Blind As A Bat

by spinner

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

One - Rather A Similar Line of Thought

It was so much easier than he’d ever imagined it could be. Harry had accompanied the Dursleys to London for a shopping excursion. Dudley was getting presents for having dropped a few pounds. While they were bustling here and there from shop to shop, Harry had merely lingered back, and then slipped away. Quietly. Without being noticed whatsoever. All he had with him were the things he would need– the key to his Gringotts vault and his wand. Harry had locked all his personal possessions into his school trunk, and that trunk was locked away in his cupboard. Hedwig had been sent ahead with a note for Ron.

Ron- Don’t worry. I’ll contact you as soon as I can. -Harry

He was preparing to lose himself in the anonymity of Muggle London, not afraid, not really, of running into anything in the normal world that would be any more frightening than what he had faced in the wizarding world. If he could avoid running into anyone who knew him from school or from the continual articles in the wizarding newspapers, if he could lay low long enough to be able to slip into Gringotts tomorrow morning, get a bit of traveling money, then he would be able to escape them all. He’d finally be free from the pressure. Be away from the dreams that hadn’t let him get a good night’s rest in over a month. He’d never have to go back to the Dursleys again, never.

Strangely enough, another wizard loose in Muggle London was entertaining a rather similar line of thought at nearly the same moment that Harry slipped away. Severus Snape had been awakened early by a clap of thunder and the appearance of Jupiter, his father’s messenger owl. The cursed creature had dropped the note at the foot of Severus’s bed, and had given him a nasty look before it vanished again. The shrunken heads on the shelf near the bed began to mumble among themselves. Snape could feel six little eyes on him as he opened the note and quickly read the enclosed words.

Severus – Do please meet Professor Malkus in London today. He will be in the usual place, and he will give you a book for me. Jupiter will return for the book tomorrow. Hope all is well with you. Thank you- Father

Snape’s day went downhill from there. To his surprise, the Headmaster had thought that a day trip to London might be just the thing for Severus, and sent him on his way directly after breakfast. McGonagall had asked him to give her best to Professor Malkus, but she couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, tell him the topic of the book his father seemed so anxious to acquire. Flitwick had given Snape a small list of items to purchase in Diagon Alley, and because there was no polite way he could refuse the request, and because Flitwick was a likeable enough person, Snape agreed. Hagrid would also be going into the city later in the day, and offered to meet Snape around seven for dinner. His whole day was planned out for him, whether he liked it or not.

Once he stepped off the train (mental note– repairs taking place on the Floo Network– could be weeks) and made his way into the annoyingly perky sunshine, Severus had thought it would be so easy, so very easy, to slip away unnoticed into the crowd and never go back. He had all he needed with him– his wand and his key to his Gringotts vault. Although working at Hogwarts carried certain privileges– pampered children to torment; an expansive dungeon; the best supply of potion ingredients from here to Iceland– there were times when Severus couldn’t help but feel he was kept on a very short leash. When he felt this claustrophobic, he had an almost overwhelming urge to flee. But when he turned one particular corner, he found himself staring down the street and recognizing the back of one of the last people he would have expected to find wandering around in Muggle London on his own, in broad daylight, unaccompanied, unprotected, vulnerable as a naked newborn.

What in the hell was Harry Potter doing here?

Snape had three hours before his meeting with Professor Malkus, and reasoned there was plenty of time to tail Potter and see what the brat was up to (no good, no doubt!) Severus followed the boy block by block, getting closer in the crowd. How wonderful it would make him feel to pull out his wand and give the boy a reason to live in mortal fear. More fear than he had ever known before, least ways. After all the things that had transpired so recently, how could Harry even think of wandering around like this? Where was that group of wizarding weirdos that was supposed to be watching over the boy?

After following him for an hour, Severus was close enough to take in more details about the boy, once he got past his initial anger. Harry was walking rather stiffly and slowly, wasn’t he? The boy stopped to get a drink and use the restroom in a store. Severus tailed him inside, observing while unobserved. Harry washed his hands and face in the small sink, but it did nothing to improve his looks. From the shadows, Snape caught his breath.

Harry’s right cheek bore a large bruise, and it looked as if he had been punched or slapped in the mouth. There were faint marks around his wrists. He was scruffy and unwashed, and very pale. His stiff movements made Snape assume there must be more contusions under his shabby, dirty, over-sized clothes.

Severus tailed Harry out of this store and for another few blocks, debating what he should do. Contact the Headmaster? Take the boy by the collar and shake him around and then contact the Headmaster? The teen entered the door to a cheap hotel and went up to the counter. Snape made himself narrow against the window as he strained to hear the conversation between Harry and the owner.

"I was wondering about your room rates."

"You’re alone?" the man grumped. Snape seconded the thought.

"I’m supposed to meet up with family later, but they don’t arrive until tomorrow."

"The rooms are...."

Severus didn’t hear how much the rooms cost, but didn’t need to know. The impact the words made on Harry’s face assured him the boy didn’t have however much they were asking. Harry thanked the man and wandered out the door again, head downcast and face a mask of worry. Snape waited for him to pass by, and followed him quickly.

Harry had run away from home – Severus’s jaw dropped at the very idea– and he was looking for a place to hide over night?! Why tomorrow? What happened tomorrow? Severus touched his own Gringotts key in his pocket and instinctively knew what Harry must be planning. With less than two hours until his meeting with Professor Malkus, Severus decided he needed to act fast. He could no longer ignore the obvious– if he didn’t intervene, Harry was going to get himself into trouble or worse. He had to get a hold of the boy and get him to a safe location before he got hurt.

Harry entered another hotel close by, where he conversed with the middle-aged woman at the counter. She handed him a leaflet and began to talk emphatically. Harry extracted himself from her grip and all but fled the place. Upon his exit, he collided with the tall dark form that blocked his escape.

Two - Teens In Crisis

"This isn’t what it looks like," Harry said, his voice tense and defensive. Severus glanced up from his plate and lifted his glass for a quick drink. He swallowed the first words that came into his mind, and settled for a small bit of sarcasm instead of out-right launching at the boy in anger. After all, he didn’t want to alienate the child any further, did he?

"I’m relieved to hear it. For a moment there, I was under the impression you were running away from home, trying to get yourself killed and stuffed and mounted on a certain dark lord’s study wall."

Harry pushed food around his plate, saying nothing. He was boiling underneath it all though. No one in the restaurant seemed overly surprised by Harry’s behavior. It must have been relatively normal for Muggle teens to sit around looking sullen and angry. Snape broke off a piece of bread and regarded Potter. The boy had grown another two inches probably in one month’s time. Was that even possible? He was taller, yes, but thinner as well. Weren’t those Muggles feeding the boy? Severus spooned more potatoes onto Harry’s plate, giving him a challenging look that dared him to protest.

"Eat your lunch," Snape murmured.

"What are you doing here in London?" Harry asked sulkily.

"I have an appointment with a friend of my father’s. Professor Flitwick asked me to collect a few supplies for him. Hagrid will be meeting me for dinner at the Leaky Cauldron later, around seven. The last train leaves around 8:45 p.m."

Harry’s eyes went wide with panic, and he tensed up in his chair.

"Hagrid’s here too? Are you following me?" he squeaked.

"No. I had no idea you would be here."

"You won’t make me go back," Harry said defiantly, pushing his plate away.

"My dear Mr. Potter, I’m in no mood for this. Eat your lunch and quit trying to provoke me."

"You can take me back, but I’ll leave again. I won’t be at Privet Drive more than an hour later."

Severus’s eyes went to the leaflet lying on the table under Harry’s napkin. Alternatives for Teens in Crisis. Potter was nothing if not that, Snape smirked. But what had caused this particular crisis, that was the burning question. Harry made a face, and with a trembling hand, lifted his fork and speared a piece of chicken.

"Not taking me back," he muttered, tearing the flesh to smaller pieces.

"No? If Privet Drive is not to your liking, I can think of a dozen different places I’d rather put you."

"Like where?" Harry snarled.

"A cell at Azkaban Prison. An oubliette in a particularly distant French castle. A dark trunk in my office. Eat your lunch."

"I’m....I’m not hungry. You won’t make me go back. I’ll fight. I’ll scream. I’ll make such a scene you’ll get arrested by the police. I’ll...." Harry’s eyes widened with renewed panic as he rambled. He was very obviously terrified of the prospect of returning to Privet Drive. Snape’s keen sense told him something was wrong here besides the usual teen angst.

"Eat your lunch," he said calmly. Harry shivered and put down his fork, folding his hands under his legs. He stared at Severus with an expression that Voldemort would have envied. Malevolence colored his eyes a shade of green like no other.

***

Harry and Severus made their way through the train station at eight-thirty. Damn Floo repairs. Severus had a rather firm grip on Harry’s arm, and not without reason. He had spent the better part of the later afternoon running through the streets of London in pursuit of the teen, who had managed to escape him not once, not twice, but three times. It was a good thing Harry didn’t know the fine art of apparition yet. If he had, there’d’ve been no way Snape would have caught him.

Under his other arm, Snape carried the book that Professor Malkus had given him. It was wrapped discretely in brown paper. The man was an old friend of his father’s, one that went back so many years with the Snape Family that he had felt comfortable calling Severus by his given name and talking to him in the same condescending paternalistic tone his father always took with him, on the rare occasions they actually met one another. He made Severus strangely uncomfortable, and Snape couldn’t get away from the man fast enough.

Harry was carrying the parcels that contained Professor Flitwick’s supplies, and kept struggling to the end of Snape’s grasp. But if he got more than a comfortable distance, Severus yanked him back a step, and not tenderly either. Potter was shaking from head to toe with the fury consuming him from the inside out. Severus almost felt a pang of pity for him. Almost.

"You missed me at dinner....and....I see why. Harry? What are you doing here?" Hagrid asked as he approached them unseen from behind. Severus released his grip on Harry as Hagrid pulled the boy into a one-armed squeeze. Harry buried himself in the giant’s grasp, missing the questioning look Hagrid was giving Snape. The Potions Master shrugged and turned slightly away, taking hold of the packages Harry had been carrying so they wouldn’t drop to the ground. Hagrid ruffled Harry’s wild locks and bumped a hand under his chin.

"It’s good to see you," Harry said, his voice shaking.

"What happened to you?" Hagrid demanded.

"Nothing," Harry lied.

"You been running into trouble at the Dursleys?" Hagrid asked. Harry nodded awkwardly. Rubeus could not miss the dark glare Harry was giving Snape. "Lucky you found the Professor then, eh?"

