the one where Potter and Black had caught him by surprise and de-pantsed him in front of a crowd by the lake; it was one of the most vivid memories he had in the time before the Shrieking Shack. Snape had usually been able to hold his own one-on-one against them, so the little cowards had teamed up and jumped him together. Snape had often deliberately provoked attacks from them to earn the little smiles of apology Lupin gave him afterwards, but that time wasn't one of them. Even Lupin's smile didn't make up for the feelings of utter helplessness and humiliation...

Trying to distract himself, Snape crawled forward and began picking up the shards of broken glass, but his hands were still trembling and clumsy, and he cut himself. He sat there staring at the blood dripping from his fingers.

Just then the door creaked and started to open. Snape grabbed a jar from one of the lower shelves and hurled it towards the door, shouting, "I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, POTTER!"
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dylan Rosier jumped back as a glass jar hit the side of the doorway and exploded into sharp fragments; one just barely missed his face. Only the fact that Snape seemed to be angry at Potter, not him, kept Dylan from turning and running back the way he came. He was still tempted to, but he had missed a couple of days of class after a bout of the flu, and he was supposed to turn in his make-up homework. He cautiously peered into the room and said in a timid voice, "Professor?"

"D--Dylan?" Snape stammered. He sat on the floor, surrounded by broken glass and dead cockroaches. His eyes looked dazed and unfocused, and he was pale, trembling, and one of his hands was bleeding.

The sight of blood caused concern to override fear, and Dylan hurried into the room, glass crunching under his feet. "Professor! Are you all right?"

Snape just stared at him. "What are you doing here?"

Dylan held up the roll of parchment. "Bringing you my homework, but never mind that now." He carelessly tossed the parchment onto Snape's desk, then knelt down beside his teacher. "What happened? Are you all right? Should I call Madam Pomfrey?"

"NO!" shouted Snape.

Dylan flinched, but stubbornly remained in the room even while his common sense was telling him to flee. "You're bleeding, Professor."

"It's nothing, just a scratch," Snape protested, but he was still looking pale and shaky.

Dylan looked down at the cockroaches lying among the bloody shards of glass and said, "We should at least clean your cuts, sir. Do you have any healing salve in the office?"

Snape motioned at a shelf behind his desk. Dylan took a deep breath, then grasped his teacher's arm, and to his surprise, Snape allowed Dylan to pull him to his feet and lead him over to his desk. Snape sank down into his chair, still looking shell-shocked. The cuts on Snape's hand didn't look deep enough to cause such a reaction, and Dylan wondered, a little fearfully, what could have happened to so unnerve cold, arrogant Professor Snape.

Dylan found the jar of salve and opened it. He was looking around for a clean piece of cloth or gauze, when Snape said irritably, sounding a little more like his usual self, "Oh give that here!" Dylan handed him the jar, and Snape applied the salve to his wounds, saying curtly, "You may go now, Mr. Rosier."

Dylan was still a little worried about Snape, which gave him the courage to disobey his teacher and say, "Why don't I just clean up this mess first, sir?" He didn't wait for permission, but took out his wand and cast a few simple cleaning spells, evaporating the spilled liquids, vaporizing the dead roaches, and levitating the broken glass into a wastebasket. When he turned back to look at Snape, his teacher was staring at him with a strange, but not hostile, look on his face. "How is your hand, sir?"

Dylan half-expected Snape to tell him to mind his own business and throw him out of the office, but the Potions Master simply held out his hand. The gashes had sealed and faded to thin, red lines. "As you can see, I'm fine," Snape said gruffly. He hesitated, then added, "But thank you for your concern."

Dylan nearly fainted. Well, he had pushed his luck this far and survived, so why not go a little further...? "Um...may I ask what happened, sir?"

