Phoenix Rising 2 Continued

Snape returned to the Grimmauld Place house feeling weary and relieved to be back. Goewin had been positively furious with him; old Math had practically had to restrain his wife to keep her from attacking Snape. From her reaction, a stranger might have thought that she was the boy's mother, as fiercely protective as a mother bear was of her cubs. Ariane had been distraught, of course, but at the same time a little proud that the Rosier house had acknowledged Dylan as its true heir. She had once more entreated Snape to watch over her son, and before he left, quietly whispered into his ear, "I of all people understand the dangerous position you are in, Severus, caught between the Death Eaters and your duties to Dumbledore and the Order. But Dylan is my son, and if you let him die, I will kill you."

"You will not need to," Snape had replied in a level voice. "Because if that happens, I will already be dead." She had held his gaze for a moment, her silvery-gray eyes--so much like Dylan's--boring into his, then she had nodded and let him leave.

Snape went up to his room to check on Dylan, and heard voices, then Dylan's laughter. He smiled to himself, thinking that Lupin must be talking to the boy. So he turned the doorknob and entered without knocking, and got a very unpleasant surprise: Dylan laughing and chatting casually with none other than Sirius Black. The sight filled Snape with an irrational, overpowering sense of jealousy. {Damn you, Black!} he thought to himself. {Are you determined to steal from me everyone I love?} He was so caught up in his fury that he didn't even notice that he had finally acknowledged to himself that he loved Dylan.

Dylan started to say, "Hello, Professor Snape--" but Snape cut him off, snarling, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Black?! Get away from the boy!"

Black stared at him in shock. "Take it easy, Snape! Remus sent me to tell Dylan that dinner was ready, and we just got to talking--"

Snape grabbed Black by the front of his robes and growled, "You expect me to believe that you were just having a pleasant chat with the son of a Slytherin Death Eater--?"

"Professor," Dylan said in alarm, "it's all right, we really were just talking--"

"You stay out of this, Rosier!" Snape roared, then turned back to Black. "You expect me to believe that you've had a sudden change of heart? I remember how much you hated Evan, hated all Slytherins in general! Why are you so anxious to befriend his son? I haven't forgotten how you tried to feed me to a werewolf, Black, and I swear if you so much as harm a hair on the boy's head, I will make you wish that Bellatrix really had killed you--"

"Oh my God!" Dylan exclaimed, and both Snape and Sirius turned to look at him. "I completely forgot, Professor Lupin told me that Sirius Black was one of the Aurors who confronted my father--" He was staring at Black with an expression of mingled surprise, suspicion, and hurt in his eyes. That last infuriated Snape; how had he come to trust Black so quickly that his betrayal would cause him pain?

"Look, it's true that I didn't like Evan, and that we were on opposite sides of the war," protested Black, "but for Merlin's sake, Snape, do you really think I would stoop to hurting a child?"

"You tried to get me killed when I was Dylan's age," Snape snarled.

"I wasn't trying to get you killed!" Black snapped, sounding frustrated.

"Well, what did you think was going to happen when I walked in on a werewolf during the full moon, with no Wolfsbane Potion yet invented?!"

"I wasn't thinking!" Black shouted. "I was young and stupid and thoughtless, I admit it, okay?! It was despicable of me to try and come between you and Remus, but I wasn't trying to kill you!"

"Fat lot of good that would have done if Potter hadn't had a change of heart and gotten me out of there in time!"

"I was only a kid then, myself, Snape! Do you think that you're the only one's who changed in the past twenty years? Don't you think that maybe I've grown up a little since then?"

"I certainly haven't seen any sign of it," Snape sneered.

"Do you think that you're the only one who deserves forgiveness?" Black sneered back. "At least I didn't join the Death Eaters!"

"Why you little--"

A loud crash and the sound of breaking glass caused the two men to break off their argument. Snape let go of Black's robes and turned around to see what had happened; a couple of potion bottles had fallen from a shelf down to the floor. Snape frowned and reached for his wand; those bottles should not have fallen on their own. "Do you have doxies in the house again, Black?"

"It was the hob," Dylan said hesitantly. "I saw him out of the corner of my eye."

Black looked embarrassed. "He was probably trying to distract us from our argument. Hobs don't like discord; they like things to be peaceful and everyone to be happy."

Snape suddenly saw how pale and frightened Dylan looked, and felt ashamed of himself as well. "Go to the kitchen, Black," he said in a curt but much less hostile voice, "and tell Lupin we're coming down." Black looked a little mulish, so he added, "Please," through gritted teeth.

Black nodded and started to leave, then stopped at the door and said to Dylan, "Look, your father and I weren't friends. Maybe we were even enemies. But I swear on my honor that I mean you no harm. Once I might have hated you just because of who your father was and what House you were sorted into, but--" He smiled wryly. "--a couple of my friends keep trying to drill it through my thick skull that I should stop being so shallow and start judging people as individuals. I'll see you at dinner." Then he left, closing the door behind him.

"I...I'm sorry, sir," Dylan said in a small voice, looking very anxious. "I didn't know I wasn't supposed to talk to him, but I should have been more careful--"

Snape felt even more ashamed of himself, if that was possible. "No, I'm the one who should apologize," he said. Dylan's mouth dropped open, and Snape almost smiled in spite of himself; well, it was no wonder the boy was in shock--the Potions Master never apologized to anyone, and certainly not his students! "I shouldn't have lost my temper," he continued. "And I was angry at Black, not you."

Dylan looked relieved, but still a little uneasy. "Would Sirius Black really try to hurt me, sir?"

Snape was silent for a long time. Would he? Black had hated all Slytherins, and he had played that nearly fatal "prank" on Snape, but would he really hurt a child, even one who was the son of a Death Eater? Or did he only want to believe that of Black because he was jealous...and what was there to be jealous of, really? It wasn't as if Dylan was his child; the boy was only his student, after all... But he cared about Dylan far more than he had ever cared about any of his students, and there was a bond between them that had been forged the night Dylan had received the Dark Mark. And...he had to admit it, seeing Black work his charm on someone that Snape cared about had woken an irrational fear that Black might try to steal Dylan from him as he had stolen Lupin twenty years ago. {Everyone loves Black,} he thought sullenly. {Or at least they did, before he was framed by Pettigrew. And I have only a handful of people who care about me; can't he at least leave me that much? Or does he want to strip me of what little I have?} Snape knew that he was being childish, and that it was foolish to be jealous just because his favorite student had been having a friendly conversation with Black, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

"I don't know," Snape finally replied. "Black and I...have a history, you might say. It's difficult for me to be objective about it." Then he added reluctantly, "But Dumbledore and Lupin trust him. Of course," he muttered, almost under his breath, "the werewolf is very softhearted..."

"Professor Lupin said that this house belongs to Sirius Black, and that you brought me here because it was a safe place," Dylan said timidly. "So I thought it was all right, I thought that meant you trusted him..."

"It's...complicated," Snape said, grimacing. To explain why he had brought Dylan here, he would have to explain that it was the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, and then he would have to explain about the Order. Dumbledore had agreed that--since he had seen so much already--they could explain the basics about the Order to Dylan, but Snape didn't want to get into it right now. "It's a very long story, Rosier. I'll explain it over dinner."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said obediently, though he still looked puzzled.

"But I suppose," Snape sighed, "that I don't really think Black would murder you in your sleep or anything like that. But he has always mistrusted Slytherins, and I don't know how long this new open-mindedness of his will last, or how sincere it is, so just watch your step around him."

"Yes, sir." Dylan hesitated, then asked, "Did he really try to kill you when you were my age?"

Snape wanted to kick himself for revealing so much to the boy. {And to think I was scolding Lupin for being careless,} he groaned silently. "He played what he claims was a merely a prank, and sent me to Professor Lupin's hiding place in the Shrieking Shack when we were all about your age," Snape said stiffly. "The Wolfsbane Potion had not yet been invented, so the only way to keep Lupin from harming anyone was to lock him up by himself during the full moon. Lupin's crowd and mine were at odds with each other, and I was quite curious to know where Lupin disappeared to every month. So Black told me, but neglected to mention the little fact that Lupin was a werewolf."

"And he called that a 'prank'?!" Dylan exclaimed, turning pale again, and Snape felt a malicious, if petty, little stab of satisfaction, at the horror in the boy's voice, because it meant that Dylan saw Black for what he truly was. "You could have been killed! Or..." His voice trailed off.

"No, I'm not a werewolf, Mr. Rosier," Snape said dryly. "Fortunately, I...ah...managed to escape before Lupin bit me. No thanks to Black, of course."

"But you could have been killed or infected," Dylan said, shaking his head. "And Professor Lupin would probably have been punished, maybe executed, even if it wasn't his fault."

Snape blinked in surprise, but was pleased at the boy's insight; none of the idiot Gryffindors had foreseen what would have happened to their friend if their prank had gone wrong. But then, Dylan himself had been a victim of wizardly "justice," having spent most of his young life in exile because of his father's crimes.

"Did he really not realize what could have happened, to you and Professor Lupin?" Dylan asked dubiously.

Snape was sorely tempted to let Dylan think that Black was a conniving murderer, but he obeyed his conscience (which sounded an awful lot like Lupin, damn him) and answered honestly, "Well, Black wasn't very bright, or to be more accurate, he never used the brains he had; he's always had a habit of acting without thinking. He says he just wanted to scare me, and I admit it's possible that he's stupid enough not to have realized that Lupin could have done much more than just scare me. And I know he never stopped to think about what the Ministry would have done to Lupin if he'd killed me; he was genuinely horrified when Dumbledore told him that Lupin could have been executed or sent to Azkaban."

"And Professor Lupin is still friends with him?!"

"Yes, well, he's always been too softhearted for his own good," Snape grumbled. "And of course Black made a big show of how sorry he was that he had endangered his best friend."

"Only his friend--not you?" Dylan asked, picking up on Snape's unspoken words, perceptive boy that he was.

"I was only a Slytherin, after all," Snape said with a bitter smile, but his conscience prodded him again, and he added, "Though he did eventually apologize, about twenty years too late. Not that it matters. There are things that an apology cannot change." His smile grew even more bitter and twisted. "As you and I know," he added softly, tapping the place on his forearm where the Dark Mark was branded. Dylan nodded solemnly.

"Well, enough of this," Snape said briskly; dwelling on those painful memories of the past was extremely unpleasant, and the boy had already learned more than he should. "Let's go down to dinner before Lupin starts worrying."

But Dylan had one more question, by the look on his face; he seemed to be going through some internal struggle over whether or not to actually ask it. Finally he blurted out, "Did Sirius Black pull that so-called prank because of you and Professor Lupin...because he didn't like the idea of his friend being with a Slytherin?"

Snape silently cursed Lupin for kissing him in front of Dylan, even if he had thought the boy was asleep, and then cursed himself for losing control and fighting with Black in front of Dylan. "Did I ever tell you that you're too clever for your own good, Rosier?"

"Sorry, sir," Dylan said contritely.

"And anyway, my personal life is none of your business."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said meekly. "But...certain things make sense now. I wondered why Professor Lupin seemed so concerned about me, why he seemed so sure that I wouldn't turn out to be a Death Eater like my father. It was because of you, wasn't it? He was being nice to me for your sake."

"Much too clever for your own good," Snape sighed, but he laid his hand on Dylan's shoulder, and the boy smiled up at him trustingly, looking touchingly eager to please, his normally guarded expression open and vulnerable. No one but Lupin had ever looked at Snape that way, and while he was deeply moved by the boy's trust, he was also humbled by it, because he wasn't sure that he was worthy of it. "Dinner," Snape repeated, and this time Dylan followed him quietly down to the kitchen.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dinner was a rather subdued affair, with the conversation being slightly stilted and awkward. Snape and Lupin explained to Dylan about the Order of the Phoenix, just the bare minimum of details, that they were working against Voldemort and that the house was a safe haven for the group, but no more than that; they didn't tell him who any of the other members were. "The less you know, the less you can be forced to reveal," Snape said in his usual didactic tone.

Dylan nodded. He didn't seem very surprised, at least to Sirius's eyes, and had apparently already figured out that Dumbledore had organized some kind of resistance to combat the Death Eaters, although he hadn't known the name of the organization or the exact details. But then, Lupin and Snape both claimed that the boy was clever and perceptive. "I suppose my great-uncle is working for you, too? He did during the first war, and I can't imagine that he'd just sit back and do nothing now."

Snape hesitated, then replied, "Yes, Mathias is helping us, in a manner of speaking," not bothering to elaborate. Sirius knew, of course, that the old wizard remained on his estate in Wales to watch over Dylan's mother, while his wife Goewin attended the Order meetings and reported back to him, but apparently Snape felt the boy didn't need to know that.

"And Harry Potter must be involved," Dylan continued. Snape's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, and Lupin looking uncertain, followed his lead. "And...maybe some of his friends?" Dylan asked, a speculative gleam in his eyes. "Hermione said she talked to you during the summer, and I thought that was odd--"

"That will be enough, Mr. Rosier!" Snape said firmly, flushing a little, though Sirius wasn't sure why. "I told you before, there are things that you do not need to know, things that might endanger you or your friends."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, bowing his head meekly. "I'm sorry."

Sirius stared at him in amazement. Harry always clamored to know more than the adults were willing to tell him, and would not have been put off with a "you don't need to know that". And Evan Rosier had certainly never been so obedient and compliant. Was it natural for a child to be so well-behaved? Of course, Dylan had not exactly had what you would call a normal childhood...

The subject of the Order was dropped, and Lupin and Snape made small talk about the school. Snape informed Lupin that the Headmaster was explaining Lupin's absence at meals by saying that he was sick.

"It's a bit early for that," Lupin said, "but still believable, I suppose. The full moon's less than two weeks away, and you will have to start brewing the potion for me soon. But I've been telling my students how effective the new potion is..."

"They'll probably just assume that I'm trying to poison you," Snape said with a wicked grin.

Lupin laughed, and Dylan smiled, looking a little bemused. Of course, he had only just found out that his teachers weren't enemies, as most of the school believed, but he seemed happy about it. The boy obviously liked Lupin, and he seemed to like Snape as well, treating the Potions Master with a respect that was close to hero worship. {There's no accounting for taste,} Sirius thought to himself, then conceded that the son of a Death Eater might find Snape an appropriate father figure, as incredible as that sounded.

Sirius noticed, feeling a little disappointed but not surprised, that Dylan kept giving him suspicious glances; Snape had no doubt poisoned the boy's mind against him. But Dylan was still flawlessly polite to him, though Sirius found that he preferred Snape's insults to the boy's cool, bland responses to Sirius's attempts at conversation. Of course, Sirius had always preferred hatred to indifference, even as a child; one thing he could not stand was being ignored.

Eventually, dinner concluded, with Snape telling Dylan, "Oh, and I brought some textbooks back with me from Hogwarts. Now that you seem to be feeling better, you can do a little studying while you recuperate." He laughed at the startled and slightly put-out expression on the boy's face and said with a wickedly gleeful grin, "Come now, Mr. Rosier, surely you didn't think that I would let a near-death experience excuse you from having your homework ready to turn in on Monday."

Dylan laughed, "Of course not, Professor!"

Snape and his student headed upstairs while Sirius and Lupin cleaned up in the kitchen. "An odd pair," Sirius said, shaking his head, "though strangely appropriate. But I never thought that I would see Snape behaving in an almost fatherly way."

Lupin grinned. "He's a bit like Branwen, I think, hiding his concern for his students behind that gruff exterior. But he does care about them, Sirius, all of them, and not just Dylan. He wants to keep them falling victim to Voldemort the way he and his classmates did; you should see how he worries about even the most unpleasant of the Slytherin children, including Draco Malfoy."

Sirius grunted in grudging acknowledgment. "Yeah, and I've heard from Harry's letters that you've been concerned about the Malfoy kid yourself."

Lupin smiled at him. "He's not so bad, or at least he wouldn't be, if not for Lucius Malfoy's influence. However arrogant he might be, he is still a child, one who loves his parents and is worried about them. Someone who is capable of such love cannot be completely irredeemable."

"But when the parents he loves are Death Eaters--"

"We have to show him that there is a better way, Severus and I," Lupin said quietly. "A better way than the one his father has taught him. It will be difficult, but not impossible. After all, Dylan has come over to our side. And I think Narcissa Malfoy could be swayed, if she believed that the Death Eaters were a threat to her son's life. I'm not sure about Lucius, though." Lupin frowned. "I'm not sure that he cares about Draco as anything but a pawn and possession, the heir to the Malfoy house. He showers the boy with money and material gifts, but he always treated his son coldly during the times that I saw them together. I think that's what makes Draco act the way he does, because he is so eager to impress his father and win his approval."