"We ran into each other quite unintentionally," Severus said coolly. Harry stood on Hagrid’s other side, well out of Snape’s reach. Hagrid jerked his chin and head at Snape, and the Potions Master pretended to suddenly be very interested in the Muggle train parked behind them. Out of one eye, Severus watched Harry and Hagrid’s reflections in the grayed windows. The giant leaned as far down as he could to be on eye-level with the teen.

"You want to tell me what happened?" Hagrid asked. Harry’s chin went down, and he shook his head no frantically. For a painful moment, Severus was sure the boy was about to start crying. Hagrid sensed this too. He stood back up and glanced around the station. "Come on then. We’re going to miss the train."

"I’m not going back to them," Harry whispered. Hagrid looked back down as Snape glared hotly Potter.

"We’ll talk to Dumbledore and see what he thinks, shall we?" Hagrid suggested.

"I’m not going back," Harry repeated.

"No. There’s no point in arguing that with you here. I can see that," the giant smiled a bit. "Let’s get ourselves a seat, unless you favor walking."

They quickly got settled into a compartment near the back of the correct train. No one was in the mood to talk. Harry sat beside Hagrid, squeezed against the window by the giant’s large form. It would have made much more sense for Harry to sit beside Snape, but Harry had made it clear he’d rather sit by Hagrid, even at the price of a couple cracked ribs. Severus piled Flitwick’s parcels and his father’s book into the space beside himself. If the annoying boy would rather sit with Hagrid, that was perfectly fine by Severus. Perfectly fine.

Within the hour, Harry was leaning against Hagrid, his eyes drooping sleepily. Good for Hagrid, Severus thought, staring back and forth between Harry and his father’s book. Who wanted a snotty, lumpy teen snoring against him, drooling on his cloak? Severus pulled the twine around the wrapped book taut, then let it snap back. Harry jumped, and Hagrid gave Severus a dirty look. It wasn’t five minutes later, Harry was settled again, asleep on Hagrid. The giant slid the boy’s glasses off his nose, and secreted them into one of the many pockets in his furry cloak. Severus rolled his eyes theatrically as Hagrid smoothed Harry’s shirt and straightened his hair.

"The Headmaster will tell you to take him back to Privet Drive," Severus said quietly as he pulled the twine taut. He was about to let it snap again but Hagrid’s low growl made him change his mind.

"I suspect he might," Hagrid nodded.

"Where are Moody and the rest of his little pack? They’re supposed to be keeping an eye on the boy."

"I dunno," Hagrid answered honestly.

"You shouldn’t coddle him so," Severus added, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. Harry whimpered in his sleep. He buried his face in Hagrid’s cloak, and the sounds died away. Hagrid looked up at the light above them, and then at Snape.

"Not coddling anyone," Hagrid protested, rubbing Harry’s back gently. "Could you dim the light a bit?"

"The wards are strongest at Privet Drive. That’s where he’ll be safest," Severus murmured, trying to be the voice of reason here. Hagrid wasn’t listening. He was waiting. Severus let his wand tip exit his cloak sleeve, and with a soft murmur, the light above dimmed ever-so-slightly. "Perhaps you’d like me to hum a lullaby as well?" he asked darkly, allowing a catty smile to cross his mouth.

Was this jealousy he was feeling? Why did it matter so much that Harry preferred sitting with Hagrid? If the boy didn’t trust Severus enough to sit beside him, then who was to blame but Harry for his own paranoia? Why did Severus want Harry to trust him anyway? Maybe after all they’d been through, after all he’d tried to do for the boy, he had hoped in vain they might begin to build trust between them? Maybe it stung Severus to realize that Harry’s first impulse was to put as much distance between himself and Snape as possible. Severus had tried to prove himself time and again to the boy. Was there nothing he could do to win Harry’s trust short of falling on a sword?

"Well, he might be safe from Voldemort at Privet, but what about safe from the Dursleys?" Hagrid muttered, peering down Harry’s collar. Even from this distance, Severus could see the livid bruises that stretched down Harry’s back. He could almost feel the pain each blow caused, drawn in shades of black and purple.

"I’m not saying the Muggles will win any ‘family of the year’ awards. But the protection of blood magic is far stronger than anything at Hogwarts," Severus said. "And the Headmaster is about to go on his first vacation in several years. You have duties to tend to. McGonagall’s got her hands full with preparing for the upcoming term. Most of the other professors are busy with preparing lesson plans. Who exactly is going to watch Mr. Potter while you’re busy?"

Severus continued to pull at the twine. It broke with the sound of a cracking whip, biting him sharply. The thick paper fluttered to the floor of the compartment, and the twine dangled limply from Snape’s long fingers. Hagrid mumbled to himself, putting both arms around Harry in order to quell the shivering that overtook the boy.

"Why would your father want that book so badly that he’d ask you to traipse all the way to London for it?" Hagrid asked.

"Didn’t you know? The universe revolves around my father," Severus quipped, picking up the tome and pulled it into his grip. "Continuing Explorations into the World of the Paranormal by Professor Miles Malkus," he murmured.

"It’s a Muggle book about the paranormal?" Hagrid’s bushy brows went up. "Odd, isn’t it? That a wizard would publish a book for Muggle consumption."

"Malkus likes to think of himself as cutting-edge and controversial."

"That runs a fine line with exposing our secrets to Muggles, doesn’t it?"

"Doesn’t matter when you’re Malkus. He can live easily in one world or the other, and it doesn’t matter to him which."

"Well, go on then. Give a look at the contents. That is what you were after, wasn’t it?"

"No, I...."

"Might as well have handed it to you unwrapped, for all the good it did," Hagrid teased a bit. Severus almost smiled back.

"Oh, it’s the usual. Ghosts and spirits. Ghouls and goblins. Fairies and Elves. Werewolves. Things that go Bump in the Night. Vampires?"

"If your father was feeling homesick for familiar things, it’s not like you couldn’t go to the library and pull out several dozen texts on vampires, for vampires, by vampires, and send them to him," Hagrid said.

"True," Snape admitted. He whipped to a back chapter and flipped through the pages, going scarlet and white in quick succession. He took several quick breaths, and before he could stop himself, he blurted the words on his tongue in a tangled, deadly whisper. "I’m going to hunt him down and– rip him– into---"

Severus stood up before he remembered he was on a train in motion. He was quickly thrown back down into his seat. He slammed the book shut, threw it on the floor, and gave it a satisfying kick for good measure.

"Mina," Hagrid said. Snape shot a fiery glance at the giant. Hagrid answered the glare with a smirk. "He found her, didn’t he?"

"Don’t call her that. She never liked that nickname," Snape replied acidly, his eyes narrowing possessively.

"Did he talk to Illumina?" Hagrid asked. Severus snatched the book from the train floor. He opened to a particular illustration, and flashed it at Rubeus. "Yep, that’s her all right. She hasn’t aged a day. Of course, she wouldn’t, but all the same."

"The book was completed six months ago. She’s still alive," Severus whispered, beginning to flip pages. "Er....sort of," he amended under his breath.

"Your father knows this is a sensitive spot for you. Why would he ask you to get this for him if he knew it would upset you?" Hagrid asked. Severus coughed up a dark laugh that made Harry whimper again in his sleep.

"How can you be so naive? He asked me to get it for him because he hoped it would upset me!" Snape growled, putting the book aside again.

"How long has it been since you heard from her?" Hagrid was beginning to sound more sympathetic.

"She hasn’t kept in touch. She insisted it isn’t healthy for me to live in the past. The question is how Malkus (of all people, that idiot!) how Malkus managed to locate her when I tried for more than a decade and found no trace of her."

"He spent fifty years as a Tracker for the Ministry of Mysteries. He learned a bit about finding people from that, I’m guessing," Hagrid tried very hard not to smile.

"What time is it?" Snape wanted to know.

"Nearly midnight," Hagrid said. "See, train’s coming to a stop now. We’ll be there soon. Hope Dumbledore’s still awake."

"Nearly midnight," Severus muttered. "What time is it in Tasmania?"

"Haven’t got a clue," Hagrid shrugged.

"When Jupiter returns, I’m going to fricassee him," Severus growled under tone. "Is there any possible way for this day to get any worse?"

"Venturing a guess, I’d say yes," Hagrid said.

The train was stopped. Jets of steam were rising up. On the platform visible out their window, Severus saw Professor McGonagall, looking grim. She held Hedwig aloft on one arm. Standing next to her was the Headmaster himself, wearing an expression of utter serenity. On Dumbledore’s other side stood Mad-Eye Moody, who looked as if he had recently undergone fire-fighter training. His hair was standing on end, black as pitch, and his already-dicey appearance was like that of a signed matchstick.

Three - Misplaced Maternal Instincts

Harry sat staring at his hands in his lap as Mad-Eye Moody and Dumbledore paced around each other in the Headmaster’s Office. McGonagall was standing by the window, staring out over the grounds before facing the room once more. Hedwig sat on the Headmaster’s desk, casting apologetic glances at Harry that he refused to acknowledge. She lighted over to him, brushing his hair with her wing on her way out the door.

"Was the house totally demolished?" Dumbledore asked.

"The house?" Moody laughed, a tinge of insanity peeking through. "The block was leveled, Albus. Not much left but splinters and ash, and a completely-intact school trunk."

"Which you will find in my office, Mr. Potter," McGonagall interjected.

"Thank you," Harry whispered without looking up.

"Was anyone hurt?" Dumbledore asked.

"The Dursleys were in London still, having dinner. I’ve sent part of the team to search for suitable lodging while the rebuilding takes place."

"Anyone else?"

"Arabella lost a cat, but other than that, I’d say we were lucky, damned lucky," Moody growled.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked.

"One of Voldemort’s spies must have seen the Dursleys in London without Harry, and assumed he must be at the house alone," Moody replied.

"How did they get around the wards?" Dumbledore wanted to know.

"Underground," Harry whispered.

"What?" Dumbledore stopped and faced him.

"Last night....I....the ground.....I...." Harry was struggling for words.

"Go on," McGonagall said, coming over and sitting down in the chair beside him.

"I dreamed about being locked underground."

"The wards extend underground too, Harry," Dumbledore explained gently.

"I dreamed about being in a coffin," Harry added. McGonagall put a hand on his hand and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze.

"As soon as the house is rebuilt, we’ll set up the watch again," Mad-Eye said, ignoring Harry. Neither Dumbledore nor Potter was paying attention to him.

