Phoenix Rising 2 Continued

"Did...did your father really--?" Dylan asked timidly as they left the Leaky Cauldron.

"Not here, Rosier," Snape said curtly. "Not in public."

"Why don't we stop by Gambol and Japes, or the Weasley's store?" Lupin suggested. "We could all use a laugh." He hesitated, looking at Snape with concern. "Or perhaps you'd prefer to return to school now..."

"No," Snape said. He didn't really want to return to school, because he had no classes to teach, and he didn't want to be alone with his thoughts right now, nor did he feel like discussing them with Lupin at the moment, although he still wanted his lover's company. "Fine," Snape said. "Let's go to Weasleys' Wheezes or Sneezes, or whatever the bloody shop is called." Maybe the irritating Weasley boys would at least take his mind off things.

"Really?" Lupin and Dylan chorused, and Snape almost smiled, though he quickly turned it into a frown, for the benefit of the passersby.

"Why not?" he sighed. "My mood couldn't possibly get any worse."

A bell rang as Lupin pushed in the door of the shop, and Fred--or was it George?--said cheerfully, "Welcome to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes! We have all manner of--Professor Lupin?" He broke off and said in a more normal--though no less enthusiastic--voice, "It's good to see you!" Then Snape and Dylan walked in, and Fred's--or George's--mouth dropped open. "Professor Snape?!"

"Good to see you, too, Fred," Lupin said, laughing a little at the expression of shock on his face. "It is Fred, isn't it?"

"Y-yes, sir," Fred stammered. "Uh...um..."

"Severus and I are running some errands for the Headmaster," Lupin explained, with a twinkle in his eyes. "I insisted on stopping by, although I'm sure Severus would much rather be back at the Apothecary's."

"Yes, well, I've been designated your keeper for the day, Lupin," Snape grumbled. "Can't let you off your leash."

George emerged from the back room carrying a stack of boxes. "Ah, customers," he started to say, then dropped the boxes when he saw Lupin and Snape.

Snape looked down at the spilled boxes and said, "I hope those don't contain explosives, Mr. Weasley."

"Ah...no, sir," George said weakly. "Th-they're Skiving Snackboxes."

"Oh, great," Dylan said. "Can I have one?"

"Uh, sure," George replied, still in a state of shock. He bent down to pick up the boxes.

"Here, let me help you," Dylan volunteered.

"Thanks," George said, then looked at Dylan more closely as they gathered up the boxes. "Say...I remember you; you were on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Rosier, right?"

"Yes," said Dylan, handing him the boxes he'd picked up. "No hard feelings, I hope."

Fred and George looked at him suspiciously. "I'm surprised to see a Slytherin in a shop run by a couple of Gryffindors," George said.

Dylan shrugged. "Your shop is famous in the school," he said with a smile. "A lot of the Slytherins would like to come here, but they're afraid of what Draco might say."

"Famous, huh?" George asked, looking pleased.

"Aren't you afraid of what Draco might say?" Fred asked, still looking suspicious.

"But I didn't come here on my own," Dylan pointed out innocently. "Professor Lupin made me come--"

"Twisted your arm," Lupin laughed.

"--and as long as I'm here, I might as well look around, right?"

George laughed, gave Dylan one of the Skiving Snackboxes, and placed the rest on a shelf. "Well, I do remember that you were trying to get Malfoy to shut up before that fight broke out after the game. So I suppose you're all right. But that song was a dirty trick."

"It wasn't my idea," Dylan said apologetically. "I know what it's like to have people say nasty things about my family; I wouldn't do that to someone else."

Fred and George looked a little abashed; their brother, along with many of the other Gryffindor boys, had been one of those who had talked loudly of Dylan being a Death Eater's son, and called him some less than flattering names.

"Well, a customer's a customer," Fred decided. "We'll take your money, Slytherin or Gryffindor."

"How enlightened of you," Snape muttered.

"It's a start, Severus," Lupin said with a grin. "Inter-House cooperation."

Snape just looked around the shop with a disgruntled air. "So this is what you gave up school for?"

"Business is booming, sir," George said cheerfully. "Care for a Canary Cream?"

"No thank you," Snape said coldly.

"I'm so glad that you're doing well," Lupin said. "And glad to see that you've recovered from your little accident."

The boys flushed. "Mum told you about that, did she?" Fred asked sheepishly.

"But if not for us, Dad might be in prison right now!" George pointed out. "How's Tonks doing?"

"As well as can be expected," Lupin replied. "She's staying with Sirius until the investigation is completed."

Fred elbowed his brother in the side, giving Dylan a significant look, and George fell silent. Snape repressed a smile; the boys did not know that Dylan had the trust of the Order--well, the trust of some of the Order, at least: Dumbledore, Branwen, Goewin, Mathias, Lupin, and himself. In Snape's mind, those were the only members who really mattered. Dylan pretended to pay no notice to the conversation as he browsed in the shop, but Snape knew he was aware of everything that was being said.

"I'll get these," Dylan said, taking the Skiving Snackbox and a box of Ton Tongue Toffees up to the counter.

"Mr. Rosier," Snape said in a threatening voice, "if I catch you using one of those sweets to get out of a test--"

"They're not for me, Professor," Dylan protested. "They're for a friend."

"Remind me to keep an eye on Mr. Pierce," Snape said to Lupin, then smiled dryly at the expression on Dylan's face. "Come now, Mr. Rosier, I hope you don't think I'm stupid; who else would they be for? Nott and Zabini have too much good sense to pull a stunt like that."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said weakly. "I mean, no, sir, of course I don't think you're stupid--"

"Please don't scare off our customer, Professor," Fred said to Snape, then paled as Snape glared at him.

"Don't be a spoilsport, Severus," Lupin said. Snape turned his glare on the werewolf, who of course simply smiled at him without the slightest bit of fear.

"Fine," Snape sighed. "Go ahead and buy them, Rosier, but warn your friend that he'd better not get sick in Potions class, or I'll be testing all your classmates' potions on him for the rest of the year."

"Damien would never use the sweets to get out of Potions class, sir," Dylan said with absolute honesty, and paid for his purchases.

Snape of course noticed that Dylan had said nothing about their other classes. "Well, if the other teachers can't tell when a student is faking it, I suppose that's their problem," he said with a smile, shocking the Weasley brothers. Then he shocked them even further by picking up a Skiving Snackbox and placing it on the counter.

"S--sir?" George stammered.

"I thought you said you'd take anyone's money," Snape said, raising his eyebrows. "Even a Slytherin's."

"F--five G-galleons, sir," George said, looking faint.

Snape handed him the coins, then noticed that Lupin and Dylan looked just as shocked as the Weasleys. He smiled evilly and explained, "I'm going to give this to Madam Pomfrey, so she can learn to distinguish between a real illness and a Weasley-induced one."

Fred groaned. "There goes business!"

Lupin laughed and bought a Headless Hat and a fake wand to console him.

"What on earth do you intend to do with those, Lupin?" Snape asked.

"I thought Albus might like them," Lupin replied. "I'll save them for his Christmas present."

Snape shook his head, but left the shop feeling considerably better than he had when he had walked in. Lupin smiled at him, and Snape was hard-pressed not to smile back.

"See, I told you a trip to the Weasleys' shop would cheer you up," Lupin said.

"No need to look so smug, Lupin," Snape retorted, but he didn't deny it. "And didn't you promise to treat us to lunch? Well, my mother already did, I suppose, but I seem to recall you mentioning something about Fortescue's..."

"I am a man of my word, Severus," Lupin said cheerfully, and the trio headed to the ice cream parlor for sundaes.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Thank you, Professor Snape, Professor Lupin," Dylan said as they returned to the carriage later. "I had a good time."

"You're welcome," Lupin said with a smile, and Snape just flushed and grunted. "You can stop the grumpy act, you know," Lupin said. "No one can overhear us in the carriage."

"So who says it's an act?" Snape said sourly.

"I do," Lupin said. He took out his wand and uttered a quick charm; the windows turned dark and opaque. Lupin leaned over and kissed Snape on the cheek.

"LUPIN!" Snape howled. "Not in front of the boy!"

Dylan had ended up with a window seat this time, with Snape in the middle. He blushed and looked out the window even though he couldn't see through it.

"But you're the one who told me Slytherins are blase about such things," Lupin pointed out.

"They're not blase about their teachers making out in carriages in front of them!" Snape bellowed.

Lupin giggled and gave Snape a wicked look. "You're lucky Dylan's here, Severus--or maybe I should say, unlucky?" He leaned over and whispered in Snape's ear, "Perhaps we should take a carriage ride again sometime, just the two of us." Snape's face turned bright red.

"Behave yourself!" Snape snapped.

Lupin chuckled, but obeyed, and after a brief silence, Dylan asked hesitantly, "Is it safe to talk now?"

"Yes," Snape said--reluctantly, because he knew what was coming next.

"Did your father really use a Cruciatus Curse on you?"

"Yes," Snape replied shortly. "But I don't want to talk about it." Lupin reached over and held his hand, and Snape did not object, despite the fact that the boy was watching.

Dylan was silent for a moment. "Is that why you won't return to your family?"

"Part of the reason," Snape admitted. "The other part..." Lupin smiled at him, then snuggled close and laid his head on Snape's shoulder.

"Oh," said Dylan, blushing again. "Of course. You can't marry."

Snape heaved a slightly exasperated sigh, but he didn't push Lupin away; it was comforting, if a little embarrassing, to have the werewolf curled up against his side. He put an arm around Lupin, and his lover sighed contentedly. "Yes," he said dryly. "It's not safe, you see, to make a werewolf jealous."

"We're very possessive," Lupin agreed.

{Did Snape just make a joke?} Dylan wondered. Then again, maybe not...there was a certain gleam in Lupin's pale blue eyes that said he was serious, even though there was laughter in his voice. "Is it true, what your mother said, that the purebloods don't marry for love?" Dylan asked. "My parents did, after all."

"Yes, and caused a great scandal," Snape reminded him. "It caused your mother's family to disown her."

"Did my father's parents love each other?"

Snape thought about that. "I don't know," he said, "but they seemed quite fond of each other. They probably had an arranged marriage, but sometimes affection can grow out of such a union. But for the most part, love doesn't enter into it. A pureblood marriage is based on wealth and status and political alliances." He frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange fell in love while we were at Hogwarts, but fortunately for them, they came from families of similar rank and background, so their families were not opposed to their marriage, and indeed welcomed it. But cases like that are very rare."

"What about my mother's parents?" Dylan wondered. "Mother says her father died when she was very young, so she doesn't really remember him."

"Well, I'm the same age as your mother," Snape pointed out acerbically, "so I wouldn't remember him either."

"Severus," Lupin said in a chiding tone.

Snape relented. "But one hears gossip, of course, and my mother kept tabs on all the pureblood families. Your maternal grandfather was a younger son of a low-ranking pureblood family who was entitled to no inheritance of his own; not many men would be willing to take their wife's name, and the Donner title is passed down through the female line. He gave up his name in order to marry into a more powerful family, and many of his peers scorned him for it."

"So he married for power," Dylan said.

"Most likely," Snape said. "Though of course the gossip was slightly slanted and rather malicious. No doubt Mathias could give you a more accurate picture. But according to the gossip, he was a meek and quiet man who always deferred to his wife, and I believe it; Deirdre Donner would never have married anyone who would challenge her authority. He had a weak heart and died young, according to the healers. The gossips joked that he died to escape his domineering wife."

"How cruel," Lupin murmured.

"Yes, well, my mother and her friends were not exactly known for their compassion, Lupin. In case that wasn't obvious from the brief time you spent with her."

"It's sad," Lupin said. "Generations of children being brought up in such cold households, being taught that love is a frivolous nuisance. My family was poor, but they loved me, and I would not trade that for all the gold in the world."

Dylan fell silent, thinking that he was grateful that his mother--whatever mistakes she and his father had made in their youth--had brought him up with love. {I would not trade that, either,} he thought. {I would rather live in exile and disgrace with my mother all my life, than live with a family like the Snapes or the Malfoys.} Suddenly he yawned; it had been a long day. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, thinking that he would rest for just a little while...

Some subtle motion of the carriage as it moved caused the sleeping boy to slide across the seat into Snape. Dylan stirred slightly, but did not wake. Thus, Snape found himself with his lover curled up against him on one side, and the boy that was the closest thing he would ever have to a son on the other; both looked comfortable and perfectly content--in fact, it seemed that Lupin had fallen asleep as well.

{I'm the one who should be exhausted,} Snape thought to himself with ironic humor, {after that scene with my mother.} He shook his head slightly, but smiled down tenderly at the pair, and found that he was no longer so upset about the confrontation with his mother. In a strange sort of way, it had been satisfying to finally speak his mind to her. Of course, she still didn't understand why he was so angry with her and Father, or why he would give up his position as the Snape heir to become a schoolteacher, and probably never would, but at this moment, he felt more pity than resentment. {She will never understand,} he thought, {what it's like to be loved by someone like Lupin, who cares nothing about House or status, who loves me despite my bad temper and petty jealousies. She will never know the joy and terror of having a child look at you with complete trust in his eyes, believing that you will make everything all right, when you have no such faith in yourself.} He gently kissed the top of Lupin's head, and because there was no one there to witness it, Dylan's as well. {You can keep your title and wealth and lands, Mother; this is all the treasure I need.}
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

While Snape, Lupin, and Dylan were on their excursion to Diagon Alley, most of the other students went to Hogsmeade, except for the glum few whose parents had revoked their permission, due to the recent escape of the Death Eaters from Azkaban. Serafina Avery had permission to go to Hogsmeade, but chose to stay behind at school as she usually did.

"Crazy girl," said Damien, shaking his head.

Theodore shrugged. "She'll probably spend the whole day in the library. That's all she really cares about, anyway, is books. It's not like she's interested in buying magic tricks at Zonko's."

"But who could pass up a chance to go to Honeydukes?" Damien wondered out loud, then grinned. "Plus it's a prime opportunity to do a little flirting."

"She definitely doesn't care about that!" Theodore said dryly.

As an added precaution, due to safety concerns expressed by the parents, three of the teachers--Hagrid, McGonagall, and Flitwick--accompanied the students as chaperones. They split up into three groups; the Slytherins and half of the Ravenclaws found themselves with Hagrid as an escort.

"So where to first?" Hagrid asked cheerfully. "Honeydukes?"

The Ravenclaws responded enthusiastically. The Slytherins remained silent, looking to Draco, as if waiting to follow his lead. He sneered a little, but made no objection, and the group headed to the candy store. Draco loaded up on candy for himself, and even remembered his promise to pick up something for Dylan. He bought a big box of fudge and handed it to Damien.

"Here," he said carelessly. "Give this to Rosier."

"Uh, thanks," Damien said, a little surprised that Malfoy had actually followed through on his promise. "I'm sure Dylan will appreciate it."

After Honeydukes, they stopped at Zonko's, then headed to The Three Broomsticks, although Hagrid cast a wistful glance in the direction of The Hog's Head. "Just the sort of low-class place someone like him would patronize," Draco sneered.