Snape looked as though he wanted to be angry but was too weary to summon up enough energy for such a reaction. "Mr. Potter happened, Rosier. He was being particularly insolent tonight, and I lost my temper." In a dismissive tone, he started to say, "You may go now, Rosier," then he cried out in pain and grabbed his left forearm. Dylan's first reaction was concern, but then he realized that Snape was clutching the spot on his arm where the Dark Mark must be branded, and a combination of fear and excitement surged through his body.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

A sharp, burning pain flared in the Mark on his left arm, and Snape cried out and clutched at it with his right hand before he could stop himself. He silently cursed himself when he saw Dylan staring at him with a frightened yet avid look in his eyes.

"Is that the Dark Mark?" Dylan asked almost eagerly, forgetting his usual caution.

"It's none of your business, Rosier!" Snape snarled, his black eyes burning with anger.

Under normal circumstances, Dylan would have dropped the subject, but these were not normal circumstances. He had spent over a year skirting around the subject of his father and the Death Eaters with Snape, and this time he wanted some answers, wanted more than just anecdotes about schoolboy pranks. "My father was one of you!" Dylan protested. "He died for your cause! Why don't you trust me? I have a right to know--"

"Do you want to be a Death Eater so badly, Mr. Rosier?" Snape spat, his face turning red with rage. "Then take a good look!" He pulled up his sleeve, exposing the skull-and-snake tattoo and shoved his arm in Dylan's face. In spite of himself, Dylan took a step back, unnerved. The Mark was a deep black, almost glowing--or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it was doing the opposite of glowing: its inky blackness was so dark that it seemed to be sucking the light into it, as if Snape had a miniature black hole on his arm. The skin around it was looked red and painfully inflamed. Dylan hesitantly reached out and touched it; to his surprise, Snape didn't stop him. It was hot to the touch, hotter than someone burning up with a high fever, and Dylan jerked his hand away before he could stop himself, and took another step back. This was not how he had imagined his introduction to the Death Eaters would play out, when he had pictured it in his mind...

"Do you regret joining the Death Eaters, then?" Dylan asked quietly.

"It is too late for regret, Mr. Rosier," Snape said, his voice cold now. A mask had fallen over his face, and Dylan could no longer read the expression in his black eyes. "When the Mark is burned into your arm, it is forever; there is no turning back. It can never be removed, not by magic, not even if you took a knife and tried to physically cut the skin away..." Something flickered in Snape's eyes, too quick for Dylan to read, and he wondered if Snape had tried to cut the Mark out of his arm, or known someone who had. "This is no child's game, Mr. Rosier," Snape continued, in that same cold voice. "Before you set foot down this path, be sure it is what you really want. Despite what the Headmaster says, there are no second chances."

Snape's words were both truth and lie at the same time. Yes, Dumbledore had forgiven him and given him a second chance; he had even been given a second chance at love by Lupin. But he would never truly be able to escape his first, foolish decision. Because he was still bound to Voldemort by the Mark on his arm. Still putting his life in danger in an attempt to make up for his earlier crimes. And worst of all, putting Lupin's life in danger as well. That was partly Lupin's own choice, of course, for deciding to join the Order of the Phoenix. But Voldemort would have a special punishment in mind for him if he ever discovered that Snape had betrayed him, if he ever discovered that Lupin was his lover. And that frightened Snape far more than the prospect of his own death. He had a special spell prepared, that would allow him to kill himself rather than betray his lover and the Order, should Voldemort ever try to torture the information out of him. He just hoped he would have the few seconds necessary to trigger it, should the worst happen. Of course, he had said nothing of this to Lupin or anyone else; it would distress Lupin needlessly, for there was nothing he could do about it. Hopefully, Snape would never need the spell, and Lupin would never have to know...

"My father..." Dylan whispered, confused. Was Snape a Death Eater or not? And if he was, why did he seem to be trying so hard to push Dylan away? Was this some kind of test? Once again, Dylan wondered if being a Death Eater was what he really wanted.

"Your father is dead, boy," Snape said harshly. "The Dark Lord can offer you power, wealth, and glory, yes. But such things do not come free; there is always a price. Before you make an irrevocable decision, you must be very sure that you are willing to pay that price."