"Madam Pomfrey is away on a small holiday, but not to worry. We’ll get someone to take a look at you," McGonagall offered. Harry didn’t respond aloud. He nodded, holding his tongue.

"You’re very quiet tonight, Harry," the Headmaster added. The teen kept silent. Dumbledore watched him, staring over the top of his half-moon spectacles and waiting.

"I’ll pop over to Privet Drive and see how repairs are coming along," Moody grumbled. Dumbledore nodded.

"Report back as soon as repairs are complete," Dumbledore said.

"Of course," Moody agreed. With that, he was gone. Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and stared at Harry, waiting yet, it seemed. Fawkes stretched his wings and settled into a comfortable position on his perch. Somewhere in the office, a series of small, metallic ‘pings’ went off. Harry tensed, and McGonagall stroked his hand.

"I’ll see you to the hospital wing," Minerva said. Dumbledore nodded in agreement. Harry slowly pulled himself to his feet and shuffled out the door.

***

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said slowly, her back to him. "You will remove your clothes and put on that robe."

"Madam Pomfrey doesn’t make me get out of my clothes," Harry protested, holding the thin gown in one hand.

"Put on the robe, Harry."

"Why can’t I just go to sleep and someone can look at me tomorrow?"

"Don’t make me get out my wand, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. When she turned around again, Harry was in the robe and under the covers of the bed, holding the sheet and blanket up to his chin. It was all Minerva could do not to smile.

"I didn’t know you had training as a healer," he murmured, blushing hotly.

"I don’t."

"Then why are you here with me?"

"I remained to be supportive," she sighed.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, humbled. "Where did Professor Dumbledore send Hagrid off to? Will he be back?"

"Hagrid will be back by morning," she promised.

"Why were there trunks in the Headmaster’s office?" Harry wanted to know.

"He’s going on holiday. Supposed to leave tomorrow. Today. Later this morning," she corrected herself.

"Oh."

"We do occasionally leave Hogwarts, every once in a while," McGonagall smiled. Harry nodded that he understood that. "I’ll have to see how I can entertain you until term starts."

"I don’t expect to be entertained," Harry blushed.

"I use the term ‘entertained’ loosely, Mr. Potter. Perhaps I should have said ‘busy’ or ‘out of trouble’. You will not be left to your own devices."

"Why not?"

"I left your father and Sirius Black alone for one night one summer. I had to reassemble the top three floors of Gryffindor Tower. Do you have any idea how time-consuming that was?"

"No," Harry shook his head. He winced and looked away. Clearly the topic of Sirius Black was not one McGonagall should have touched. She sighed again, wishing she could say something more constructive and less troubling.

"I suggest once you’ve been cleared medically that you write back to Mr. Weasley. He was frantic when he got your note."

"How did you find out?"

"I happened to have been visiting with Arthur and Molly about one of the Dark Arts applicants, and about you. They asked about having you over to their house for a few days," she ventured.

"Oh," Harry worried. "Considering what’s been going on at the Dursleys, I’d rather stay here, if that’s all the same."

"And what’s been going on at the Dursleys?" she asked.

"I’d rather not say," Harry whispered. "If I go to the Burrow, you may as well paint a target on the roof. I won’t....I don’t want to endanger Ron or his family. I mean, I’d rather stay here, if it’s possible."

"Of course it is," she said immediately. It made Minerva wince that Harry even thought for a moment she would abandon him.

"Thank you. You’re very good to me, Professor."

"I take my pledge to protect my students very seriously," she whispered, her throat tight. "While there are certain students who need more specialized attention than average, that doesn’t change my commitment to them."

"It’s a relief to know I’m not the only one you’ve had trouble with over the years," Harry whispered. He ventured a faint smile. "How did they do it?"

"Do what?" she asked.

"How did my father and Sirius blow up Gryffindor Tower?"

"Your father got his hands on a Muggle manual for making time-delayed detonation devices," Minerva said, clasping her hands and making a sour face. "Naturally Sirius was very keen to try it out. Their attempt proved to be a smashing success. Madam Pomfrey had to put three of James’ fingers back on. It took us over two hours to find one of those fingers. Poppy wasn’t happy about it. The finger didn’t want to reattach correctly at first. The boys were joking about giving it a burial in the family plot. Finally we got it back on, and then James and Sirius spent weeks making jokes about giving everyone the ‘finger’."

Harry smiled a hint and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Wonder what’s taking Professor Snape so long to get here," McGonagall said.

Before Harry could finish sputtering in horror, the door to the hospital wing opened. Snape swept inside like a big black bat blown adrift by a blustering storm. It didn’t take psychic powers to see he was in a foul temper. He slammed the door and leaned against it, turning an icy gaze on Harry and McGonagall. Harry had nothing but pity for the poor little house elf who had had the unenviable task of disturbing the Potions Master when he was clearly in a mood and a half.

"Where have you been?" Minerva scolded. "It’s been twenty minutes since I sent for you."

"I’m busy," Snape muttered.

"It’s one in the morning, Severus. How busy could you be? Don’t talk to me about busy. I’ve had the latest Dark Arts applicant waiting in my office for three hours now."

"Odd time for a job interview, isn’t it?" Snape puzzled. Harry couldn’t help but agree.

"This particular candidate had certain time constraints. This was the only convenient time for her."

"Ah," Snape dismissed. Harry watched McGonagall lower her eyes away from Snape’s, leveling them instead on Harry. Potter had the sudden revelation that she was hiding something from him, and couldn’t help but wonder what it was.

"Where have you been? What have you been doing?" McGonagall continued from before.

"Having a glass of scotch. Breaking things. Having another glass of scotch. I plan to go back and break more things."

"Do get over here," Minerva said. Severus regarded Harry suddenly with even less humor in his mood.

"Wait," Snape said. He had finally put two and two together apparently.

"What?" McGonagall said.

"You’re here because he’s here, and he’s here because he’s ALWAYS here. But why am I here?"

"Harry needs medical attention."

"He looks perfectly fine to me," Snape said crossly.

"See, I told you I was all right," Harry blurted.

"Severus," Minerva said, "you are more than capable of filling in while Madam Pomfrey is away."

"I’m sorry, but you’re apparently confusing me with an entirely different Snape. I’m the Potions Master, Severus Snape. You’ll be wanting the Healer, Mesarik Snape, and you can find him in Tasmania."

"What is your father doing in Tasmania? Is he still trying to find himself?"

"What do you think he’s doing there?" Severus snorted. "Penance. He’s there making good. Saving the world. Comforting those in distress. Paving his way into the afterlife with good deeds."

"Exactly how much scotch have you had, Severus?" Minerva asked bluntly.

"Enough to know I shouldn’t be attempting any healing tonight," Snape replied.

"Make sure Harry is all right, and if he needs healing, you can do it as soon as you’re sober," she fussed. "Get a move on. I’m in no mood for your petulance."

"Mr. Potter?" Severus crept several feet closer to Harry.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have you any life-threatening injuries, gapping wounds, severed limbs, oozing sores, or other emergency maladies physical or mental or magical in origin that will somehow impede your ability to continue to exist for twelve hours or so?"

"No, sir."

"Would you like one?" Severus asked, towering over Harry with a fierce gleam in his dark eyes.

"You read the book, didn’t you?" Minerva asked, putting her hands on her hips. Severus blinked at her, and pursed his lips into a tight line.

"I may have accidently opened it, yes."

"Illumina said you’d never be able to resist the temptation."

"I don’t think this is the time or the place to be discussing my personal life, thank you," Severus bristled. "But you knew! SWEET MERLIN! Is there a single one of you that didn’t know about this except me?"

"I didn’t know," Harry put in. After giving him a glance that scoured off a layer of skin, Severus ignored Harry.

"You spoke to her?" Snape questioned McGonagall, suddenly more dangerously quiet.

"I understand why you’re angry with your father, but it’s no reason to get falling down drunk and make a spectacle of yourself in front of one of our students," McGonagall whispered, darting her eyes at Harry and back at Severus.

"Have I in any way damaged your already woeful impression of me, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked the boy. Harry shook his head no, looking as grim as he could in spite of a sudden and seriously-life-threatening desire to smile.

"No, sir."

"There. You see?" Severus said to Minerva. "When did you speak to her? Where did you speak?"

"I’m going to sober you up," McGonagall replied, taking out her wand.

"You will not make me sober! Do you realize how much that scotch cost?" Severus fumed. Harry really hoped she wouldn’t. This was rather entertaining. He’d never seen Snape so much as tipsy, let alone angry-drunk. He was nothing like Uncle Vernon when he’d had too many. Vernon stumbled around like a blind bull elephant. Severus became irritated and serpentine, and rather sharp-tongued.

"If you want to be angry with your father, I’m perfectly happy to oblige you, but I would like to suggest you take a more constructive approach to dealing with this anger. You can’t let it take over your life and destroy you. Drinking?! Honestly, Severus."

McGonagall rapped him hard on the forearm with her wand and glared at him as she waited for her spell to sink in.

"Are things any clearer yet?" she asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. That was a damned waste of perfectly good liquor," Snape complained, holding his arm where she had whacked at him.

"Can I trust you to see to Mr. Potter without any further indignant protests?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Tell me about this Dark Arts applicant you’ve got waiting for you."

"I think not!" Minerva laughed quickly and nervously. Snape stared at her, and lifted his chin, steeling his jaw and clenching his teeth together.

"Perhaps you could even let me have a glance at the list of all the applicants."

"Oh!"

"A small glance. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll make sure your little Gryffindor isn’t going to expire, and you let me see the list."

"Severus, the last time I let you see who was applying for the Dark Arts position, a third of the applicants were dead inside a week."

"The flu season was dreadful that year."

"Another third had a sudden change of heart about accepting the job."

"Teaching isn’t a calling for the meek at heart."

"And we got stuck with Gilderoy Lockhart!"

"How exactly am I to blame for that?"

"You helped him ace the interview, hoping to prove yourself superior by comparison, I’m sure."

"Which I will regret to my dying day. Minerva," Severus purred. Harry felt the cosmos stop spinning as Snape gave a slow, wicked, and completely charming smile that was so unlike his usual self that it turned him into a different man. "Minerva," he purred persuasively. "I want to know who I’m dealing with, that’s all. I’m not going to off them. I swear. I can help you in the Headmaster’s absence."

"Help me how?"

"Check their references and backgrounds. Dig up a little dirt on them? See if they’re being honest with you about their experiences. I can be useful to you, Minerva. You know I can."