Sirius grunted again. It was bad enough that Lupin and Branwen had forced him to view Snape as a person, with good points as well as bad, and not as just a one-dimensional Death Eater villain, but now he was supposed to feel sorry for Lucius Malfoy's son as well?! Sirius sighed. Well, why not? Now that he had met Dylan Rosier in person, he could no longer think of the boy simply as a Death Eater's son, although life would probably be much easier if he could.

"By the way, Sirius," Lupin said, suddenly giving him a hug, "I'm very proud of you!"

"What was that for?" a startled Sirius asked.

"For apologizing to Severus," Lupin replied. "I know how hard that must have been for you."

Sirius scowled. "Oh, Snape told you about that, did he? Then you know that it didn't do much good. I shouldn't have bothered, it only made things worse."

"You're wrong," Lupin said. "Yes, Severus was upset, but in the long run, I believe it was the right thing to do. I don't know if Severus will ever be able to forgive you, but there could certainly never have been any forgiveness while he believed you were still unrepentant. Perhaps this will help him to heal; those old wounds are still raw, you know..."

"I know," Sirius muttered, flushing with shame as he looked down at his feet, unable to meet Lupin's eyes. "I didn't realize...I didn't know how much I hurt him. I didn't know that..."

"That he really loved me?" Lupin finished, smiling a little, though his expression was still grave. "Do you believe it now, finally?"

"Yes," Sirius said reluctantly.

"Then the apology was worth it," Lupin said, "for your sake as well as Severus's." Lupin suddenly grinned mischievously. "Can it be you're growing up, Padfoot?"

Sirius scowled fiercely for a moment, then gave in and laughed. "Branwen would say it's about time! I suppose I am a slow learner..." Then he scowled again, but Lupin kept grinning, as if he knew that Sirius didn't really mean it. "But I still think you have bad taste in men, Moony!"

Lupin just laughed. "At least I HAVE a boyfriend, Padfoot! I don't see any suitors of either gender lining up outside your door!"

"Ouch!" Sirius said, wincing. "That's a low blow, Moony! Besides, twelve years in prison puts a serious crimp in one's love life!"

Lupin laughed and they finished washing the dishes in companionable silence. There was a faint whiff of tobacco in the air; a small, shadowy figure was visible in the corner of the room. It was Hob, contentedly puffing on his pipe, able to relax now that his "family" was at peace with one another.

"So, what do you think of Dylan?" Lupin asked in a casual manner, as he dried and put away the last dish.

"He seems like a good kid," Sirius said, a little awkwardly. "He's charming, like his father, but he doesn't seem to hold any grudges against Gryffindor."

"Well, he was born of a union of two Houses," Lupin pointed out.

"I actually kind of like him," Sirius admitted. "Never thought I'd say that about a Slytherin!" Lupin managed to look pleased and annoyed at the same time, and let out his breath in that long-suffering sigh he used whenever he thought Sirius being unreasonable or showing his prejudices. Sirius idly wondered for a moment if Snape found that sigh as irritating as he did. "We even got to talking," Sirius continued, "when I went up to tell him dinner was ready. We had a few laughs about the old days."

Lupin smiled. "I wondered what was taking you so long.

"Like you didn't set the whole thing up," Sirius retorted, and Lupin smiled sheepishly, confirming Sirius's suspicions. "You could have gone up yourself, but you wanted me to have a chance to get to know the boy. Well, I have to tell you that it backfired. Snape walked in on us and blew a gasket. Started screaming at me to leave the boy alone, that if I touched Dylan he'd kill me." Sirius frowned. "I know Snape hates my guts, but I didn't expect him to lose it like that. I mean, he was acting like he thought I was only being nice to Dylan to get him off-guard and stab him in the back. Does he really think that I'd hurt a kid, even the son of an old enemy? He started shouting about how I'd tried to kill him in the Shrieking Shack twenty years ago."

Lupin looked concerned, and said softly, "I don't think he really believes that you would hurt Dylan, Sirius. I don't even think that he really believes that you intended to kill him back in fifth year, no matter how much he tries to convince himself that you did."

"Then what's his problem?" Sirius asked in exasperation.

"He's probably jealous," Lupin replied calmly.

"Jealous?" Sirius asked, looking bewildered. "Of what? That I was talking to his student?"

"Jealous that someone he cares about might be getting close to you," Lupin explained patiently. "The way he's jealous of you and me. I can count on the fingers of one hand, the number of people that Severus loves and trusts, and Dylan is one of them. I told you before, Severus has trouble understanding that I can love you without it diminishing my love for him."

"But you're his lover, and Dylan is just a kid," Sirius protested. "And Dylan's not even HIS kid!"

"Well, it's probably the fact that it's you," Lupin admitted. "He doesn't seem to mind sharing Dylan with his family and with me. But think about how you'd feel if you walked in on Harry laughing and having a good time with Severus. Wouldn't you feel a little angry, a little jealous, perhaps a little betrayed?"

"That's ludicrous!" Sirius snorted, unable to picture such a scene.

"Yes, it's rather unlikely," Lupin sighed. "But for the sake of argument..."

Sirius thought about it, and, chagrined, said, "I wouldn't like it at all!"

"I rest my case," Lupin said with a smile.

"But now he's probably got the Rosier kid convinced that I'm some kind of demon," Sirius complained. "Didn't you notice the way he was looking at me at dinner?"

Still smiling, Lupin asked, "And it bothers you that a Slytherin child might think ill of you?"

"I told you I liked the kid," Sirius said sulkily. "You're the one who's been trying to get me to be more broad-minded."

"I'm just teasing, Padfoot," Lupin laughed, giving him another hug. "I'm really glad that you like Dylan. And don't worry, I think he will come around once he gets to know you. He's a very intelligent boy, and he's able to think for himself and draw his own conclusions. He liked me even when he still thought that Severus hated me."

Sirius sighed, not really sure why it mattered to him what Evan Rosier's son thought of him. Lupin bid him goodnight and headed upstairs after Snape, and Sirius headed up to his own room, deciding that he'd been open-minded enough for one day. Trying to think objectively about Snape and Dylan was beginning to give him a headache, and he needed to rest his poor, overtaxed brain.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dylan rested and worked on his homework Saturday night, under Snape's watchful eye. Probably his classmates would have found that more draining than relaxing, but Dylan didn't mind. They had some interesting discussions about potions, and Snape was much less sarcastic and intimidating outside of class. Besides, although he tried to hide it, Dylan could see that Snape was still worried about him, and that made him happy. And although he was still getting over the shock, he was also happy to know that his two favorite teachers didn't hate each other after all--quite the opposite, in fact! Lupin sat quietly reading in one corner of the room, looking up to smile fondly at Dylan and Snape from time to time, until Snape finally asked, "What are you smirking about, Lupin?!"

"I was just thinking how fortunate I am," Lupin replied serenely, "to be able to spend time with two people that I care about very much."

Snape turned beet-red, and turned back to the Potions textbook and snarled, "Name five uses for hellebore, Mr. Rosier!"

Dylan obediently recited, "It is a vital ingredient in the Draught of Peace, it can be used in certain healing potions to treat mental disorders, its narcotic properties are useful in inducing visions, as in the Prophecy Potion..." But meanwhile, he gave Lupin a startled look; the werewolf smiled at him, and Dylan shyly smiled back. {Professor Lupin cares about me?} he asked himself. Then, recalling the way Lupin had comforted him and tucked him into bed last night, answered his own question with, {Yes, I suppose he does.} Snape caught him smiling at Lupin, and scowled. Dylan quickly looked down at his textbook as he finished reeling off hellebore uses, but when he glanced up again, he saw Snape gazing at Lupin, a nearly imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Dylan smiled and bent his head back over his book before Snape noticed.

The next morning, he had a leisurely breakfast with his two Professors and Sirius Black, then finished his homework. Snape looked him over carefully and pronounced him fit to travel, and took him to Uncle Math's estate to visit with his family; Lupin said he would meet them back at Hogwarts. Aunt Goewin and his mother covered Dylan with tears and kisses as they took turns hugging him, while Snape and Uncle Math went off to consult privately in his study. They all had lunch together, although Snape looked a bit uncomfortable, probably because Goewin kept glaring at him the entire time, even though Dylan had tried to assure her that his injuries were all healed, and that it wasn't Snape's fault, anyway.

"You never mentioned much about Dad's family," Dylan said to his mother between mouthfuls. "What were they like?"

"Severus says that you met Armand's portrait," Ariane said with a wry smile, and Dylan nodded. "He was already dead by the time I started dating Evan, but I encountered his portrait as well. He was a proud, fierce old man, and he didn't much care for his great-grandson 'defiling' the family line by proposing to marry a Ravenclaw. Evan's parents were kind enough to me, though. They would rather he married a nice Slytherin girl, of course, but they doted on Evan, so they accepted me for his sake."

"They doted too much on Evan for his own good," Goewin muttered under her breath.

Ariane pretended not to hear, and continued, "Your grandfather Julien was a very handsome man, who looked much like Evan, although he was much more serious and stern. Sometimes Evan's pranks drove him to distraction, but your father usually managed to charm his way out of trouble, or Evan's mother Elin, would make peace between them. She was much more lighthearted than Julien, and could always soothe his temper and make him smile; I think Evan got his mischievous streak from her. She was an herbalist, come to think of it; she used to brew her own potions and tonics for the household. Perhaps that's where your talent at Potions comes from." Ariane smiled, looking a bit wistful and nostalgic. "I got good grades in Potions, of course, but my strongest subjects were Charms and Incantations, and it certainly didn't come from your father!"

Snape snorted. "Ah yes, I remember the time Evan and Lyall made their cauldron explode in class, but I think it was more deliberate mischief than incompetence on their part. Either way, it earned them a week's detention. Plus they had to scrub down the Potions classroom."

Goewin looked unhappy at all this fond reminiscing, and Math said quietly, "Dylan should know about his father's good points as well as the bad, my dear." To Dylan, he said, "You need not be ashamed of loving your father, child, so long as you do not forget that the path he chose had dire consequences, both for himself and the people he loved." Dylan flushed and nodded, his good mood dampened. "But there was good in Evan as well as evil; the capacity for both lies inside all of us. He is responsible for the choices he made, of course, but perhaps if Deirdre could have accepted him into the family, we could have steered him away from Voldemort. And perhaps I could have made a difference, if I had reached out to Evan and Ariane, rather than abiding, however reluctantly, by my sister's decision."

Dylan felt stunned, and by the expression on his mother's face, she felt the same. "I did not approve of Evan, either, my dear," Math said to Ariane. "I thought he would be a bad influence on you." Ariane flushed. "But I could see how much you loved each other, and I could see you would not be swayed. So I believed that the wiser course of action would have been to let you marry Evan and accept him into our family. I could see that he was not all bad, though I am afraid Goewin is right, and that his parents spoiled him too much, leading him to believe that he was entitled to whatever he wanted, no matter what the cost. But I could see flashes of goodness in him, the love and loyalty he felt towards you and his friend Lyall. I argued with your mother that we could redeem him, prevent him from going over to the Death Eaters. But Deirdre has ever been set against the Slytherins, particularly since her best friend, Fiona Byrne, married Meredith Blackmore, your old Professor's father. She argued with Fiona over it bitterly, saying that Meredith was a Dark Wizard, and she blamed Slytherin in general and Meredith in particular, when Fiona was killed along with her husband in a very suspicious accident." Math sighed. "Meredith was a good lad, more of a dreamer than a Dark Wizard, but he underestimated Voldemort's power and influence. In any case, Fiona's death hardened Deirdre's heart against the Slytherins; that is why she regarded it as such a betrayal when you took up with Evan."

"I didn't know all that," Ariane said in a small voice.

"I should have told you," Math said. "Though I doubt that would have changed your mind. But at least you would have understood the reasons why your mother reacted the way she did. I felt she was wrong to disown you, Ariane, but she is the head of the family, and I abided by her decision. And I did not wish to interfere in the relationship between mother and daughter; I thought it would ruin any chance of a future reconciliation." The old wizard sighed wearily. "I was wrong. But we were so caught up with the war, and there seemed to be little time to tend to personal matters..."

"You stood by me, Uncle, during my trial," Ariane said quietly, reaching out to clasp Math's hands. "I know it was you who persuaded Mother to exert her influence on the Ministry, and I am grateful. And I am grateful that you took me in and showed my son kindness when everyone else scorned him for his father's blood."

Math smiled, though he still looked weary and a little guilty. "The ties between family are not so easily broken, no matter what your mother and brothers think." He affectionately patted Ariane's hand and kissed her on the cheek. "Now, let us finish our meal."

Everyone turned their attention back to lunch, and talked of inconsequential matters, much to Snape's relief, judging from the look on his face. Dylan smiled and made small talk along with the others, but inside he was troubled by Math's confession. All the people he had thought were so wise and powerful, like Uncle Math and Professor Snape, kept talking about how much they regretted the mistakes they had made. If someone as old and wise as Math was fallible, what chance did Dylan himself have? He wanted to weep when he imagined an alternate future in which Evan Rosier had never become a Death Eater, in which his father was sitting with them at the table laughing and joking, in which Dylan could have met his father's parents and learned potion-making from a loving grandmother. Then he saw his mother and Professor Snape looking at him with concern in their eyes, and he forced himself to smile and talk about how his friend Damien had made the Quidditch team this year. {No sense dwelling on "what-ifs,"} Dylan told himself. He had to live in the present, and protect the people he loved that were still alive. And his life wasn't so bad; he had his family--Mother and Aunt Goewin and Uncle Math; he had Professor Snape and Professor Lupin; and he had his friends--Damien, Theo, Blaise, and even Hermione. Slightly cheered, he was able to smile sincerely and describe how Crabbe and Goyle had crashed into each other during practice, and his mother laughed and Snape cracked a small smile, which was as much emotion as he tended to show in public.

Snape let him visit with his family for a few more hours, then returned him to the school in time for dinner. His housemates gathered around him in the dorm, clamoring to know what had happened to him.

"I added a little too much hellebore to my potion," Dylan lied, repeating the story he and Snape had rehearsed. "It used to be used as a purgative, you know."

"What?" Crabbe asked dully.

"It makes you throw up," Damien translated impatiently. "That explains why you had a stomachache. But some of the other students made mistakes worse than yours, and none of them got that sick."

"Well, hellebore has rather unpredictable effects," Dylan said glibly. "It could have been worse; hellebore is also a narcotic, so I could have been rolling on the floor hallucinating about, I don't know...pink elephants or something."

"Poor Dylan," crooned one of the Slytherin girls. "If you'd stayed in the hospital wing, we could have visited you."

"I wouldn't have been very good company, puking up my guts," Dylan said lightly.

"Oh, you poor thing!" exclaimed another girl. His female admirers crowded around him, fussing over him and giving him get-well cards and gifts, while the boys watched with varying degrees of amusement and jealousy.

"Come on, you lot!" Malfoy finally growled. "We'll be late for dinner, and I don't want the teachers taking points off us for that!"

"You're the one who lost us twenty points in Blackmore's class," one of the older boys grumbled, but under his breath, and the Slytherins began filing out of the dorm.

As they were leaving, Theodore pulled Dylan aside and whispered, "Be careful that you don't get in over your head, Rosier."

"I'll certainly be more careful when mixing my potions from now on," Dylan said lightly, pretending not to understand what Theo was really talking about.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Theodore hissed. Dylan forced himself to stare back at his friend blankly. Theo gave him a frustrated look, then leaned close and whispered in a threatening tone, "Do whatever you like, Dylan, but don't get Blaise and Damien mixed up in it!"

"Theo," Dylan said helplessly. He wanted to tell his friend that he wasn't really a Death Eater, that he wished he'd never gotten involved with them, that he wasn't like Lucius Malfoy and the others...but he had been sworn to secrecy. He had never really minded before, when his classmates--usually the Gryffindors--accused him of being a Death Eater, but he couldn't stand to see one of his best friends looking at him with such contempt in his eyes.

"Hey, are you two coming or what?" Damien called out.

"Coming," Theo called, and hurried to catch up without looking back. Dylan followed, but he had little appetite at dinner, causing the girls to fuss over him again and ask him if he was still feeling sick.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dylan went to see Snape in his office the next day. "Theo knows that I'm a Death Eater, I'm sure of it!"

"Theo?" Snape asked, startled. "Theodore Nott?"