However, despite the insults he muttered behind Hagrid's back, Draco still seemed to be in a good mood--he had been ever since the prison break. The odd result was that he was behaving almost nicely to people, if in a rather high-handed and patronizing way. As if granting them a great boon, Draco invited Damien and Blaise to sit with him and his in-crowd: Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore, Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode. The two boys, their survival instincts well-honed by spending the past four or five years living in Slytherin House, hid their nervousness and acted appropriately flattered. Still behaving in a lordly fashion, Draco treated the whole table to a round of butterbeer.

"Poor Dylan," Millicent said, "stuck spending his holiday with Snape."

"Yeah, it's not so great being the teacher's pet sometimes," Damien agreed.

"We bought some candy for him at Honeydukes," Pansy said, "since he couldn't come to Hogsmeade with us."

Draco was starting to scowl, and the girls hastily began flattering him and flirting with him, and the smug smile returned to his face. Theodore's eyes narrowed slightly; he had noticed just a touch of fear in the girls' faces before they began simpering at Draco. Although they had always deferred to Draco, they had never seemed to be particularly intimidated by him before, but now it seemed that they, like almost everyone else in Slytherin House, were afraid of him. It was probably significant that their parents had been sympathizers of Voldemort's but had never actually joined the Death Eaters. Theodore glumly took a sip from his tankard as he wondered if this was a sign of how the war was going to go. How many of the pureblood families would rush to ingratiate themselves with the Dark Lord, how many would fight against him, and how many would simply stand by and wait, hoping to align themselves with the winning side? From what his parents had said, Theodore doubted that the Dark Lord would show much mercy to those who tried to remain neutral. "Famous Harry Potter" (as Snape sometimes sarcastically referred to him) had been hailed as the hero and savior of the wizarding world, but Theo didn't see how a teenaged boy could possibly be a match for the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. {If Potter's supposed to save us, then we're all dead,} Theodore thought gloomily. {He's not even that great a wizard; it's not like he's incompetent, but Malfoy, Granger, and even Blaise and I all outrank him in the class standings. Sure, he's a star Quidditch player, but I doubt that will be a lot of help on the battlefield...}

Meanwhile Dylan's friend Lisa Turpin was smiling and waving at Damien from a nearby table where the Ravenclaws were sitting. He grinned and walked over.

"Where's Dylan?" Lisa asked. "Didn't he come with you today?"

"No, didn't you hear?" Damien replied. "He's gone to run errands with Professor Snape in Diagon Alley; it's not like you can turn down a request from the Head of Slytherin House."

"What?" a horrified Padma Patil exclaimed. "He had to give up his Hogsmeade day to help Snape?! That's not fair!"

"Well, his mum revoked her Hogsmeade permission, so he'd be stuck at school, anyway..."

Draco frowned a little, and so did Pansy and Millicent, as Damien chatted and flirted with the two Ravenclaw girls. {Idiot!} Theodore thought. {Put a pretty girl in front of him and all the common sense flies right out of his head!} Draco laughed at a snide comment Pansy made about the Ravenclaws, and Theodore used that distraction to hiss in Blaise's ear, "Go get Pierce back here before Malfoy has a fit!" Blaise nodded and got up. Just then, the Gryffindors walked in, and Draco nodded at Crabbe and Goyle. The two boys grinned and sauntered across the room.

Crabbe accidentally-on-purpose bumped into Ron Weasley and spilled a tankard of butterbeer on him. "Oops, sorry," he said, in a tone that did not sound apologetic at all.

"Watch where you're going, you stupid git!" Weasley snapped.

"Why don't YOU watch where YOU'RE going, git!" Crabbe snapped back. Pretty soon Crabbe and Goyle were getting into a shoving match with the Gryffindor boys, and it looked to be escalating into a full-scale brawl. Hermione Granger was screeching at them to stop, but neither side paid her any heed. Alarmed, Hagrid and McGonagall, who had just walked in the door, hurried over to break up the scuffle.

Draco smiled triumphantly and grabbed Theodore's arm. "Come with me, Nott," he said, dragging him out the back entrance.

"B-but...we're not supposed to go out alone," Theodore protested weakly.

"We're Death Eaters, Nott," Malfoy said dismissively. "The rules don't apply to us."

{We're not Death Eaters yet,} Theodore thought, but did not contradict Draco out loud.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

From the Ravenclaw table, Blaise saw them leave, and quietly slipped out after them.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Theodore reluctantly followed Draco out of the inn and down a narrow alley; at the end of the alley waited two cloaked and hooded figures. One of them threw back his hood, revealing long, white-blond hair.

"Dad!" Draco shouted, and ran forward to embrace his father.

"F-father," Theodore stammered, as the second figure pushed back his hood to reveal his face.

"Happy to see me, Theodore?" Thaddeus Nott said, the malicious glint in his eyes and the sneering twist to his lips as he smiled saying that he already knew the answer to that question.

"Delighted, Father," Theodore said, fighting to keep his voice and face expressionless.

Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy patted his son on the back indulgently for a moment, then said in a cool voice, "Control yourself, my son. This is not fitting behavior for a young man of your rank."

"Y-yes, sir," Draco said, hastily releasing his father, and swiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. Lucius frowned a little, and Draco quickly got himself under control. "I apologize, Father. I was just so happy to see you."

"Of course," Lucius said with a smile, and Draco looked relieved. "I am pleased to see you too, Draco, but a good Slytherin remains in control of his emotions at all times."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, schooling his face into a cool but respectful expression of attentiveness.

"And I am afraid we have little time to waste celebrating this reunion," Lucius continued. "I--"

"Caught this one snooping around," a third cloaked figure interrupted; Theodore recognized the voice as his father's friend, Andreas Avery. To his horror, Avery was dragging forward a very frightened-looking Blaise.

The other two men took out their wands. "We can't let anyone know we were seen here," said Lucius. "It's a pity, but we'll have to--"

"No," Theodore said, fighting to keep his voice cool and unconcerned. It would be very, very bad if either his father or Lucius Malfoy should discover how much he cared about Blaise. "He's a Slytherin, one of us; he's all right."

Lucius turned to Draco. "A friend of yours?"

Draco gave Theodore a quick, calculating look, then replied, "Yeah, sort of. He hangs around with Dylan and Theodore."

"What is your name, child?" Lucius asked, in a deceptively gentle voice, but his gray eyes were hard and cold.

"B-Blaise Z-Zabini, sir," Blaise stuttered.

"Zabini, hmm?" Lucius mused. "Once a proud and noble family, fallen on hard times. Do you know why, Blaise?"

"B-bad investments, my father said," Blaise replied hesitantly.

"They chose not to support us," Lucius said in a quiet and malevolent voice. "They chose not to support their rightful Lord, who would elevate the pureblood families to the greatness they deserve. Too soft, too afraid to get their hands dirty...are you wiser than your parents, Blaise? At least it seems that you have chosen to ally yourself with the proper friends..."

"Yes, sir," Blaise said quickly. He was no fool, he would tell Malfoy whatever he wanted to hear; Theodore just hoped that he could make it sound convincing. "I've tried to make the right friends." A note of contempt entered his voice as he added, "And stay away from all the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers." Lucius Malfoy smiled approvingly. "I may be poor, but I am still a pureblood and a Slytherin," Blaise said proudly, holding his head up high. "I would never betray you; certainly not to the Gryffindors and their ilk."

Theodore was proud of him; he had set aside his fear and sounded almost as haughty and lordly as Draco did; even Draco looked a bit impressed.

Lucius laughed, but it was not a reassuring sound. "Almost, I believe you, child! But most people will say anything to save their lives."

"We should just kill him and be done with it," Theodore's father said impatiently. "We can't take the chance that he'll tell anyone he's seen us."

"Blaise can keep his mouth shut," Theodore said coolly. "I'll see to it. It would be far more suspicious if a student turned up missing or dead, so soon after your escape."

"He has a point, Thaddeus," Lucius conceded. "Draco? Can you control your...friend?"

{Please, Draco,} Theodore silently begged, although he forced his face to remain calm and expressionless. {Help me save Blaise and I'll do anything you want; I'll be your slave for life--just don't let them kill him!}

Perhaps Draco picked up on his unspoken plea; perhaps he was merely thinking that it could be useful for Blaise and Theodore to owe him a favor. But in any case, he answered, "Yes, Father. I am in control of Slytherin House, and Zabini will do what I tell him to. Isn't that right, Zabini?"

"Yes, Draco," Blaise replied meekly.

"I still think we should kill him, if you ask me," Thaddeus muttered.

"Well, I didn't ask your opinion, now did I?" Lucius snapped, then turned to Draco and Theodore. "I'm holding you two personally responsible for his behavior, do you understand me?"

"Yes, Father."

"Yes, sir."

"Still," Lucius said, "I think we should take some precautions, just to be on the safe side. A Memory Charm should suffice, I think. Will you do the honors, Thaddeus?"

"Obliviate!" Thaddeus Nott shouted, pointing his wand at Blaise before Theodore could object, and Blaise fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Is the spell supposed to knock him out like that?" Draco asked dubiously, looking down at his housemate with curiosity and just a touch of concern. "He's not going to go balmy like Lockhart, is he?"

"Subtlety is not your strong point, Thaddeus," Lucius said, frowning a little. "I merely wanted you to erase his memory of this meeting, not turn the boy into a vegetable."

"He'll be all right when he wakes up," Theodore's father said, unconcerned. "And if not, no big loss. He's only a Zabini, after all."

"The Zabinis were once accomplished wizards," Lucius said coldly. "The boy might yet turn out to have some talent, and if so, that talent should be put to good use on behalf of our Lord. I will be quite cross with you, Thaddeus, if you have wiped out his mind." Thaddeus scowled, but said nothing. "We should not linger any longer," Lucius said to his son. "Give this to your mother, and this to Professor Snape," he said, handing Draco two envelopes sealed with wax. "You are not under any circumstances to open them yourself, do you understand me, Draco?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said sullenly.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you to hand Snape's message to him in private. And don't send your mother's letter to her by owl; the Ministry will probably be monitoring the mail service. Hand it to her in person the next time she visits; Slytherin should have a Quidditch match coming up soon, anyway."

"Yes, Father."

"And this is for you," Lucius said with a smile, handing him a small, cloth-wrapped parcel. Draco folded back the cloth, revealing a small mirror in an ornate silver frame. "If I need to contact you, I'll do so through this mirror. Keep it in a safe place, and check regularly for messages from me."

"Yes, Father!" Draco said more enthusiastically, his sullen expression replaced by one of pride. He wrapped the mirror back up and tucked it into a pocket on the inside of his robes. "Can I use it to contact you, too?"

"It only works one way," Lucius replied, a stern look on his face. "I will be very busy in our Master's service, and I can't have you bothering me with trivial matters." Draco's expression turned a little sulky. "And besides, it's safer if I contact you. It might be dangerous if you tried to disturb me while I am in the middle of...ah...a sensitive operation."

"Yes, Father," Draco said, looking placated, if not exactly happy about it.

Lucius gave Blaise's unconscious form one last, thoughtful look. "And I want you to keep an eye on the children from the lower houses, those who still have pure blood, but little wealth or influence; we may find some talented recruits eager to advance themselves. The Dark Lord will reward those who serve him well, and there will be many estates up for grabs once we get rid of all the Muggle-lovers."

"Yes, Father!" Draco said eagerly, looking proud once again.

"Don't mention the Death Eaters by name," Lucius cautioned, but he looked amused. "Just hint; that will be enough. I merely want to take note of who might be useful to our cause. And it would be helpful if you could get an idea of which families will support our Lord and which will side with Dumbledore or try to play neutral."

"You can count on me, Dad!"

"Very well," Lucius said. "Give my regards to your mother. If all goes well, soon I can come out of hiding and take my rightful place once more."

"Yes, Father," Draco said, practically glowing with happiness and pride.

"You go ahead, Lucius," Thaddeus said. "I'll be along in a minute; I'd like a word with my son in private."

Lucius nodded, smiling a little at the terrified expression on Theodore's face, then Disapparated. Avery grinned maliciously. "Tell Serafina that her daddy will be back home soon," he said, "and I'll expect her to behave like a dutiful daughter. She cannot hide from me, nor from her duty to our Master." Then he too vanished.

"Why don't you head back to the inn, Draco?" Thaddeus said, a polite smile--which looked strained and not very sincere--fixed on his face. "Theodore will be along shortly."

Draco hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and left, saying, "I'll see you back at the inn, then, Nott."

As soon as they were alone, Thaddeus reached out and grabbed his son's right wrist, gripping it so tightly that Theodore winced in pain and bit his lip to keep from crying out. "You can scream if you like, Theodore," Thaddeus said with a nasty smile. "We've cast a brief spell of obscurement on this corner of the alley to prevent anyone from seeing or overhearing us. Unfortunately for your little friend, Andreas was keeping a lookout and must have felt he was getting a little too close for comfort." He leaned close and hissed into his son's ear, "If you ever make me look bad in front of Lucius Malfoy again, you will be very sorry, Theodore!" Still gripping Theodore's wrist, he pulled out his wand with his free hand and whispered a brief incantation.

Suddenly it felt to Theodore as if his father's hand around his wrist was not made of flesh and bone but red-hot iron. He screamed out loud as his father's touch seared his wrist, seeming to burn right through the skin and down to the bone. He struggled to break free, but Thaddeus only tightened his grip and the pain increased, until Theodore was forced to his knees, his vision blurry in a haze of pain, not sure whether his father intended to snap his wrist and break the bones, or burn right through them. Both, maybe...

Finally, Thaddeus released his son, who collapsed in a trembling heap at his feet. "Not acting so big now that your friend Draco's not here to protect you, are you?" he sneered. He kicked Theodore hard in the side, but the pain in Theo's wrist was so bad that he barely noticed. "If you ever defy me again, I will do far worse to you, understand?"

"Yes, Father," Theodore groaned, clutching his wrist.

"And you will do your duty," Thaddeus continued in a menacing tone. "You will serve the Dark Lord one way or another--as a Death Eater or as a sacrifice, do you understand me, Theodore?"

"Yes, Father," Theodore whispered. The elder Nott must have been satisfied with his response, because when he looked up again, his father was gone. He pulled up his sleeve and saw a bright red handprint circling his wrist; it was still smarting painfully, but hopefully there would be no permanent damage. He heard Blaise groan, then quickly pulled his sleeve back down. "Blaise?" he asked anxiously. "Are you all right?"

Blaise sat up, blinking, an unfocused look in his eyes. "Theo?"

"You know who I am!" Theodore said in relief.

Blaise smiled, looking a little confused. "Of course I know who you are. You're Theodore, my friend." He giggled. "My boyfriend!"

Theodore's relief was short-lived; Blaise never giggled, and his eyes had never looked that vacuous before.

"Where are we?" Blaise asked, looking around. "What happened?"

"We're in Hogsmeade," Theodore answered. "You, um, fell and hit your head. You might be a little dazed."

"Oh," Blaise said, frowning and rubbing his head. "Why aren't we in school?"

"It's Halloween," Theodore reminded him, his spirits sinking further.

"Oh," Blaise repeated, still looking confused.

"Come on," Theodore said. "Let's get back to the inn." He helped Blaise to his feet, and his friend followed him willingly enough back to The Three Broomsticks. {Merlin, I hope the spell wears off like it's supposed to!}

When they got back to the inn, the Gryffindors were looking sufficiently chastened as McGonagall glowered at them. Crabbe and Goyle looked a little sullen; they shot Draco an "I hope that was worth it" look, and Draco grinned and gave them a thumbs-up when the teachers' backs were turned.