McGonagall paused, and seemed to be giving that more than a passing thought. A Slytherin with Snape’s connections might be able to find out more than she could, there was no denying that. Severus moved closer to Harry, who had remained quiet but watchful during their strange exchange.

"If I have your word no one will come to harm," McGonagall said slowly.

"Cross my heart," Snape said, smiling more broadly, tracing his fingers over his chest.

"Why do I indulge you?"

"Misplaced maternal instincts and a keen desire to see if you can reform my wicked Slytherin ways," Snape smiled at her warmly.

"Perhaps you’re right. There are seven of them to interview in four weeks time. I could use the help, between you and me. You see to Harry. I’ll continue the interview with this candidate and come back in one hour. I may inadvertently bring a list with me," she added. Snape gave her a sweeping bow. "No more scotch tonight, Severus," she whispered on her way out.

Four - Common Ground

"Why are you wearing that ridiculous thing?" Snape asked as he came closer to the bed. Harry was regarding him with a mixture of humor and disbelief.

"Professor McGonagall said I should."

"I’m sure you don’t need to be half naked for me to decide if your health is in question. Do please cover your pasty white behind."

"I tried to tell her that Madam Pomfrey never makes me undress unless absolutely necessary," Harry said, waiting until Snape turned away before quickly pulling on his clothes. When Harry had finished dressing, Severus sat on the side of the bed next to the boy, and they both silently stared at Potter’s bare feet.

"When was the last time you trimmed those toenails, Potter? I’ve seen tidier feet on a werewolf."

"Can you just do this and get it over with?"

"Late for an appointment?"

"If Headmaster Dumbledore is leaving on holiday, who is will be in charge in his absence?" Harry asked.

"Professor McGonagall, of course."

"She’ll be occupied by the interviews for the new Dark Arts instructor, yes?"

"Most likely."

"If I promise to be back for the start of term, how much would it take to get you to look the other way while I slipped out of the castle?"

"Do you mean to suggest you would like to bribe me to allow you to escape?" Snape's brows rose, and he drew his mouth into a tight line. "The answer is no. Not for all the money you might have."

"I’ll do whatever it takes to get away. I’m not going back to Privet Drive. I won’t go back to the Dursleys. You don’t want me here. Why does it matter to you where I go as long as I leave?"

"If there were anything left of me after Professor McGonagall got done raking me over the coals, Headmaster Dumbledore would have it stuffed and mounted and put on his office wall. The answer is ‘no’. Do I make myself clear?"

"Woefully, sir."

"Why don’t you begin by telling me why you are so very adamant about not returning to your family?"

"They aren’t my family," Harry protested hotly.

"We can’t choose our relatives, Potter. More’s the pity. You have to accept that. Now. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?"

"Why don’t you kiss my pasty white behind?" Harry frowned petulantly. Severus sucked back a smile in the nick of time.

"I see you’ve worked on your beguiling charm while you’ve been away."

"You don’t want me here any more than I want to be here. I’d be happily enjoying an anonymous life in the back streets of London at the moment if it weren’t for you. I’m starting to wonder if I’ve got a homing beacon shoved somewhere inconspicuous. How is it you can track me as well as you do?"

"Do you mean to ask how I ran into you this morning?"

"Yes."

"Purely by accident, I promise you. I didn’t know until yesterday morning that I would be in London. How in hell do you think I could have known you’d be there?"

"I didn’t even tell Ron what I was doing. How did Hedwig know where to find me?"

"Owls have a precognitive sense about where their masters will be. I can’t explain it to you. Even if Mr. Weasley kept quiet when he read your note, which I seriously doubt he could have, if Hedwig insisted on accompanying McGonagall back to Hogwarts, Minerva would have known without a doubt that you would soon follow the bird. My father’s messenger owl Jupiter predicted a sudden trip to Mongolia once, as well as North Carolina."

"You aren’t close to your father, are you?" Harry asked, wanting to change the subject.

"No," Severus said curtly.

"Why? Is it because of how he treated you?"

"This is not something I want to discuss, Mr. Potter. Not with you. Not with anyone."

"Oh....um...." Harry sighed. "It’s just that we might have a common ground there, cause I know what it feels like when people think you’re there to be nothing more than an amusement and annoyance for them, and....and I thought...I understand how you feel. Nevermind."

Severus watched the boy, struggling to keep his mouth steady.

"Are you trying to bond with me? I may be ill," he tested. Harry’s brows went together, but he seemed to see through the sarcasm to the tentative surprise underneath. A twinkle of humor and sadness wove back into Harry’s eyes.

"I’m sorry about what I saw in the Pensieve. It was very private, and I shouldn’t have intruded. I’ve wanted to tell you that all summer. I’m sorry too about how they treated you-- your father, and my father too, and Professor Lupin and Sirius." He stumbled over words as if they were boulders.

"McGonagall put you up to this, didn’t she?"

"No," Harry said earnestly. "I’d be angry at them too in your place."

"It’s not your fault, Mr. Potter. But thank you for the sentiment.

"However, I know you didn’t like Sirius, and I understand why, but he wasn’t a coward. He was never a coward. I want...I wish....you should apologize for making him feel that."

"Sirius wasn’t a coward," Severus murmured. "No. I shouldn’t have played towards his ego when I fought with him. In light of what happened, I concede it was foolish of me. But Sirius was reckless, and he was too adventurous."

"He was trying to protect me."

"Being a Slytherin, perhaps I have a hard time appreciating the finer points of Gryffindor spirit," Severus allowed. Harry remained quiet, clearing his throat and swinging his feet. He kept his eyes on the floor, blinking every now and again. "She’s going to come back, you know," Severus whispered in the uncomfortable silence.

"I know," Harry said, sounding small and frightened.

"If I don’t have a look at you, she’ll take into the both of us, tooth, nail, and claw," Snape said grimly. Harry gave him a dart of a glance, and his shoulders sank.

"Suppose you’re right."

"Lie back on the bed and I’ll see how you rate," Severus said, patting the covers.

"Words I never dreamed I’d hear from you," Harry gave a nervous, quick smile. Severus stood up, reconsidered his phrasing, and waved a hand impatiently in the air.

"Well, yes, I see your point. I meant nothing of the sort though. I don’t make a habit of buggering little children, Mr. Potter, no matter how charming they might be."

"Glad to hear it," Harry nodded.

***

Professor McGonagall returned within the hour, finding Snape still in the hospital ward with Harry. She closed the door and handed Severus the parchment page she was carrying. He hardly glanced at it, folding it away in his pocket.

"How is Mr. Potter?"

"Perhaps you’d better sit down," Snape murmured.

McGonagall glanced over at the boy. He was asleep on his side on the bed, glasses resting askance on his cheek. Minerva sat on the corner of the closest bed to the entrance, the one across from Harry’s.

"What is it?" she asked as Severus sat down beside her.

"To begin with, he’s at least fifteen pounds underweight for his height."

"James was thin too at that age."

"That’s not the point. He should be encouraged to eat more. He hasn’t had a decent meal since he left here. I’d bet my life on that."

"I can manage to keep him fed. What else did you find?"

"He had a cracked rib, and multiple bruises on his back and shoulders, on his arms and chest. Strangely, some of the wounds appear to be self-inflicted."

"Why?"

"If he’s being struck by someone else, he will curl into a defensive position, presenting the least vulnerable parts of himself to attack. That would explain the bruises on his back and shoulders. Not the ones on his chest and arms."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"I should think the meaning of what I’m telling you is perfectly obvious. Those Muggles are striking the boy, repeatedly, and with much zeal. I also suspect he’s been hurting himself."

"You suspect over-enthusiastic punishment? What did Harry say?"

"He won’t talk about what happened. I did not press him. I healed the worst of his bruises, and permitted him to write to Mr. Weasley. I sent the message by owl. It should arrive there soon. Minerva, if I may, considering the fact the Dursleys will surely blame Mr. Potter for the destruction of their house this afternoon, sending the boy back to them would not only be unconscionable, it might even result in homicide."

"I have no intention of sending him back there to those people," she confided. "If I had my way,

he’d never go back there. But the Headmaster knows what’s best, I suppose. I’ve tried to talk him out of it time and again, year after year. Those people cause Harry no amount of distress. I warned Albus that he was getting old enough to consider doing this. I’ve warned him for years that the minute Harry’s feet could carry him and he had the least bit of sense, he’d get as far away from those people as fast as he could. No, Dumbledore tells me, Harry needs to remain with his family as long as possible." Minerva paused for a sad sigh. "I can’t thank you enough for bringing him back here to safety today."

"Yesterday," Snape said quickly.

"Whatever," she fussed.

"You’re welcome. There’s more," Snape added, lowering his voice.

"Yes?"

Snape watched Harry for several seconds, as if he were making sure the teen was actually sleeping. He tore his eyes off the boy, cleared his throat, and searched for words. McGonagall wanted a good reason for Harry to not return to the Dursleys, and Snape could give her one.

"Minerva, I can’t prove this."

"But you suspect something?"

"Between you and I, he had bruises that to me imply someone made an attempt against his physical person," Severus ventured. McGonagall’s mouth fell open in shock and horror. "Some of the bruises on his arms and legs would suggest he was bound. A gag might explain how his mouth was injured. You wouldn’t want someone physically incapacitated unless you knew they’d put up a struggle. What I’m trying to say is..... I don’t know what I’m trying to say," he said, hanging his head. McGonagall knew what he was saying though.

"You mean those people, they molested Harry? But who would do such a thing to him? He’s a baby," Minerva went pale.

"I said they bound and gagged him. I don’t believe they succeeded in much else. He appears to have put up a great struggle. I’d expect nothing less of one of your Gryffindors."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she gasped. "How thorough of an examination did you give him? Did you ask him if anything untoward had happened?"

"Certainly not," Severus blanched, scandalized. "In these cases, the direct approach can impact quite negatively. The child doesn’t trust me enough to discuss such a personal issue. Perhaps he’ll talk to you. Or to Lupin. Or to Mr. Weasley once the children are back at school."

"What did you do, exactly?"

"I tried to be as careful as I could. I gave him a mild sedative. Waited for it to sink in. Made a big fuss about how stupid I was, that I should have had him change into pajamas before giving him the sleeping draught. He was nearly asleep by that point. I helped him change and examined him as best I could during that process without actually physically touching him. There was no redness or sensitivity where you might expect if he had been molested."