{What price did you pay?} Dylan wondered. {And do you now regret it?} But even if he could work up the courage to ask Snape those questions, he didn't think his teacher would answer him. Snape started to pull his sleeve back down, and Dylan noticed that he was wearing a bracelet shaped like a snake, with tiny red stones for eyes that glittered and gave the piece of jewelry an almost lifelike appearance. "Is that another token the Death Eaters wear?" Dylan asked timidly.

Snape gave him a startled look. "No," he said curtly, and pulled the sleeve of his robe down, covering both Mark and bracelet. "It is merely a trinket, but I wear it as a reminder of my past, my present, and my future."

Dylan did not know what he meant by that, and his brooding expression gave Dylan no clue. "Professor..." he started to say, but had no idea how to finish the sentence, and fell silent.

"I am very busy, Rosier," Snape said, and Dylan turned to go, but Snape caught him by the arm, and leaned down so closely that his beaky nose nearly touched Dylan's face, and Dylan could smell the incongruent combination of bitter herbs on his robes and chocolate on his breath. It was inevitable that the strong and sometimes unpleasant odor of potion ingredients would permeate the Potions Master's robes, and all the Slytherins knew that Snape had a sweet tooth, but Dylan didn't really care about those things right now. He cringed, trying to pull away, but Snape's hand gripped his arm painfully, holding him in place. "If I ever find out that you have told anyone what we have discussed here today," Snape breathed, "anyone at all--including your mother and Mr. Malfoy--you will live just long enough to regret it. Severely. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Rosier?"

"Ye--yes, Professor," Dylan stammered. Suddenly, he was no longer sure he wanted to meet his father's Master, the great Lord Voldemort, though he had dreamed of it for years. The thought of someone scarier than Snape, the thought of someone the dreaded Potions Master himself was clearly frightened of, was too terrible to imagine. "I--I'm sorry. For my impertinence. I won't say anything."

"Then go," Snape said. He roughly pushed the boy away from him, and Dylan stumbled. He regained his balance and ran out of the room, glancing back over his shoulder one last time as he stepped through the doorway. Snape's face had an odd expression on it; he wasn't sure if it was fear, anger, concern, or all three. But he didn't have the chance to dwell on it, because Snape immediately slammed the door shut in his face. Dylan headed back to his dorm and went straight to bed.

"Are you all right?" Dylan's roommate Damien asked in concern. "Still feeling a bit under the weather?"

"Yeah, still feeling a bit sick," Dylan mumbled, pulling the covers over his head, and Damien left him in peace. He closed his eyes, but could not sleep; he kept seeing the image of the Dark Mark on Snape's arm, as if it had been burned onto the inside of his eyelids...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape left the castle, needing to get far enough off the grounds to Apparate and answer his Master's summons. He used the long walk to compose himself, to ruthlessly suppress the disturbing emotions that Dylan Rosier had conjured up. He had always intended to protect the boy as best he could, out of duty and guilt, but he had never meant to care about him. But Dylan's concern for him tonight had awoken something in Snape...no, that was not quite true. He had slowly, over the past year and a half, come to care for Dylan without consciously being aware of it, and now it was too late to disentangle his emotions: protecting the boy had become personal, now. It was all Lupin's fault; spending too much time with the werewolf had made him softhearted...

He should never have lost control of himself and shown Dylan the Mark on his arm, but he had still been shaken by the discovery that Potter had been spying on his thoughts in the Pensieve. But he could not afford to be so careless with Voldemort. Snape took a deep breath, and let his mind empty itself of emotion...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"You are late, Severus," Voldemort said coldly.

"I beg your pardon, Master," Snape said, kneeling before the Dark Lord. "I cannot Disapparate on the school grounds, and it took some time to get far enough away to Apparate here." He braced himself, expecting Voldemort to punish him, perhaps with a Cruciatus Curse, but nothing happened. He cautiously looked up; the Dark Lord was smiling. Apparently he was in a good mood tonight, and willing to overlook Snape's tardiness. Voldemort motioned for him to rise, and as Snape did so, he saw one of the nearby Death Eaters staring at him intently. Snape could make out nothing behind the mask except for a pair of gray eyes. Lucius had gray eyes, but he knew Lucius well, and he was reasonably certain that the robed figure staring at him was not Lucius Malfoy.