McGonagall frowned at Theodore and Blaise when she spotted them. "Where have you been, Mr. Nott, Mr. Zabini? You know you're not supposed to go out without a chaperone."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Theodore said. "We didn't really leave," he lied. "We were right out back." He was about to say that Blaise had been feeling sick and needed some fresh air, but he didn't want her looking too closely at Blaise, who was still looking a little puzzled, but at least he remained quiet and said nothing to contradict Theodore. Then he thought of a better excuse and said, "We didn't want to get caught up in the fight. The Gryffindors are always blaming the Slytherins for everything--"

"Your lot started it!" Weasley protested, then fell silent as McGonagall glared at him.

"And I didn't want to get detention," Theodore finished virtuously. "So I thought it would be better to slip out behind the inn till the fuss died down."

McGonagall gave him a suspicious look, but chose not to challenge his story. "I think it is time we all returned to the school," she said, and the students groaned. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws shot resentful looks at the Gryffindors and Slytherins for cutting their trip short. Theodore was all too relieved to go back.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dylan returned to his dorm to find the common room full of sulky-looking students. He found Damien in their dorm room and asked, "Why's everyone look so glum?"

"Oh, McGonagall cut the trip short because Crabbe and Goyle started a fight with the Gryffindors," he replied.

"Oh? What did Malfoy have to say about that?"

Damien frowned. "Nothing. Come to think of it, I'd have expected him to be egging them on but I didn't see him around till it was over...and Theo and Blaise slipped off during the fight, too. Theo told McGonagall they hid out back because they didn't want to get drawn into the fight." He laughed nervously. "Maybe they were just having a little snog in the alley."

"Probably," Dylan agreed with a grin, although he knew better, and he suspected Damien did, too. Crabbe and Goyle were usually acting on Draco's orders when they made trouble, and if Draco wasn't around, that probably meant they had started the fight to provide a distraction so their leader could sneak off. To try and contact the Death Eaters? But Theo didn't want Blaise involved with the Death Eaters, and Draco wouldn't trust Blaise to come along on such an errand. Maybe they had been up to simple schoolboy mischief, or maybe Draco had gone off on his mysterious errand by himself, and Theo and Blaise had merely taken advantage of the distraction to spend some time alone together. But that didn't make sense either; they shared a dorm room, after all, and that provided much more privacy than Hogsmeade...

Attempting to change the subject, Dylan handed Damien his purchases from the Weasleys' store. "One Skiving Snackbox and one box of Ton Tongue Toffees as requested," he said lightly.

"Thanks!" Damien said. "Did you have to sneak off to get these?"

"No," Dylan grinned. "Snape let me go there."

"What?!"

"The Headmaster forced Snape to take Lupin along, and Lupin wanted to stop there. Snape was not happy about it, but apparently he was ordered not to let Lupin go off on his own; Dumbledore's afraid of anti-human sentiment or something."

"Hmm, tensions are running a bit high," Damien said. "But I would think that Lupin could take care of himself."

"But it would look bad for a werewolf to attack someone, even in self-defense," Dylan pointed out. "Nobody gave him a hard time, though, at least that I noticed."

"It would take a braver man than me to attack someone Snape is bodyguarding," Damien said fervently, and Dylan laughed. "I bet Snape must have just loved being assigned as Lupin's keeper!"

"Oh yes," Dylan said, rolling his eyes. "They fought during the entire carriage ride to Diagon Alley. Or at least, Snape fought with him. Lupin never really fights back. He just smiles and says--" Dylan imitated the exaggeratedly cheerful tone Lupin always used with Snape. "--'Yes, Severus,' or 'Is that so, Severus?' or 'Isn't it a nice day, Severus?'"

"Yeah, that always seems to drive Snape nuts," Damien laughed. "You poor thing, being stuck with them all day!"

"Well, it wasn't so bad," Dylan said. "He calmed down a little after we went to the Apothecary--they had some rare ingredients he wanted--and Lupin treated us to sundaes at Fortescue's. Oh, and by the way, be careful about using those Skiving Snackbox sweets; Snape picked up a box to give to Madam Pomfrey so she can tell when the students are faking their illnesses." He laughed as Damien groaned.

"Well, I suppose I can still use the Toffees on Doherty," he grumbled. "How much do I owe you?"

"My treat," Dylan replied.

"Really? Thanks! Oh, and Malfoy picked up this for you at Honeydukes." Damien handed Dylan the box of fudge.

"Wow, I thought he'd just pick me up a candy bar if he remembered to get me anything at all," Dylan said, surprised and a little impressed by the huge box of candy. "Want some?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Damien said with a grin, helping himself to the fudge. "Oh, and the girls all felt sorry for you, being stuck with Snape on a holiday, so I'm sure you'll get a ton of candy from them, too."

"We should share some with Theo and Blaise," Dylan said.

"They're in their room right now," Damien said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "They might not want to be interrupted. Actually, Theo said Blaise wasn't feeling well."

"What happened? Is he sick?"

"I dunno," Damien replied, "but he seemed a little out of it. Too much candy and butterbeer, maybe."

"Maybe," Dylan agreed, although it was out of character for Blaise to eat himself sick--Crabbe and Goyle, maybe, but not Blaise.

Later, before dinner, Draco pulled Dylan aside and spoke to him privately. "My dad contacted me at Hogsmeade!" he whispered triumphantly. "He said he won't have to be hiding much longer!"

"That's great!" Dylan said, feigning enthusiasm. If it seemed a bit forced, Draco didn't seem to notice.

"Isn't it, though?" Draco said smugly. Dylan was about to ask him if Theodore had been with him at the time, but Draco hurried off to catch up with Crabbe and Goyle. "Come on, Rosier!" he called. "We don't want to be late for the feast, and we have a lot to celebrate today!"

Dylan was about to follow Draco to the Great Hall when he spotted Theodore and Blaise. "Theo!" he said. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" It would be much safer to ask Theodore than Draco, anyway.

"Not now, Dylan," Theodore said impatiently. "We'll be late for dinner." Blaise smiled at Dylan, though his eyes looked slightly dazed and unfocused.

"Okay," Dylan said. "But after dinner--?"

"Dylan!" Pansy squealed. She and Millicent and some of the other girls came running up, practically shoving Theodore and Blaise aside. "We felt bad that you couldn't come to Hogsmeade, so we got you some candy."

"Thank you so much," he said smiling at the girls, who giggled and fluttered their eyelashes at him.

"Come on," Theodore said, "we're going to be late. Oh, damn it!"

"What's wrong?" Dylan asked.

"Where did Blaise go?" Theodore asked, looking around almost frantically.

"He probably just went on ahead," Pansy said, unconcerned.

"What's wrong, Theo?" Dylan asked, frowning a little. It wasn't like Blaise couldn't find his way to the Great Hall alone...

"Nothing," Theodore replied nonchalantly, but his eyes still looked worried. "It's just, he's feeling sick, and he's a bit, um, disoriented."

"I'll help you find him," Dylan volunteered. The girls pouted. "We'll be along in a minute," he said, and winked at them flirtatiously. "You'll save me a seat, won't you?"

"Of course!" the girls chorused happily, and hurried off, arguing over who was going to get to sit next to Dylan.

Theodore hurried down the corridor in the opposite direction, and Dylan followed, asking, "What's wrong? If he's that sick, shouldn't he go to the hospital wing?"

"Just shut up and help me find him!" Theodore snapped, but Dylan was more worried than offended, because Theodore looked more scared than angry. They continued searching the dungeon in silence.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape was almost sorry when the carriage arrived at Hogwarts. Dylan awoke with a start, looking startled and embarrassed to find himself leaning on his teacher's shoulder. "The Thestrals made a sudden turn," Snape lied, "and sent you sliding into me." Well, it was not exactly a lie, but a bit of an exaggeration, and he acted as if it had just happened a minute ago, rather than at the beginning of the trip. Snape had always been a master of the half-truth; he had gained plenty of practice at it during his long tenure as a spy.

"Oh," Dylan said, flushing slightly. "Sorry, sir."

"No problem, Rosier," Snape replied indulgently, and the boy smiled at him. He nudged Lupin, who was still fast asleep. "Lupin." Lupin stirred, muttered something unintelligible, and snuggled closer against Snape. Dylan giggled, then quickly covered his mouth with his hand as Snape glared at him. "Lupin! Wake up, we're back at Hogwarts!"

"Huh?" Lupin said, blinking sleepily. "Oh." He yawned and stretched, then smiled. "Too bad, I was kind of enjoying myself."

"Go enjoy yourself in your own bed, Lupin," Snape said sourly.

"Only if you join me there," Lupin said archly.

"LUPIN!" Snape howled, as Dylan tried to stifle his laughter.

Snape kept up his scowl until he reached his office, then allowed himself to grin. The thought of Lupin in his bed--or himself in Lupin's--was definitely something to look forward to. Yes, despite the encounter with his mother, it had been a very good day. He was looking forward to enjoying the Halloween feast, and then spending the night with Lupin.

So of course fate had to ruin his good mood and all his plans.

First, McGonagall showed up, informing him of how his students had been involved in a brawl with the Gryffindors. "Yes, yes, I'll give Crabbe and Goyle detention," he sighed.

McGonagall was not pleased with what she called his "cavalier attitude". "You need to take these things more seriously, Severus," she scolded. "We don't need the students getting into fights at a time like this--"

Finally he got rid of her, promising to sentence Crabbe and Goyle to bedpan-scrubbing, and to give them "a stern talking-to" (as McGonagall put it). He began putting away his newly-purchased potion ingredients; the Runespoor eggs were a real find. They were used in potions to enhance mental ability, and he had to start a new batch of Mind Restoration Potion soon. He could make the potion without them, but the eggs could be used as a substitute for the dragon's blood, and were in fact much more effective. Well, not that he really cared whether Gilbert Donner had all his wits about him or not, but Snape did enjoy getting his hands on such a rare ingredient, and he did enjoy a challenge. He could have Dylan help him with the potion again; it was too bad that he couldn't enlist Granger's aid without arousing suspicion among his Slytherins...

Just as his mood was starting to improve, Draco Malfoy showed up bearing a message from his father. He looked even more smug than usual as he explained how he had met Lucius in Hogsmeade. {Ah, that explains the fight Crabbe and Goyle started,} Snape thought to himself sourly. He took the letter and dismissed the boy, who looked disappointed that Snape wasn't going to share the contents of it with him, but left without complaint. He broke the seal and read the terse note:

"Expect a summons tonight after dinner. Bring the boy."

Snape sighed and tossed the note into the fireplace. {So much for a romantic evening with Lupin,} he thought regretfully. And it also meant that he would have to put Dylan in danger again. He locked his office door, cast a silence spell on the room, and contacted Lupin and Branwen through the fireplace.

"I don't like this," Lupin said, looking worried.

"Nor I," Branwen said. "I don't think it's a coincidence that he's summoning his Death Eaters on All Hallows Eve; it's a prime time to work Dark Magic..."

"Do you think he might be planning to work some sort of spell?" Lupin asked.

"I have no idea," Snape said. "I hope he just wants to welcome his newly-freed Death Eaters back to the flock, but it's not like I have a choice. It's either show up tonight with Dylan or break my cover. I'd leave Rosier at home if I could, but no Death Eater can defy the Dark Lord's orders and expect to live."

"You're right," Branwen agreed, frowning. "Now is not the time to make the break. Apart from your own safety, it would be dangerous for Dylan to be branded as a traitor while he's still living in Slytherin House."

Lupin sighed unhappily, but didn't argue. "Shall we wait for you at Sirius's house as we did before, then?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "I hope it will be unnecessary, but better safe than sorry, as the saying goes."

Branwen left, and Lupin embraced Snape before departing through the fireplace as well. "I'll be waiting for you, Severus. No matter what happens."

"I love you, Remus," Snape whispered; he always said those words to Lupin before he left to answer a summons, because he knew all too well that it might be the last chance he would ever have to say them. "I'll come back to you," he added, hoping that Voldemort would not make him into a liar.

"I love you, Severus," Lupin replied softly, though he still looked anxious, then left.

Snape brooded alone in his office until it was almost time for dinner, then sighed and got up to leave. He gathered up some graded papers and supplies, deciding to drop them off in his classroom before heading to the Great Hall.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Theodore heard a startled exclamation from the direction of Snape's office, and he and Dylan hurried around the corner to find an irritated Snape looking down at some scattered rolls of parchment and paper-wrapped parcels, as well as Blaise, who lay sprawled out on the floor at Snape's feet.

"Watch where you're going, Zabini!" the Potions Master snapped.

"Sorry, Professor," Blaise replied, smiling up at him cheerfully. Snape blinked in surprise. "Am I late for class?"

Snape's expression changed from irritation to concern. "Are you feeling all right, Mr. Zabini?"

Theodore hurried forward and pulled Blaise to his feet. "He's a little under the weather, sir, but he's fine. He, uh, just had too much candy at Hogsmeade." Well, that was a pretty lame excuse, but if he went with the "Blaise fell and hit his head" story, Snape would want to send Blaise to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey would be able to tell that he was suffering from a Memory Charm, not a concussion.

"Too much candy gives you a stomachache; it doesn't make you forget what day it is," Snape said sharply. He turned his gaze on Dylan, who shrugged. Snape looked back at Blaise. "What happened, Mr. Zabini? Are you ill?"

"I don't know," Blaise replied, still smiling up at Snape vaguely. "I don't remember."

Snape's eyes widened, and he leaned down to look at Blaise more closely, then cursed under his breath. "Mr. Rosier," he said in that curt, implacable tone that all the Slytherins knew better than to argue with, "take Mr. Zabini to the hospital wing and tell Madam Pomfrey that I believe he's suffering from the effects of a Memory Charm. Tell her I'll explain later."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, and took Blaise by the arm and hurried off.

"Well, I'd better go with them," Theodore said hastily.

"Not so fast, Mr. Nott," Snape snapped, and grabbed him by the wrist as he started to back away. Theodore cried out in pain before he could stop himself.

Snape looked startled, and loosened his grip a little, though he did not let go of Theodore. "In my office, Nott," he said, and dragged a miserable Theodore back to his office. Snape closed and locked the door behind them, then pushed back the sleeve of Theodore's robe. Theodore heard a sharp hiss of surprise as Snape caught sight of the handprint burned into his wrist. "Who did this to you?" Snape asked, sounding angry--and concerned?

Theodore looked up, and to his amazement saw that yes, there was concern in Snape's black eyes. "I--I can't tell you," he stammered, turning pale.

He waited for Snape to berate him, but the Potions Master only frowned and looked thoughtful. "Never mind," he said, "I can guess. It was your father, wasn't it?" Theodore remained silent, but began to tremble. "You and Malfoy slipped off at Hogsmeade to meet your fathers. And..." Snape's eyes narrowed. "...Mr. Zabini must have followed you, and they cast the Memory Charm on him to make him forget what he'd seen."