Dylan nodded. "He told me not to get in over my head. He told me not to get Blaise and Damien mixed up in it."

Snape shook his head, still looking a little stunned. "Well, Nott is a Death Eater's son; he would recognize the signs, I suppose. He hasn't told anyone else about this, I hope?"

"No, I don't think so," Dylan replied. Then he said in dismay, "Professor, he really thinks I'm a Death Eater! He thinks I'm like Lucius Malfoy and all the others! The way he looked at me last night...can't I tell him the truth?"

"He's the son of a Death Eater, Rosier," Snape said sharply.

"So am I!" Dylan retorted, upset enough at the thought of losing his friend to talk back to Snape, though he would never have done so under normal circumstances. "He's not like them, he hates his father, he said he was glad that he was in Azkaban!"

"He could be acting," Snape replied coolly, but there was an odd look in his black eyes. Concern? Speculation? Hope? "He might be testing you."

"He's not, I'm sure of it! You didn't see the way he looked at me!"

"People believe that I'm a loyal Death Eater, Rosier," Snape pointed out. "I'm a good actor; perhaps Mr. Nott is as well."

"I don't believe that, but you could use your Legilimency to find out for sure, couldn't you? You could tell whether he was lying or not!"

"It would be very dangerous," Snape said. "I can't just haul him into my office and openly cast the spell on him. I'll try to determine his true loyalties in more subtle ways, but regardless of what they may be, you are not to say a word to Mr. Nott about either your Death Eater status or the fact that you are not truly one of them, do you understand me, Dylan?"

"But Professor--"

"It would be too dangerous, even if you are right about Mr. Nott," Snape said sternly. "If he should let an idle remark slip in front of his father--"

"His father's in prison!"

"I doubt he will be there much longer," Snape snapped. "Or if he should say something to his mother or Draco Malfoy...it is possible that he might even someday meet the Dark Lord, and Theodore does not have Occlumency to protect his thoughts as you do. For your own safety and his, you must say nothing. That is an order, Mr. Rosier!"

"I'm afraid he'll hate me," Dylan whispered.

Snape smiled bitterly. "One gets used to being hated, after awhile."

"How could you stand living like this for fifteen years?" Dylan asked despairingly. "Having everyone believe the worst of you?"

"Well, it's a bit easier for me, I suppose," Snape said sardonically, "since I don't have any friends to worry about. Well, except for Lupin and Professor Blackmore, of course, and they already know the truth." Then he looked more sympathetic, and came over to lay a hand on Dylan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dylan, I know that it's difficult. But you would only be putting Theodore in danger if you told him the truth. I am glad you told me this, though; I was afraid for awhile that Mr. Nott was heading down the path of becoming a Death Eater himself. Perhaps I can save him from that fate, but I must be careful, and it will take time." He smiled that bitter smile again. "It might also be difficult to win his trust, since he probably believes that I really am a Death Eater. But I'll do my best. In the meantime, Dylan, promise me that you will say nothing to Mr. Nott."

"I promise," Dylan said reluctantly.

"Mr. Rosier?" Snape said as Dylan prepared to leave.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have any of your other housemates shown any signs of being for or against the Death Eaters?"

"Well, Draco can't wait to join, but I guess you already know that," Dylan said, grimacing slightly at the thought of Malfoy's foolishness. "And of course Crabbe and Goyle are the same. Brad Doherty's a little wanna-be, always fawning over Draco, but I don't think Draco takes him seriously. He's not part of Draco's in-crowd." Dylan frowned thoughtfully. "I think most of my housemates are as scared of the Death Eaters as everyone else. They still defer to Draco because they're afraid that the prisoners will break out of Azkaban sooner or later. Oh, and I almost forgot! Serafina Avery said something odd to me in the library once."

"And what might that be?"

"She said..." Dylan paused, trying to remember her exact words. "She called me Draco Malfoy's lapdog." Surprise flickered in Snape's black eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly; he looked amused and annoyed at the same time, and Dylan recalled that many people referred to Snape as Lucius Malfoy's lapdog behind his back. "Um, and I told her that her father was Draco's father's lapdog himself, and she said, 'I thought you were smarter than my father'. I was surprised to hear her talking that way, since she's a Death Eater's daughter, so I...um..." He was pretty sure that Snape wasn't going to like this part. "I asked her wasn't she looking forward to the day when her father and the other Death Eaters reigned supreme--"

Yes indeed, Snape was looking very irate. "Rosier, didn't I tell you to keep a low profile?"

"Yes, sir, I know I shouldn't have said that," Dylan apologized hastily. "I'm sorry. But I was so curious...and I tried to make it sound like a joke..."

Snape sighed. "Well, what was Miss Avery's response?"

"She said that I was a fool if I believed anyone other than the Dark Lord would reign supreme. She said that the fact that my dad's dead and hers is in prison ought to tell me something."

"My goodness," Snape murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't heard Miss Avery say more than two words in class so far this term. I wouldn't have expected such a passionate speech from her." He gave Dylan a wry little smile. "Worked your charm on the young lady, have you?"

"I don't think so, sir," Dylan replied, feeling a little embarrassed. "She doesn't seem to like me very much. She doesn't seem to like anyone very much, actually. Theodore's known her for years, and he says..." Dylan hesitated. "He says that her father used to hit her, but he stopped when she hexed him."

"Yes, I know about Mr. Avery's reputation," Snape said, drumming his fingers on his desk, still looking thoughtful. "Very well, Mr. Rosier, you may go. But let me know if you hear anymore...ah...interesting gossip from your housemates."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, and left the office.

To Dylan's relief, Theodore made no more reference to the Death Eaters or the night Dylan had been summoned, and neither did he shun Dylan. In fact, he acted as if nothing had happened--almost. The only difference was very subtle: Theodore would speak politely to Dylan, even joke with him as usual, but never spoke of anything consequential, and was just a little more taciturn and guarded than usual. Dylan, of all people, recognized a mask when he saw one, and it made him sad that his friend no longer trusted him. No one else seemed to notice--or at least, Damien didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong. Dylan wasn't so sure about Blaise; he caught the older boy looking very thoughtful once or twice, but if he had any questions or suspicions, he never mentioned them, at least not to Dylan.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape felt sorry for Dylan, but there was far more at stake here than a schoolboy's hurt feelings. It would cause trouble if Nott let slip, either accidentally or on purpose, that Dylan was a Death Eater, and it would cause even more trouble if he began to suspect that Dylan was not a loyal Death Eater. He had never paid much attention to Nott, who was quiet, if sullen, and seemed content--or perhaps "resigned" would be a better word--to remain in Draco Malfoy's shadow. Clearly that had been a mistake.

One day after class, Snape told Nott to remain behind; Nott looked at him nervously, and Malfoy curiously. Snape said in a cool voice, "I need someone to help me prepare potion ingredients, and Mr. Malfoy cannot be spared, as he has Quidditch practice this afternoon. Better run along, Draco; you need to get your team in shape. I would like to see us beat Gryffindor this year--that trophy has been in Professor McGonagall's office for too long."

Draco beamed with pride; he loved being reminded of how important he was--which was exactly what Snape had been counting on. "Yes, sir!" he said. "I won't let you down!" Then he eagerly ran out of the room.

Snape saw Potter and his friends lingering behind, and added in a loud, scathing voice, "And I dare not entrust Mr. Potter with such a task, not without endangering the entire student population." Nott dared to snicker a little, and Potter turned red and stomped out of the room, followed by the other Gryffindors. Weasley glared at Snape on his way out, and Granger gave Snape that hurt, disappointed little look she always wore when she thought he was treating Potter unfairly.

Zabini lingered behind, saying hesitantly, "I could stay behind to help too, sir, if you like..."

But Snape needed to speak to Nott alone. "Did I ask you to remain behind, Mr. Zabini?" he asked coldly.

"Uh, no, sir."

"Then what are you still doing here?"

Zabini gave Nott an apologetic glance and fled the room. Snape handed Nott a large bundle of dried herbs that Professor Sprout had prepared, and ordered him to strip the leaves from the stems and put them into little packets. Nott settled down to work, looking relieved that he hadn't been given a more odious task. Snape sat at his desk, pretending to look at some papers, and slipped his wand out of his pocket, keeping it under the desk, out of Nott's line of sight, and silently mouthed the word, "Legilimens."

"How are you doing in your classes, Mr. Nott?" Snape asked casually.

Nott looked up and said, sounding a little bewildered by his teacher's sudden show of interest, "Well enough, sir."

"Your mother wrote to me at the start of term, asking me to look after you," Snape said, which was true enough. The mothers of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Avery had written him similar letters.

"I'm fine," Nott said curtly, looking back down at the herbs he was sorting.

"She was very concerned about you--" Snape started to say, and Nott couldn't quite suppress a little snort of derision. Snape raised an eyebrow. "Do you find something amusing, Mr. Nott?" he asked coolly.

Nott looked up again, meeting his eyes; good. "No, sir," he said hastily, flushing a little. "It's just..." Snape sensed feelings of contempt, resentment, and hurt.

"Just what, Mr. Nott?"

Nott looked down again. "She's never been particularly concerned about me before," he muttered sullenly, "so I don't know why she'd start now."

Snape frowned. Even though he couldn't see the boy's eyes right now, the resentment in his voice was plain enough. "I'm sure she knows that this is a difficult time for you right now," Snape said in a silky voice. "With your father being in Azkaban..."

Nott was startled into looking up and meeting Snape's eyes again; this time there was a strong rush of hatred and fear. He opened his mouth, and for a moment Snape thought he would lose control and speak honestly, but he took a deep breath and repeated, "I'm fine."

Snape sighed inwardly; Slytherins just had too damn much control. "It's possible, of course, that he will not be there for long," he said, just to get a reaction out of Nott. He got one, all right--pure terror. "I mean, of course," Snape added in that silky voice, "that counsel for the accused Death Eaters has been filing appeals to overturn their wrongful conviction."

"Of course," Nott said weakly. Now Nott's fear and resentment were directed towards Snape. It was more than the normal fear and loathing for a harsh teacher, even one like Snape; Dylan was right--Nott hated the Death Eaters. But now that Snape knew the truth, what was he going to do about it?

Snape pocketed his wand and came around from behind the desk to stand in front of Nott. "Is there something you wish to tell me, Mr. Nott?" he asked quietly, trying to look and sound as nonthreatening as possible, which did not come easily to him.

"No, sir," Nott said, shaking his head almost frantically.

"No problems with the Gryffindors harassing you or the other Slytherins?"

"No, sir," Nott replied, fighting to keep a calm demeanor. His control was good, but not quite as good as Dylan's. Snape wondered if Nott might make a good Occlumency candidate, but he didn't think he should risk it right now. Nott might hate his father, but he also feared him, and that fear might prevent him from turning against his father and the Death Eaters. After all, Nott had been following Draco's lead for the past five years, either too afraid to defy him, or not believing that he had any other choice. And how many adults had stood by in the first war and done nothing as the Dark Lord carried out his murderous rampage, too cowed by fear to take a stand against him?

Snape sighed and left Nott in peace, much to the boy's relief. It would take time to win Theodore's trust; coming on too strong too soon would only arouse suspicion. Perhaps he could ask Lupin to reach out to the boy; he seemed to have a way of winning over distrustful children...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Theodore left Snape's classroom shaking with fear. {Merlin, please, don't let him be trying to recruit me!} he pleaded silently. Snape had always ignored him before, and he had been grateful for that. Unlike Draco, he did not want to be singled out; anonymity was much, much safer. When the Dark Lord was still safely banished, Theodore had not minded so much being Draco's lackey. And at home, his father would rant about how one day the Death Eaters would rule the world, and how one day Theodore would join his father in their ranks, but Theodore took it in stride, because it seemed like that day would never come. But at the end of fourth year, the Dark Lord did return, killing Cedric Diggory in the process, and suddenly that day seemed all too close at hand.

Theodore wondered if Dylan had said anything to Snape, and if that was what was behind Snape's little chat today; he grimly thought to himself that he should have kept his mouth shut. At first he had befriended Dylan only because he was part of Malfoy's crowd, but he had come to sincerely like the younger boy. Dylan was not arrogant or cruel like Draco; like Theo, he had seemed to defer to Malfoy only because that was what one had to do to survive in Slytherin House. Dylan's real friends, Damien and Blaise, were much nicer than Malfoy's crowd, and Theodore had enjoyed having real friends, ones he could trust--to a certain extent--and let his guard down with.

But he had let his guard down too far. That was no stomachache Dylan had suffered last Friday; Theodore's parents were Death Eaters, and he recognized a summons when he saw one. He had noticed, even though Damien and Blaise had not, that Dylan's right hand had been heading towards his left arm before he jerked it away at the last moment and grabbed his stomach instead. And he had noticed how Draco had acted sulky and jealous, while everyone else had been worried about Dylan. He knew that Draco was just dying to be allowed to join the Death Eaters; it must be killing him that Dylan had beaten him to it.

{How could you be so stupid, Rosier?} he silently raged at his friend. But Dylan had never known his father; no doubt he had some misguided, glamorous notions of what the Death Eaters were like. Well, he would find out the truth soon enough. Theodore knew that he was destined to suffer the same fate as his friend; the best he could hope for was to put it off as long as possible. He knew that it was suicide to try and leave the Death Eaters, and he wasn't brave enough to try. The only thing he could do was to try and keep Blaise and Damien from getting mixed up in all this as well. Although if the Dark Lord won the war, then nothing Theodore did or did not do would matter...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape arranged a private talk with Serafina Avery, which was even less successful than his talk with Theodore. For one thing, the girl seemed to have natural psychic blocks; she was very difficult to read. Or perhaps she really was as emotionless as she seemed--Snape had seen that before in the Death Eaters, people whose capacity to feel joy or fear or even hatred had been burned out by the atrocities they had seen and committed. When he mentioned her father, he did feel a faint stirring of contempt from the girl, but no fear...more a sense of resignation. He told her that he had heard that some of the Gryffindors in Lupin's class had taunted her, and registered only indifference.

"I don't care what they think of me," she said, and she seemed to be telling the truth.

"Your mother expressed concern about you in her letter," Snape said, receiving a blank stare and no emotional reaction. "I've talked to your other teachers; they say your grades are good but you do not participate enough in class discussion." Still no reaction. "Professor Lupin--" Snape allowed a hint of distaste to creep into his voice. "--commended your progress in his class, though. He says that you were able to conjure a full Patronus." There was just a hint of something that time--confusion? Probably because she didn't understand why Lupin had been defending her against the Gryffindors, Snape decided. "How is your mother doing?" Snape tried, though he didn't expect anymore of a reaction than he had received to his other questions. "I know things must be difficult for her."

But this time there was a reaction--contempt, this time directed towards Snape. "None of my father's friends have ever cared about her well-being before," she said in that toneless voice she always used. "Why should you start now?" Yes, very strong contempt, and a hint of protectiveness. So--she did not care about her father, but she did feel something for her mother.

"Watch your tone, Miss Avery," Snape automatically snapped, but he flushed a little. He, like all the other Death Eaters, knew that Andreas Avery beat his wife, and like the other Death Eaters, he had never done anything to stop it--it would hardly be in character for a Death Eater to come to the defense of a damsel in distress. Besides, he was able to summon up little sympathy for Delia Avery, a pale, cringing woman with less personality and backbone than that sniveling jellyfish Longbottom. Snape had always had contempt for those who could not, or would not, stand up for themselves. But Serafina's words somehow made him feel ashamed of himself.

"I apologize, sir," Serafina said, remote and indifferent once more.

Snape hesitated over whether to give her detention or not; it would give him a chance to spend more time observing her, but it might also increase her resentment of him when he wanted to win her trust. Finally he sighed wearily and said, "Dismissed," and the girl turned and left. But before she walked out the door, she stopped to look back at him for a second, and he felt just the faintest touch of curiosity, so faint that he wasn't sure if it was real or if he had imagined it. Then the door closed behind her and she was gone.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Theodore's teachers suddenly seemed to be singling him out for attention, and that was making him very, very nervous. First there was that odd discussion with Snape, which Theo tried to write off as Snape just watching over the Death Eaters' children as usual, although Draco and Dylan were the only ones who normally received that kind of special attention. And recently, Professor Lupin seemed to be going out of his way to be kind to Theodore and praise his efforts in class. Of course, Lupin was always nice to everyone, even Draco, but he seemed to be expending more effort than usual on the Slytherins. He seemed to be trying very hard to encourage Crabbe and Goyle, and now apparently had decided to make Theo his latest pet project. {He's an idealist; or at least that's what Draco said Snape says,} Theodore sneered to himself. {He's probably trying to save our little souls from the Death Eaters.} But although Theodore tried hard to summon up the appropriate feeling of contempt, he felt more regret and despair than scorn. {You're wasting your time, Professor. It's too late. My father would rather kill me than have me turn "traitor". And even if I could escape my father, the Dark Lord never lets go of anything that belongs to him. Our parents pledged us to the Dark Lord before we could even walk.}

Theodore responded to all of Lupin's overtures with a sullen glare so that Draco couldn't accuse of him of "sucking up to the werewolf"--Crabbe and Goyle had already been berated for the same offense just because they had smiled a little when Lupin praised their pathetic attempts at a Patronus. So far Lupin didn't seem to be discouraged by Theodore's lack of enthusiasm, though.