Severus cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the topic. When Minerva said nothing, he continued to talk, hoping she would forgive him when and if she realized he was trying to help her. It wasn’t totally out of the realm of the possibility, was it? He had told her he couldn’t prove this, and he was welcome to suspect what he wanted, wasn’t he? McGonagall would forgive him, he decided.

"He was upset this morning," Snape went on.

"Yesterday morning."

"Whatever," Snape muttered. "If that’s what happened, it might explain why he wanted to leave Privet. I don’t know how you wish to proceed. I can only tell you what I think, and leave the rest to you and the Headmaster."

"What do you think, Severus?"

"What I can tell you for certain is that he was bound at the ankles and the wrists, that he was beaten by unknown parties, and that he also injured himself. It’s not uncommon in such circumstances for the victim to turn on themselves with hatred and loathing."

"Why on earth?"

"You’ll have to talk to Harry or the Dursleys if you want to know further details. Minerva, I could be totally wrong here. It just seemed to me that would explain his rash actions. Desperate people don’t always make rational choices. Of course, the boy has never exactly been rational, has he? I could be all wrong."

"Thank you, Severus. I don’t have to ask you to keep this to yourself, do I?"

"I’ve already forgotten what we were discussing," Severus whispered in reply as he rose to his feet and stretched. "Thank you for the list."

He left McGonagall staring sadly across the room as Harry slept on, unaware.

Five - The Night Visit

Snape was dipping his quill into his nearly empty ink well when he heard the flutter of wings. He lifted his head and spotted Hedwig crossing his office threshold. Unable to gain access through the closed windows, she had taken a route through the corridors, and appeared pretty disgruntled about it. She swooped in and landed on his desk, sticking her leg at him. He removed the small note there attached, wondering why the bird was here. He read the note aloud, recognizing the semi-legible script from the many mediocre Potions essays he had read from this particular student.

" ‘Dear Professor: I saw your light on. Why are you awake at this hour? I’m going barking mad up here. Please feel free to visit. – H.P.’ "

He drew a line under Harry’s message and wrote back , "Go to bed, Mr. Potter. – Professor

S.S."

Hedwig delivered the note and returned with reply, after reply, after reply.

" ‘Dear Professor– We really have to talk. Please come visit. – H.P.’ "

"H.P. – Go to bed. – Professor S.S.’ "

" ‘Dear Professor S.S. – You can quiz me on Potions. If you’re really bored, you can even poke me with sharp objects. I have to talk to you, something I can’t say in a note. – H.P.’ "

"Mr. H.P. – While the bit about sharp objects is a tempting offer, I must decline. Go to bed, Mr. Potter – Professor S.S."

" ‘Dear Professor S.S. – Don’t make me beg. – H.P.’ "

"Mr. H.P. – Though I should very much like to see you beg, it must wait for some other, more convenient time. I’m working on class lectures. – Professor S.S."

" ‘Dear Professor S.S. Please.... please..... *sob*.... please..... oooooh..... going.... crazy..... no

one to talk to .....please.....*sniff*....*whimper*....please.... H.P.’ "

"Mr. H.P., you annoy me at great personal risk. I’m currently very busy. – Professor S.S. (Head of Slytherin House, renowned for various evil deeds including stuffing irritating small children into dark trunks)"

" ‘Dear Professor: I realize that you’re busy, but you are awake. Hagrid went to sleep an hour ago. He stopped answering my messages, least ways, right after he told me he’d bring me back to the hospital wing in a burlap bag if I broke out and went around school grounds after dark. – H.P.’ "

"Mr. H.P. – I always knew I liked Hagrid for some reason. If I pretend I’m asleep, will you leave me alone too? – Professor S.S."

" ‘Dear Professor S.S. – If you were asleep, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. We’re going to wear poor Hedwig out. Come see me, or I shall be forced to break out of the hospital wing and blame it entirely on you when Professor McGonagall catches me. – H.P.’ "

Though he had created several scathing remarks to use while waiting for Harry’s note, Severus dipped his stylus and it came up totally dry. There were but two choices at this point– refill the ink well or get off his seat and go to the infirmary.

When Snape arrived at the hospital wing, there were several chocolate frog boxes opened on Harry’s bed. Potter popped a frog leg into his mouth with an eagerness that was only attractive in hungry children. He stacked cards together and flipped through them. Hedwig swung across the room and landed on the railed headboard. There was no sign of Professor McGonagall, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t keeping watch.

"Oh! I didn’t realize you’d give in so quickly. I was fully prepared to beg a bit more. Thanks for coming," Harry said. "You aren’t really going to stuff me in a trunk, are you?"

A timid hint of a smile touched his mouth. He chased a jumping frog under the covers, emerging at the foot of the bed. His hair was standing on end from the static. His fading bruises were whispering about the torment the child was smiling his way through. The sight of him still made Snape wince in pain. Luckily the wince made the Potions Master seem more severe.

"I’m not here to amuse you, Mr. Potter," Severus said tersely.

"You’re here to tuck me in?" Harry asked innocently.

"I’m here to knock you out," Severus replied, taking his wand from his sleeve.

"Well....um.....I see," Harry stammered nervously, crawling back up to the pillows and getting situated under the covers. "That’s thoughtful of you, in your own special way." He stacked his cards again as he nibbled on the now-still chocolate frog. "You said you were working on class lectures?" he stalled.

"Yes," Snape murmured, crossing his arms impatiently.

"How long have you been teaching here at Hogwarts?"

"Fifteen years?"

"You don’t use the same plans year after year?"

"No. I find myself presently beset with woefully-unprepared students, particularly in your year, and I’m modifying my plans to challenge you louts accordingly."

"Oh." Harry sounded unsure what else to say.

"Are you ready to turn in?"

"Into what?" Harry whispered, drawing back a little as Snape raised his wand. "Look. Can we talk for a bit? Do you have to rush away? I wanted to ask you something."

"Why aren’t you pestering Professor McGonagall?"

"She’s asleep," Harry said.

"How silly of me. Let me rephrase. Why are you pestering me?"

"At present, you are the best resident source for questions about Dark Arts."

Severus blinked and worried the bottom half of his face was about to slip off his skull. Had Harry Potter paid him a compliment? A compliment about his Dark Arts abilities, no less?? Realizing he must look pretty foolish, he lowered his wand and put it away.

"I’ll have you know I’m always the best resident source," he answered imperiously.

"You won’t take offense if I ask you things that other people might find, well, questionable," Harry continued. "Will you?"

"Go on."

"I’m having dreams again."

"About Voldemort?"

"Yes."

"That’s why you refuse to go to sleep? As the Headmaster feared, your link with Voldemort is getting stronger."

"I’m afraid," Harry admitted.

"Of what?" Severus asked. Harry went a very ashen color.

"I’m having the same dream from Privet Drive. I thought if I left there, that if....I thought. I don’t know how to say this."

"You believed leaving Privet Drive would make the dreams stop. But it hasn’t."

"Exactly."

"Tell me about this dream."

"I’m inside a coffin. Draco is with me. Something else is with us too. It’s a skeleton, or a body, or a mummy. It’s dead. It’s got a lot of bones. It’s dark. I don’t know what it is exactly, except that I don’t want to be in there with it."

"What do you think it means?"

"I don’t know what it means," Harry said softly. "I was hoping you would."

"I don’t read dreams, Mr. Potter."

"If I wanted to have my dreams interpreted, I’d be waking up Trelawney," Harry snapped back critically. Severus knew he had encountered that look from Voldemort himself on more than one occasion. "I’m sorry," Harry added, shaking his head. "I’m having a hard time with this. I don’t mean it."

"How does the dream end?"

"Draco and I are both screaming our lungs out. I can hear Voldemort laughing. I can hear your voice too, as if you’re talking just out of earshot. But I know it’s you. This has to mean something."

"Yes, it means you’re afraid of getting locked inside a coffin with Draco Malfoy. But who among us isn’t?" Severus quipped. "What kind of coffin is it?"

"I don’t know."

"Close your eyes and think about it. Is it wood or stone? Is it recent or ancient? How does it smell?"

"I don’t want to think about it," Harry protested, shaking his head. "Every time I close my eyes, I’m inside the thing. It’s like last year, with the dreams about the corridors at the Ministry of Magic."

"Why do you want to talk to me, Mr. Potter?"

"Is Draco all right?"

"What?"

"Do you know where Draco is spending the summer? Could it be I’m seeing where Voldemort is? I mean, maybe he’s the one locked inside a coffin with Draco."

"You’re worried about Draco Malfoy?" Snape murmured, his face screwing up in puzzlement. Harry nodded, lowering his eyes. "You believe this is a precognitive dream?"

"It’s possible, isn’t it?" Harry asked. Snape nodded begrudgingly.

"You are of an age when a wizard’s magic can begin to fluctuate on him, become uncontrollable when he’s angry, or venture into precognition when he’s sleeping. It is possible. Why do you care about Draco suddenly?"

"I know, hard to believe. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to see Draco stuffed in a coffin now and again. But what if something’s wrong with him, if he’s in trouble, and I didn’t tell anyone? I don’t want that on my head."

"I’ll send an owl to Lucius and find out what Draco is up to. Master Malfoy should be home by now. Will that make you feel better?"

"As long as you don’t tell him ‘that Potter brat’s under the delusion he’s having pre-cognitive dreams. Would you make sure Voldemort hasn’t been buried alive with your son?’."

"I promise I’ll be much more subtle than that," Snape replied. "Is that all?"

"No, I...um....wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"You saved my life probably by not letting me go the other day. Thank you. I know I can be trying, but I honestly don’t mean to be."

"You’re welcome," Severus tried out the words and didn’t choke on them. "Did McGonagall put you up to this again?"

"No," Harry murmured, rolling his eyes. "Did I tell you I got a postcard from Professor Dumbledore?" he added as he fished it out of the bedcovers from among the candy boxes and wrappers. "He’s in the States. Went to go study ancient burial practices of early North American colonial settlements. Pretty random holiday, wouldn’t you say?"

Severus glanced at the postcard– it had a statue of an Indian maiden on the front of it. The blurb mentioned Jamestown, Virginia. He gave it back to Harry without reading the message on the back.

"If I asked you to do something totally unorthodox, would you be able to keep it to yourself?" Harry asked.

"That depends. I could try."

"Voldemort, he can’t read my thoughts all the time, can he?"

"Not that I’m aware, no."

"But he can project his feelings to me?"

"Yes."

"Can I project back?"