Theodore just stared back at him in terror, not sure whether he should confirm or deny that guess--that very accurate guess. Snape was a Death Eater, but Theodore suspected his father would still be angry if he talked about what had happened in the alley.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape frowned at the boy trembling in front of him. He had a choice to make; he could play it safe, do nothing, and keep his cover--and continue to let Theodore be abused by his father and eventually be drawn into the Death Eaters. Or he could try to help the boy, but his cover would be at risk if the Death Eaters found out, because no true Death Eater would interfere in such a matter; in the eyes of most purebloods, a child was the property of his family, and they could treat him however they pleased. And while a few of the Death Eaters, such as Narcissa Malfoy, might love their own children, they were not likely to be very concerned about someone else's.

If it was only his safety at stake, Snape would not have hesitated to take the risk, but Lupin and Dylan might be endangered as well if his loyalty should become suspect. But he knew what Lupin and Dylan would want him to do, and in the end, he didn't really have a choice: he had promised himself that he would protect his Slytherin students; if he stood by and did nothing, he would be no better than Professor De Lacy, the former Head of Slytherin, who had let Voldemort take his students without resistance.

"Come here, Nott," Snape said, motioning for Theodore to step forward; the boy nervously obeyed. Snape took a jar of healing salve down from a shelf behind his desk and applied the salve to the boy's wrist. Theodore relaxed a little as the pain eased, and looked just a little less frightened. Snape put the cap back on the jar and handed it to Theodore, saying, "Here, you might as well keep this. Apply it as often as you need to in order to keep the pain down; about three times daily, I should think, but you can come back for more if you need it. I think the burn should fade in about a week, and the salve will keep it from scarring."

"Thank you, sir," Theodore said, sounding grateful if puzzled.

"Has he done this to you before?" Snape asked. The boy remained silent, but the look in his eyes was answer enough. Maybe not this particular hex, but Snape was sure that Thaddeus Nott had abused his son in the past. "You'll be safe here at Hogwarts," Snape said. "I'll find some excuse to keep you from going on any further Hogsmeade outings--detention, perhaps." Theodore looked as though he didn't know whether to be grateful or offended, and then looked shocked as Snape smiled just the slightest bit. "Or perhaps I'll have you assist me on a special project."

Theodore shook his head. "No, that might make Draco jealous," he pointed out. Snape nodded in approval; the boy was intelligent and sensible. "I don't really mind getting detention," he said, watching Snape warily, "but the Christmas holidays are coming up in a couple of months, and I'll have to go back home then, anyway, so I don't know how much good that will do..."

"Thaddeus would be a fool to return home," Snape said. "I'm sure the Aurors are keeping a close watch on all the escaped Death Eaters' residences. But just in case, I'll tell your mother that I want you to stay at school this Christmas. It's not too early to prepare for your N.E.W.T.s."

"My mother's not the one you need to worry about," Theodore muttered sullenly.

"I will convince your parents," Snape said. "Both of them. I think, in these uncertain times, perhaps it might be wise to keep my flock of Slytherins close at hand...the populace is uneasy, and the Aurors are nervous and trigger-happy; perhaps I will recommend that all my students stay back at Hogwarts this year."

"Why are you helping me?" Theodore whispered, apparently afraid of trusting Snape; Snape was not surprised. A child with an upbringing such as Theodore's would be wise to trust no one, but that did make things more difficult for Snape. "My father...he's one of you..."

"I might be a Death Eater," Snape said, and Theodore gasped out loud; he knew that Snape was a Death Eater, of course, but Snape never spoke openly of it, not even to the children of his supposed comrades. "However," Snape continued, "I am also your teacher and Head of House, and I am responsible for your safety and well-being." Theodore did not look convinced. Snape hesitated, then made a second difficult decision, and said softly, "Besides, my father was a great deal like yours."

"He was?" Theodore asked, suspicion warring with curiosity and hope--no, more desperation than hope--in his eyes. He might be a cynical, distrustful child, but he was still a child, and like most children, he wanted an adult to protect him and make everything all right. As a Death Eater's child, he knew that was unlikely to happen, but some almost instinctive, childish impulse in him made him long for it all the same; Snape knew, because it was that same impulse that had led him to trust the Headmaster as a lonely, wary young boy--at least to a certain extent.

"Yes," Snape replied, gazing directly into Theodore's dark, almost murky, green eyes. "My father used the Cruciatus Curse on a regular basis to punish me when I misbehaved." Theodore gasped again. "Of course," Snape said with a bitter little smile, "he did not use it often, because I soon learned not to misbehave, but from time to time, he found an excuse to use it on me. He never did so for no reason, I must admit, but I think he enjoyed it." Theodore was staring at him in shock and horror, and Snape, making an educated guess based on the resentment Theodore held towards his mother, added, "And my mother did nothing to stop him."

The look in Theodore's eyes--hurt, bewilderment, resentment--told him he had guessed correctly. "She never tried to stop him, not once," Theodore whispered sullenly. "She's too scared of him herself." He timidly asked Snape, "Was...was your mother afraid of your father, too?"

"No," Snape replied quietly. "That, perhaps, I might have forgiven. No, she simply didn't care; she didn't think he was doing anything wrong." He mockingly echoed Selima Snape's words: "It is a father's duty to punish his children when they misbehave."

Theodore smiled bitterly. "I still think cowardice is worse," he whispered, "but then, I'm a coward, too. Serafina at least had the guts to hex her father when he hurt her."

"Andreas Avery is at heart a coward," Snape said coolly. "I wouldn't advise hexing your father, Theodore; he would most likely kill you--if you were lucky."

A little suspicion crept back into Theodore's eyes. "Why didn't you help Sera, if you're so concerned about us?"

"Miss Avery was not my student back then," Snape pointed out. "But I knew what was going on," he admitted, as guilt prodded his conscience. It was not easy, confessing his sins to a sixteen year old boy, but he knew that this was his best and perhaps only chance to win Theodore's trust, and the boy was too clever and cynical to be appeased by evasive answers or glib excuses. "Cowardice is a common commodity, it seems," he said, his lips twisting in a mirthless smile. "I will not lie to you, Theodore. I could not help Serafina directly, nor can I help you directly, by openly opposing your father, for fear of offending my fellow Death Eaters. The best I can do is to shield you by directing his attention elsewhere."

Theodore was silent for a long moment, then seemed to come to a decision of his own. "That's still more than anyone else has ever done for me," he said. "I'll take you up on your offer to keep me at school during the holidays, sir. Thank you." He began to look nervous again. "But I'll have to leave for the summer..."

"We'll deal with that when the time comes," Snape sighed; he could not hide the boy from his parents indefinitely. "Perhaps I might be able to find you an overseas summer study program." Maybe he could send Theodore to Kamiyama for the summer, if he could convince Thaddeus that the boy would be learning some useful Dark Magic spells. Then again, maybe the Dark Lord would have killed them all by then, making the whole point moot...from the grim look on Theodore's face, the same thought had probably occurred to him.

"Yes, sir," the boy said solemnly.

"Very well," Snape said. "Go to dinner, and tell your classmates that Mr. Zabini is ill."

"Yes, sir. What...what will you tell Madam Pomfrey?"

"That it was a juvenile prank that got out of hand."

Theodore hesitated at the door. "Professor?"

"Yes?"

He hesitated again, looking pale and fearful, but finally he said, "Lucius Malfoy and my father wanted to kill Blaise when they caught him."

"What?!" Snape exclaimed. In hindsight, he was not really surprised, but Zabini had come back safely, if with his wits slightly addled. "What changed their minds?"

"I...I told them that it would be too suspicious if a student suddenly died or went missing," Theodore said.

"You are correct," Snape said approvingly. "Lucius at least should have realized that. Clever lad."

Theodore looked startled, but gave him a very small and tentative smile. Snape recognized that look, too; he remembered being a young student at Hogwarts, wanting to trust the people who reached out to him--Dumbledore, Professor Blackmore, and Lupin--but never quite daring to trust them completely. He was a little surprised that Theodore had decided to trust him--however tentatively--so quickly, but maybe the boy was less hardened than Snape had been at that age--or possibly just more desperate.

"My father still wanted to kill Blaise," Theodore said, his dark eyes a little frantic. "But Mr. Malfoy overruled him."

{Desperation, then,} Snape decided. {He wants to save his friend, and he's willing to go out on a limb to do it.} Good; if he could feel compassion, then he was not as far down the road to becoming a Death Eater as Draco was.

"I told him Blaise wouldn't betray them, and Draco backed me up," Theodore said, looking a little surprised.

"Really?" Snape said. "Hmm..." Maybe there was more to Draco than he had thought...

"He said that he was in control of Slytherin House--" Theodore cast a nervous look at his teacher. "--and that Blaise would do whatever he said."

Well, that sounded more in character, but still, Snape was surprised that Draco would go out of his way to help the Zabini boy, even if he was one of Draco's housemates.

"Please," Theodore begged, "you'll protect Blaise, won't you? You won't let them kill him?"

"So long as Lucius and the others believe that the Memory Charm was effective, they have no reason to harm him, but I'll keep a very close eye on Mr. Zabini," Snape promised. "I think he had best stay at Hogwarts for the rest of the school year with you, just to be on the safe side. If Blaise's memory does start to return, make sure he keeps quiet about it, and let me know." Snape's eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to him. "Is that why your father hexed you? Because you argued with him about killing Zabini?"

"Yes, sir," Theodore mumbled, staring at his feet.

"Did Lucius say anything else to Draco about Zabini?" Snape asked. "To keep an eye on him, perhaps?" He was worried that Lucius might try to have the boy eliminated if he showed signs of regaining his memory.

"He...he told Draco to keep an eye on the children of the lower houses, people like Blaise who have pure blood but not much else. He wants to tempt them into joining the Death Eaters eventually."

"WHAT?!" Snape roared, and the boy jumped. He quickly got himself under control again, but inside he was furious. {How dare he! How dare he send his son to recruit MY students right under my nose--} Then fury was replaced by fear. Snape was the logical person to begin recruiting the students, as a Death Eater and the Head of Slytherin; if Lucius was assigning that task to Draco without consulting him, then did that mean he suspected something? Then again, perhaps Lucius was only indulging Draco and letting him feel important, or perhaps recruiting the students was one of the things they would discuss at the meeting tonight. He didn't know what would be worse: having his loyalty suspect, or being ordered to begin recruiting his students as a loyal Death Eater. Because if he was so ordered, then his loyalty would soon become suspect if it hadn't been already, because there was no way he was going to hand his students over to the Dark Lord.

"I am Head of Slytherin," Snape said coldly. "I should have been informed of this first." Let Theodore think he was angry mainly because of ego and botched protocol; if the boy did not quite trust him yet, neither did he completely trust the boy. He didn't think that Theodore would betray him out of malice, but he might do it out of fear, if pressed hard enough.

"I'm sorry, sir," Theodore said, cringing a little.

"Never mind," Snape sighed. "It's not your fault."

"Sir," Theodore said nervously, "Blaise won't betray us, but he...he's not...I don't..."

"But he's not cut out to be a Death Eater," Snape finished. "I know." Theodore was still staring at him anxiously. "I'll protect him."

"Thank you," Theodore said, his eyes filled with relief.

"Just make sure that he does nothing to arouse Draco's suspicions."

"Yes, sir! Don't worry, sir, I'll see that he doesn't."

"And Nott?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Not a word to your father about all this."

"No, sir!" Theodore said fervently.

"It's a delicate situation," Snape continued. "I'll have to handle it carefully. And I'm sure you'd prefer that I kept your name out of it, in any case."

"Yes, sir!"

"Come to me if you hear anything more from your father or his companions."

"Yes, sir."

Snape hesitated; he had risked this much--a little more wouldn't hurt. Hopefully. "Or if you hear any...ah...interesting gossip from your friend Draco," he added.

"Yes, sir," Theodore replied readily.

"Very well, run along, then."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Theodore prayed that he wasn't making a big mistake by trusting Snape, but it wasn't like he had much choice; there was no one else he could turn to. He didn't trust the Headmaster, however kindly he acted, because everyone knew that the Gryffindors in general and Harry Potter in particular were his pets. The memory of the House Cup being stolen from Slytherin and handed to Gryffindor after they had won it fair and square in first year still rankled a bit. {Well, maybe not "fair and square,"} Theodore admitted to himself, {but still...} It was not so much the Gryffindors' victory that bothered him, but the way it had been done: the Headmaster had not awarded Potter and his little friends their extra points before the feast but during it, after Slytherin had already been proclaimed the victor, humiliating them in front of the entire school by snatching away their prize and handing it to Gryffindor. Oh, Theodore believed that if he gave the Headmaster information about the Death Eaters he would act on it, but he was afraid that Dumbledore would be more concerned with catching the Death Eaters than protecting Blaise. After all, what was one unimportant Slytherin boy in the grand scheme of things? Theodore had read his history books and he knew that in war, individual lives were sometimes sacrificed for the greater good. Theodore didn't care about the greater good; all he wanted to do was save Blaise.

Lupin might be willing to help him; he seemed genuinely concerned about protecting all his students, even the Slytherins, but however good a mage he was, he was not powerful enough to stand up to the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters alone. No, it would have to be Snape. As a Death Eater, Snape could steer his comrades' attention away from Blaise without drawing suspicion. Maybe he could even keep Theodore's father away from him, at least for awhile. But he was aware that he could not avoid his father forever. He could endure his father's cruelty; he had done so for the past sixteen years, after all, but things were different now that the Dark Lord had returned. The stakes were higher now--as his father had pointed out, the only options he had were to become a Death Eater or to become a sacrifice.

For the first time he wondered just how loyal a Death Eater Snape really was. Of course, this could all be a trick; Snape might be pretending sympathy to gain his confidence, then turn around and tell Thaddeus Nott about his wayward son, but somehow Theodore didn't think so. He believed the story Snape had told him about how his own father had punished him with the Cruciatus Curse; there had been real bitterness, anger, and shame in his eyes as he spoke. It was mostly the shame that convinced Theodore that Snape was telling the truth, because only someone who had actually been through what they had would understand the shame of being too weak and afraid to fight back. So...Snape might be helping him because he identified with Theodore somehow? It sounded ludicrous, yet Theodore believed it. That didn't necessarily mean that Snape wasn't also a loyal Death Eater, but it was very rare for a Death Eater to show compassion to another person, at least one outside of his immediate family--and sometimes not even then, as Theodore knew all too well. And Snape was willing to deceive, or at least mislead, his fellow Death Eaters in order to protect Theodore and Blaise.

His parents had known Snape for years, and Theodore had been his student for over five years, but he still knew little about the man, and nothing about why he had joined the Death Eaters. He knew that Snape, who was several years younger than his parents, had officially joined the Death Eaters shortly after graduating from Hogwarts, and had supposedly reformed and switched sides after the Dark Lord fell--as most of the Death Eaters had, in order to save their lives and their freedom. He had returned to the Dark Lord's side along with the other Death Eaters, but who was Snape--a loyal Death Eater, who had been biding his time until his Lord returned? Someone who had gotten in over his head as a youth, who perhaps now regretted joining the Death Eaters but was too afraid to back out? Or...could it be that he really had reformed and was still loyal to Dumbledore? But then that would mean... Theodore shook his head. It was difficult to believe, despite Dumbledore's oft-professed belief in second chances. He could not believe that Dumbledore trusted Snape as much as claimed to, and he could not believe that anyone would be brave enough and foolish enough to betray the Dark Lord.