Lupin paired them off today, having one partner cast hexes while the other defended with the Patronus Charm or some other countercurse or shield spell. Despite the fact that Lupin said he wanted to promote "inter-House cooperation," he wasn't stupid enough to pair up Gryffindors with Slytherins on this little exercise; no doubt he realized the hexing would get out of hand if he paired up members of rival Houses. Unfortunately, that meant that Theo's partner for today was Draco Malfoy. He knew that Draco had a malicious streak and wouldn't hold back or show any mercy just because Theodore was his "friend".

Theodore had not yet been able to cast a full Patronus, although he had been able to cast a fair-sized silver cloud. But it seemed that having Malfoy as an opponent gave him that extra spur of fear he needed. Draco shouted, "Serpensortia!" as Theo countered with, "Expecto Patronum!"

"Draco!" Lupin shouted in alarm, pulling out his wand. "Nothing lethal, I said!" But before he could dispel the serpent that burst out of Draco's wand, a sinuous stream of silver mist emerged from Theodore's wand and formed itself into the shape of a weasel. The silver weasel immediately pounced on the snake, bit it sharply behind the head, shook it vigorously, then let the limp body of the serpent fall to the floor. The weasel hovered in front of Theodore, baring its silver fangs threateningly. The entire class, including Draco, stared at it in awe.

Lupin pointed his wand at the snake, and it vanished in a flash of light. "What were you thinking?!" he shouted at Draco, looking pale and a little frightened. "You could have hurt, even killed, your own friend!"

"Aw, Nott handled it just fine," Draco drawled, trying to affect an air of indifference, but he looked a little shaken--probably more by the Patronus than by the thought that the snake could have bitten Theodore.

"Twenty points from Slytherin!" Lupin snapped. "And detention for a week!"

"You can't do that!" Draco protested furiously. "Professor Snape--"

"I most certainly can," Lupin said, in a steely voice Theo had never heard him use before. "And Professor Snape can take it up with me if he doesn't like it."

"It's no big deal, Professor, really," Theodore said nervously, because he knew that he was the one that Malfoy would end up blaming.

"It's a very big deal, Theodore," Lupin said firmly, then smiled. "But you did very well; twenty points to Slytherin." Draco looked as if he didn't know whether to be annoyed or pleased that his lost points had just been negated. "A most impressive Patronus," Lupin continued, as the weasel looked him over warily, as if trying to decide whether he was a threat or not.

"It figures that a Slytherin would have a Patronus like a weasel," Seamus Finnigan muttered scornfully.

The normally unflappable Lupin looked like he was beginning to run out of patience. "Voldemort will not have to waste any energy on us at this rate, if you are determined to tear this school apart from within!" he snapped. "You must learn to work together, like it or not, because more than your grades are at stake here! Your very lives might depend on working together someday!"

The Gryffindors looked a little stunned at the sight of their favorite teacher losing his temper. "But Professor," Weasley--who never seemed to know when to shut up--protested, "how can we trust someone who's a Death--"

"The next person," Lupin interrupted, "to utter a derogatory remark about another House will be joining Mr. Malfoy in detention! Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," the class muttered.

"And a weasel is a bold and fierce fighter," Lupin said, smiling at Theodore again. "Quite an appropriate protector, and one you should be proud of."

Theodore just grunted, thinking to himself sullenly, {You aren't doing me any favors by being nice to me, Professor. It's just getting me into trouble with Malfoy.} He saw some of the Gryffindors giving their teacher puzzled and resentful glances as Lupin told everyone to get back to work. {Not to mention that it's turning the Gryffindors against you.}
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"What's wrong with Lupin?" Ron complained at dinner.

"There's nothing wrong with Lupin!" Hermione said indignantly.

"He's been favoring the Slytherins a lot recently," Dean Thomas said.

"Yeah, we don't need two Snapes," Seamus agreed.

"Come on, you're exaggerating, Dean!" Ginny said, glaring at her boyfriend.

The sixth-year Gryffindors explained what had happened in class earlier that day, and Ginny frowned. "It doesn't sound to me like he was being unfair. After all, he gave Draco detention."

"I admit," Harry said, "that I didn't think Malfoy would use such a nasty spell on his own friend."

"Wouldn't it be nice," Ron muttered, "if the Slytherins all killed each other off?"

"Ron!" Ginny and Hermione cried in outrage.

"I don't feel sorry for Nott," Ron said defensively. "His dad was one of the Death Eaters who attacked us at the Ministry, remember? They tried to kill us!"

"I just don't understand why he's always sticking up for the Slytherins," Dean said, "considering the way Snape treats him--"

"Professor Lupin wouldn't punish a student just because their Head of House is rude to him," Hermione said, glaring at him.

"--and how rude ALL the Slytherins are to him," Dean finished.

"Not all of them are," Ginny protested. "The ones in my year like him; they're just afraid to show it because of Draco Malfoy!"

"Oh right," snapped Dean. "The saintly Dylan Rosier is in your class; you girls always leap to his defense."

"Sometimes, Dean," Ginny said angrily, "you really are an idiot!"

"Oh, he's just jealous," Parvati Patil said in a dismissive tone. "All the boys are jealous of Dylan."

Dean glared at her. "I am not!"

"Aren't you?" Lavender Brown smirked.

"Didn't Rosier mouth off to you in class?" Ron asked with a scowl.

Ginny shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't care. He was probably just afraid that Malfoy might think he was getting too friendly with a Gryffindor."

"You shouldn't be 'getting friendly' with a Slytherin in the first place!" Dean snapped.

Ginny glared at him again. "First of all, I wasn't 'getting friendly' with Dylan; all I did was tell Professor Lupin the truth about who made the werewolf drawing on the blackboard. And second, you have no right to tell me who I can or can't be friends with!"

Things rapidly went downhill from there, with the whole table quarreling over Lupin and Dylan until finally McGonagall came down from the head table to scold them and threaten to dock points from her own House unless they started behaving in a more seemly manner. From the head table, Snape smirked, Blackmore looked annoyed, Lupin looked tired and worried, and Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he stroked his beard.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"I've heard the gossip," Snape said later that night when he and Lupin were alone. "It's nice of you to try and befriend the Slytherins, Lupin, but I don't think it's working out. All you're doing is alienating your Gryffindors."

"They're not MY Gryffindors," Lupin said testily; the full moon was drawing near, and his emotions were running a little higher than normal. "Minerva is their Head of House, not me."

"Fine, but the Slytherins will never defy Malfoy for your sake, and the Gryffindors are turning against you because they think that you're favoring the Slytherins."

"Being likable is not a prerequisite for a teaching position," Lupin said, with that stubborn look on his face that said he would not be moved.

"Fortunately for me," Snape said with wicked grin, and Lupin smiled.

"I knew it wouldn't be easy," he sighed. "I can't expect to undo hundreds of years worth of animosity in a few weeks. If I want the different Houses to work together, I have to lead by example. I'm not giving up, Severus, just because the Gryffindors are getting a little put out with me."

"Poor Lupin," Snape crooned, running his hands through his lover's long hair. "You'll be gaining a few more gray strands before the year is out, and not from the transformation."

Lupin chuckled. "A little more gray won't matter." He batted his eyelashes at Snape playfully. "As long as you still find me attractive, love."

"I'll always find you attractive, Lupin," Snape murmured as he continued to stroke Lupin's hair.

"Mmm, that feels nice," Lupin sighed, this time with pleasure.

"It's more silver than gray, anyway," Snape said, pressing his lips against Lupin's hair. "Silver and gold."

"My, but aren't you the romantic one, Professor Snape?" Lupin laughed.

"Don't tell anyone," Snape said. "You'll ruin my reputation."

Lupin grinned at him. "You'll have to pay for my silence."

Snape grinned back. "Oh? And what is it going to cost me?"

Lupin whispered a suggestion into his ear.

"You drive a hard bargain, werewolf."

Lupin bared his teeth in a feral grin. "Care to negotiate, Professor?"

Snape licked his lips. "No," he said in a husky voice. "I accept your terms." He pulled Lupin into his arms and kissed him hungrily. They stumbled towards the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing along the way.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lupin informed Draco that he should use his detention time to "reflect on what you've done" and to "help those less fortunate than yourself". {Self-righteous werewolf,} Draco thought sullenly but silently, not wanting to risk getting more detention. {Lupin used to be such a pushover; I wonder what made him change?}

When Draco complained to Professor Snape, the Potions Master just scowled at him and said, "Didn't I tell you to keep a low profile, Malfoy?"

"Yes, but--"

"And using a Serpensortia spell," Snape continued, "particularly on one of your own housemates--you should know better than that! What would I tell Nott's mother if he'd been killed? You will serve your detention and stay out of trouble from now on, or you will answer to me, do I make myself clear, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said sullenly.

"Slytherin House has been under even more suspicion and scrutiny than normal since your father and his comrades were arrested, and my own position at the school is none too secure. The last thing we need right now is to draw more attention to ourselves."

"I'm sorry," Draco said in a more chastened voice; he hadn't thought his actions might cause Professor Snape trouble. {So Dumbledore doesn't trust his pet reformed Death Eater as much as he pretends to, hmm?} Draco mused.

"Low profile," Snape repeated sourly. "Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

The only thing Snape did to help him was to make sure that Draco was still allowed to attend Quidditch practice, but that was probably more due to Snape's desire to beat Gryffindor than out of any sympathy for Draco. Lupin said in a mild tone that it was fine with him, as long as Draco still got his detention chores done. Draco was relieved, but with double duty--both detention and Quidditch practice--it meant he had practically no free time left over. So he ordered Nott and Rosier to do his homework for him; it served them both right--Rosier for showing off how smart he was, and Nott for causing Lupin to give him detention in the first place. Draco ignored the little voice in his head that told him it was actually the spell he himself had cast rather than anything Nott had done that had earned him a detention. Draco frowned a little at that faint stirring of his conscience; he was not used to having such feelings, but he quickly dismissed it and forgot about it.

It seemed that the werewolf meant what he said about helping the less fortunate because Draco's assigned tasks were varied but all in keeping with that theme. He spent a couple of afternoons assisting Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing doing boring, menial tasks such as folding linens, serving meals to patients, and helping to inventory supplies; however, Draco was very relieved that he was not required to scrub bedpans. The next couple of detention sessions were less pleasant: he was ordered to help Hagrid care for some sick and injured birds in the Owlery. Several of the damn ungrateful birds bit and scratched him, but he didn't dare complain to Snape about it after the last lecture he had received. Draco was almost grateful to report to the Headmaster the next day, who put him to work packing boxes of food and cast-off clothing to give to charity--the typical holier-than-thou sort of project that Dumbledore was fond of. Draco made no complaints, because it was much better than tending sick, irritable birds with sharp beaks and claws, but he sneered a little as he worked, thinking to himself smugly that the Malfoy family, though temporarily fallen from grace, was still the wealthiest of the pureblood families and would never have to stoop to taking handouts.

His final two days of detention were almost pleasant: it seemed that Dumbledore had also enlisted Flitwick for his charity project, and it seemed that the little wizard's hobby was making toys. He helped Flitwick construct and paint model broomsticks, horse and carriage sets (he scowled a little when Flitwick told him that Lupin had carved the horses), and intricate birds, butterflies, and dragons. Draco was surprised to learn that his teacher did most of the work by hand, without magic ("It's no fun, otherwise," Flitwick said cheerfully)--for example the wheels on the carriages and the wings on the birds were attached and moved through clever engineering, not magic. Personally, Draco thought it was a waste of time, but Flitwick claimed there was something relaxing about working with your hands. Still, it was less boring than working in the hospital wing, and Draco secretly enjoyed painting the toys, taking special care with the little wooden dragon, which was his namesake, after all. He painted it Slytherin green with silver highlights, smiling a little to himself as he recalled how he had finally been able to cast a full Patronus in Lupin's class, and to his pleasure, it had turned out to be a dragon. The entire class had been impressed, even the Gryffindors, though they had tried to hide it; the look of shock and outrage on Potter's face as Lupin said, "Well done, Draco! Ten points to Slytherin!" had been quite satisfying.

When the toys were completed, Flitwick had Draco help him set the final enchantments on them. Draco laughed out loud as little broomsticks--duplicates of the latest, most popular models--whizzed around the room as if they had little Quidditch players on them.

"Have you ever thought about making model Quaffles or Snitches, Professor?" Draco asked.

"No, but that's a splendid idea, Draco!" Flitwick said, beaming at him. "Perhaps you can help with them."

"My detention is over after today," Draco pointed out, feeling almost disappointed.

"That is true," Flitwick said. "But if you ever have any spare time, I would certainly welcome your help."

Draco mumbled something about being busy with his studies and Quidditch. {Dad would have a fit if I wasted my time building toys for charity,} Draco thought to himself, then had the traitorous thought, {Well, Dad's not around right now, is he...?}

The birds and butterflies fluttered about the room; the dragon, of course, was too proud to flutter, and soared regally around the room once, then landed on Draco's shoulder. Flitwick said, "Finite," and the toys descended to the table or floor and became still once more, except for the dragon, which remained on Draco's shoulder. Draco and Flitwick packed the toys into boxes, to be sent to the children's charity ward at St. Mungo's. As Draco reluctantly plucked the wooden dragon from his shoulder, Flitwick smiled and said, "Why don't you keep that one, Draco? A reward for all your hard work. Besides, it seems to like you."

{What the hell would I want with a stupid toy dragon?} Draco sneered to himself, but remembered Snape's admonition to "keep a low profile," so all he said out loud was, "Thank you, sir." As he left Flitwick's office, he hid it under his robes so that no one would see him carrying such a silly and childish thing. {I'll toss it into the fire,} he told himself, {or give it to one of the first-years.} But when he got to the Slytherin dorm, he found that he couldn't bear to destroy his creation by throwing it in the fireplace, and decided that those snot-nosed first-years didn't deserve something this nice. So he smuggled it into his room and locked the door. "Volo," he whispered, and let it fly about the room for awhile, then commanded it to stop, and hid it in the bottom of the trunk at the foot of his bed, giving it a little pat before he tucked it under a spare robe and closed the trunk.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape and Dylan were summoned again--ironically enough, during Dylan's Occlumency lesson. At least this time there were no witnesses, and Dylan didn't have to feign illness to divert his housemates' suspicions.

Snape was very worried, but this time, all Voldemort wanted was for Dylan to trim some roses for him; apparently he had not yet found a way to control the plant himself. Dylan nervously took a sharp knife and cut several flowers from the vines, being careful not to touch the thorns. The plant remained quiescent, oozing a bit of clear red sap where the vines had been cut. Dylan slipped what looked like perfectly normal long-stemmed red roses into tall glass flasks, carefully sealing the flasks with cork stoppers and melted wax, as the Dark Lord ordered. Snape felt uneasy as he noticed that the plant had grown more blossoms since they had last seen it, and wondered if it was supposed to do that on its own, or if the Dark Lord had been feeding it... Voldemort accepted the flasks with a smile of pleasure, and dismissed them.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Soon after that, it was all over the news that the imprisoned Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban. The Warden and the off-duty guards had been drugged with Sleeping Draught; they were the lucky ones. The ones who had been guarding the prisoners at the time were all dead.

The news broke on a Sunday morning; Damien and Dylan were hanging out in the common room after breakfast when Draco Malfoy came running into the room waving a newspaper in the air.

"Look! Look at this!" he cried out excitedly, and held up a copy of the Daily Prophet that said "SPECIAL EDITION" across the masthead in bold letters. The headline below that read: "PRISON BREAK AT AZKABAN!"

"What?!" exclaimed Dylan. "How? When?" He grabbed the paper from Draco's hand, but Draco made no objection; he just grinned smugly. Crabbe and Goyle crowded around him, trying to read over his shoulders. "Prison break...guards dead...rumors of inside help..." Dylan muttered. "This doesn't say anything about how they escaped."