"The point of our Occlumency lessons last year was to make you able to resist the Dark Lord’s intrusions into your mind."

"I want you to teach me how to strengthen the link between us."

"Strengthen it? To what end?"

"I want you to make us one mind in two bodies."

"Why?" Snape asked, his voice sticking in his throat.

"Are you any good with memory charms?"

Severus gripped the railed footboard tightly and realized his hand was shaking.

"You want me to ‘Obliviate’ you?"

"If he and I are one mind in two bodies, he’ll be ‘Obliviated’ too. Isn’t that how it works, Professor?"

"Do you have any idea what you’re asking me to do?" Snape asked, scalded. "The kind of trouble I would catch if I said yes to your request?"

"Yes. I have every idea."

"No, Mr. Potter, I will not strengthen the link, and I will not erase your mind. You will forget this cockamamy plan at once, or I really will ‘Obliviate’ you."

"He’s in my mind," Harry said, his voice trembling. "He’s making me dream terrible things. I wake up walking around the house, trying to hurt myself, trying to hurt other people. Uncle Vernon took to tying me up at night so I wouldn’t do anything to any of them, but how long do you think it’s going to be before Voldemort succeeds in making me harm someone or myself?"

Harry turned away, ashamed of the tears in his eyes.

"Potter, no."

"I’ve never asked you to do anything for me," Harry whispered. "Why can’t you say yes just once?"

Severus sighed heavily and shook his head.

"Harry, I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I will keep watch on you as best I can, keep you and others around you from harm, but I will not injury you, not even to injury Voldemort. I can’t do that."

"Why not? I’d’ve thought you’d’ve leapt at the chance to zap me a couple times," Harry wanted to laugh, to make light, but failed. "I’ll let you throw in an extra ‘Cruciatus’ without so much as a word of complaint."

"Your mother died to protect you, Harry. She was a friend to me whether I wanted it or not at times. And because you were more than the world to her, I will not harm you. No matter how tempting the offer, I must decline."

Harry nodded awkwardly. He picked up his wizard cards, wanting to distract himself again.

"No way I can tempt you, then?" he whispered, not meeting Snape’s eyes.

"You should try to sleep," Severus suggested.

"I don’t want to sleep. He’s inside my head when I sleep."

"Do you intend to stay awake for the rest of your life?"

"For as long as I can, yes." Harry was shaking as he responded, forcing a smile onto his face. "Can’t I ask you a question? Stay and talk to me," he begged.

"You may ask one question. And only one."

"Did you say something to McGonagall about me?"

"Um, you’ll have to be more specific."

"She’s acting strangely around me," Harry said.

"In what manner?" Severus asked, keeping his voice as bland as possible.

"It’s like she’s on the verge of saying something but never works up to it."

"She’s got a lot on her mind right at the moment. Be patient. If it’s important, she’ll work up to it."

"Do you have any idea what’s on her mind?" Harry raised a brow at Severus, and held his eyes in a gaze that made Snape feel naked. "Something you said, Professor, has greatly influenced her treatment of me. I want to know what you told her."

"What you want and what you get are often two different things, Mr. Potter," Severus replied archly. Potter took away his penetrating gaze, and Snape relaxed, watching the boy flip through his wizard cards.

"Are you related to Illumina Snape?" Harry said, holding up one of the cards. "Is she the same Illumina that Professor McGonagall was asking you about?"

Severus sat on the end of the bed with an ungainly thump. Harry had totally gobsmacked him with that question, no point in trying to cover it up.

"Am I what?" he croaked.

"She is in my cards. She’s incredibly rare. Won’t Ron be thrilled when he sees her? Her biography is rather unusual."

Severus tried to keep a blank face when Harry handed him the pentagonal card. The pale woman in the portrait winked at Snape and blew him a kiss. Harry’s eyes were glued to Snape’s face, and he was turning more serious by the second. Severus gave him back the card.

" ‘Illumina Snape is a member of the ancient wizarding cult– the Deusredeti. She had a short but distinguished career in the Ministry of Mysteries as a Tracker, until she disappeared on an assignment in Bucharest. She is presumed dead though unsubstantiated sightings are reported now and again.’ "

"I know what it says, Mr. Potter. I wrote it."

"Then you are related? You do know her?"

"I should hope," Snape smirked.

"She looks like you," Harry said, holding the card up for closer comparison with the Potions Master.

"Nonsense. She’s beautiful," Severus scoffed a bit. Harry cocked his head to one side, pulling the card close for an intent study.

"She has your eyes," Harry decided.

"We have similar eyes, yes, I suppose," Snape agreed.

"How are you related? Is she kith or kin?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"What’s your connection? Blood or marriage?"

Snape was making a face that looked very much like a grimace of pain that wanted to be a smile.

"A bit of both, I’m afraid. Too much of one and not enough of the other."

"What kind of answer is that?" Harry frowned, annoyed.

"The only one you’re getting," Snape responded darkly. "Cheeky boy."

"That’s the trouble with some wizards. Too overly fond of cryptic answers to important questions. Well, I’m sorry that she’s missing. That must be hard for you."

"There are parts of the past that are better forgotten if at all possible," Severus explained. The compartmentalizing going on in his heart must have been absolutely audible to Harry. Potter’s eyes watched him knowingly, studying him. Pity was lurking in there, but Harry didn’t pursue it, for which Severus was thankful.

"Why would she be in a Muggle book written by a wizard about the paranormal world? I mean, if she’s dead? Do you think Madam Pince will get a copy for the library?" the boy tested. He saw much more than he was often given credit for noticing. Snape made a mental note that he should be very EXTREMELY careful what he did or said in front of Harry.

"I doubt it. And, Mr. Potter, Illumina’s not dead. Not technically," Severus ground out the words. He said the last part to see Harry’s response. Potter sat up straighter.

"Was she turned into a spirit?" the boy wondered. "Like Peeves or Sir Nicholas?"

"No."

"If she’s not dead and she’s not here, what is she?"

"Missing," Snape concluded. Wheels were ever-turning in Potter’s head.

"Is she undead?" Harry gasped, hopeful, curious, and horrified at once. "She was turned into a zombie? A vampire? A ghoul?"

"Oh, really. One question. I said one question!" Snape sputtered impatiently, though he was begrudgingly very impressed with the boy’s quickness. "It’s time you were asleep, Mr. Potter."

"That would explain your interest in the Defense Against the Dark Arts and all, if you were trying to save her. Or....or maybe you’re the one who turned her that way?"

There was an awkward pause during which Snape glared quite meanly at the boy. Harry gave him a cautious double-look and continued to speak.

"No. It seems you would have preferred that she not disappear, or why would you continue to speak of her in present tense? That was out-of-bounds. Sorry."

"Have we finished our little interrogation?" Snape muttered.

"Forgive me. I’m only curious. Did she go to Hogwarts?" Harry asked, lying down in the bed when Snape tugged him horizontal and straightened his blankets around him tight as a straight-jacket. He took away Harry’s glasses, folding them and carefully putting them aside on the table.

Potter squinted at him. Snape hadn’t noticed before what large eyebrows the boy had. They crossed his face from one side to the other. He imagined Harry in about a century, and how white and bushy those brows might be by then. He wondered if the boy would be lucky enough to live that long, and felt sorrow rise up and crash over in his stomach. He watched Harry’s eyes, had to think of something painless, anything except Illumina. The box where he crammed all his torment and pain over her absence was almost opened by the child’s innocent questions.

"Yes," Snape said, fighting another grimace. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Phft. You’re lying. I knew it."

"Am I?" Snape concentrated on him like a vengeful bird of prey.

"Every Snape who attended Hogwarts was male, except your great, great, great, great, great-aunt Chloe. I looked your family up in the library."

"Why?"

"Idle curiosity."

"Perhaps those Muggles are correct."

"In what sense? Which Muggles?"

" ‘Idle hands do the Devil’s work’. Isn’t that what they believe, some of them?"

"Do you believe in the Devil, Professor?" Harry asked with a peculiar grin.

"Yes. And so should you," Snape whispered, leaning closer.

"You’re awfully sure," Harry decided.

"We had tea only last week."

"I don’t believe in the Devil or God either one. Those are stories used to scare children and needy, gullible adults into obeying. We make our own Heaven or Hell, sir, or we allow others to make it for us."

"With all the things you could research in our extensive collection of tomes, why on Earth would you look up the Snapes?" Severus asked, changing the subject, somewhat.

"I wondered about you, that’s all. What makes you tick. Is there any truth to that tale about your family being cursed in the sixteenth century by wandering gypsies in Romania? That no woman born a Snape lives beyond sixteen?"

"Harry, you’re trying my patience," Snape warned. "Can you make no distinction between fantasy and reality? Fiction and non-fiction?"

"You’re the one who believes in the Devil," Harry retorted. "But why would you lie about it?"

"My private life is none of your business, Mr. Potter," Snape said uncomfortably.

"I’m not trying to pry. Just wanting to make conversation is all."

"I’m not lying, Mr. Potter. My responses are not mutually exclusive," Severus said. He counted slowly backwards from ten. Harry shot back up at six.

"When she attended Hogwarts, she wasn’t named ‘Snape’. She was your wife!" Harry exclaimed. "Professor! I never knew you were married!"

"You say that as if it’s totally inconceivable," Snape murmured dryly. Harry’s face softened with regret.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that," he said, lowering his eyes. "I didn’t know you were married once upon a time, that’s all."

"I am married yet, Mr. Potter. There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Most of it would surprise you. Some of it might scare the hell out of you," Severus replied, putting a palm on Harry’s forehead. He moved his lips in soundless words. Harry cautiously put a hand on his arm, wanting to push Snape’s hand away, but he wasn’t fast enough.

"Don’t." Harry hadn’t been able to prevent the word from escaping. Severus’s chest felt hollow at how frightened the boy sounded.

"It’s only a sleeping spell," Snape whispered, surprised at how gentle his voice was.

"Can’t believe you did that to me. I don’t want to sleep," Harry protested. Soothing warmth began to ebb through Potter, and his limbs turned to sand. He sank back into his bed, his neck unable to support his heavy skull.

"You need your rest," Severus added. Half-lidded green eyes watched him warily.

"I don’t want to sleep," Harry whispered, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Strands of hair were tangled with his long lashes.

"I don’t care what you want, Mr. Potter," Severus said, fighting hard to reign in the urge to stroke Harry’s bangs out of his eyes. That would have been too forward, and far too gentle. He would not submit to this pity in his heart. He didn’t like to admit to even having a heart!