{I don't want to know,} Theodore decided. It was not safe to speculate about such things; let Snape's reasons remain a secret. He would not question them, so long as Snape continued to help him.

He and Dylan came down to dinner late; they explained that Blaise was feeling sick and had been sent to the hospital wing by Snape. Draco just grinned knowingly, looking quite smug. Serafina gave him a hard, penetrating stare with her blue-violet eyes, then looked away, but it reminded him of the message he was supposed to pass on from her father. He lingered behind and pulled her down a side corridor as they headed back to their dorm. "I have a message for you," he whispered. "Your father is back, and he says he expects you to be a dutiful daughter."

She jerked her arm free from his grasp, and a hint of rare emotion--contempt--filled her eyes. "Fine," she said curtly. "You've given me your message. Now leave me alone."

"Do you think I like this?" Theodore hissed at her. "I don't have a choice, and neither do you! Your father said you can't hide from him or from your duty to 'our Master'."

Then Serafina looked weary, and almost sad. "I know, Theodore," she said quietly. "I know there's no hiding from it. From them." She started to turn away, then paused and asked, "So do you intend to do your duty, Theo?"

"What other choice is there?" Theodore asked despairingly.

"I don't know," Serafina replied with that same look of weary sorrow, then turned and headed back to the dorm.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

As Snape left the Great Hall, he passed by the Slytherin table and said, "I want a word with you, Rosier." Dylan got up and followed him. His Slytherin housemates were oddly subdued, not responding with the usual sympathetic or joking comments they made when one of their own seemed to be in trouble with Snape. But then, except for Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle, they had been unusually subdued ever since the news of the prison break at Azkaban had been made public.

To Dylan's surprise, Snape headed not for his office, but for his quarters, where he fetched their Death Eater robes.

"Are we being summoned?" Dylan asked, his heart sinking. "I didn't feel the Mark burn."

"I received a message telling us we would be summoned tonight," Snape replied curtly, his face already schooled into the emotionless mask he always wore around the Dark Lord. "Come along, it will take some time to get far enough off the school grounds to Apparate, and the Dark Lord does not like to be kept waiting."

With almost perfect timing, their Marks began to burn as they left the school behind. Snape pulled Dylan close, and a moment later they re-emerged in Voldemort's underground chambers. Other black-robed figures were arriving, and soon the full complement of Death Eaters were present. They all took their places in the circle and bowed to their Master, who was dressed in his usual black robes, but this time he also wore a belt around his waist that held a sheathed dagger, one with an orate gold hilt wrought in the shape of a serpent.

"Welcome!" Voldemort said, sounding pleased and triumphant. "I have summoned you here to celebrate on this All Hallows Eve, the return of your imprisoned brethren!"

The Death Eaters bowed to him again, and Lucius Malfoy said, "Thank you, Master, for freeing us from our imprisonment."

"You should not have let yourselves be taken in the first place," Voldemort said coldly, but without his usual menace. "Do not fail me again."

"No, Master," Lucius said, hastily dropping to his knees and bowing low. "Never again, Master."

"Very good, Lucius," Voldemort said almost indulgently, and Dylan began to grow nervous, wondering if it was a good or a bad sign that the Dark Lord was in such a good mood; it was not like him to be merciful. "Dylan," Voldemort said, causing him to jump a little.

"Yes, my Lord?" Dylan asked respectfully, making sure his mental walls were firmly in place.

"Fetch me your roses from the corner."

"Yes, my Lord."

"DYLAN?!" shouted a surprised but very familiar voice.

"Uncle Gwydion?!" Dylan exclaimed in disbelief, as two of the Death Eaters pushed back their hoods. "Uncle Gilbert?!"

Gwydion looked furious while Gilbert just looked shocked and horrified. Gwydion turned on Lucius Malfoy and shouted, "You told me Ariane was keeping him away from the Death Eaters! You told me you'd keep Dylan from inheriting the Donner estates!"

"What?!" shouted Dylan, throwing back his own hood. He knew better than to expect loyalty from the Death Eaters, but this little revelation sent his blood boiling until Snape leaned over and whispered, "Control yourself, Mr. Rosier." Then he took a deep breath and regained control of his emotions, the knowledge that losing control could get them both killed acting like a sudden splash of cold water in the face, bringing him back to his senses.

"It is true that Ariane was reluctant to let him join us," Lucius said in a silky voice. "But Dylan came to us on his own."

Dylan did not contradict that blatant lie, but had to fight very hard to keep his defenses up and remain in control.

"I knew you would turn out like your father, you foul little demon's spawn!" Gwydion snarled at Dylan.

"Who are you to talk, you hypocrite?" Dylan snapped. "All these years, you've insulted my father's memory and treated your own sister like dirt, but you're no better than them! You're a beast and a rapist, and now it seems a Death Eater as well!" Then suddenly something dawned on him; he remembered his great-uncle mentioning something about Gwydion getting a job at the Ministry of Magic, in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "It was you who helped free the prisoners at Azkaban! You were the inside help!"

"Dylan!" Snape said sharply, and Dylan bit his lip and fell silent, belatedly remembering Snape's admonition not to be too clever for his own good.

But Voldemort just chuckled and looked approving. "Clever child."

"Did you want Uncle Math's little country estate so badly, Uncle?" Dylan asked in a much quieter and calmer voice. "You already took the inheritance that belonged to my mother; was that not enough for you?"

"I didn't do it for the lands, you little brat!" Gwydion snarled. "I did it to help Gilbert!"

Dylan turned to look at his other uncle, suddenly noticing that his gray eyes were no longer dull and unfocused; indeed, he seemed sharply aware of his surroundings. He looked frightened and miserable, and when Dylan's eyes met his, suddenly guilty and ashamed rather than hostile.

Voldemort smiled, looking as if he were savoring the twins' anger and guilt. "Gwydion agreed to serve me in exchange for a potion that would restore his brother's sanity."

"Temporarily," Gwydion snarled.

"Potion?" Dylan asked, giving Snape an accusing look; his teacher's black eyes remained blank and unreadable.

"Temporarily, of course," Voldemort agreed. "There is no permanent cure for Gilbert's condition, but even if there were, I would never have given it to you. How else could I ensure your loyalty if you did not have to come back for a regular dose of the Mind Restoration Potion to keep your brother sane?"

Gwydion's face turned red with anger, and Gilbert looked even more miserable and ashamed of himself. "You lied to me!" Gwydion said. "You double-crossed me!"

Lucius Malfoy gave him a malicious smile. "I thought you said you joined us out of brotherly love, Gwydion. Are you saying that you would have let your brother remain a half-wit if you knew that Dylan would become a Death Eater after all?" Gwydion said nothing, but spluttered with rage. "Perhaps it was ambition that motivated you, not love. You seemed quite concerned when I mentioned the possibility of you losing the Donner title if you failed to sire a daughter."

"That's not true!" Gilbert protested loyally, but he gave his brother an uncertain, almost hurt look.

Gwydion didn't seem to notice. "If I had known I would have to serve alongside my sister's brat--"

"Enough!" shouted Voldemort, and everyone fell silent. "Our little reunion is not quite complete." His voice had lost all its indulgence and amusement, turning cold and hard. "Dylan, bring the roses, now!"

Dylan rushed to obey, picking up the potted plant, which though it had grown, did not seem to be as heavy as it looked, though it was a bit awkward to carry, especially since he was trying to hold it as far away from his body as possible to avoid being pricked by the thorns. One of the blossoms swayed forward on the end of its vine to brush lightly against Dylan's cheek in what seemed like an affectionate caress, and he nearly dropped the plant, but somehow managed to hang onto it.

Dylan and the other Death Eaters followed the Dark Lord down a dark passageway into another room; Dylan recognized it--recognized the stone altar on which his mother had been laid the night he had been forced into taking the Dark Mark. But this time, instead of Ariane, a thin, haggard-looking man lay gagged and bound on it. The other Death Eaters gasped, and someone exclaimed, "Karkaroff!" And then Dylan realized it was Professor Karkaroff, the Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute; he had not recognized the man at first. Karkaroff, already thin to begin with, had lost weight and looked almost skeletal, and his once elegantly-groomed white hair and goatee had grown out into an unkempt, tangled mess.

Voldemort's red eyes were glowing with triumph as he said, "See, now all our members have returned to the flock! No one leaves the Death Eaters! No one betrays me without being punished!" He reached down and pulled the gag off the man's mouth. "You were a fool to think you could escape my grasp, Igor! Any last words?"

"Please, Master!" Karkaroff begged. "Please, give me another chance! Mercy--"

"I have no mercy for traitors!" Voldemort snapped. "You had your chance during the Triwizard Tournament; if you wanted a second chance, you should have asked for it then! Perhaps if you had groveled sufficiently, I might have given it to you. Now it's too late."

"Mercy!" Karkaroff wailed. He frantically turned to the other Death Eaters. "Lucius, Severus, please help me! Antonin...?" But his fellow Death Eaters ignored his pleas, stepping back and turning away from him.

"Now you will all witness the fate of a traitor!" Voldemort shouted. "Dylan, bring the roses and set them down here!"

Dylan knew what was coming next, but he had no choice except to obey. He did not dare look at Snape for reassurance, but immediately stepped forward and placed the flowerpot on the altar beside Karkaroff as the Dark Lord bid him. Voldemort drew his dagger, and Karkaroff cried out in pain as the Dark Lord slashed him across the chest with it. Blood welled up through the wound, soaking his robes, and Dylan hastily retreated as the roses began to stir eagerly.

The vines lashed out like whips, wrapping themselves around the immobile wizard, and Karkaroff began to scream. Dylan trembled as the former Durmstrang Professor screamed and struggled; he knew he should control himself better, but he couldn't seem to stop. However, he saw that many of the other Death Eaters, including Gilbert, were also shaking with terror. Snape, however, remained outwardly calm and impassive, and Bellatrix Lestrange watched with an avid, eager look in her dark eyes. The thorns bit deeply into Karkaroff's flesh, drinking hungrily, and a number of new, blood-red roses blossomed on the vines. Karkaroff's screams gradually grew fainter, and his struggles weaker, until finally he lay still upon the stone slab, his eyes fixed open in a look of horror, and the vines unwrapped themselves from around his bloodless corpse and retreated back into their pot.

"This is the fate of all who defy me!" Voldemort declared, and the Death Eaters instantly sank to their knees in obeisance. "All traitors will be hunted down and slain, no matter how far they may flee!" He smiled down at the Donner brothers. "Have you anymore complaints, Gwydion?"

"No, Master!" a pale and shaken Gwydion said hastily. "None!"

"Good," Voldemort said, patting him on the shoulder almost affectionately, and Gwydion visibly shuddered. "We are all family now, Gwydion; all the Death Eaters are your brethren, and you must set aside your former grudges. But fear not, as Lucius told you, I shall reward those who serve me well. You will both--" Voldemort's gaze shifted to Dylan for a moment. "--be far more than the rulers of a simple family estate." His arms opened wide, as if to include all the Death Eaters. "Together we will be the rulers of the wizarding world!"

"Master," the Death Eaters said in a hushed tone of combined fear and reverence, and they bowed down low, touching their foreheads nearly to the ground; Dylan quickly followed suit, imitating the others, and he saw that his uncles did so as well.

"Dylan," the Dark Lord said, beckoning to him, and Dylan quickly rose to his feet and approached the altar. "Cut me more of the blossoms; they may prove useful in some magical research I am conducting."

"Yes, Master," Dylan said obediently, trying not to shudder as he accepted the still-bloody dagger Voldemort held out to him. He managed to keep his hand steady as he trimmed off several blossoms. The vines quivered a bit, but made no move to attack.

"Wormtail," Voldemort said, beckoning again; the silver-handed Death Eater scurried forward, holding open a sack, which Dylan dropped the flowers into. Dylan handed the dagger back to Voldemort, who casually wiped it off on Karkaroff's robes before sheathing it. "You are dismissed," he said to his Death Eaters, who began to disperse, then said to Gwydion, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, that's right, you need more of the potion, don't you?"

"Yes, my Lord," Gwydion said, eyeing him nervously.

Wormtail ran to the corner of the room to pick up a small chest, and handed it to his Master. Voldemort opened the chest, revealing several potion bottles. He pulled out one, started to hand it to Gwydion, than opened his hand and let it fall to the floor, where it shattered and spilled its contents. From the corner of his eye, Dylan saw Snape wince slightly, no doubt at the sight of seeing all his hard work wasted. Because of course it must be Snape who had brewed the potion; in fact, this was probably the mysterious potion they had been working on last term, the one that had to be so carefully prepared.

Gilbert winced as well, and Gwydion's face turned red with anger, but he was clearly too cowed by the Dark Lord to object. "Never forget, Gwydion," Voldemort said softly, "that your brother's sanity depends on me. In fact, his very life--both your lives--depend on me."

"I will not forget, Master," Gwydion said, bowing to his Lord, and Voldemort handed him the remainder of the potion bottles. Gwydion paused to give Dylan one last, hateful look before he and his brother Disapparated.

"Return the roses to their usual spot, and you may go, Dylan," Voldemort said.

"Yes, my Lord," Dylan said, bowing low, and picked up the flowerpot, trying not to look at Karkaroff's corpse as he did so. He took the roses back to their corner in the main room, and Snape Apparated them out of there.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lupin, Branwen, Sirius, and Tonks sat in the drawing room playing cards; Hob sat by the fire smoking his pipe. A jack-o-lantern carved by Hob sat on the mantle, grinning down at them toothily. Hob had prepared mugs of hot cider, and there was a big bowl of candy sitting on the table, but no one other than Bane was particularly hungry.

"Do you have any threes?" Lupin asked Tonks.

"You already asked me that last turn," she reminded him. "Go fish."

"Oh, right," Lupin said, a distracted look in his blue eyes. "Sorry."

Sirius sighed and threw his cards down on the table. "Let's give it up; nobody really feels like playing anyway."

Suddenly, they heard footsteps on the stairs, and the four wizards jumped to their feet. The door opened, revealing Snape and Dylan. They both looked unhurt, but Snape looked very weary, and Dylan's face was white, and there was a look of horror in his silver-gray eyes.

"Are you all right, Severus?" Lupin asked.

"Yes, we're fine," Snape replied. "But Dylan is a bit shaken, so I thought we could take some time to compose ourselves here before returning to the school."

"What happened?" asked Sirius.

Before Snape could reply, Dylan groaned, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Hob vanished, then reappeared holding a basin--just in time, as Dylan bent over and retched. Lupin and Snape hovered over the boy anxiously, and Tonks's eyes widened in surprise as Snape gently pulled the boy's long hair--which was starting to come loose from its ponytail--back from his face.

After emptying his stomach of its contents, Dylan straightened up, still looking pale. "Sorry," he mumbled. "If I'd known we were going to be summoned, I wouldn't have eaten anything at dinner."

"It's all right," Snape said gently, stroking the boy's hair. "I did the same thing, the night I saw my first execution."

"Really?" Dylan asked.

"Really," Snape replied. "And I'm pleased that you had the presence of mind to wait until after we left the Dark Lord's presence to do so." Dylan gave him a tentative smile, looking very young and vulnerable, with none of his usual cool composure.