"Who cares?" Draco said. "The main thing is that they're free!" He stared triumphantly at the shocked faces of the children gathered in the common room. "Didn't I tell you my dad wouldn't be in there for long?" he crowed gleefully. The students who had treated Draco less than respectfully after his father's fall from grace looked pale and ill.

"Yes!" said Crabbe, pumping his fist into the air, and Goyle grinned. Dylan handed the paper back to Draco.

"Isn't this great news, Rosier?" Draco said, beaming happily at the front page. "I think I'll have this framed..."

"Yeah, great news," Dylan said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt.

"We should tell Theodore," Damien whispered to him nervously.

"Yes," Draco said, still staring at the newspaper. "Go tell Nott the good news." He made a dismissive gesture like a king sending a servant out to perform some minor task.

Dylan and Damien ran to the dorm room Theodore and Blaise shared, entered without knocking, and got their second shock of the day, which momentarily drove the news of the prison break out of their heads. The two boys were sitting on Theodore's bed--or rather, Theo was sitting on the bed, and Blaise was sitting on his lap, and they were kissing each other passionately.

"MERLIN'S BEARD!" Damien shouted, and Theodore jumped to his feet, dumping Blaise on the floor.

"Don't you know how to knock?!" Theodore screeched.

Damien just stared back at him, his mouth hanging open. Dylan was just as shocked, but had the presence of mind to shut the door.

"Well, we should have remembered to lock the door," Blaise said mildly, rubbing his backside as he got to his feet.

"Sorry," Theodore said, blushing, and helped Blaise up.

"So how long has this been going on?" Damien demanded.

Blaise smiled sheepishly. "Do you remember the night Dylan was asking Theo about Serafina Avery?"

Dylan thought for a moment, then suddenly something clicked in his mind. "I remember! You made some comment about Serafina having nice eyes--"

"Yes, and I was teasing Theo about being jealous," Damien finished. "Don't tell me--"

"He really was jealous," Blaise laughed.

"Do we have to tell them this?" Theodore grumbled, his face turning bright red.

"Aw, come on," Damien said, grinning. "You can't hold out on your best friends!"

"Oh, all right," Theodore said, still sounding rather grumpy. "It all started with that stupid remark about Sera's eyes..."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

After finishing their homework, Blaise and Theodore went back to their own room and got ready for bed. Theo pretended not to see the thoughtful looks Blaise kept giving him, and crawled into bed.

"Goodnight, Theo."

"'Night, Blaise." Theodore rolled over on his side, facing the wall. "Say...Blaise?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you...fancy Serafina?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice casual.

"No," Blaise replied. "Why do you ask? Because I said that about her eyes?"

"Yeah," Theodore mumbled. "Forget I asked. I was just curious."

"Well, they are a very unusual color; very striking. But I don't like her that way. I don't really know her well enough to like or dislike her; she never talks to me, or anyone else."

Theodore said nothing, and continued staring at the wall, but he felt relieved. Over the past year, his feelings for Blaise had changed from friendship to something more. He had not told Blaise that, of course, because there was no way that the other boy could possibly feel the same way, and he didn't want to risk ruining their friendship. It was enough for them to remain friends, to just be near Blaise. At least, that's what he had thought up until now; he had not expected to feel such an intense surge of jealousy when Blaise had seemed to be showing interest in a girl. He had panicked and made an idiot of himself; of course Blaise wasn't interested in Serafina! She was such a strange girl; he couldn't imagine anyone being interested in her. But someday Blaise probably would find a girlfriend--someone prettier and more normal than Serafina--and that thought made Theodore more morose than usual.

Suddenly the mattress sagged slightly, and Theodore felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder. He turned, startled, to see Blaise sitting beside him on the bed. "I like your eyes, too, Theo," he said with a playful smile.

Theodore scowled at him. "You and Damien can stop making fun of me," he snapped.

"I'm not making fun of you," Blaise said seriously. "I do like your eyes, they're a really unique shade of green. Not bright green like a leaf, but more..."

"Murky. Muddy. Ugly," Theodore said sullenly. "One of my cousins once told me they looked like swamp water."

Blaise shook his head. "Moss-green," he said. "It makes me think of someplace dark and cool and quiet and peaceful, like a forest."

"Obviously you've never been in the Forbidden Forest, if you think a forest is peaceful," Theodore groused, but secretly he was pleased. "Not bad, though--that was almost poetic. Though I doubt many poets write odes to moss."

"At least your eyes are an interesting color," Blaise said. "Not like mine. Brown is just so...well...ordinary. Nothing poetic about brown. I mean you can say 'as blue as the sky' or 'green as emeralds'. What's brown besides dirt?"

Theodore gazed into Blaise's dark brown eyes. "Brown? Hmm...let's see...how about chocolate?"

"Chocolate?" Blaise laughed.

"Yes, chocolate," Theodore said, suddenly struck by inspiration. "Rich and dark and sweet as a bar of Honeyduke's finest." Then he blushed. {Where the hell did that come from?} He waited for Blaise to laugh at him, but his friend remained silent, staring at him thoughtfully.

"Theo?"

"Yeah?"

Blaise leaned close enough that Theodore could feel the other boy's breath on his face. "Do you...fancy me?" Blaise asked softly. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes looked serious.

"Yes," Theodore managed to croak in a hoarse whisper. This was a joke, some cruel hoax arranged by Draco Malfoy. Or maybe it was a dream, and he would wake up any second now. But no one jumped out and yelled, "Gotcha!" and he had never had a dream where he felt so awake, so intensely aware of everything around him--Blaise's weight on the edge of the bed; Blaise's warm breath on his face; the way Blaise's smooth, black hair--just barely shoulder-length--fell forward and brushed Theo's face as he leaned closer. Then suddenly Blaise's lips--surprisingly warm and soft--touched his.

{If this is a dream, please don't let me wake up yet,} Theodore silently pleaded, and wrapped his arms around Blaise and returned the kiss.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"You sly dogs!" Damien laughed, throwing an arm around each of the blushing boys. He had apparently recovered from his shock. "I can't believe you've been keeping this a secret the whole time!" Then, looking a trifle hurt, he added, "We're your best friends! You could have told me and Dylan, even if you didn't want the rest of the House to know!"

"Sorry," Blaise said, his eyes sliding over to Theodore. "Theo wanted to keep it private. Besides, it's a little awkward...you know, do we just blurt it out at the dinner table: 'Can you pass the salt, and oh, by the way, Theo and I are an item now...'" Damien laughed; he could never hold a grudge for long, and Blaise looked relieved. "Er...you're not weirded out by this, are you?"

"It's a bit of a shock," Damien admitted, "but I'm happy for you two." Then he grinned. "Lucky for you the Slytherin dorms only have two people to a room; I hear the Gryffindors have four or five to a room. You wouldn't get much action in that case!" He laughed out loud as Blaise turned red.

Theodore was not laughing; his eyes were serious and a little frantic. "You can't tell anyone, understand?" he snapped. "Especially not Malfoy!"

"We're not gonna gossip about your love life," Damien said, looking a little puzzled.

"Are you ashamed of me?" Blaise asked quietly. "I can't imagine Malfoy cares whether you shag boys, girls, or sheep, so is it because my family has fallen into what is politely termed 'genteel poverty'? I know how the likes of the Malfoys sneer at us--"

"I don't care about that, you stupid git!" snarled Theodore. "Haven't you figured out by now that it's not safe to attract too much attention from 'the likes of the Malfoys'?!"

"Oh God!" Dylan exclaimed. "I almost forgot, that's why we came to see you!"

"What are you talking about?" Theodore asked.

"The Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban!" Damien said, all his playful good humor gone. "It's in the Daily Prophet; Malfoy's gloating about it in the common room right now!"

All the blood drained out of Theodore's face, turning it from red to sheet-white. "No!" he whispered.

"Theo," Blaise said, looking concerned. He reached out to touch Theodore's arm, but Theo pulled away from him and sat down on the bed, holding his head between his hands, not seeming to notice how hurt Blaise looked.

"Merlin, this is so bad," he whispered despairingly.

"Your dad is free now," Damien said uncertainly.

"You think that makes me happy?" Theodore snapped, looking a little wild-eyed. "I don't come from a nice, normal little family like yours, Pierce! My father's a Death Eater, or have you forgotten that?!"

Dylan realized that Theodore was afraid of his father. "He won't dare come near Hogwarts, surely," he said, trying to sound comforting.

"I can't stay here forever!" Theodore snarled. "Besides, this is not just about me and my dad! Don't you guys get it? The Dark Lord is back! The second war is coming, and soon!"

His three friends exchanged nervous looks. "Um...well..." Damien stammered.

"Right," Theodore said contemptuously. "That's how the Ministry acts, that's how everyone acts--if we don't talk about it, maybe it will all go away!"

"We're just kids," Damien protested. "What are we supposed to do about it?"

"Nothing," Theodore mumbled, the anger draining out of him, replaced by despair. "There's nothing you can do." He lay down on the bed and turned away from them. "Go away."

"Theodore--" Dylan said.

"Go away!"

"Go," Blaise said softly. "I'll stay with him.''

Dylan and Damien left the room, feeling very much subdued. "Theo's dad is a Death Eater, but he--"

"Shh," Dylan cautioned him. "It's not safe to talk about such things, especially in this House."

Damien fell silent, and gave his friend a measuring, speculative look. Although he said nothing, Dylan knew what he was thinking: "Your father was a Death Eater, too. Which side will you be on, when the time comes?"

{And now it begins,} Dylan thought to himself. {The fear, the suspicions, even between friends and members of my own House. If even my own friends don't really trust me, if Slytherin House is divided, how is the entire school supposed to unite?}

They returned to the common room to find Draco sprawled out across the couch, surveying the room like a king holding court. "So where's Nott?" he asked.

"Still in his room," Dylan said. "He was, um, overcome with emotion." Which was true enough, after all...

"Hmm, didn't think Nott was the sentimental type," Draco mused. "But it is great news, after all." He smiled smugly. "Soon, Rosier, soon...there'll be no more foolish talk about 'uniting the Houses' and we won't have to put up with those Mudblood-loving Gryffindors. Slytherin will rule Hogwarts, the way we were meant to..."

Crabbe and Goyle grinned. A few of the other Slytherins looked excited, and many more looked frightened, but no one dared to contradict Draco.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Theodore," Blaise whispered, but his friend and lover ignored him, remaining curled up on his side on the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?" Silence. "Why do you hate your father, Theo?"

"The less you know about my family the better," Theodore said in a hollow voice. "In fact, you should stay away from me, for your own good."

"I don't care that your father is a Death Eater," Blaise said. "I know you're not like him."

"You're too trusting to be a Slytherin, Blaise," Theodore said, without looking up. "How did you ever wind up in this House?"

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw," Blaise replied, "but I asked it to put me in Slytherin because my family have always been Slytherins, and my parents would be upset if I were put in another House. And I've always wanted to learn everything about magic that I could, and I knew there were some things that you could only learn in Slytherin House." Blaise smiled. "Besides, I'd never have gotten to know you if I'd gone into Ravenclaw."

"You'd be better off there," Theodore said in that hollow voice. "Safer. It's not safe to be my friend, Blaise."

"I don't care," Blaise said. He lay down beside Theodore and wrapped his arms around him. "I won't leave you!" he said fiercely. "I'll never leave you."

"You should," Theodore whispered, but he let Blaise hold him.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dumbledore convened an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Arthur Weasley looked very tired, rumpled, and shaken, and Molly Weasley's eyes were red from weeping. "They're accusing Arthur and Tonks of orchestrating the break-in!" she cried out.

"The Warden of Azkaban claims that Tonks and I showed up to conduct a surprise inspection, which of course is not true," Arthur said wearily. "They questioned me for hours, and only let me go 'pending further investigation' because a number of witnesses placed me at St. Mungo's at the time." He smiled wryly. "For once, we have to be grateful for Fred and George's experiments. There was a mishap with some fireworks they were experimenting with; nothing serious, just some minor burns and scrapes, but the hospital notified us--over the boys' protests, I might add--so of course Molly and I went down to see them--"

Molly wept. "I was so angry at the time, but thank goodness..."

"Where's Tonks?" an alarmed Sirius asked, jumping to his feet.

"She's still being held at the Ministry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said grimly. "Unlike Arthur, she was home alone last night, and has no one who can testify to her whereabouts." Sirius jumped up, and Lupin and Branwen had to wrestle him back into his seat to prevent him from charging to his cousin's rescue. "Don't be a fool, man," Shacklebolt said sharply. "What are you going to do, wage a one-man assault on the Ministry of Magic? Not to mention that it won't look good for her if the notorious Sirius Black shows up to try and break her out of custody."

"What are you going to do to help her?" Sirius demanded.

"I know she's your cousin, Black, but she's my colleague and friend!" Shacklebolt snapped. "You're not the only one who cares about her!" He took a deep breath and said, "Sorry, I'm on edge. I haven't gotten any sleep since I was alerted about the break-in last night."

"We need to know what happened before we can help Tonks," Branwen said with uncharacteristic gentleness. "Will you be patient for a little while more, and let Kingsley tell us the whole story?" Sirius nodded reluctantly.

"Why on earth would Arthur be conducting an inspection, anyway?" Goewin asked. "He's head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. And Tonks is an Auror, but a relatively young and low-ranking one. They're the least likely pair I can think of to head up such an investigation; wasn't the Warden suspicious?"

"They had perfectly forged documents that appeared to have the Minister of Magic's signature and seal," Shacklebolt replied. "And you know how the Ministry works--follow orders without question. But the impostors did have a reasonable explanation, that the Minister wanted someone from outside of the Department to head up the inspection, someone more likely to be objective."

"That's logical," Branwen said dryly, "which makes it all the more unlikely that Cornelius Fudge would ever suggest such a thing."

Shacklebolt almost smiled at that. "Also, Arthur's status has gone up recently, since Albus has once more won back his respect and influence--and now that Lucius Malfoy and his cronies, who were always attempting to belittle and discredit Arthur, were revealed to be Death Eaters. And Tonks is regarded as a bit of a hero since she was wounded in that battle at the Ministry, so to be fair to the Warden, it seemed unusual but not suspicious that Arthur and Tonks would be checking on security at Azkaban."

"So what exactly happened?" Sirius asked impatiently.

"The Warden showed Tonks and Arthur around the prison, had some coffee with them in the cafeteria--they must have drugged him and the other guards then; the preliminary investigation showed traces of Sleeping Draught in the tea and coffee urns. Then apparently they disabled the protective wards on the prison and let in a number of masked Death Eaters, and they attacked the remaining guards and freed the prisoners." Shacklebolt's expression turned grim. "Those guards are all dead, but one survived long enough to identify Tonks and Arthur as being among the attackers. The Death Eaters probably left him alive on purpose so that he could implicate them."

"That's crazy!" shouted Sirius. "Tonks is a Metamorphmagus; why would she use her real face if she were going to participate in a prison break?"

"A logical assumption," Shacklebolt said, "and one I pointed out to the investigators. Likely it is the only reason why she is being held in 'protective custody' and has not been outright arrested and charged with murder yet. But the Ministry is in a panic, and she is the only suspect they have at present."

"Damn it!" Sirius said, pounding his fist on the table. "We all know who's responsible, it's Gwydion Donner!" He glared at Snape. "And you--the Death Eaters must have used the Polyjuice Potion you made to impersonate Arthur and Tonks!"

"I warned you that a prison break was coming sooner or later," Snape said in a cold voice. "And I warned you that the Dark Lord ordered me to make Polyjuice Potion and Sleeping Draught. But I did not know who they were planning to impersonate. The Dark Lord did not give me the hairs of the intended targets; I finished brewing the potion, save for the final step, and sent it to him uncompleted, as ordered. It seems he does not completely trust me. Then again, the Dark Lord has always been paranoid, and he never fully informs his servants of what he plans to do."

"That's not all," Shacklebolt interrupted, before Sirius could make a retort. "The witness said that some of the guards were felled by Unforgivable Curses, but others..." He fell silent for a moment and his eyes turned towards Snape. "Others were felled by magical roses. The Death Eaters hurled glass flasks containing roses at the guards; they shattered on impact, and the roses latched onto the flesh of the guards and began draining their blood. I saw the bodies; it was not a pretty sight."

"Oh Merlin," Goewin whispered. "He used Dylan's roses." She glared at Snape. "This is all your fault!"

