FIC: Phoenix Reborn, Part 2 of 8

[geri_chan]

Title: Phoenix Reborn, Part 2 of 8
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Word count: ~10,165
Disclaimer: No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
Warning: AU; no character death at the end of the story.
Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts
Sequel to: Always (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6), Summer Vacation (Part 1, Part 2), For Old Time's Sake (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5), Three's a Crowd (or, Summer Vacation II) (Part 1, Part 2), Return of the Raven (Part 1, Part 2).
Summary: Voldemort pressures Snape to prove his loyalty towards the Death Eaters, and Lucius does the same to Ariane.

Part 1

***

After seeing the house, Harry was not surprised to learn that his godfather's family had been practitioners of the Dark Arts, although they had not been Death Eaters (except for Sirius's younger brother). He was shocked to learn that Sirius was related to Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy, though. But Sirius clearly didn't care to talk about his relatives. Harry and his friends worked hard helping Sirius clean the house and rid it of unwanted occupants and items. Snape flitted in and out of the house. He and Lupin seemed to be working on some sort of secret project together, because he would show up and tell Lupin in an imperious tone of voice that he needed to share some information with him; then he and Lupin would disappear upstairs and confer for a couple of hours. Sirius always looked grumpy whenever Snape came around, but Blackmore always seemed to be pleased, though Harry couldn't imagine why. Snape rarely stayed for meals--to Harry's relief--but occasionally he did, mostly at Blackmore's insistence, and on those rare occasions he usually slept over. Apparently he had a room reserved for his use upstairs, but almost never used it. He was usually gone by the time the children woke up the next morning.

Snape was descending the staircase one evening, when Blackmore smiled and said, "Won't you stay for dinner, Severus?"

"I've put on a big roast," Mrs. Weasley said pleasantly. "There's plenty for everyone."

"Don't encourage him, Mum," Ron groaned softly as he and Harry watched from a safe distance.

"I'm afraid I'm rather busy--" Snape began.

"Yes, we wouldn't want to keep you from your 'important' work," sneered Sirius.

Snape just gave him a condescending smile and said, "And how is the cleaning coming along, Black? Got the place all spic and span, have you?"

"And how did your little conference with Remus go today, Sevie?" Sirius asked in a snide tone of voice and Snape's face turned red. His hand started to reach inside his robes, as if to grab his wand...

"SEVERUS! SIRIUS!" Blackmore shouted in clear, ringing tones and Sirius and Snape both froze in place. Ron and Harry found themselves snapping to attention even though she wasn't talking to them. She glared at both of her former students, the steely gaze of her green eyes as sharp as daggers, it seemed, for it cut both men down to size. They cringed and hunched their shoulders slightly, seeming to shrink in size; they were suddenly transformed from two formidable wizards into two schoolboys being scolded by their teacher.

"Damn, but she's good," whispered Ron. "I'm glad she's not teaching at Hogwarts anymore."

"I think Snape picked up some of his techniques from her," Harry whispered back.

"Yeah, but she is a lot prettier than Snape, though!"

Meanwhile, Blackmore was delivering a stinging lecture to her two errant students. "I'm very disappointed in both of you! You're behaving more immaturely than any of the children in this house! How do you expect to set an example for your students, Severus, or for your godson, Sirius, if you can't behave like adults? We are all on the same side, gentlemen, and I think defeating Voldemort is just a little more important than your petty squabbles! Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," the two men mumbled in chorus.

"Sirius," Blackmore continued, "behave yourself. Severus is a member of the Order, and should be allowed to take meals with fellow members without being subjected to your snide comments. And Severus, stop baiting Sirius. You know perfectly well why he can't leave the house. And the work he is doing here IS important; the Order would not be able to function without a headquarters."

"Yes, ma'am," Snape and Sirius said again.

"Now, Severus, you WILL stay for dinner." Snape opened his mouth to protest, but Blackmore cut him off. "I know for a fact that Dumbledore has no tasks lined up for you for at least the next few days, and I would enjoy your company this evening, although right at this moment, I can't for the life of me remember why. And besides, the full moon is a week away, and I could use your help with the Wolfsbane Potion."