Hob vanished with the basin, and Branwen offered the boy a mug of cider. "Here," she said kindly. "This will help wash the taste out of your mouth. Why don't you come have a seat here by the fire?"

Dylan gratefully sipped the cider and took a seat on the couch; Snape sat down beside him. Despite the warmth of the drink and the fire, Dylan began to shiver. Snape looked at him helplessly for a moment, then said, "Ouch!" as Lupin elbowed him in the side. Snape hesitantly and a bit awkwardly, put his arm around the boy. Dylan leaned against his teacher, not caring that he might be behaving childishly or embarrassing himself in front of two of his other teachers and two strangers--well, one stranger and one near-stranger.

Branwen gave Snape a smile of mingled tenderness and amusement; Tonks's eyes grew even wider. Snape gave both of them a sour look, but kept his arm around Dylan. Sirius stared at them, looking both thoughtful and a little uncomfortable, and Lupin leaned over and kissed his lover on the cheek.

"Damn it, Lupin!" Snape growled, and Dylan giggled. "Glad to see you're feeling better, Mr. Rosier," Snape said sourly, but there was an underlying tone of brusque affection in his voice, and Dylan smiled.

"Thank you, sir," he said shyly, straightening up a little. "I'm all right now."

"What you saw tonight was enough to unnerve anyone," Snape said gruffly. "You probably handled it better than Wormtail did."

"What did happen tonight, Snape?" Sirius asked, without his usual hostility.

"The Death Eaters had a little reunion tonight," Snape said, grinning mirthlessly. "The escaped prisoners...and another old friend: Karkaroff."

"Karkaroff!" Lupin exclaimed.

Snape nodded. "The Dark Lord wanted to use him as an example to the other Death Eaters, I think, of what would become of anyone who betrayed him."

"What did he do?" Tonks asked, as Dylan looked at her curiously. "Oh, sorry," she said. "I should have introduced myself. I'm Nymphadora Tonks, but please just call me Tonks. And I know that you must be Dylan."

Dylan nodded at her politely, but that name sounded familiar... "Tonks! I read that name in the Daily Prophet--it said you're being held as a 'material witness'--"

"Translation: 'suspect,'" Sirius muttered.

Tonks sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. I was framed for the break-in, so now I have to wear this." She tapped the silver collar around her neck. "Your Uncle Gwydion's Squib Collar."

Dylan had no idea what a Squib Collar was--though from the name, he could make an educated guess--but the name "Gwydion" reminded him of something. "You knew!" he said accusingly to Snape. "You knew that my uncles had become Death Eaters and you didn't tell me! You even had me help you make the potion for Gilbert, didn't you?"

"The Dark Lord clearly did not want you to know, so I did not tell you," Snape said coolly, but his eyes looked concerned and a little hurt.

"Don't be angry with Severus, Dylan; he was only trying to protect you," Lupin said gently. "It would have been dangerous for you both if Voldemort discovered Severus was sharing secrets with you, and you have only recently become proficient in Occlumency."

"I'm sorry," Snape said quietly. "I wanted to tell you, but I did what I thought was best."

"No, I'm sorry, Professor," Dylan said apologetically. "I know you did it to protect me. It was just such a shock to see them there! All my life, they've talked about how much they hated the Death Eaters; how can they be such hypocrites?"

"What do you expect from two men who would rape a teenage girl, their own uncle's apprentice, no less?" Snape said scornfully.

"Gwydion Donner is an arrogant, immoral man," Lupin said quietly, "but he joined the Death Eaters for love of his brother. Though there are some sacrifices which cannot and should not be made, not even for the sake of a loved one."

"Don't make him into a saint, Lupin," Snape said with a scowl. "While brotherly love might have played a part, Gwydion is as ambitious as any other Death Eater. He let it slip at the meeting that Lucius had promised him the entire Donner estate, including Dylan's portion, if he joined. Apparently Lucius played on his fears of losing his inheritance if he should fail to produce a female heir." Snape frowned thoughtfully. "I never thought of that before. The Donner title is supposed to pass through the female line; it goes to a male only if there are no female heirs available. If Gwydion fails to have children, Ariane or Mathias could legally challenge him for the title. Possibly even Dylan, especially if he should someday have a daughter..." A look of sudden comprehension filled Snape's black eyes. "Ah, so that's it! He would rather sell his soul than let Evan Rosier's son or grandchildren inherit the Donner estate!"

"That's foolish, though," Branwen objected. "He's still young, and there's plenty of time for him to produce an heir."

"For such a smart man," Snape pointed out, "Gwydion is surprisingly foolish. He was a fool to arrange Goewin's rape in the first place, and an even bigger fool to think he could get away with it."

Sirius scowled; the present conversation was reminding him too much of his childhood and his mother's endless lectures about pureblood politics. "While all this talk of inheritance and politics is quite fascinating," Sirius said sarcastically, "could we get back to the subject at hand? What happened to Karkaroff?"

"He's dead, of course," Snape said curtly.

"The Dark Lord used my roses to kill Professor Karkaroff," Dylan said softly. He began to tremble again, and Snape looked at him with concern. "I never saw anyone die before. I never killed anyone before."

"You didn't kill anyone, Dylan," Snape said firmly, putting his arm around the boy again.

"I put the roses on the altar," Dylan whispered.

"The Dark Lord would have killed you if you didn't," Snape reminded him. "And it was the Dark Lord who drew Karkaroff's blood." He thought about saying that Karkaroff was no loss, but decided it wouldn't make Dylan feel any better, and would probably irritate Lupin. Besides, it was not really true; even though he had despised Karkaroff, who had been a coward with no real loyalty to either side, even though he had warned Karkaroff not to flee, Snape's conscience was bothered by his own tacit role in the man's death. He was just better at hiding his emotions than Dylan was. And after years of witnessing horrors, one gradually became somewhat--if not completely--numbed to them.

Branwen reached out and took Dylan's hands; he looked up at her, startled. "The fact that you can feel remorse," she said gently, "proves you are not like the other Death Eaters. There will be times when that guilt gnaws away at you and keeps you up at night, but never wish to be rid of it, Dylan, because that guilt and those sleepless nights are proof of your humanity."

Dylan saw shadows in his Professor's green eyes, and wondered what guilty secrets she harbored. "What keeps you up at night, Professor?" he asked softly.

She smiled at him sadly. "The fact that I could not save my students from Voldemort. I lie awake at night sometimes, wondering if there is something more I could have said or done to have kept them from falling under his sway, to have made them see what he truly was. I regret Nigel Riggs, a vain, foolish young man who so badly wanted status and respect in the eyes of the pureblood families that he sold his soul and never realized the cost until it was too late. I regret Lorcan Foley, whose father's abuse had already twisted his mind and made him a prime target for Voldemort." Her gaze drifted to Sirius for a moment. "I regret Regulus Black, who was a kind, if somewhat shallow young man, who blindly believed in the values his parents professed, without ever stopping to question them. I even regret Lucius Malfoy, who grew up without love in a house of cold propriety, and thus regarded any gesture of compassion as a weakness to be despised or exploited." She paused, her green eyes filling with tears and added softly, "But most of all, I regret not being able to save Lyall Wilkes and Evan Rosier."

"Professor," Dylan said, staring at her in shock.

"I'm sorry, Dylan," she said, as a tear slid down her face and Bane cawed at her, looking concerned. He gave up rummaging through the candy bowl and flew over to perch on her shoulder, rubbing his face against her cheek. "I'm sorry I couldn't save your father," Branwen continued, as she reached up to pet Bane.

"Why did you want so badly to save them?" Dylan asked, recalling Lupin's tale of how she had tried to convince his father and Wilkes to surrender. "Why do you regret their deaths the most?"

"I had no family of my own," Branwen replied, "so I came to regard my students as my family. I loved them as if they were my own children." Dylan's eyes grew wide. "The Slytherins especially, because I came from a family that practiced Dark Magic, and I knew the risks and temptations that they faced. And Evan and Lyall were so charming and so full of joy and life, before Voldemort corrupted them. I remember the little boys who stole a tank of live frogs from the Potions Master's office and set them loose in the Slytherin girls' dorm during their first year, and I remember the bold young man who asked me for a dance at the Yule Ball." She smiled nostalgically even as the tears continued to fall from her eyes. "They had their faults, yes: Lyall followed first Evan's, and then Voldemort's lead blindly, never once stopping to consider whether what he was doing was wrong, and Evan never cared about right or wrong, so long as he got what he wanted. And..." She hesitated a moment, then continued, "He was brought up to regard Muggles as less than human, so he felt no remorse about killing or torturing them; in fact, he learned to enjoy it." Dylan shuddered, and Snape gave her an accusing look, which she ignored. "But...there was goodness in them, too. They were fiercely loyal to each other; neither ever betrayed the other, no matter what punishments they were threatened with, which in school was just detention, but at the very end was death. And Evan loved Lyall, and he loved your mother, so much that he was willing to defy Lucius Malfoy over it, and he had always been one Lucius's most loyal followers. When Moody and the other Aurors looked at them, they saw only the hardened Death Eaters, the men who had killed innocent people, but when I looked at them, I saw the young boys I had grown to love, and I am sorry, so sorry, that I could not save them..."

She was outright sobbing now, cold, imperious Professor Blackmore, her face buried in her hands as Bane made agitated croaking noises. "Professor!" Dylan said in alarm.

"Branwen," Snape said, sounding concerned. Lupin and Tonks looked equally worried, but it was Sirius who came over and put his arm around her.

"It's all right, Branwen," he said gently. "You did your very best; there was nothing else you could have done. And you didn't lose of all of your students; there's me and Remus and Snape...you even managed to knock some sense into my thick head, and no one short of a miracle worker could have done that!" She laughed a little through her tears as she continued to weep on Sirius's shoulder.

"If you're feeling better, Mr. Rosier," Snape said, looking uncomfortable, "perhaps we should get back to school."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said hastily, rising to his feet, and Lupin did so as well.

"I assume that nothing else of consequence happened at the meeting?" Tonks asked quietly.

Snape nodded. "He just wanted to make an example of Karkaroff, that's all. You can tell them that, er...later," he said, nodding in Sirius's and Branwen's direction. Then he, Dylan, and Lupin left the room.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tonks left the drawing room as well, and headed to her bedroom, leaving her cousin and Branwen alone. After a few minutes, Branwen stopped weeping and wiped at her eyes. Sirius made the showy gestures of a stage magician, rolling up his sleeves and holding out his empty palms, then with a flourish, produced a handkerchief from his clenched fist. "For you, milady," he said, bowing and offering her the handkerchief.

She laughed and accepted it, wiping the tears from her face. "Thank you, dear. I'm sorry about that."

"You did once offer me a shoulder to cry on, if I remember correctly," Sirius said lightly. "I'm just returning the favor."

"I remember," Branwen said. She hesitated for a moment, then said, "It's none of my business, of course, so you don't have to answer, but--"

"Why was I crying back then?" Sirius asked, his tone serious now, and no longer playful. He looked uncomfortable, then replied, "I guess you have the right to know. I...was having regrets about the past."

"What sort of regrets?"

"Snape. Remus. Regulus." Sirius sighed, and Branwen said nothing, but merely waited patiently. Finally, he continued. "I saw how worried Snape was about Dylan, and I realized he really cared about the boy. And if he was capable of caring about Dylan, then maybe he really did love Remus all along." His former teacher said nothing, but sighed in a slightly exasperated manner. "Yeah, okay, I know I'm a slow learner," Sirius grumbled. "I finally realized what a terrible thing I'd done by breaking him and Remy up, and I realized I had wanted to punish Remy as much as I did Snape. That was why I sent Snape to the Shrieking Shack instead of just hexing him or something." Sirius flushed with shame, but Branwen looked oddly sympathetic, considering that he was confessing how he had nearly gotten her favorite student killed. "I was jealous," he whispered. "I thought we'd lose Remy to Snape."

"Oh, Sirius," Branwen said softly.

"I know, I know, Remy doesn't think that way; he loves everyone without taking sides, even though Snape and I have pushed and pulled him back and forth between us all these years. I was so damn stubborn, so damn sure that I thought I knew what was right." He laughed bitterly. "Didn't you say something to me once, about how Gryffindors only see things as black or white? I hated Evan Rosier because he was a Slytherin and a Death Eater, but so was my own brother. I did love Reg, you know, but I turned my back on him when I left home. I was jealous of him, because he could do no wrong in my parents' eyes, while I could do nothing right. But if I'd stayed in touch with him, maybe I could have saved him."

"And maybe not," Branwen said gently.

"But I'll never know now, will I?" Sirius asked bitterly. "And now I have to live with it."

"We all have to live with our regrets, Sirius." Branwen sighed, then blushed a little, which made her look surprisingly young and girlish--as long as one didn't look too closely at her eyes, which were still haunted and filled with shadows. "I only meant to reassure Dylan; I didn't mean to break down in front of him like that..."

Sirius smiled at her and said gently, "Guilt and remorse are proof of your humanity, Branwen."

She laughed a little. "And now the student throws the teacher's words back in her face!" Then she smiled at him affectionately and said, "I knew one day you would grow up, Sirius," then leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead; he blushed like a schoolboy. "You should try and make peace with Severus, you know."

"I know," Sirius said, scowling, his face still a little red. "I did try apologizing to him, but--"

"You did?!" Branwen exclaimed.

Sirius felt a little annoyed that she sounded so shocked. "Yeah, but he didn't want to hear it. Says he'll never forgive me."

"Give it some time, Sirius. His wounds run deep; they won't heal overnight." But she was grinning from ear-to-ear, looking surprisingly happy for someone who had been sobbing her heart out a minute ago. "I'm so proud of you, Siri!" she said, hugging him so suddenly and tightly that the breath was knocked out of him, and Bane squawked indignantly as he was nearly thrown from his perch on her shoulder.

Then she released him, and while he was still catching his breath, she rose to her feet, saying, "I know the two of you can work things out eventually; don't give up on him, Sirius." He nodded weakly, and she patted him on the cheek in a motherly fashion. "Good night, dear." Then she left the room, humming to herself cheerfully as Bane croaked out an off-key accompaniment.

"Siri?" Sirius muttered in confusion to himself, scratching his head. No one had called him that since Regulus had been a toddler unable to pronounce Sirius's full name. Branwen certainly never called Lupin or Snape by nicknames. And how had she shifted from heartbroken to cheerful so quickly? "Women," he muttered darkly. "Mood swings. Or maybe it's a demon thing." He shuddered a little. "Demons with mood swings, now that's a scary thought!"

Before heading to bed, he stopped by Tonks's room. "Did Snape have anything else to report about the meeting?" he asked.

"No, apparently Karkaroff was the main attraction," she replied. "You-Know-Who just wanted to set an example for his Death Eaters. Is Branwen okay?"

"She seems just fine now," Sirius said, still feeling a little baffled by her reaction, and explained what had happened, although he felt a little awkward and ashamed to have to tell Tonks how stupidly he had behaved in the past.

"I see," Tonks murmured. "So that's why Snape hates you so much." Sirius flushed. "Well, you made some mistakes in the past, Sirius, but at least you're trying to set things right now. Branwen's right; you can't give up just because Snape isn't ready to forgive you yet. You owe it to him and to Remus--and to yourself--to keep trying. Er...and maybe we should stop referring to him as 'Snape' all the time. I do try to call him by his first name at the meetings. It might be hard to build a relationship with someone when you only call them by their last name."