"You didn’t use your wand," Harry rambled, still rubbing his eyes. Snape gave in.

"No," Severus replied, tracing fingertips across Harry’s forehead, pushing half the tickling strands aside. "Don’t fight. Sleep, Harry," he whispered. His traitorous heart throbbed in sorrow when Harry cringed visibly at the approach of his hand. It was only for a second, but Harry shut his eyes and pulled a fraction of an inch away. Snape pushed the other half of Harry’s bangs out of his eyes, and rested his hand on the top of Harry’s skull. He smoothed the unruly locks as best he could, watching Harry’s uneasy expression.

"Why’d you bring it?" Harry asked, meaning Severus’s wand.

"Dramatic effect," Snape shrugged.

"Illumina," Harry whispered.

"What about her?" Severus asked. Harry’s eyes drooped.

"Very beautiful."

"Yes, she is," Snape answered.

"Can I meet her?"

Severus coughed up a soft laugh at this.

"Go to sleep, Mr. Potter."

"Lucius Malfoy? Here?" Harry whispered, one arm stiffening as he grasped the covers. He filled with alarm, but there wasn’t enough adrenalin in his system to overpower Snape’s spell.

"What foolishness is this?" Severus said, glancing around the ward. He saw no sign of Lucius Malfoy. What was wrong with this boy?

"Lucius. My faithful servant. I’ve been expecting you," Harry mumbled, curling his fingers tightly into the sheets. The boy’s face traveled through an expression of feigned politeness, and back to normal. Harry fussed, stretching out his arm, his fingers curling and clawing. Snape took the hand and folded the fingers around his own.

"Harry? Where are you?" Severus asked. The boy was entirely asleep.

Six- This Isn't Pity

 "We’re what?" Snape gulped, washing down a bite of breakfast roll with a swig of juice. He had been up till dawn beside Harry’s bed, unable to bring himself to let go of the desperate claws that had had a life of their own while Potter was asleep. He had the memory of them seared into his flesh– the way they stretched and clutched and begged as the boy tossed and turned in his restless slumber. Snape was still holding those twitchity fingers when Hagrid had shown up. Correction. When Hagrid had tiptoed into the hospital ward, kissed the sleeping child on the cheek, and smiled at Snape in an approving way he’d never done before. Snape had carefully tucked Harry’s hand inside his covers and followed Hagrid to breakfast, wishing he could make Hagrid’s smile go away again.

You’ve got it all wrong. This isn’t pity. I wasn’t being nice.

"Severus, Harry can’t be expected to sit the whole of August in the hospital wing. And the students’ dormitories are still being cleaned and repaired," McGonagall murmured from across the staff table. "Now, he can sleep in the empty staff quarters in my tower. I can keep an eye on him that way. But the best way to protect him is to make sure he’s in a different location every day. Each of us will take a day a week with him. Three and a half weeks are left of summer– that’s about three days a piece, give or take. Three small days. Seventy-two hours. That’s hardly a life sentence, is it? Stop making that face."

"I have lesson plans to write," Severus complained.

"Which can be done in the other eighteen days. Harry can be very good company if you give him a chance, Severus. Now, which day of the week would you all like? I’ll take Wednesdays," Minerva began.

"Tuesdays," Hagrid grinned. "Oh! Today! Can we start today?"

"Surely," she nodded. "Harry’s getting restless with boredom. The sooner we start, the better."

"Is there any reason you can’t ask the Weasley family if they can...amuse...the boy until the start of term?" Severus persisted.

"Harry asked to remain here instead of going to the Burrow," Minerva answered. Severus watched her eyes, and decided she wasn’t telling the whole truth on the matter. Frankly, he was intrigued.

"I would like Thursdays," Professor Hooch called from her end of the table.

"Sundays," Professor Sprout said.

"Fridays will come back to me and Saturdays to Hagrid. Severus, that leaves Mondays to you.

"Fine," Severus gave in, sulking his way through the rest of the meal.

"I hope Harry won’t feel we are holding him on too tight a leash," Minerva added. Snape swallowed a dark snort of laughter while pouring himself another cup of tea.

***

The next Saturday morning, Professor McGonagall entered the courtyard gallery on her way to breakfast. She nearly fell over in horror. There were torches glowing in the rising dawn, and the crash of metal to metal echoed loudly. It took her a few moments to figure out what was going on, and another second or two after that to realize no, she wasn’t imagining the scene before her.

"Is that the best you can do? Come on now. I want to hear screams, real screams, and you have to charge at me with everything you’ve got!"

"Yes, Hagrid," Harry said softly, getting a better grip on his mace in order to drag it a few paces back. "You sure I won’t hurt you?"

"You’re not going to hurt me, Harry, and besides, you shouldn’t be worried about that. Let me hear you! I want screams!"

"Are you ready?" Harry asked politely.

"A nice loud scream this time," Hagrid urged. "Half of winning a war is looking and sounding as menacing as possible."

Harry screwed up his features in a fearsome scowl and growled while baring his teeth. He lifted the mace, howled like a wolf, and ran at the giant. Professor McGonagall gave a terrified shriek and rushed forward to stop them. Hagrid raised his shield and flattened Potter to the ground without much effort. He even gave Harry a couple of extra thumps for good measure. Harry dropped the mace and reached up with his arms and legs both. He grabbed two handfuls of hair, and tried his best to bite Hagrid on the ear. In response, Hagrid began to tickle whatever spots he could sink his fingers into around the heavy metal breastplate Harry was wearing. Harry’s resounding screaming and hollering echoed off the walls of the courtyard. He twitched about, laughing wildly, kicking and struggling against the giant’s fingers.

"Mercy!" Harry hollered. "Oh! OH! Stop! Hagrid!!"

"Good scream," Hagrid complimented, glad to see Harry smiling.

"HAGRID! What in the name of Merlin are you doing to that child!!??" McGonagall rasped when she reached them. Harry lay on the ground, watching the sky spin above. Hagrid sat beside him and cringed as McGonagall’s voice raised into the air again. "What are you thinking? You shouldn’t be swinging maces at him and getting him all exited! Oh, Harry! Are you all right?"

She put a hand to her chest and heaved for breath as Potter climbed slowly to his feet and straightened his glasses.

"Professor, Hagrid’s not hurting me," Harry insisted. It was clear to see he was swaying dizzily though. Hagrid steadied him, and avoided looking at McGonagall as long as he could. "Really. I’m all right," Potter added, picking up his club.

"Mr. Potter, you put down that mace, take off that armor, and get yourself cleaned up for breakfast. This very instant!" McGonagall said, pointing towards the castle.

Harry’s face fell in disappointment. Hagrid lifted the armor off Harry’s torso and took the mace away. The giant rubbed the top of Harry’s head, and began dusting grass and dirt and leaves off of the boy’s clothing before shooing him along.

"Go on now. Do what the Professor says," Hagrid told him. Harry trudged back into the castle, wiping his face on his sleeve. From the staircase to the Gryffindor Tower, he could hear McGonagall giving Hagrid the dressing-down of his life.

"---- manhandle him like he’s a stuffed toy!"

"I wasn’t manhandling him. I was trying to teach him how to defend himself, and trying to give him an outlet for his anger."

"By swinging enormous metal plates and wicked sharp weapons at him?"

"But, Professor! He’s been hurt far worse than that playing Quidditch."

"At least he’s wearing protective padding in Quidditch. I don’t want to ever hear of you doing this again. He may not look it, but he’s very fragile."

"Only when you treat him that way," Hagrid replied.

"After breakfast, you will find something to do with Harry that does not involve sharp pointed objects!"

"McGonagall found out about the maces, eh?"

Harry jumped and put out a hand for the railing to keep himself from falling. Professor Snape stood in front of him, concealed in the shadow of the turn of the stairs. He stepped into the light from the window, pushing back the edge of one sleeve. Harry had thought this back staircase was very under-utilized, but he was apparently incorrect in that assumption.

"It’s....um...."

"Lucky you two weren’t using the crossbows," Snape said, glancing out the window and down into the courtyard. Harry wondered how long Snape had been standing here watching Hagrid and him. It had been several days since Harry had laid eyes on Snape. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Potions Master since Tuesday morning, when McGonagall had escorted Harry to his temporary quarters in Gryffindor Tower. Harry had spent several minutes gaping about in wonder, unable to believe his good fortune. It was quite a nice room with a private bath, and the bed alone was larger than Harry’s cupboard.

Snape had set up extra protection on the fireplace in the room, and cast a spell on the mirror above the mantle. Then he skulked away mumbling about rank favoritism to certain Gryffindor students. McGonagall had given Snape a sharp glance which had silenced him right away. And while Harry knew all too well the power of Minerva McGonagall’s look, he couldn’t shake the feeling they had been making a show of things. As though if Snape hadn’t made a few snide comments, Harry would have found it very suspicious.

Since Tuesday, Severus had taken his meals in his dungeons, and refused to answer the door when anyone knocked. Harry wondered if he were even actually in the dungeons. Maybe he was busy for McGonagall doing other things. Potter had lurked around a time or two on his way to somewhere else on the grounds, but didn’t see any movement.

"Crossbows, nothing. Hagrid was going to teach me how to use the broad swords next," Harry replied, letting his disappointment show.

"My but she sounds angry, doesn’t she? Her bark and her bite are equally dangerous," Severus winced anxiously as McGonagall trailed behind Hagrid towards the Great Hall.

"How has your week been?" Harry asked him quietly. Severus couldn’t help the smile that sprang up.

"I narrowed a few names off McGonagall’s list for her. We’re down to four candidates and dropping."

"So you’ve been digging in the dirt all week?"

"If you must be utterly simplistic about it, yes."

"You enjoy doing that?"

"It has its ups and downs. This week, it’s been all ups."

"How does one get discredited from applying for the position of Dark Arts Instructor? I mean, we’re in pretty desperate straits here."

"I won’t name names, but there was one with a criminal past in the States. Another was dismissed from the service for an inability to keep his temper in check. I think he might have been good at the job, but McGonagall thought otherwise. I report what I find out, and she decides. That’s all."

"Is there anyone you did like on the list?"

"I was partial to the applicant from the West Indies. He showed promise," Severus sighed. "But alas, he didn’t pass the skills test. Hope McGonagall got those horns off him before she sent him on his way. One time when I failed the skills test, she made me wear those horns for a week. Claimed she couldn’t think of the counter-curse. If you’ll excuse me, today’s interviewee is due to be coming across the lake any time. I’m to go provide a warm welcome," he rasped his displeasure.