"I have a task for you, Severus," Voldemort said.

"I am eager to serve, Master," Snape replied.

"I'm sure you are, Severus," Voldemort said, forming a smile with his thin, nearly lipless mouth. He beckoned, and a Death Eater stepped forward with a small casket, similar to the one Snape had been given at the end of the summer, just before school started. From the cringing demeanor, and the silver fingers that extended past the long, black sleeve of his robe, Snape knew it was Wormtail, formerly Peter Pettigrew. Wormtail opened the casket, and Snape saw the same potion ingredients and gold Galleons that had been in the other casket, but in greater quantities. "I wish for you to brew more of the Mind Restoration Potion, Severus."

"Yes, Master," Snape said obediently as he bowed to the Dark Lord, then picked up the casket.

"That is all, Severus; you may take your leave."

Snape bowed again, but just before he Disapparated, he saw the gray-eyed Death Eater staring at him--no, at the casket--with a look of fierce hunger in his eyes.
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Against Hermione's advice, Harry snuck into Umbridge's office and used her fireplace to transport himself to Sirius's house. He emerged in the kitchen fireplace and saw a man sitting at the long, wooden table poring over a piece of parchment. "Sirius?"

The man jumped and looked up, and Harry saw that it was Lupin, not Sirius. "Harry!" he exclaimed, looking shocked. "What are you--what's happened, is everything all right?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I just wondered--I mean, I just fancied a--a chat with Sirius."

Lupin looked bewildered and concerned, but he got to his feet and hurried out of the kitchen, saying, "I'll call him." He returned a few moments later with both Sirius and Blackmore on his heels.

"What is it? Are you all right? Do you need help?" Sirius asked urgently, dropping to the ground in front of the fire so that he and Harry were on a level. Lupin knelt down too, looking very worried. Blackmore sat at the kitchen table, Bane perched on her shoulder as usual, and gazed at Harry, her green eyes unreadable.

"No, it's nothing like that," said Harry. "I just wanted to talk...about my dad..." Lupin and Sirius exchanged looks of surprise; Blackmore raised an eyebrow, but her expression did not change. Harry took a deep breath and explained what he had seen in the Pensieve.

When he finished, neither Sirius nor Lupin spoke for a moment. Then Lupin said quietly, "I wouldn't like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fourteen, it was the end of our third year--"

"I'm only fifteen," Harry said heatedly, "and I've never done anything like that!"

"Look, Harry," said Sirius placatingly, "those two hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other. I think James was everything Snape wanted to be--he was popular, he was good at Quidditch, good at pretty much everything. And Snape was this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James--whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry--always hated the Dark Arts." Lupin was looking at Sirius, frowning slightly.

"I could see if Snape had attacked him first," said Harry, "but he just attacked him for no good reason, just because--well, just because you said you were bored," he finished with a slightly apologetic note in his voice.

"I'm not proud of it," Sirius said quickly.

"That's a first," Lupin muttered under his breath. Then he said, "Your father and Sirius were the best at school at whatever they did; everyone--well, almost everyone--thought they were the height of cool. Sometimes they got carried away--"

"We were sometimes arrogant berks, you mean," said Sirius, and Lupin smiled.

"He kept messing up his hair," Harry said in a pained voice.

Sirius laughed, and Lupin smiled a little, but his eyes still looked troubled. "I'd forgotten he used to do that," said Sirius affectionately. "Was he playing with the Snitch?"

"Yeah," said Harry, staring at his godfather and Lupin uncomprehendingly. "Well...I thought he was a bit of an idiot."

"Of course he was a bit of an idiot!" Sirius said bracingly. "We were all idiots! Well--not Moony, so much."

But Lupin was shaking his head. "Did I ever tell you to lay off Severus? Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?"

"Well," said Sirius slowly, "you did once. You said you thought Snape followed us around because he was lonely and jealous of our friendship." He looked a little abashed as he added, "And we laughed in your face."

"And," Harry continued doggedly, "he kept looking at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!"