"I'm sorry," Snape said quietly, to the amazement of everyone but Lupin, Branwen, and Dumbledore.

"Sorry doesn't do much good now, does it?" Goewin snapped.

"Don't blame Severus--" Lupin started to say.

"Can we get around to assigning blame later?" Sirius shouted. "What are we going to do to help Tonks?!"

"I will go and speak to Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly, although he looked tired and worried, "and try to talk some sense into him."

"Good luck," Snape said sarcastically.

Sirius did not seemed satisfied with Dumbledore's response. "We're all agreed on the fact that Cornelius Fudge has no common sense!" he snapped. "Maybe it's time for Snape to break his cover and testify--"

"It would put Severus at risk!" Lupin protested.

"So we should just let them convict Tonks and send her to Azkaban--?"

"She hasn't been convicted yet," Lupin said.

"And it's just been proven that Azkaban is not much good at holding anyone," Snape muttered under his breath. Both Sirius and Lupin glared at him.

"You could at least pretend to be just a little concerned, Snape," Sirius complained.

"I have no particular fondness for Miss Tonks," Snape said coolly, "but neither do I wish her any harm. If the Headmaster orders me to do so, I will testify against the Death Eaters, but the word of one Death Eater against another may not be worth very much, and you should be aware that if I do so, I will not only be endangering my life but Dylan's. Everyone believes that I have selected Dylan as my protege, and if my loyalty becomes suspect, so will his."

"NO!" Lupin and Goewin shouted at the same time.

"Dylan's been put in enough danger as it is!" Goewin said in a voice shrill with fear. "I won't have him subjected to more!"

"But--" Sirius protested.

"I understand your frustration and concern, Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly. "But before taking such drastic measures, let me try to resolve this by conventional means. It is not a step to be taken lightly, endangering two lives, not to mention losing the only spy we have in Voldemort's camp."

"Let Albus handle this first, Sirius," Branwen said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If that doesn't work, then we can discuss what to do."

"I'll do everything I can for her as well," Shacklebolt said. "She has many friends among the Aurors; we won't just stand by and let her be railroaded, trust me."

"All right," Sirius said reluctantly. "But I want to go with you, Albus." To his annoyance, everyone in the room looked alarmed, except for Snape, whose face held only its usual expression of cool disdain. "I'm not going to throttle Cornelius Fudge," he said in a caustic voice. "At least, I'll try my very best not to. But I want to see Tonks, make sure she's okay. She's practically all the family I've got left--not counting the ones who are Death Eaters."

"I think I can arrange for you to see her," Shacklebolt said. "But you'd damn well better keep your temper under control, Black. You won't be doing your cousin any favors if you start screaming insults and threats at Ministry personnel."

"All right," Sirius said, grinding his teeth. "I promise."

"Very well," said Dumbledore, although he didn't look entirely convinced. "The three of us will leave now, and I'll send the rest of you word as soon as I can."

The meeting adjourned, and the members dispersed, leaving only Snape, Lupin, and Branwen behind. As soon as they were alone, the mask on Snape's face slipped, revealing guilt and horror. "The Dark Lord has put blood on Dylan's hands," he said.

"Dylan didn't hurt anyone," Lupin said. "It's not his fault--"

"No," Snape said, "it's mine. But Dylan will feel responsible when he finds out. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the Dark Lord's intention. That is how he draws people into his web, step by step. Some of the Death Eaters were all too eager to kill and torture, but others were more reluctant. He drew them in slowly, making them indirectly responsible for a victim's death or pain. And once they had blood on their hands, most of them felt there was no turning back."

Branwen nodded solemnly. "That is rather demon-like," she said. "To corrupt by slow and subtle means. Some, I imagine, became gradually inured and hardened till they felt no guilt, and for others, the guilt was so overwhelming that they believed there was no redemption or forgiveness for them." She gave Snape a look of concern and sympathy.

Snape laughed, a harsh and bitter sound. "You liked to read Shakespeare when we were in school, didn't you, Lupin? I feel rather like Lady Macbeth, unable to wash the blood off my hands. I wanted to spare Dylan that guilt, but I have failed."

"Perhaps we shouldn't tell him," Lupin suggested, but Snape shook his head.

"No, he'll learn the details sooner or later, and it's better that he hears it from me than from the Daily Prophet or Draco Malfoy."

"From us," Lupin said firmly, slipping his arms around Snape and holding him tightly.

"Please, Lupin, restrain yourself," Snape complained, flushing as Branwen grinned at them, but Lupin's gesture of support did make him feel just a little bit better.

"I am restraining myself," Lupin said, feigning a wounded look. "I didn't do this, after all." He kissed Snape on the mouth, a long and deep kiss.

Snape pulled away--but not too quickly. "Lupin!" he spluttered.

"I think that's my cue to leave," Branwen laughed. "I'll see you two back at school."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Even though Sirius's name had been cleared, people at the Ministry stared at him with fear and suspicion. Sirius had to clench his fists and grit his teeth to keep himself from saying or doing anything rash, which probably didn't do anything to make him seem less threatening. Sirius was left cooling his heels in the Atrium while Shacklebolt and Dumbledore went to haggle with some Ministry officials, then Shacklebolt returned alone.

"They'll let you see Tonks," he said. "I'll take you there." Tonks was being held in what was essentially a holding cell; it was not officially called such and there were no bars, but there was a pair of guards outside the door, which was covered with magical wards, and Sirius and Shacklebolt were required to surrender their wands before they were allowed to enter. Inside it looked like a normal enough room, with a small table, two chairs, and a couch, but there were no windows. Tonks had been lying on the couch, but she jumped up when she saw Sirius and Shacklebolt.

"Sirius!" she exclaimed. "Kingsley!" She ran up and hugged her cousin; Sirius held her tightly for a moment, then pulled back to take a look at her. Her spiky violet hair was looking a little limp, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but what really caught his eye was the collar around her neck: a wide band of silver etched with runes and set with a faintly glowing green gem in the center. Tonks grimaced and said, "It's one of Gwydion's Squib Collars--that's what they're calling them now, you know. Never thought I'd be wearing one myself. I can't tell you how strange it is not to be able to touch my magic--my dad might've been Muggle-born, but for the first time I understand what it must really feel like to be a Muggle, and I don't much like it."

"Damn that Gwydion," Sirius snarled, but Shacklebolt touched his arm and gave him a look of warning.

"Be careful what you say," he cautioned. "There are eyes and ears everywhere in the Ministry."

That meant "don't talk about Order business," and Shacklebolt was right; Sirius wouldn't be surprised if someone was listening in on them right now--in fact, he'd be more surprised if they weren't.

"Are you all right, Tonks?" Sirius asked anxiously. "You haven't been hurt...?"

"They haven't brought out the thumbscrews yet," she replied, managing a wry smile. "But they did roust me out of bed in the middle of the night and grill me for hours. Of course, I can't tell them anything, because I don't KNOW anything..." She sighed in frustration. "It's so stupid! Why would I use my own face to commit a crime, when I could pretend to be anyone I wanted? And if I wanted to openly declare myself as a Death Eater, why would I sit at home waiting to be arrested?" She raised her voice, as if to address any unseen listeners eavesdropping on them. "If I am a Death Eater, why am I not at my Master's side, rejoicing?"

"Take it easy, Tonks," Shacklebolt said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I believe in you; we all do." He raised his voice as well. "None of the Aurors believe you could possibly have committed such an act." He sighed and said in a more normal voice, "Unfortunately, there are some misguided fools in the Ministry who are not quite convinced of Sirius's innocence, and they say that you must be in league with your cousin."

"WHAT?!" Sirius roared.

"Don't tell him things like that," Tonks scolded her fellow Auror.

"He needs to know the truth if we are to help you," Shacklebolt said unrepentantly, then added, "You promised to keep your temper, Black."

"Dammit, Wormtail was spotted at the Ministry battle when he was supposed to be dead," Sirius complained. "What more do they want?"

"It would have helped if we were able to capture him," Shacklebolt pointed out. "Seeing is believing, and none of your naysayers personally witnessed the battle."

"Well, I would have liked to," Sirius said sarcastically, "if I hadn't been slightly disabled by my dear cousin Bellatrix blowing a hole in the middle of my chest. I swear, when I get my hands on that little rat--"

"Temper, Black," Shacklebolt warned.

Sirius realized he must be looking rather murderous right now, and took several deep breaths and got himself under control. "Why did the Death Eaters choose you and Arthur to impersonate?" he wondered out loud.

"I don't know," Tonks replied. "Maybe because of what Kingsley just said; maybe they counted on your status as a supposed criminal to rub off on me. And maybe because Arthur and I are known supporters of Dumbledore, and they wanted to get back at us, especially me, since I did some damage to a few of them personally at that last battle."

"Maybe they just chose whoever's hair they could get hold of," Shacklebolt suggested, then rubbed his bald pate. "Maybe the only reason they didn't impersonate me was because I had no hair to get hold of!"

Tonks giggled in spite of herself. "If I ever get out of here, perhaps I'll start shaving my head!"

"Someone in the Ministry obviously has to be involved," Sirius said pointedly, for the benefit of whatever Ministry agents were spying on them. "Probably someone who works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, someone who would have easy access to Arthur's office or the Aurors' desks and be able pick up a stray hair or two without anyone noticing."

They spent what seemed like hours in that cell-that-was-not-really-a-cell. They rehashed the prison break for awhile, until Tonks finally pleaded with them to talk about something more cheerful, so Sirius talked about how Harry was doing at school and how Hob kept hinting that Sirius should find himself a "Missus".

Tonks actually laughed at that last comment. "Perhaps you should, Sirius!"

Sirius was pleased to see her smile. "Well, if you line up some likely candidates..."

"As soon as I'm free," she promised.

Finally, a weary-looking Dumbledore showed up. "I was not able to convince the powers that be to free you, my dear," he said to Tonks. "But I was able to wring a compromise out of them. I have convinced them to release you into your cousin's custody, but you will remain under house arrest at his residence; you will not be permitted to leave it without express permission from the Ministry, and..." Dumbledore paused and grimaced. "They insist you wear that so-called Squib Collar."

"Dammit, Albus!" Sirius shouted, jumping to his feet.

"It was the best I could do," Dumbledore said. "And I had to personally guarantee her good behavior. It is only until we clear her name--"

"And how long will that take, with the Ministry being so stubborn?" Sirius snarled. "In the meantime, there are Death Eaters on the loose, and she's helpless with that collar on!"

"Which is another reason why she must not leave your house," Dumbledore said gravely. "For her own safety."

Sirius was about to raise more objections, but Tonks stopped him. "It's all right, Sirius. I know that Albus did his best, and it's certainly better than remaining here or occupying a guest suite at Azkaban!"

"But--"

"Please, Sirius," she said. "I don't like it either, but I have been staring at these walls for hours, and I would like to get out of here, have something to eat, and get some rest."

She looked so tired, and despite her show of good spirits earlier, near the end of her rope, and it awoke Sirius's protective instincts towards his younger cousin. "All right," he said gently. "Let's get you home and have Hob serve you a nice hot meal."

"That sounds wonderful," she sighed.

Sirius put an arm around her, and they prepared to leave, but Dumbledore stopped them before they walked out the door. "By the way, Sirius, I must warn you not to tamper with the collar. I know of course, that a law-abiding citizen like you would never try to illegally remove it--" His eyes twinkled a little despite his weariness. "--but if someone should try such a thing, it would set off an alarm that would immediately alert the Ministry, and Tonks's conditional release would be revoked."

"I understand," Sirius said in a surly voice.

Dumbledore patted Tonks on the shoulder affectionately. "We will be doing everything we can to clear your name and free you."

"I know you will, Albus," Tonks said. "I'll be counting on you." She looked at Shacklebolt's worried face and said, "On you, too, Kingsley. And don't worry about me in the meantime; Sirius will take good care of me." Shacklebolt did not look reassured by that; if anything, he looked more worried, and Tonks laughed. "I'll just consider it a vacation," she said lightly. "I'll catch up on my reading and get fat on Hob's good cooking. I'll be fine." She stood on tiptoe and gave Shacklebolt a peck on the cheek. Sirius was not sure, but he could have sworn that the dark-skinned wizard blushed. Then he escorted his cousin out of her cell and took her home.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dylan was surprised when he was summoned to Professor Snape's office and found Lupin there with Snape. They broke the news to him--Lupin doing most of the talking in a kind and gentle voice--about how the Death Eaters had used his roses to kill the guards at Azkaban.

"It's all my fault!" Dylan said, filled with horror and dismay. "If I hadn't brought the roses out of my father's house for the Dark Lord--"

"He would have killed YOU," Snape finished. "You had no choice, Dylan."

"But if I hadn't been so stupid in the first place, if I'd listened to your warnings--"

"The Dark Lord had his eye on you from the moment you entered Hogwarts," Snape interrupted again. "You are the son of one of his Death Eaters; there is no way you could have escaped his attention. He probably would have had you either recruited or eliminated eventually, even if you had heeded my warnings. The Dark Lord regards the Death Eaters as his property, and he does not allow his property to just walk away from him."

"But--"

"You are not responsible for the deaths of those guards, Dylan," Lupin said in a firm but gentle voice, placing his hands on Dylan's shoulders. "The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters are the ones who wielded the roses as a weapon, not you."

"But I put that weapon into their hands," Dylan said, shuddering. He remembered what the roses had done to him, their own "master"; that had been bad enough. It was all too easy to imagine what it would be like if the roses did not stop, but kept on drinking until their victim was dead.

"The person who wields the weapon and commits the crime is the one who bears the guilt and the blame," Lupin insisted. "Incantations and Summonings was banned from the curriculum for many years for supposedly being of the Dark Arts. But Professor Blackmore said the spells were like a knife--in the hands of a surgeon, a scalpel could be used to heal, but in the hands of a murderer, the same object could be used to kill."

"That might be true enough of Professor Blackmore's spells," Dylan replied, "but the roses were obviously made for nothing but death."

"It's still not your fault," Lupin said quietly.

"Even without the roses, the guards would still have perished," Snape pointed out. "Most of them were slain with Killing Curses. The Dark Lord didn't really need the roses for this mission; he probably just wanted to see how they worked."

Dylan did not find that very comforting. "That only means that he plans on using them for something even worse."

"Probably," Snape sighed, and Lupin shot him an irritated look that obviously said, "We're supposed to be comforting the boy, not making him feel worse!" Dylan couldn't help but smile a little at that, and the two adults looked relieved.

"Well, I just thought you should hear about it from us rather than Malfoy or the Daily Prophet," Snape said awkwardly.

"Yes, sir," Dylan said. "I appreciate that."

"Very well," Snape said. "You may go now, Mr. Rosier."

"And you may come see me--see us--anytime you like," Lupin said. "If you just want to talk."

"Thanks for volunteering my services, Lupin," Snape muttered sarcastically.

"Anytime, Severus," Lupin replied cheerfully, giving Snape a sweet smile.

Snape started to turn red and look flustered, so Dylan decided that now was a good time for him to leave. He left the room feeling a little confused, about his Professors and about himself. There was a certain affection in the way Lupin teased Snape; why had he never noticed that before? Probably because they had gone through great lengths to hide it, Dylan decided. Besides, no one would ever suspect a Gryffindor of being in love with a Slytherin and vice versa. Dylan shook his head a little; it was still a great shock to him that the two supposed enemies were a couple. They were such polar opposites; he wondered what had drawn them together. Then again, Dylan's mother and father had been opposites, too, come to think of it--Ariane the typical studious, serious Ravenclaw and Evan the charming, roguish prankster. Maybe there was some truth to that old saying that opposites attract.

As for himself, Dylan was still disturbed by the fact that the Dark Lord had used his roses to kill people, although in the back of his mind he had known that was what Voldemort must have had in mind--it wasn't as if the Dark Lord was planning to take up gardening as a hobby, for Merlin's sake! When Dylan had aspired to be a Death Eater like his father, he had taken it for granted that he would have to kill in the Dark Lord's service one day, but now he found that it was much harder to face the reality than the fantasy. {I wonder if it was hard for my dad to kill his first victim, if he felt regret or horror?} Dylan wondered. {Or...was it easy? Did he like it?} He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the answer to that...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Halloween was soon upon them; there was some talk of canceling the students' trips to Hogsmeade after the prison break, but it was eventually decided that the trips would be permitted to continue, with some of the teachers going along as chaperones. The students were also cautioned to be on their guard, stay in groups, and not run off on their own. Some of the parents, of course, chose to revoke their permission for their children to leave the school. Dylan's mother was one of them; she sent him a letter saying that he was not allowed to leave the school unless personally accompanied by Professor Snape.