"Going to go put a hole in the boat?" Harry teased.

"That’s enough cheek out of you," Severus replied tartly. "By the way, Lucius Malfoy sent a reply to my inquiry about where Draco was spending his summer."

"Where is Draco?" Harry asked, his tone immediately serious.

"Sunning himself on the French Rivera. Nowhere near coffins or dark lords."

"Glad to hear it. Hope he gets a good burn. See you Monday, Professor?"

"See you Monday, Mr. Potter," Severus replied. He jogged quickly down the stairs before realizing with a faint gasp that he had just had an almost pleasant exchange with Harry Potter. The whole absurdity of that made him trip mid-step, and he nearly fell down the rest of the flight.

Seven - Kiss Up

Sunday morning, Remus Lupin arrived at Hogwarts. He was escorted by Mad -Eye Moody and Tonks. Moody disappeared into the Dark Forest without a word of explanation to the others. Severus was watching the grounds from a high tower, where he was, for lack of a better word, basting some test samples of a sun-screening potion which required sunlight to test the chemical reaction. He had spotted Moody first, and squinted at the forms going in the opposite direction. McGonagall was showing another Dark Arts interviewee around the grounds. It appeared that the interviewee was accompanied by a house elf. They crossed paths with Lupin and Tonks, and paused for a brief conversation. McGonagall directed Lupin towards the greenhouses. The house elf gazed at Lupin and seemed more interested in following him instead of following its mistress. Snape coughed up a dark laugh, and worried if it had been loud enough to hear on the ground.

Apparently not. No one looked his direction. Snape wondered what Lupin was doing here. Remus must have been searching for Harry. Severus knew that Professor Sprout was keeping Potter busy today. If he squinted in the direction of the glass and metal structures, he could make out two figures moving around in the fifth building. The first was a squat little gray-brown one, and the second was a rail-thin blue one.

When Lupin appeared on the doorstep of Greenhouse Number Five, Potter literally pounced on him. Harry dropped his protective gloves and a helmet in order to give Remus a hug. Severus sighed his annoyance, moving his test samples a hint to the left in order to keep them in the full of the sun. He turned his attention back to the goings-on below. Not to be left out, Tonks also grabbed Harry and hugged him tightly. She turned him around for a second, and she and Lupin laughed loudly about something. Harry batted her in the side of the head and returned inside the greenhouse. Lupin and Tonks went inside as well. Seconds later, small puffs of reddish blue flames could be seen inside. Professor Sprout was having Harry repot the enchanted snap dragons?

Severus wondered if he should ready a burn remedy or not. He had perfected the perfect burn remedy ten years ago, while experimenting with the effects of sunlight on extremely sensitive skin. The experiment he was working on now was a continuation of that line of work. He had let his father take the credit for its discovery, not wanting to draw undue publicity to himself. Severus still wasn’t sure why he had done it, and chalked it up to a moment of temporary insanity.

Deciding that the test samples would be fine alone for a few hours, Snape disappeared inside out of the detestable sunshine. He blinked away the spots in his eyes and made for the confines of his beloved dungeon. At least that was the plan. As he rounded the corner and entered the Great Hall, he heard McGonagall’s voice and stopped in his tracks.

"Professor Snape? Do you have a moment?" Minerva called.

"For you, of course," Severus put on his best smile and waited for McGonagall to escort the newest interviewee over to him.

"This is Anna Vasilyevna Volkova," Minerva said, indicating the skinny woman next to her.

Severus gave the woman a passing glance, but quickly centered his gaze on her house elf. She was dressed in clothes and shoes, a nearly identical dark-black ensemble as that of her mistress. The little female sniffed at Snape for a brief second before hiding behind her mistress. Her large eyes followed Snape, with mistrust and distaste harbored in their depths.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Volkova," Snape said, folding his hands behind his back and glaring down at the house elf. She went further behind Volkova, but continued to gawk at Severus. Volkova whispered to her servant in a Slavic language, laughing under her breath. Then she removed a black glove and extended her hand at Severus. He started to reach forward, but the house elf whimpered her protest and tugged Volkova’s hand away from him.

"Ms. Volkova is from....what city did you say again?" McGonagall asked.

"Archangel. It’s on the White Sea. Don’t mind Malchik. She’s nervous around people she doesn’t know. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you, eventually," Volkova added, laying her hand on the house elf’s shoulder. Volkova’s skin was the kind of dangerous white that was nearly transparent, testament to the fact she spent very little time in the sun.

"Good luck with your interview," Snape said, hoping to be able to depart. McGonagall was smiling at him strangely, as if there was something she wanted to say but didn’t think this was the time or place.

"A last minute addition to the list," McGonagall said. "I was just showing her around the castle and the grounds. Perhaps you’d like to accompany us? If we’re not tearing you away from anything important."

"I have test samples of a new potion on the top of the Hufflepuff Tower," Severus began, but McGonagall gave him her ‘I will not take ‘no’ for an answer’ gaze that he remembered so well from when he had been but a wee student of hers. "But the samples should be fine for the time being," he amended.

"Good," McGonagall smiled again. "You can join us."

"You are the Potions Master," Volkova said as Severus walked on McGonagall’s opposite side. The cadence of their footfalls echoed like an out-of-rhythm drumroll.

"Yes," Snape nodded.

"Also, the author of several tomes about herbal remedies, if I’m not mistaken."

"I’ve been known to put a quill to parchment now and again," Severus said, wondering why McGonagall kept smiling so peculiarly.

"You’ve written tomes on Dark Arts dueling strategies and defenses as well, including in particular a treatise on the implementation of various mind control techniques to employ against one’s opponent during battle. I found that one had very interesting theories."

"You’re very well-read, aren’t you, Ms. Volkova? We like that in our instructors," McGonagall interjected.

"Not much to do where I’ve been lately. The winters are unforgiving. There are two seasons. Cold, and damned cold. Summer lasts about twelve hours, sometime in early August."

"Isn’t that refreshing, Severus? A kindred spirit for you. He keeps our librarian Mrs. Pince hopping with his requests for new books."

"I’m sorry I’m not as familiar with your own works," Snape said.

"All in due time. We would compliment each other well, Professor."

"Why is that, Ms. Volkova?" Snape wanted to know.

"You are a Potions Master with more than a little Dark Arts knowledge, and I am a Dark Arts Master with more than a little Potions knowledge."

"How nice." Severus worked up his best smile, raising a brow at McGonagall. It dawned on him what the Deputy Headmistress had said earlier. Volkova was a late addition to the interviewee list. He was supposed to be taking notes on Volkova, in order to check her out for McGonagall.

"How many students does Hogwarts house on a yearly basis, Professor McGonagall? It’s a co-educational institution, isn’t it?" Volkova asked, starting ahead into the hallway with the house elf at her heels. The mistress folded her hands behind her back and looked over one shoulder at them, waiting for a reply. Malchik gave a shrill peep and pushed Volkova out of the way.

McGonagall and Snape both froze. Ahead in the corridor, Tonks came tearing around a corner, mid-transformation. She began as Severus Snape, which was what had first caught Snape and McGonagall’s attentions, to be sure. She transformed through three different other people before rushing by them and bolting down a nearby corridor.

Harry emerged from around the same corner as Tonks had, barely missing the frame by an inch. He had his wand drawn, and was looking rather peeved. When he spotted Snape, the boy’s eyes took on a wicked gleam. But when he almost ran over Volkova and her house elf, he stopped dead in his tracks and caught his breath. Volkova extended a hand to him. Harry stepped back from her, looked quickly at Snape and McGonagall, and glared back at the interviewee.

"Okay, Tonks. You aren’t fooling me this time." Harry put away his wand and held out his hand, palm up. "Give me Ron’s letter."

"You’re looking for a metamorphmagus, I presume," Volkova said. "She is around the next corridor."

"That fake accent isn’t going to fool anyone. I know it’s you, Tonks, and I’ll prove it," Harry said.

He brashly took hold of Volkova’s shoulders and planted his mouth against hers. Severus was so startled he stood on the spot as if he’d been struck by a ‘Petrificus Totalus’ spell.

"MR. POTTER!!!!" McGonagall raised her voice to the rafters. Harry pulled away, raising several fingertips to his mouth as his eyes grew wide.

"Why don’t you taste like licorice?" Harry mumbled.

"Because she’s not Miss Tonks," McGonagall said, grabbing onto Harry’s sleeve and backing him away from the surprisingly-unfazed Volkova. Snape blinked at Harry and struggled to control the humor that was fighting to get out. Harry turned a shade of red usually reserved for high-blood pressure patients.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Mr. Potter, you and Miss Tonks can wait for me in my office," McGonagall growled. Her voice was straight from the bowels of Hell. Snape glanced down the corridor, and saw that Tonks was peering around the corner, her face a frightful shade of green. Tonks crept back over to them, entirely abashed.

"It’s my fault, Professor McGonagall," she said, producing a letter from inside her cloak. Also in her hand was a partially-consumed licorice whip.

"If you wish, I could finish showing Ms. Volkova around while you deal with the miscreants as you see fit," Snape offered to the Deputy Headmistress.

"Don’t be too hard on the children. No harm done. Best kiss I’ve had in years," Volkova finally spoke. Although Snape wouldn’t have thought it possible, Harry went another shade more red. Tonks had a coughing fit that was the result of trying to hold back a peel of laughter. McGonagall gave her a withering stare, and that nagging cough cleared right up.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," Minerva said as she took the letter in one hand, Harry’s elbow in the other, and marched the two youngsters towards her office. Malchik watched Harry with wide, bright eyes, her mouth open with surprise. She tugged on her mistress’s arm and Volkova bent down to hear her speak. Severus was disappointed when they again conversed in a language he didn’t recognize. Whatever the house elf had said, Volkova watched the departing trio.

"Children. So very excitable," the interviewee murmured, finally giving a faintly-amused smile.

"Yes," Snape agreed.

"So that was the famous Harry Potter?" Volkova asked.

"The one and only," Severus nodded. Volkova’s greenish eyes studied Harry’s departing form. Snape’s radar went on high alert.

"He’s older than I expected," she said cryptically. "Taller. Good kisser."

"I wouldn’t know," Snape smirked. Volkova studied him, not sure what to make of the remark.  "Now that you’ve met our resident celebrity, is there anything else we can offer you?" he asked innocently.

"The library. I’m most anxious to see the library."

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