"Oh well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around," Sirius said with a shrug. "He couldn't stop showing off for her."

"How come she married him?" Harry asked miserably. "She hated him."

"Nah, she didn't," said Sirius. "She started going out with him in fifth year." He paused for a moment and exchanged an odd look with Lupin that Harry couldn't read. "Once James deflated his head a bit."

"And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it," added Lupin.

"Even Snape?" asked Harry.

Lupin sighed unhappily. "Severus never lost an opportunity to curse James, especially after that incident, and James wasn't the type to take that sort of thing lying down..."

Harry still looked unconvinced. Sirius frowned at him and said, "Look, your father was the best friend I ever had, and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fourteen. He grew out of it."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said heavily. "I just never thought I'd feel sorry for Snape." He looked up at Blackmore and asked, "Is that why you didn't want to talk to me about my dad? Because you knew what a jerk he'd been? I kind of got the feeling that you didn't like him..."

"You're more perceptive than I thought, Harry," Blackmore said quietly. "More perceptive than your father, certainly. I didn't exactly dislike your father, Harry, but I disliked the way he treated Severus. Part of that could be chalked up to his youth; children can often be callow and cruel without realizing it, but there was more to it than that. As Sirius said, James hated the Dark Arts...that is why your father never really liked or trusted me."

Harry looked startled. "But you're not a Dark Wizard--"

"I was a Ravenclaw, but about half of my ancestors were Slytherins. And the Blackmores have always had a reputation for being...interested...in the Dark Arts. I have more knowledge of the Dark Arts myself than most Hogwarts graduates do, Harry." She smiled slightly at the shocked look on Harry's face. "My father thought that knowledge was a tool like any other, that could be used for either good or ill. And he made sure that I was trained in the Dark Arts because he believed that you cannot defend against that which you do not understand. My father was for the most part a good man; he loved his family and would have done anything to protect them. But he was not overly concerned about the welfare of strangers, and he turned down Dumbledore's request to help him fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters." Harry looked even more shocked. "It is ironic, then, that Voldemort had him murdered; you see, Harry, he also refused to help the Dark Lord fight Dumbledore. Most of my ancestors were what you would call 'good'; others were of rather dubious morality, neither good nor evil. But your father always saw things in black and white, as most Gryffindors do; he could not conceive of anything in between. You were either good or evil, a Dark Wizard or a good wizard. The reason he hated Severus was because he believed Severus was evil."

"And...and Professor Snape isn't evil?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"No, Harry," Blackmore said softly, with a sad smile on her face. "Severus was a very complicated boy, and is now an even more complicated man, but he was not, and is not, evil. I know he is not always a nice person, Harry, and I know that sometimes he treats you unfairly, but that does not make him evil. If you are thinking in terms of black and white, you might call Professor Snape a shade of gray. Your father did not understand that, but perhaps now, Harry, you can understand a little the reasons behind your Professor's bitterness."

Harry was silent for a moment, then he turned to Lupin and said, "And what was all that stuff in the Shrieking Shack about? You said Snape only glimpsed you through the tunnel, but in the Pensieve--"

"You saw that?" Lupin asked, sounding alarmed. "How much did you see?"

"I saw Snape come in, and you changed and attacked him, then my dad showed up and pulled him out. Then Professor Snape came in and found me looking in the Pensieve." Lupin still looked worried, but at the same time a little relieved; Harry frowned in confusion. "Why did you lie? And why was Snape acting like he was worried about you? I thought you guys hated each other."

Lupin sighed. "I lied to protect Severus's privacy, because I knew he would not want you to learn the truth about what happened. And--I never hated Severus, Harry. For the most part, while we were students at Hogwarts, he hated me, but for a very brief period of time during our fifth year, we were friends."

"Friends?!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief. "You? And SNAPE?!"

"Yes," replied Lupin. "We worked on a class project together, and became friendly, but we kept it a secret because we knew our other friends would not approve. He tried to find out where I disappeared to every month, not to get me expelled, but because...well, because he was curious, and because he was hurt that I wouldn't tell him. But after what happened in the Shrieking Shack, he became convinced that I was in on the prank and had betrayed him, and that was the end of our friendship." Lupin looked very sad, and Sirius looked both guilty and resentful at the same time.