{Oh great,} Dylan thought to himself. {Like Snape is going to want to play baby-sitter!} There was a certain bond that had developed between them, it was true, and he even believed that Snape would risk his life on Dylan's behalf (he already had, actually, by teaching Dylan Occlumency and enlisting the Order's help to heal Dylan, because Voldemort would surely kill him if he ever found out about it), but he did not by any stretch of the imagination think that Snape would be happy to play chaperone on a Hogsmeade outing. Snape was still Snape after all; the fact that he was a secret spy and hero for the Order of the Phoenix did not negate that fact that he was also the dour, acerbic Potions Master. Some of his bad temper was probably feigned, but Dylan knew him well enough by now to realize that most of it was real, although that didn't change his respect or liking for the man.

But...no harm in asking. (At least, Dylan hoped not.) So he went to Snape's office a couple of days before Halloween, letter in hand, although he didn't have much hope of a positive response.

Snape did not seem offended, but he did look tired and distracted. "Your mother sent me a letter, too, Dylan. I'm sorry, but I don't have time to go to Hogsmeade; I have some errands I need to run in Diagon Alley that day."

"I understand, sir," Dylan replied. He was disappointed, but he had expected as much.

But his disappointment must have shown in his face, because Snape hesitated, then said, "You could come with me if you like, I suppose. It might be rather boring; I'm just buying potion ingredients and such..."

"Thank you, Professor!" Dylan said, his face lighting up. "I'd love to!"

Snape actually smiled, seeming pleased if a bit puzzled. "Fine. Meet me here at my office after breakfast, then."

When Malfoy heard about it, he was of course very put out. "Why do you get to go on a private trip with Snape?" he demanded in a slightly jealous tone.

"Yeah!" Crabbe and Goyle echoed, flanking Draco with threatening looks on their faces.

Dylan just rolled his eyes. "Does anyone really think that spending their holiday in Snape's company sounds like fun?"

"Uh..." said Crabbe, scratching his head. "When you put it like that..."

"No?" Goyle finished.

Theodore said, "He does have a point, Draco. I'd certainly consider being stuck with Snape the whole day--our day off, no less--more punishment than reward."

Draco frowned, but looked less angry. "Well then, why'd you agree to go with him, Rosier?" he asked.

"I thought he might be offended if I said no," Dylan replied. He sighed heavily. "I'd much rather go to Hogsmeade with you guys, or even just stay in and read. He'll probably turn a trip to the Apothecary into an impromptu lesson." He mimicked Snape's deep voice, "Identify this herb, Rosier, and name five different potions it can be used in..."

The children in the common room laughed, and even Draco smiled. "Chin up, Rosier," he said, patting Dylan on the shoulder in a sympathetic--if slightly patronizing--way. "We'll bring you back some chocolate from Honeydukes."

"Thanks," Dylan said, feeling pleasantly surprised. Draco Malfoy being nice--was the world coming to an end? Then Dylan was struck by the realization that the world as they knew it would indeed come to an end if Voldemort won the war, and it no longer seemed so funny.

When Draco had moved out of earshot, Damien said, "Maybe it won't be so bad. There are a lot of cool shops in Diagon Alley. Maybe Snape will let you do a little shopping of your own, if he's in a good mood. Fortescue's has great sundaes, and Snape does have a sweet tooth. And there's Gambol and Japes, they have a lot of neat trick and gag items. And--" he lowered his voice to a whisper. "--I hear that shop the Weasley twins opened, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, is really cool!"

"Are you out of your mind?" Dylan hissed. "Do you really think Snape is going to want to go to a shop run by a couple of Gryffindors? And you know how much he hates the Weasleys!"

Damien shrugged. "Maybe you can convince him to let you go off on your own for a bit while he's picking up his potions stuff. You are his favorite student, after all. Anyway, if you do get a chance to go there, pick me up a Skiving Snackbox; there's a quiz coming up in History of Magic that I'm dying to get out of."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just study rather than make yourself sick?" Blaise suggested pointedly.

Damien grinned unrepentantly. "Just a little bit sick, and maybe I can get the girls to fuss over me the way they do Dylan!" Blaise just sighed and rolled his eyes, and Dylan laughed. "And get me some of those Ton Tongue Toffees," he added. "I'd love to slip one of those to Doherty, the little git."

Theodore shook his head. "Just don't let Malfoy find out you've gone there; he'll have a fit."

"I doubt I'll get a chance to go there," Dylan said, smiling. "But I'll see what I can do."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dylan showed up at Snape's office on Halloween morning as planned, but to his surprise, Lupin walked up just as he and Snape were about to leave.

"And what do you want, Lupin?" Snape snapped.

"I have some books I need to pick up at Flourish and Blotts," Lupin replied cheerfully, ignoring Snape's rudeness. "So I thought I might tag along."

"My reputation would suffer if I were to be seen in the company of a werewolf," Snape sneered, and Dylan stared at his two teachers, almost in a state of awe. He would never in a million years have guessed that they were lovers, if Lupin had not inadvertently revealed that fact while Dylan was recuperating at Sirius Black's house.

{If they hadn't gone into teaching, they could have taken up acting,} Dylan thought to himself.

Meanwhile, Lupin said, still smiling cheerily, "Suffer away, Severus," and held up a sheet of parchment. Snape snatched it from his hand, scanned it, and scowled. "As you can see," Lupin continued, "the Headmaster has instructed me to accompany you two on your little jaunt. Besides, if Ariane is so worried about Dylan's safety, isn't it better for him to be protected by two wizards rather than one?"

"I don't need your help, werewolf!" Snape snarled, crumpling up the parchment.

"Oh, come on, Severus," Lupin cajoled. "I'll treat you to lunch."

Snape just sneered at him. "Perhaps you should be saving your salary, Lupin, to replace some of your wardrobe."

"I already have replaced most of my old, patched robes," Lupin said, spinning around to let the dark blue robe he was wearing billow out around him; he wore a brooch shaped like a wolf's head with tiny blue gems for eyes pinned at his throat. "Haven't you noticed?" Snape's face turned bright red, and Lupin grinned. "The Headmaster has been quite generous; I assure you I can afford to treat you and Dylan to lunch this once. And maybe dessert at Fortescue's afterwards?" he added in a coaxing tone. Snape seemed to waver for a moment. "And besides, you don't have a choice; Headmaster's orders, Severus."

"Oh, very well!" Snape huffed, and turned on his heel and began stalking down the corridor. Dylan and Lupin hastened to catch up with him, Lupin smiling and giving Dylan a wink as he did so.

They took a carriage, presumably drawn by the invisible Thestrals, to Diagon Alley. Dylan could not see them, because he had never seen anyone die, which he was sure would come as a shock to the Gryffindor boys who liked to call him "devil's spawn" and "Death Eater". Theodore had seen them, though, and said that they were ugly, nasty creatures. {Exactly the sort of pet Hagrid would like,} Dylan thought to himself darkly. Then he wondered, not for the first time, whose death Theodore had witnessed...

Meanwhile, Dylan sat between Snape and Lupin, who kept up their little act even though there were no witnesses apart from Dylan and the Thestrals--which meant that Snape kept barking out insults at Lupin, who responded with cheerfully inane remarks.

"It's such a beautiful day, isn't it, Severus?" Lupin chirped.

"Not when I have to spend it with a werewolf," Snape said sullenly.

"Now, now, Severus," Lupin said sweetly, "you know the Headmaster is trying to promote tolerance among the students. You might consider our little outing as setting a good example for the students."

Snape snorted in disgust. "See how tolerant people will be if you go out during the full moon, on four legs and in a fur coat!"

"That reminds me," Lupin said, still smiling innocently, "did you do something different to the the Wolfsbane Potion this month?"

"No, why do you ask?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"Well, it just seemed to me that my coat was extra-thick and shiny this month," Lupin replied. "I wanted to thank you."

Snape spluttered incoherently for the next few minutes, and Dylan sighed. It was rather like being caught on the middle of a battlefield between two opposing armies.

Lupin noticed that sigh, chuckled softly, and winked at Dylan again. Then he winked at Snape. Snape turned red and spent the rest of the ride in sullen silence, while Lupin made small talk with Dylan about school. Lupin seemed not to notice that Dylan's responses were few and hesitant as he cast nervous glances at the sulking Potions Master, and Lupin seemed cheerfully content to carry on most of the conversation by himself. Only once did Snape show any sign of feeling something other than hatred for the werewolf. It happened when Lupin happened to glance out of the carriage window, and a ray of sunlight fell through it, falling on Lupin's face and hair, giving them a faint golden glow and almost halo-like effect. Lupin could not see, but Dylan happened to look over just at that moment and caught Snape smiling at Lupin with an almost tender look on his face. Then Snape saw Dylan staring, and scowled and looked away. Dylan sighed again, and wondered if he would ever understand Snape.

To Dylan's relief, they finally reached Diagon Alley and escaped the confines of the carriage. "I'll head over to the bookstore," Lupin said, "and meet the two of you at the Apothecary's afterwards."

"Fine," Snape said curtly. "Come along, Rosier."

"Yes, sir." He followed Snape down the street until they reached a shop whose window read "Slug & Jiggers Apothecary". Dylan wrinkled his nose slightly as he walked through the door; the place smelt like rotten eggs and cabbage. Still, it was a fascinating place, full of all sorts of interesting things: the shelves were lined with jars full of various herbs, powders, and oddly-colored liquids, and there were bundles of feathers, fangs, and claws hanging from the ceiling. On a long counter sat two glass tanks; one was filled with a mess of small, brightly colored snakes, hissing and sliding over and under each other, and the second was filled with leeches.

There was an old man standing behind the counter. He was tall and thin, had beady dark eyes, and a lank fringe of gray hair hung from his balding head. "Hello, Professor Snape," he said, smiling widely and revealing a set of crooked, yellowing teeth. Then his eyes turned to Dylan and he said, "And who is your young friend?"

"This is my student, Dylan Rosier," Snape said. "Dylan, this is Mr. Jigger, the proprietor of this shop."

"Ah yes," Jigger said, leaning over the counter to give Dylan a closer look. "I should have noticed the family resemblance."

"Did you know my father?" Dylan asked eagerly.

Jigger laughed. "Not really, I met him only once, when he was a young lad, before he had even entered Hogwarts. He managed to tip over a tank full of frogs, and they were hopping all over the shop; I had the devil's time rounding them up again, and they knocked over a few jars of very expensive ingredients." The old man chuckled. "Despite all the ruckus he caused, he was a charming lad, and I couldn't bring myself to be angry at him. Besides, your grandparents paid for the damage, but they never again brought young Evan back to my shop! Your grandmother was quite a talented potion-maker, you know." He gave Dylan a speculative look. "Does the boy take after Lady Elin, Professor? Is that why you brought him with you today?"

"He does show quite a talent for Potions," Snape agreed, and Dylan felt a surge of pleasure and pride. Snape turned to Dylan and added, "Mr. Jigger's grandfather, Arsenius, wrote the textbook you've been using in my class, Magical Drafts and Potions."

"Really?" Dylan asked, looking quite impressed, which the shopkeeper seemed to find flattering.

"Yes, indeed," Jigger said proudly. "The Jiggers have always been apothecaries; it's a family tradition." Then, in a more brisk and businesslike tone, he said, "What can I do for you today, Professor?"

Snape pulled a list out of his pocket. "I need more valerian and lavender oil for my classes. Black hellebore and henbane. Also some dried saxifrage--"

"Roots or leaves?"

"Both. And devil's bit roots and woad leaves."

Jigger raised an eyebrow. "Trying something different this year, are you, Professor?"

"I thought I would provide my advanced classes with an unusual and challenging project this year, yes," Snape replied calmly.

"Very well. Shall I put it on the Hogwarts account, Professor?"

"Yes, please."

Jigger weighed out and measured the various herbs, wrapped them up, and made a notation in a leather-bound notebook. "Ah yes, and your special order is ready, Professor. The gemstones and jobberknoll feathers you requested." He placed two more packages on the counter, and Dylan noticed that Snape paid for them himself, rather than billing it to the school.

{Hmm, we used jobberknoll feathers in that mysterious potion Snape was working on last year that he wouldn't tell me anything about,} Dylan thought to himself. {I wonder...}

"I also got in a few new items in you might like, Professor," Jigger said with a grin. "Cobra venom, Cockatrice feathers, and Runespoor eggs."

"Runespoor eggs?" Snape asked, his dark eyes lighting up. "And Cockatrice feathers? My, someone has been enterprising..."

"A foolhardy young wizard who fancies himself an adventurer," laughed Jigger. "I doubt he'll live to see old age, but I'll buy the fruits of his adventures for as long as he lasts. Well, are you interested, Professor?"

"I'll take the eggs, but I don't really need the feathers or venom..."

But he sounded a little wistful, and Jigger jumped in with his sales pitch. "You may not need them NOW," he said, "but who knows when they might come in handy on short notice? Cockatrice feathers can be used in a petrification antidote, and you had a Basilisk problem a few years ago, didn't you? As for the venom--"

"I admit it would be tempting to poison a few of my students," Snape said dryly, "but I doubt the Headmaster would stand for that."

Jigger chuckled. "But it can always be used to brew anti-venom," he pointed out.

"How often are my student going to be bit by a cobra?" Snape retorted, but he looked thoughtful, and a bit concerned.

"It's always better to be safe than sorry, Professor," Jigger said smoothly.

They haggled over prices briefly, with Snape saying that he wasn't made out of money, and Jigger pointing out that he could just bill it to the school. "The Headmaster is generous, but there is a limit to my expense account," Snape said sourly. But he gave in without too much argument, and handed over a fat pouch of gold coins.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Professor," Jigger said, smiling widely as counted out the coins and placed them in his cash drawer.

"I'm sure it is," Snape said, still in that sour voice, and handed his packages to Dylan. "Here, make yourself useful, Rosier."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, accepting the bundles without complaint. He smiled to himself a little as he thought, {So that's why Snape invited me along...}

"And be careful with those Runespoor eggs; they're very rare and--" Snape gave Jigger a pointed look. "--very expensive."

"There's an anti-breakage charm on the box, Professor," Jigger said in a soothing tone. "He can drop them from a ten-story building and they won't break." The apothecary grinned. "No extra charge."

"Very well," Snape said, looking somewhat mollified. "Come along, Rosier."

Lupin walked up as they exited the shop. "Bought the whole store, have you, Severus?" he said with a grin as he eyed the packages Dylan was carrying.

"Merely a few necessities for class, Lupin," Snape said coldly--and not quite truthfully.

"Want some help with those?" Lupin asked Dylan kindly.

"No sir, I'm fine," Dylan replied. "They're a bit bulky, but not at all heavy."

"Where to next?" Lupin asked cheerfully.

"Well," Snape said, as they walked down the street, "I wanted to stop by Peregrine Potions--"

"Never heard of it," Lupin said.

"I'm not surprised," Snape sneered, "since you've been living in the woods for the past few years. They opened shop a couple of years ago. Their inventory isn't as extensive as Slug and Jiggers, but occasionally they have something interesting. And since Mr. Rosier is missing out on his Hogsmeade trip--" Snape almost smiled. "--I thought perhaps he might want to take a look at Gambol and Japes or Quality Quidditch Supplies."

"Can we, Professor?" Dylan asked eagerly.

"Yes, indeed," Snape said indulgently.

"I thought maybe we could visit Fred and George's shop, too," Lupin suggested.

"You mean the Weasley brats?" Snape asked with a scowl.

"Please don't call them brats, Severus. I hear their business is quite successful; it seems they have managed to channel their penchant for mischief into something productive."

"I don't care what you call it, I'm not--"

"Severus!" a woman's voice exclaimed, interrupting the two Professors' dialogue. Snape looked up, then stopped in his tracks as his jaw dropped and his face turned white--well, whiter than usual.

Dylan looked at the woman standing in front of them, and his own jaw dropped. He had seen her before in Snape's memories as a beautiful young woman with lush, dark hair and honey-gold skin. Her black hair was now laced with strands of white, and there were lines on her face where there had been none before, but she was still a handsome woman. Could this be...Snape's mother?!

"M...m...mo..." Snape stammered, then regained control of himself and said in a cold voice, "Lady Selima."

The woman raised her eyebrow, in much the same way Snape always did, and said in an equally cold voice, "So formal, Severus?"

Lupin cleared his throat; Snape ignored him. Lupin tried again, "Ahem. Perhaps you'd care to introduce us, Severus?"