Sirius scowled. "I don't want a 'relationship' with Snape! All I want is..." What did he want, anyway? "All I want is a truce between us!"

"A good working relationship as fellow members of the Order, you mean?" Tonks suggested with a grin as her cousin glared at her. "Come on, Sirius, he's your best friend's lover! You don't have to become bosom buddies, but I think you need to develop some kind of relationship beyond being just barely able to tolerate each other!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Sirius grumbled. "One step at a time. Let's get Snape--"

"Severus," Tonks corrected.

"I'll call him 'Severus' when he starts calling me something other than 'Black' or 'you moron,'" Sirius muttered.

"Sirius!" Tonks said sharply, sounding much more like Branwen than his mischievous little cousin.

"Let's just get Snape to stop hating my guts before we go about building a relationship, okay? That's going to be a hard enough task as it is!"

Tonks sighed. "I suppose you're right; we'll have to do this step-by-step."

"'We'?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows. "Don't I have enough people meddling in my life as it is? Remy, Branwen, even Hob, trying to get me married off..."

Tonks laughed. "What else have I got to do but meddle in your life, right now, Sirius?"

"We'll get your name cleared, Tonks," Sirius promised.

"I know, Sirius."

After a brief silence, Sirius said, "I don't get why Branwen was so overjoyed about me apologizing to Snape. I mean, I know she always scolds us for fighting and stuff, but she did a complete mood swing from weeping over Evan Rosier to hugging me so hard she nearly cracked my ribs." He rubbed his sides and muttered, "Actually, they're still a little sore..."

"You silly git," Tonks said affectionately. "Don't you know that you three--you, Remus, and Severus--are the people she loves most in the world? Of course she's happy that you're finally setting aside your feud with Snape and trying to get along with him!"

Sirius's jaw dropped open. "Branwen loves me?" he asked incredulously.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Of course she loves you! Didn't you hear what she just said about her students being her family and loving them like they were her children?"

Suddenly he recalled their conversation at the beginning of the summer, when he had asked Branwen why she had let her favorite student, Snape, risk his life for Sirius's sake, and she had responded, "I love all three of you." "I know she does, I guess," Sirius mumbled. "It's just, Snape's always been her favorite." He flushed again; he hadn't meant for that to sound so whiny. "And she's always nagging at me, about how I need to be more responsible and less selfish and--"

Tonks grinned. She had talked a little with Branwen and Mad-Eye Moody over the summer, and she'd heard a few things about Sirius's training period with them. "I heard she was hard on you when you were training with her because she thought you had a lot of potential. She's tough on you because she cares about you, Sirius. If she didn't care, she wouldn't bother. Dedalus Diggle acts like an idiot at times, but she doesn't bother with lecturing him, because she doesn't care about him. She cares about you."

Sirius just stared at her, looking stunned and a little chastened. "When did you get so mature and grown-up, little cousin?"

Tonks laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "When you weren't looking, cousin dear." Sirius laughed and rumpled her spiky hair like he used to when she was a little girl. As he got up to leave, she added thoughtfully, "You know, Sirius..."

"Yes?"

"Branwen is a very attractive woman."

"Yes," he said in a tone that implied "and what's your point?"

"And, for all practical purposes, she's about the same age as you now, maybe even a little younger. Have you ever thought...?"

"No!" Sirius shouted in horror, as he realized what she was getting at. "Absolutely not! She was my teacher, for Merlin's sake!"

"But you're both adults and equals now--"

"I'm not dating a woman who gave me detention when I was a kid!" Sirius shouted. "The idea's ludicrous!" Then he scowled and added in an almost sulky voice, "Besides, she doesn't think of me as an equal. She still thinks of me as a kid."

"Then you'll have to convince her that you're an adult."

Sirius's face was turning red again, with both anger and embarrassment. "I'll convince her that I'm an adult, because I want her to think of me as her equal as a colleague and a friend! But that's all! I'm not interested in her that way! How could I date Professor Blackmore, for God's sake?!"

"If you want her to think of you as an equal," Tonks pointed out in a reasonable voice, "shouldn't you also think of her as an equal and stop thinking of her as your Professor?"

"Don't meddle in my love life, Tonks!"

"But you asked me to," she said innocently.

"What are you talking about?!"

"Remember when you came to see me at the Ministry, and you were talking about how Hob wanted you to find a 'Missus' and you said I should find you some likely candidates--"

"I was joking!" Sirius shouted. "And I don't consider Branwen a 'likely candidate'!"

"Why not?" Tonks asked. "She's beautiful, intelligent, brave--"

"And scary as all hell!"

"And she does love you--"

"Like a son!"

"Well, yes, that's true," Tonks agreed, "so we have to get her to look at you as--"

"'We' are not doing anything! In fact, we're not having this conversation!"

"Sirius--"

"I don't need your help to find a girlfriend! In fact, I don't need a girlfriend right now, period! We're in the middle of a war! Who has time for romance?"

"Severus and Remus, apparently," Tonks replied helpfully.

"No meddling!" Sirius admonished his cousin sternly, then stalked out of her room, slamming the door behind him. A moment later, the door opened and Sirius poked his head back in the room just long enough to say, "And don't you dare mention this crazy idea to Branwen, do you understand?" before leaving and slamming the door again without waiting for a reply.

Tonks just grinned and said to herself, "My, that's an awfully strong reaction for a man who claims to have no romantic feelings for his Professor." She heard a soft chuckle; she couldn't see anyone else in the room with her, but she knew it must be the hob. She rummaged through her desk until she found a box of licorice wands that Fred and George had sent to cheer her up (along with a box of Canary Creams, but she didn't think that Hob would appreciate being turned into a giant canary), and laid one of the wands down beside the fireplace. She turned away, and a moment later, the candy was gone; Tonks smiled.

Hob headed back to his cupboard under the stairs, contentedly munching on the licorice stick. Perhaps the house would not be empty much longer. Sirius was moody because he was lonely (though less so now that his cousin was living with him, but that was only temporary, and besides, a cousin was not the same thing as a wife), and Hob sensed that Lady Blackmore, despite all her power and her outward air of aloofness, was lonely too. They would be perfect for each other, if only they could be made to realize it; Lady Blackmore wouldn't let Sirius get away with sulking and feeling sorry for himself, and Sirius knew how to draw out the normally reserved Lady Blackmore and make her laugh--that is, when he wasn't infuriating her. But they were both very stubborn...Hob sighed; matchmaking wasn't one of Hob's normal duties and he had no idea how to go about it. He chewed thoughtfully, staring at the remainder of the licorice wand. But maybe Miss Tonks would...
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Blaise Zabini was fine after a night's rest, although of course he remembered nothing of his encounter with the Death Eaters, and his memory of the entire day was a bit fuzzy, but that was just as well. The official story they gave the boy and his housemates was that he'd been ill due to a combination of too many sweets and a touch of fever. Blaise looked a little bewildered, but didn't question that explanation. Snape didn't worry about it too much; even if the boy had suspicions, Blaise was the not the type to voice them publicly, and in any case, Nott would keep him from doing anything foolish. Still, Snape resolved to keep a close eye on Zabini, as he had promised Theodore.

Madam Pomfrey was not pleased with the lie, or with Snape's refusal to tell her who had cast the spell on Blaise; she didn't buy the story about a "juvenile prank," especially since no one had received detention, and Snape was unlikely to let a slight to his House pass unpunished. However, Dumbledore insisted that they keep silent "for the sake of the boy's safety," so she reluctantly acquiesced. She was not a member of the Order, but she knew that these were dangerous times, and she trusted the Headmaster.

Later that day, Snape and Lupin were summoned to the Headmaster's office, and were surprised to find Sirius and Branwen there.

"Sirius!" Lupin said, sounding startled. "Did something happen? Is Tonks all right?"

"Nothing has happened," Dumbledore replied. "I asked Sirius to come here today. Professor Kamiyama has requested a meeting with a representative of the Order."

"Oh," Lupin said, frowning a little, "I hate to leave my classes when they've been progressing so well, but I suppose it can't be helped."

"I can take over for you," Snape volunteered. "How long do you estimate he'll be gone, Headmaster?"

"No, no," Dumbledore said gently. "You misunderstand; I'm sending Sirius."

"You're sending Black on a diplomatic mission?" Snape asked incredulously, and Sirius scowled at him.

"Is that wise, Albus?" Lupin asked dubiously. Then, catching his friend's wounded look, hastily added, "I mean, er, Tonks will be left alone, unable to use her magic," in an attempt to soften his words.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "I'm sure she'll be fine. The house is well protected, and he'll likely only be gone for a few days."

"Black doesn't even speak Japanese," Snape pointed out.

"And I suppose you do?" Sirius retorted.

"Actually, Black, I do," Snape replied in a cool voice. Sirius's eyes widened with surprise.

"Severus learned while he was working with Naoto on developing the Wolfsbane Potion," Lupin explained, smiling tenderly at Snape, who flushed.

"Oh," Sirius said, giving Snape a startled and thoughtful look. "But Albus tells me that Professor Kamiyama speaks fluent English."

"Some concepts are difficult to translate into another language," Snape said in a slightly haughty tone. "Besides, it's a sign of respect to communicate with someone in their own language."

Sirius looked even more startled at hearing Snape use the word "respect". Lupin repressed a sigh as he wavered between irritation and amusement. "Severus does have a point, Albus," he said. "If we're trying to persuade the Japanese wizards to join our cause, they will be more receptive to someone who is able to converse in their language. It might look disrespectful, even arrogant, if we send someone who can't."

"This is a private meeting with Professor Kamiyama, not with the entire council of wizards," Dumbledore replied, "and he assures me that he will not be offended. He knows that you and Severus are busy with your obligations to your students, so he is agreeable to meeting with Sirius."

"I still think it's a bad idea," Snape muttered, but fell silent after Lupin nudged him in the side with his elbow.

"I'm sure Sirius will do fine, Severus," Dumbledore said, still smiling. "I admit, I might have been a little hesitant to send him on such a mission last year, but I believe that Sirius has gained some maturity since then."

Snape still looked doubtful, but sighed and said, "Well, Kamiyama is a priest, after all, so I suppose he can handle it, though personally I think it would take a saint to put up with--ouch!" He broke off his sentence as Lupin elbowed him in the side again, a little harder this time.

"I've arranged for Sirius to use the Portkey at the Sakura," Dumbledore said, referring to the London-based Japanese restaurant that acted as a secret portal between the two countries. "But before he goes, I thought perhaps you could familiarize Sirius with the local customs, teach him a few polite greetings, that sort of thing."

Snape looked rather put out, but all he said was, "Yes, Headmaster. When is he leaving?"

"In a few days."

"I have some simple phrase and guidebooks you can borrow," Lupin volunteered helpfully. "And I'll loan you my CD player and language CDs!"

"I'm not gonna have time to learn the language in three days," Sirius protested, but Lupin, caught up in his enthusiasm, was already out the door and heading to his quarters.

Snape had to smile at his lover's retreating form in spite of his irritation. "You can concentrate on memorizing the phrases I'll teach you," he told Sirius. "Please, thank you, I'm honored to meet you--that sort of thing. Kamiyama's not really big on formalities, but still, it's best to be polite, and it will probably please the Japanese wizards to see you making an attempt to learn the language, even if you can't speak it well." Sirius nodded, looking about as pleased to be tutored by Snape as Snape was to have to tutor him, but he attentively listened as Snape taught him some formal pleasantries and explained about certain customs, such as removing one's shoes before entering the house, or rinsing one's hands and mouth before entering the temple. Dumbledore and Branwen smiled at the pair like indulgent parents watching their two usually-squabbling children play nicely.

Snape and Sirius shot their former teachers irritated looks in a rare instance of unity. "Get used to sitting and sleeping on the floor," Snape continued as he glared at Branwen, who just smiled back at him sweetly.

"I spent twelve years in a cell at Azkaban," Sirius reminded him. "It'll be heavenly compared to that."

"And it would be polite to bring your host a gift," Snape added.

"All right," Sirius said, carefully keeping his voice civil, although it was a bit of a strain. He was tempted to start an argument just to wipe the smug look off Dumbledore's face, but he supposed that would be childish. Besides, he was finally being given something useful to do after over a year of sitting on his duff, and he wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that. "What should I get him?"

"Knowing Kamiyama," Snape said dryly, "the largest box of assorted sweets you can find at Honeydukes. Be sure to get him some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans."

Sirius gave Snape a suspicious look, wondering if Snape was pulling his leg, but the Potions Master looked perfectly serious. "Okay."

Snape frowned, but more in thought than irritation. "And perhaps I should send a gift to his granddaughter, Miyako. She did send us a warning about her vision of the roses, after all." Though like most visions, it had only become clear in hindsight, but still, she had been trying to help, and however vague, the vision had been accurate. The only problem was, Snape had no idea what sort of gift to get a teenage girl.

Just then, Lupin returned to the office with an armload of books and his CD player and CDs.

"Moony, there's no way I can finish all that before I go!" Sirius objected.

"Then you can take them with you to read and listen to in your spare time," Lupin replied serenely.

"I'd like to send a gift to Miyako--" Snape began.

"You old softie," Lupin said fondly, kissing him on the cheek.

"LUPIN!" Snape snapped, turning red. Branwen and Dumbledore, of course, looked pleased as punch; Black shot Lupin a must-you-do-that-in-public look. "An obligatory gift," Snape huffed, "for sending us that letter of warning during the summer."

"Of course," Lupin said soothingly, his eyes dancing with laughter. "Purely obligatory."

"Exactly," Snape said, giving him a sour look. "But I'm not sure what would be appropriate."

"Hmm," Lupin said thoughtfully. "She's not your average teenage girl."

"You can say that again," Snape muttered. Your "average teenage girl" was not a kitsune-werewolf hybrid, nor a Shinto priestess-in-training.

"I'll take a quick trip to Hogsmeade before Sirius leaves," Lupin said. "If we could find a piece of jewelry shaped like a fox or wolf--like that wolf's head brooch you gave me for Christmas the other year--that would be nice. Or perhaps I can give her one of my carvings."

Snape nodded, and Sirius rose to his feet, carrying Lupin's books and CDs. "I'll be on my way, then," he said. "Just owl the gift or bring it to me before I go." Then he left through the fireplace, almost dropping the stack of books when he had to shift them to one hand to grab a handful of floo powder.

As Lupin and Snape were about to leave the office, Branwen said, "Could I talk to you in private for a moment, Severus?"

"I'll go on ahead, then," Lupin said with a smile. "I'll see you at dinner, Severus."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Snape eyed Branwen warily when they reached her dungeon office, one level below his. He took a seat in front of her desk, muttering, "Why do I feel like I'm a student about to be scolded?"

Branwen laughed, and instead of sitting behind her desk, came around and casually perched on the edge of it. "Is that better?"

"Marginally," Snape replied sourly. "What do you want?"

"Don't you think it's time that you made peace with Sirius?" Branwen asked gently.

Snape scowled at her. "I work in the Order with him. We managed to live in the same house for most of the summer without killing each other. For Merlin's sake, I saved his life for Lupin's sake! Isn't that enough?"