"But," Harry asked, "if you didn't hate him, if you were friends, then why didn't you stop Sirius and my dad from picking on him?"

Lupin flushed, looking ashamed. "I didn't stop them because I was a coward," he said quietly. "Because I never had a friend before I came to Hogwarts. I knew how much James and the others hated Severus, and I was afraid that if I defended him, then they would turn on me as well. I was scared; scared of losing their friendship and being left alone again." He smiled bitterly. "After all, how many people would befriend a werewolf?"

"Moony!" Sirius cried out, looking horrified. "We wouldn't--we would never have--"

"Really, Sirius?" Lupin asked quietly. "You wouldn't have asked why I was protecting that slimy git, wouldn't have called me a Slytherin-lover?"

"No!" insisted Sirius, but he looked a little guilty.

"You were angry at me when you found out I'd befriended Severus," Lupin reminded him. "Although you mostly blamed Severus for 'misleading' me." Sirius's face turned red, and Lupin shrugged. "Well, perhaps you were right, and I underestimated the three of you. Which only makes me more of a coward. Regardless of the consequences, though, I should never have let it happen. It is something that I will always regret and always be ashamed of."

Harry was moved by the sorrow and guilt in Lupin's eyes, and he said, "Well, you did stop it in the end, by telling them you heard Professor Blackmore coming." Professor Blackmore looked startled, and a little amused to hear that. "But you were making it up, to get them to leave Snape alone, weren't you? You didn't really hear Bane that day..."

Lupin smiled sheepishly as Sirius looked affronted, then laughed. "Clever Moony; I should have guessed..."

"That still doesn't excuse what I did, or rather, what I didn't do," Lupin said solemnly.

"And you have no excuse for what you did either, Harry," Blackmore said sternly. "You owe Professor Snape an apology. Spying on his innermost thoughts is a severe violation of his privacy."

Harry thought about retorting that Snape had seen HIS innermost thoughts, but he knew that she was right. That had happened as part of the Occlumency lessons--during which he'd also caught a glimpse of Snape's own memories--but Harry knew that deliberately looking into the Pensieve was a completely different matter. "Yeah, I know it was wrong," Harry mumbled. "But I was so curious...I wish now I'd never looked into the Pensieve."

"Now that you mention it," Lupin said, frowning slightly, "how did Severus react when he found out you'd seen all this?"

"He told me he'd never teach me Occlumency again," said Harry indifferently. "Like that's a big disappoint--"

"He WHAT?" shouted Sirius, causing Harry to jump and inhale a mouthful of ashes.

"Are you serious, Harry?" Lupin said quickly. "He's stopped giving you lessons?"

"Yeah, but it's okay, I don't care, it's a bit of a relief to tell you the--"

"I'm coming up there to have a word with Snape!" Sirius said forcefully, starting to stand up, but Lupin wrenched him back down again.

"If anyone's going to tell Severus, it will be me!" he said firmly. "But Harry, first of all, you're to go back to Professor Snape and tell him that on no account is he to stop giving you lessons--when Dumbledore hears--"

"I can't tell him that, he'd kill me!" Harry said, outraged. "You didn't see him when we got out of the Pensieve--"

"Harry, there is nothing so important as you learning Occlumency!" Lupin said sternly. "Do you understand me? Nothing! Severus may be angry, but he won't kill you."

"Okay, okay," said Harry, both discomposed and annoyed. "I'll...I'll try and say something to him...but it won't be..." He fell silent. He could hear distant footsteps. "Is that Kreacher coming downstairs?'

"No," said Sirius, glancing behind him. "It must be somebody your end..."

Harry's heart skipped several beats. "I'd better go!" he said hastily, and pulled his head out of the Grimmauld Place's fire. He found himself back in Umbridge's fireplace, covered himself with the Invisibility Cloak, just in time as Filch walked in the room. He managed to slip out when Filch left, and hurried back to the Gryffindor dorm.
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