Snape glared at him, but said, "Lupin, this is Selima Snape. Lady Selima, this is my colleague, Professor Lupin, and my student, Dylan Rosier."

Selima Snape eyed Lupin and Dylan with distaste. "The werewolf and Evan Rosier's son. Interesting company you keep, Severus."

Snape ground his teeth together, and his face took on a dangerous expression that would have sent his students running for cover, but Selima seemed unimpressed. "The Headmaster asked me to keep an eye on the werewolf," he growled through gritted teeth, "both to protect the populace from him, and him from the populace, as anti-human sentiment has been running rather high. As for the boy, he's my most talented student, and the son of an old friend."

"Is this your mother, Severus?" Lupin asked in a polite tone, but his eyes were gleaming with curiosity.

"Legally, no," Snape snarled. "Seeing as how I was disowned by my family years ago."

Selima sighed irritably. "That's your own doing, Severus--"

"MY doing?" Snape snapped. "You're the one who decided to jump to conclusions and disown me before I had even gone to trial! Which I never did, might I remind you?"

"Actually, that was your father," Selima corrected him coolly. "I did advise him to wait, but you know how he feels about protecting the family name. In any case, you didn't have to be so stubborn, Severus. If you had asked forgiveness, your father would have--"

"Ask forgiveness?" Snape said incredulously. "For what?! I haven't done anything wrong!"

"You may not have been convicted, Severus," Selima retorted, "but you are hardly an innocent."

"I'm not going to stand here and be insulted, Lady Selima," Snape said coldly. "Hell will freeze over before I go crawling back to the Snape house. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some business to attend to--"

"You're the last Snape heir!" Selima cried, her voice suddenly filled with desperation and anger. "Are you just going to let the Snape line die out?"

A malicious smile spread slowly across Snape's face. "I will never produce an heir for the Snape house," he whispered, with an almost triumphant look in his eyes. "The Snape line may die out and rot for all I care."

"Severus, please!" Selima shouted. "Let's go somewhere and discuss this like adults--"

"Let's not!" Snape retorted.

"Ahem," Lupin said, clearing his throat again, and the two Snapes turned and glared at him, their angry black eyes nearly identical. Dylan gulped nervously--if one Snape was intimidating, two were even worse! But Lupin just said mildly, "Perhaps you should continue your discussion in a more private place. People are beginning to stare." And indeed, a number of passersby had stopped to watch their argument.

"Please, Severus," Selima said in a quieter but no less urgent voice. "Let us go and talk privately." She attempted a conciliatory smile, though it seemed that humility was as foreign to her as it was to her son. "I'll buy you lunch at the Leaky Cauldron."

"I can take Dylan shopping while you talk to your mother," Lupin volunteered.

"NO!" shouted Snape, a panicky look suddenly filling his eyes. "I...I...promised Ariane I wouldn't let Dylan out of my sight! I'm responsible for his well-being!"
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

{Please, PLEASE don't leave me alone with my mother!} Snape silently begged Lupin. Although he had not feared his mother the same way he had feared his father as a child, he had not seen his family in over fifteen years, and he had no idea what to say to her. He had intended to spend the rest of his life never seeing or speaking to his parents again, and the thought of having to confront his mother alone filled him with a sense of panic.

Lupin smiled at him, with an expression of mingled sympathy and mischief. "Very well, Severus. Since you feel so strongly about it." He turned to Selima. "I'm sure it will please you to know that Severus has a strong sense of honor and always takes his duties very seriously."

Snape flushed and glared at Lupin. {You don't need to go that far!}

Selima sighed. "Must we include strangers in a private family matter?"

"If you can't bear to be in the presence of a werewolf and the son of a Death Eater," Snape said coldly, "I would be quite happy to continue on my way--"

"Fine!" Selima said quickly. "They can come! But please, let us get off the street!"

{She must really be desperate,} Snape thought in surprise. But then again, it was not really a surprise that Selima Snape would prefer the private humiliation of dining with a werewolf and the son of a deceased Death Eater to the public humiliation of having their argument be witnessed out on the open street. Appearances had always been everything to his mother. {No matter how things are falling apart inside,} Snape thought scornfully, {as long as everything looks perfect and pretty on the outside, that's all that matters to my mother.} Well, to his father, too, if truth be told; it was not so much the fact that he had joined the Death Eaters that had offended his parents, as it was the fact that he had been caught at it, and branded--in the court of public opinion, if not the court of law--as a member of disgraced, criminal organization. No doubt if Voldemort had won the war, his family would have welcomed him with open arms and loudly praised his decision to become a Death Eater. Snape would gladly have told his mother to bugger off, but she was clearly not going to let him go without an argument, and Lupin was right; they were attracting too much attention, and that was something Snape could not afford. He wanted to keep a low profile, in both the eyes of the public and the Dark Lord.

Snape sullenly followed his mother to the Leaky Cauldron, where she booked a private room. It was a little early for lunch, so she ordered a light meal of tea, scones, and dainty crustless finger sandwiches. Selima waited in silence until their server had left the room, took a sip of tea, then said, "It is your duty to provide the Snape house with an heir, Severus."

In Snape's experience, gathered through fifteen years of teaching at Hogwarts, teenage boys were perpetually hungry. However, Dylan--and Lupin, for that matter--seemed much more interested in the conversation than the food, watching with fascination as they nibbled idly on their sandwiches. "It ceased to be my duty when you and Father disowned me, Mother," Snape said coldly, spreading a blueberry scone with sweet Devonshire cream. Although Snape loved sweets, it tasted like cardboard to him--no fault of the baker, but rather it was the sight of his mother sitting in front of him that ruined his appetite.

"Well, you're calling me 'Mother' now rather than 'Lady Selima,'" Snape's mother said dryly. "I suppose that's an improvement." Snape flushed red with anger, and Selima sighed. "Come now, Severus, stop being so stubborn. If you are too proud to apologize, I can attempt to smooth things over with your father."

"My father go back on his word?" Snape snorted. "Hah!"

"Yes, all the Snape men are incredibly stubborn," Selima snapped. "But we are not getting any younger, Severus, and I think he might bend a little to assure himself of an heir."

"Go make another one," Snape suggested crudely, and it was his mother's turn to flush with rage--no, not just rage. Embarrassment and something else...frustration? "Ah, you have tried!" Snape said with a spiteful grin. "But there were no little Snapes forthcoming, were there?" Selima's face turned even redder, and her black eyes, so like his own, were blazing with wrath. Lupin and Dylan looked back and forth from mother to son nervously, but Snape ignored them. "Better watch out, dear Mother, perhaps Father will put you aside and take a younger bride in hopes of siring an heir!"

"Severus," Lupin said, a note of warning and concern in his voice.

"Your father would never dishonor me that way!" Selima snapped. "He knows that my family would never stand for it!"

Snape noted with bitter amusement that Selima mentioned only her family's influence, and not affection or loyalty, as an obstacle to a divorce and remarriage.

"Besides," Selima continued, "while barrenness is grounds for divorce, I am not barren. I did my duty and produced an heir--you. Now it is your turn to do your duty, Severus."

"Go to hell, Mother," Snape said, as Lupin looked increasingly worried. "I owe nothing to you or my father."

"You ungrateful wretch!" Selima cried. "You owe us everything!"

"What do I owe you, Mother?" Snape asked in a soft voice that his students would have recognized as the calm before the storm.

Selima, however, did not, and continued her tirade. "You owe me life, you spoilt brat! I gave birth to you!"

"Yes," Snape said, still in that dangerously quiet voice. "And your duties stopped there, it seems."

"What are you talking about?" Selima snapped. "I did my duty as a mother; your father and I provided you with food and clothing and a good education; I taught you how to behave properly in society though it seems you have forgotten those lessons--"

"You stood by and did nothing while your husband cast a Cruciatus Curse on your six-year old son," Snape whispered.

"WHAT?!" Dylan shrieked, choking on his tea. Lupin patted him on the back, looking sad but not surprised; he did not know the exact details, but Snape had once let it slip that his father had punished him with pain-giving curses as a child.

"I did nothing wrong," Selima said, looking sincerely confused. "It is a father's duty to punish his children when they misbehave; it was not my place to intervene."

"I was six years old!" Snape shouted, losing his temper and his control. "My great offense was to cry because I broke my favorite toy! Didn't it occur to you that a Cruciatus Curse might have been overkill?!"

"It was a weakened version of the spell," Selima protested, "and he only used it for about a minute. For Merlin's sake, Severus, is that what this is all about? You're refusing to do your family duty because of some childish punishment that happened thirty years ago?"

Snape was furious that she dismissed his old feelings of pain and betrayal as a childish, trivial grudge. "What about the time I snuck into Father's workroom and accidentally spilled a potion when I was eight? Or the time I put that curse on the neighbor's child and almost got barred from Hogwarts? Or--"

"It might have seemed harsh at the time, Severus," Selima interrupted, "but you learned your lesson, didn't you? You never had another temper tantrum. You never again went into your father's workroom without permission. You never..." She sighed a little. "Well, you never hexed the neighbor's boy again, at least, although you did get into trouble for hexing those Gryffindor boys. The point is, Severus, that your father's punishments were effective. It is not the Slytherin way to coddle our children--"

"Tell that to the Malfoys or the Parkinsons!" Snape retorted. "But that's not the point!"

"What is the point, Severus?" Selima asked impatiently.

"It seems to me," Lupin said quietly, "that the point is, your husband used an Unforgivable Curse to torture his son, and you did not try to stop him."

"You have no right to sit in judgment over me, werewolf!" Selima snapped.

"Even a wolf protects its cubs better than you did your child," Lupin said, holding her gaze.

"This is the company you keep now, Severus?" Selima asked, pointing accusingly at Lupin. "You would rather associate with beasts than with your own family?"

Snape wished he could tell her that he and Lupin were lovers; he would have loved to have seen the expression on her face. Unfortunately, he still needed to keep his cover. "Everyone at Hogwarts knows that I despise Lupin," he said coldly. "I only associate with him because I cannot avoid it, as we are both teachers there, thanks to Dumbledore's softheartedness. But yes, Mother, as much as I hate him, I prefer the werewolf's company to yours."

Selima was rendered speechless with fury for a few minutes. Although he was not hungry, Snape ate a sandwich, feigning calmness as he forced his face to remain expressionless, because he knew it would irritate his mother even more.

"Is it worth it?" Selima finally asked, when she had regained control over herself. "To live in exile, to work at a menial job, just to spite your father and I?"

"I'd hardly call a teaching position at Hogwarts menial labor," Snape said dryly. "It's one of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world, and I earn a decent salary--"

"But it's nowhere near so prestigious and well-paying a job as, say, a Ministry position--your dear friend Lucius Malfoy never got you a job in the Ministry, did he, even though you risked your life and reputation on his behalf to join--"

"Whatever I did, I did for myself, not Malfoy!" Snape snapped. "And if I were you, I would be careful about bandying that name about, Mother!"

"I know better than you how dangerous Lucius Malfoy can be, Severus," Selima whispered, a hard and bitter look in her eyes.

"I seriously doubt that," Snape said.

"It's very convenient, isn't it," Selima continued softly, "how Lucius's parents died during the height of the war. Ah, I see I have your attention now, Severus."

"There was a plague," Snape said slowly, "an outbreak of fever. Many people died--"

"Do you really think it was sheer coincidence, Severus? Whatever other faults you may have, you were never stupid."

"Why would Lucius want to...ah...eliminate his father? The elder Malfoys were said to be supporters of...Lucius's patron."

"His parents were reluctant to commit fully to the war," Selima said. "Yes, they liked the idea of the purebloods being in charge of everything--who wouldn't? But they were aware of the dangers as well. They were not so enthusiastic as their son; they were afraid that...the other side...would prevail in the end. But they died, and Lucius became Lord of the Malfoy estate, and threw the family's full support behind...his patron." Selima waited for a response, but Snape remained silent, so she continued, "I did not much care for Lucius's father, I must admit, but his mother was my friend. Lucius was always an ambitious young man, but even I did not realize how far he would go to fulfill that ambition."

Snape remained silent. If his mother was right, that meant that Lucius had murdered not only his own parents, but also a number of innocent people to make it look like a real illness. Fatal viruses and such could be magically created, but they were rarely used because they were notoriously difficult to control and were likely to spread farther than the wielder might wish. Snape knew that Lucius would care nothing for the innocent bystanders, but could he really have killed his own parents in cold blood? {Probably,} Snape decided. Aloud, he said, "Well, Father always said that sentiment was for the weak. Lucius was never one to let sentiment stand in the way of his ambition." Selima glared at him, and Snape felt a twinge of malicious satisfaction at being able to throw his father's words back in her face.

"Are you enjoying this, Severus?" she asked accusingly.

"Not at all, Mother," he replied coolly. "You were the one who wanted to talk. I would like nothing better than to be on my way and go back to my menial job at Hogwarts."

Selima blinked and looked at Lupin and Dylan as if she had forgotten they were there. "I hope your...friends..." She made the word "friends" sound like an insult. "...can keep their counsel, Severus."

"Mr. Rosier knows how to keep his mouth shut," Snape said curtly. Strange, it was very unlike her to forget herself and speak so freely in front of strangers, but he supposed it was a sign of her desperation. And of course, he himself had lost control; he had not meant to bring up the past, of how his father had used the Cruciatus Curse on him, at least not in front of Dylan. "And the werewolf will do so as well," Snape continued out loud, "if he wants me to keep making the Wolfsbane Potion for him." He glared at Lupin.

Lupin just smiled serenely at him and said, "I would never dream of divulging the details of a private family discussion, Severus."

Selima stared at Lupin suspiciously for a moment, then said dismissively, "Well, it's not like anyone would take the word of a werewolf over that of a Snape, anyway."

Snape clenched his fists beneath the table. {When the war is over, if we should survive, I shall announce to the world that Lupin is my lover, and tell my mother just why I will never give the Snape house an heir,} he thought fiercely.

"What do you want me to say, Severus?" Selima demanded. "Do you want me to say that I was a bad mother, to apologize for not interfering when your father punished you? Fine. I'm a bad mother," she said curtly. "I'm sorry."

"I see that all Snapes are bad at apologizing," Lupin muttered under his breath.

"Oh, shut up, Lupin," Snape said automatically, but he almost smiled, despite his anger at his mother. He felt Lupin's hand brush against his for just a moment beneath the table. That made his anger recede further, and helped him to calm down.

"Look, Severus," Selima said in a frustrated voice, "however you believe your father and I have wronged you, haven't you punished us enough? Return home, Severus, and take your rightful place as heir to the Snape estate."

"Never," Snape said passionately.

"I will get your father to revoke the ban!" Selima cried. "You won't have to ask forgiveness!"

"I told you before, I will never give the Snape house an heir. Tell Father to adopt one if he must, some cousin or such; there must be some young relative with Snape blood who would love to inherit the title."

"There is no clear line of succession!" Selima shouted. "Your father had no brothers or sisters; his next closest relatives are distant cousins, none of whom bear the Snape name, and who have only the slightest trace of Snape blood!"

"That's not my problem," Snape said coldly as he rose from his seat. Lupin and Dylan followed suit. "Thank you for lunch, Mother. I wish I could say it's been a pleasure, but that would be a lie. Come along, Rosier."

"Is it because you don't want to marry?" Selima shouted, and Snape stopped halfway to the door. "You never did show any interest in girls," she added, in a quieter voice. Snape slowly turned to glare at her. "You're a fool if you think that matters, Severus. Marry some girl and get an heir on her, and you'll be free to do as you please."

"An interesting view of marriage," Lupin murmured.

"I wasn't talking to you, werewolf!" Selima snapped.

"Insulting the werewolf is my prerogative, Mother," Snape said. "Not yours. And I hate to say it, but he has a point. Is that the arrangement you and Father had?"

"Only the lower classes can afford to marry for love," Selima said contemptuously. "And what is love but a flame that burns brightly, but quickly dies out? Power is what lasts, my son. I hope you are not refraining from your duty out of some foolish romantic notions; I thought I taught you better than that."

"I will never marry," Snape said quietly. "For power or for love. Good day, Mother."

"Will you turn your back on power and wealth to go back to some teaching position?!" Selima screamed. "You could rival Malfoy in power, surpass him even, now that he's a fugitive!" But this time Snape kept walking and did not look back.

Lupin paused to say softly, "You are wrong, Lady Selima. It is love that lasts, not power." Then he left, with a wide-eyed Dylan following close behind, as Selima Snape stared after them in anger and disbelief.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
 

Next