"For now," Branwen replied. "But I'm not sure that a state of cold war is going to be enough in the long run." Snape was still scowling at her, so she continued patiently, "Sirius is Remus's best friend, Severus. Should we all be lucky enough to survive the war, you three will likely be spending a great deal of time together even after the Order is disbanded."

Snape crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, with the stubborn look on his face that Branwen remembered so well from his schoolboy days. "I accept that Black is Lupin's friend, however little I like it. But I see no reason why I should have to befriend him as well. If you'll recall, he did try to kill me when we were teenagers."

"I know that he apologized to you, Severus," Branwen said quietly.

"And that's supposed to make it all right?" Snape snapped.

"No, Severus," Branwen replied. "But--"

"Lupin told me I don't have to forgive Black, so I don't see why it's any of your business!"

"The werewolf is softhearted," Branwen said sarcastically, echoing Snape's oft-repeated words, and the Potions Master flushed. "He lets you off easy because he loves you and wants to spare you pain, and because he feels guilty about the pain he caused you, albeit unintentionally. But I am not Remus, and I am not softhearted. Seeing you and Sirius constantly at odds with each other is hard on Remus, even if he doesn't complain."

Snape looked a little guilty, but insisted, "I can't forgive him!"

"I know an apology does not erase all the years of pain you suffered," Branwen said gently, "but he truly is sorry, Severus. He finally understands the magnitude of what he has done."

"I can't forgive him," Snape whispered. "Not 'won't'--'can't'." His voice had changed from the bitter sarcasm of the adult Potions Master and former Death Eater to the stricken voice of the desperately lonely child he had once been. "They tried to take Remus from me. All we had together were a few secret, stolen moments, and they couldn't even let me have that much..."

"Oh, Severus," Branwen whispered sadly. She had heard stories of orphaned children who even after being adopted into a secure and loving family, would hide and hoard food because they could not forget their former life in which they had never known when or where their next meal was coming from. It reminded her of Severus, except that it was love he had been starved of as a child, not food, and it had left him with a hunger that was never completely assuaged. She reached out, cupping his face between her hands. "I'm so sorry, dear. I know how much it must have hurt." She brushed the hair back from his face and tenderly kissed him on the forehead; it was a sign of his vulnerability that he accepted the caress without his usual bluster or complaints.

Snape would have told anyone else, save Lupin, "You don't know how I feel," but he believed Branwen. Despite all his complaints about her voyeurism and meddling, he secretly cherished all her motherly nagging and protectiveness. {Why did I never notice before,} he asked himself, {how much she cared about me?} Because now he saw what his younger self had failed to notice: how she had gone out of her way to praise and encourage him during class, how she had taken the time to speak with him after class to compliment his progress or share an advanced textbook with him, and how she had tried to prevent him from throwing away his relationship with Lupin for the false friendship of the Death Eaters. And he had been touched--after he had gotten over being mortified, that is--to discover how Branwen had worried and watched over himself and Lupin during her fourteen-year absence from the wizarding world.

"I know I should probably let it go," Snape said wearily. "But I can't. And I know I am at fault, too, for rejecting Lupin..."

"The life you led was not one conducive to trust," Branwen said, still in that gentle voice. "I know that, and so does Remus. But Severus...you are wrong when you say that 'they' tried to take Remus from you. I know you have little reason to trust Sirius, but will you believe me when I tell you that James did not know about the so-called prank?"

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, gritting his teeth. He did not want to believe it; he wanted, needed to believe that Potter was the enemy, that his saving Snape's life had been due to selfishness and not heroism. But this was Branwen, who would not be blinded by love for Potter, as Lupin and Dumbledore might. Finally he opened his eyes and reluctantly said, "Yes," but couldn't resist adding, "not that he would have ever tolerated me having a relationship with one of his friends."

"Probably not," Branwen conceded, "but we'll never know. Perhaps in time he might have matured and lost that Gryffindor narrow-mindedness. But thanks in part to you, Sirius has had the chance to grow up and mature." Snape looked a little affronted, and Branwen laughed. "You know, I think James would consider your debt to him paid, since you saved his best friend's life."

Snape cheered up a little as he considered that. "Hmm, I suppose that's true. Though I sort of like the thought of Black owing me one; I hate to let him off the hook."

Branwen smiled for a moment, but her face soon grew serious again. "I don't expect you to forgive him right away, Severus. I told him once that some things cannot be mended by words alone. I don't expect you to just take his word for it that he's changed. But will you do something for me, Severus?"

"What?" he asked warily, certain that it was going to be something he didn't like but could not refuse.

"Will you keep an open mind? Will you give Sirius a chance to prove with his actions as well as his words that he has matured and changed?" Snape was silent, so Branwen added, "As Albus and Remus gave you the chance to prove that you changed?" Snape scowled, and Branwen sighed. She was more patient with Severus because he had suffered more than Sirius, and as a young teacher she had secretly had a soft spot for the guarded Slytherin boy who tried to disguise his loneliness with a veneer of arrogance and sarcasm. But the truth was that he was just as stubborn as Sirius. "You and Sirius are more alike than either of you realize, Severus."

"I am not like Black!" he said indignantly, although he was uncomfortably aware that Lupin had once told him the same thing.

"Do you know why Sirius played that 'prank' on you?"

"He couldn't stand his precious friend being sullied by the touch of a slimy Slytherin," Snape said sulkily.

"No," Branwen said softly, shaking her head. "He was jealous."

"Jealous of what?" Snape asked in confusion. "Why should he be jealous of ME?" A hint of the old jealousy and resentment entered Snape's voice. "He was handsome, popular, everybody loved him--"

"Not everyone," Branwen interrupted. "He was an outcast in his own family." Snape blinked and stared at her in surprise. "You know what the Blacks were like; you must have met them on occasion when you were a child, and you've seen that portrait of his mother..."

"Begone from the house of my fathers," Snape said, mockingly echoing Mrs. Black's favorite phrase.

Branwen smiled. "Exactly. Sirius was, if you will pardon the pun, the black sheep of the family; a Gryffindor in a long line of Slytherins and Dark Wizards."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for him?"

Branwen ignored that slightly sarcastic remark, and continued, "He left home when he was sixteen and his family disowned him."

Snape shifted in his seat uneasily. "Well, but he had Potter and Lupin and his other friends..."

"True, but being rejected by your blood relatives, by the people who are supposed to love and protect you, leaves a scar no matter how many good friends you have." Snape squirmed under the intense gaze of Branwen's piercing green eyes. "As you should well know, Severus."

"So what are you saying, Branwen?" Snape asked, flushing.

"He was afraid of losing Remus to you," Branwen said bluntly.

Snape stared at her in shock. "But Black's not...I thought...he only seemed interested in girls..."

"I'm not talking about sex, you idiot!" Branwen snapped. "He loved Remus like a brother; Remus and James and Peter were Sirius's surrogate family, and he was afraid of losing them, since he had already lost his real family. Thanks to all that foolish House rivalry the school instills in the heads of our children, there was an uncrossable line drawn between Gryffindor and Slytherin in his mind. He did not believe that Remus could love you and still be loyal to him. He didn't believe that Remus could love the both of you at the same time. So he managed to punish Remus for his disloyalty and drive you away from his friend at the same time."

Snape just sat there in stunned silence. Black was insecure? Black who had seemed so arrogant and confident in school, who had taken the adulation of the other students for granted? The other boys had vied for the attention of their chosen crushes; even Potter, the golden boy, had to exert himself in order to win over Lily Evans, the one girl who didn't think he walked on water. But Black had never bothered; he had gone through a string of girlfriends in school--much as Evan Rosier had, before he fell in love with Ariane--and when he tired of one, it seemed like all he had to do was snap his fingers, and another would eagerly step up to take her place. He had impressed the male students almost as easily; the younger Gryffindor boys were eager to run errands for the most popular boy in school, perhaps hoping that some of his glory might rub off on them, and Snape had hated how Lupin (along with Pettigrew) had seemed to look up to Black and Potter.

Had it been an act, a cover all along? Snape had thought Black had taken Lupin's friendship for granted along with everything else; he himself had been sure at the time that Lupin would never choose Snape over his friends, which was why he had been so quick to believe the worst of Lupin. Snape flushed with shame; he wanted to castigate Black for being so selfish and treating Lupin so badly...except that he was no better himself. He had tried to force Lupin to choose between him and Black; he had spitefully exposed Lupin's lycanthropy and and cost Lupin his job to punish him for helping the then-fugitive Black. The thought of himself and Black being so similar made Snape feel very, very uncomfortable; in a way, it felt even worse than owing James Potter his life.

Branwen seemed to understand the struggle going on in his mind, because she said, "Just think about what I've said, all right, Severus?" Snape nodded mutely and got to his feet, but as he was about to leave the office, she said, "Oh, and Severus?"

"Yes, Branwen?" he said with a sigh that was more resigned than irritated.

"I don't blame you for hating James," his former teacher said quietly. "Merlin knows he gave you enough reason to. But don't you think it's time that you stopped hating Harry for who his father is?"

"Potter is--" he began defensively, but Branwen quickly cut him off.

"Mischievous and disobedient, and at times, insolent. But so are the Weasleys--well, except for Ginny and Percy--and however much you dislike them, you don't actually hate them."

Snape sighed again. Even as a friend offering compassion, Branwen was in some ways still the implacable Professor he remembered. She had never let anyone off easy--students, fellow teachers, or parents--and she always spoke the truth as she saw it, however little the person she was speaking to wanted to hear it, which had not exactly made her popular among her peers. "When I look at Potter, I can't help but see his father," Snape admitted; he would not have confessed it to anyone else.

"They look alike, but they are not the same," she said firmly. "James grew up adored by all, which I admit inflated his ego; Harry grew up an unwanted orphan--his aunt and uncle made him live in a cupboard, for Merlin's sake! Harry is stubborn, yes, and he has James's penchant for breaking the rules, but if you look closely, Severus, he doesn't share James's arrogance. Have you ever seen him hex someone just for the fun of it? And being brought up outside of the wizarding world, he is free of some its prejudices--he stood by both Remus and Hagrid when their secrets were revealed."

Snape couldn't argue with that, but he did point out, "He does have the usual bias against Slytherin."

Branwen sighed. "That is partly the influence of the other Gryffindors, and of course he and Mr. Malfoy did not exactly hit it off on the first day of school." Snape snorted derisively at that understatement. "And of course, you haven't done much to dissuade him of that image yourself, Severus," she said accusingly. Snape opened his mouth, and Branwen added, "And don't tell me that you're just keeping your cover with the Death Eaters, although that is partly true. But only partly. You go out of your way to find fault with him, far more than you do with the other Gryffindors, because he reminds you of James."

Branwen watched Snape, who was flushing and staring at his feet like a schoolboy being scolded. He knew that she was right; it would just take awhile for him to admit it to himself, but she thought that secretly he might welcome the chance to let go of his hatred and start over again. "He isn't like James," she said gently, reaching up to touch his cheek. Sometimes it startled her how tall he was; she often had to remind herself that he was a man now, and no longer the child she remembered. But she could not help but think of Severus, Remus, and Sirius as her children still, although she supposed it was a bit silly. "He was wrong to look in the Pensieve, but he was horrified by how his father had behaved. If he was truly like James, he would have just laughed it off."

Snape ground his teeth in frustration but remained silent, because she was right, damn her! But it was difficult to let go of the hatred he had so carefully nursed all these years because...why? He wasn't entirely sure; so he could blame someone besides himself for the loss of Lupin, he supposed, and because the hatred had helped to keep the pain at bay, otherwise he would have gone insane from missing Lupin. But, as Branwen had pointed out, the person he really hated was James, not Harry, who was just a convenient substitute. Snape thought to himself sourly that perhaps he had grown a little too good at lying, because he had managed to deceive himself almost as much as he had the Death Eaters.

"Fine," he said caustically. "Forgive Black; stop hating Potter. Anything else you'd like me to add to my to-do list, Professor?"

"That will do for now, dear," Branwen replied with an amused smile.

"Fine," Snape repeated, in a rather huffy voice, and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Severus?"

"What now?!" Snape snapped.

She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "I just wanted to say, that despite all my scolding, I do love you, Severus, and I'm very proud of you."

Snape's jaw dropped open, and Branwen grinned at him. Then his face turned bright red and he stammered, "I...um...ah..." Finally, he managed to get his wits about him, cleared his throat, and said gruffly, "What brought that on?"

Branwen's mischievous grin vanished, and she said in a solemn voice. "It's the truth, and I just wanted you to know that. I have always cared about you, about all my students, but I never said so back then. Perhaps if I had, it might have made a difference...to you, to Evan, to Lyall. I am sorry, Severus. Perhaps if I had been more open with you, if I had tried harder--"

"Stop torturing yourself, Branwen!" Snape interrupted. "Weren't you the one who was just telling me to stop dwelling on the past?"

"That's not exactly what I said," she replied, but she looked a little sheepish.

"You did try to help us, Branwen," Snape said in an almost gentle voice that would have shocked his students if they could have heard him. "But we refused to listen; it's not your fault. Even after we became Death Eaters, you still tried to save us when most people would have condemned us. If you can forgive me and Evan and Lyall, if you can even forgive Lorcan Foley for trying to kill you, can't you forgive yourself?"

"You HAVE matured, Severus," Branwen murmured, smiling up at him a little sadly. "You're right, of course; I once scolded Remus for wallowing in self-pity and tormenting himself with what-ifs about the past, and here I am doing the same thing. But you see, for me, the memories are still fresh even though they happened over fifteen years ago. It was difficult to keep track of time in Araqiel's realm; sometimes, mostly when I was watching over you in my grandfather's magical pool, time seemed to flow at a normal rate, and at other times, years would pass by in the blink of an eye. When I finally returned home, it felt to me as if I had been gone for only months, not years. Even though I had watched you and Sirius and Remus grow up in the scrying pool, it felt to me as if you were still children, still my students. To you, Evan and Lyall have been dead for years, but to me, it seems like almost yesterday."

"I'm sorry, Branwen," Snape said, in a subdued and chastened voice. He was used to thinking of her as the omnipotent, near-invincible Professor Blackmore, and not as a woman with regrets and vulnerabilities. Lupin had once told him that the years had passed her by, leaving most of her friends and all of her family dead. For the first time, Snape stopped to consider how hard it must have been for her to step out of time and return to a world vastly changed from the one she had known.

"I'm not," she said, smiling a bit more sincerely now. "I mean, I am sorry that I could not save Evan and the others. But don't pity me for the years I lost; I am alive, when by all rights, I should be dead. And I am glad to know you, Severus--and Sirius and Remus, of course--as friends and equals, and not just my students. I never had many friends in the old days--not close ones, anyway."

"I am honored to be your friend, Branwen," Snape said quietly, and surprised both of them by impulsively bending down to kiss her cheek. She stared at him in amazement, and Snape felt his face turn red again. "If you ever tell anyone I did that," he grumbled, "I will deny it most vociferously. And no one will believe you, anyway."

"I think Albus and Remus might," she laughed. "But it will be our little secret. And I am honored to be your friend as well."

Snape hastily left her office, and this time she didn't stop him. But although he was still loathe to make peace with Black and Potter, he was no longer angry at her for forcing him to do so.
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