"Blackmore's been making the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin?" Harry asked, startled.

"Yeah," Ron replied. "Fred and George overheard them talking; Snape's too busy to make the potion, so he showed Blackmore how."

"I thought it was supposed to be really hard to make."

"Yeah, well, apparently she's a whiz at Potions as well as Summonings. Good enough to make the Wolfsbane Potion, anyway."

Lupin was coming down the staircase now. Snape looked up and said accusingly, "You didn't tell me the full moon was near!"

"Wasn't it obvious?" Lupin asked mildly, and for some reason, Snape blushed.

"Very well," Snape said in a rather huffy tone. "I'll stay for a few days and help you with the potion, Branwen. Just to keep Lupin from mauling the children, of course."

"Of course," Blackmore said, an amused smile on her face. Lupin chuckled, apparently unoffended by Snape's comment.

Snape caught sight of Ron and Harry and added dourly, "Although I could do with a few less students in my class..."

Dinner that night was an odd affair. Sirius sulked throughout the meal, clearly not happy that Snape was there. Snape kept making rude comments to Lupin, but curiously, Blackmore didn't scold him, perhaps because Lupin smiled cheerfully at Snape no matter what he said, which seemed to irritate Snape even more. Finally, he gave up trying to insult Lupin, and had a reasonably civilized conversation with Blackmore about some rare book on potions he had been reading. Mrs. Weasley actually seemed grateful for Snape's presence, because her children were always more subdued and better behaved when Snape dined with them.

"Professor Lupin?" Hermione asked, a little timidly.

Lupin said gently, "I'm not your teacher anymore, so you may call me Remus or Lupin if you wish."

Hermione didn't feel comfortable calling him by either name, so she just said, "Yes, well, I was wondering...the full moon is near, but you don't seem to be as sick as you were when you were at Hogwarts..."

Lupin smiled warmly at her. "Yes, it's because of the Wolfsbane Potion." Snape looked up, breaking off his conversation with Blackmore, and seemed to be a little alarmed. Lupin grinned at him, then continued, "The inventor of the potion has made some improvements to it. I don't get as sick as I used to during the week leading up to the full moon, and the transformation itself is much easier and less painful." Hermione looked interested, and Lupin added, a mischievous little twinkle in his eyes, "Perhaps Severus could discuss it with you if you're interested, Hermione."

"Perhaps Severus has more important things to do with his time, Lupin," Snape retorted.

Hermione looked disappointed. Harry thought she was nuts; why on earth would anyone want to take extra lessons--and from Snape, of all people!--during summer vacation?

"Such as?" Lupin asked.

"Excuse me?"

"What are these important things you will be doing, Severus?" Lupin asked patiently, his eyes still twinkling.

"Ah...well..." Snape seemed to be frantically trying to come up with something. "I will be helping Branwen brew your potion, for one thing--"

"Perfect," Lupin said cheerfully. "Hermione can watch. I'm sure she won't get in the way."

"Oh no, Professor," Hermione said earnestly. "I won't get in the way, and I'd love to watch you make the potion, if you don't mind."

"Hermione's an excellent student," Lupin said. "Didn't she get the top mark in your third-year Potions class, Severus? I think it would be quite an educational experience for her."

Snape was scowling at him furiously, but Blackmore said, "I think that's a wonderful idea! It's important to instill a love for learning in one's students, don't you think, Severus?"

Snape glared at her for a moment, then sighed wearily and said in a resigned tone, "Yes, Professor Blackmore." He left the table as soon as he finished his dinner, not bothering to stay for dessert, and headed back upstairs. Harry thought he heard Snape mutter under his breath, "It's going to be a long summer..."

Snape stayed for a few days, but remained in his room almost the entire time, except when he was working on the Wolfsbane Potion with Blackmore and Hermione. Hermione, of course, was thrilled to be able to learn about making the potion, even if it meant she had to put up with Snape. And she reported that Professor Blackmore had been quite nice, and explained to Hermione step-by-step what they were doing. Even Snape himself had been reasonably polite, under Blackmore's watchful eye.

Although Lupin had claimed that the potion had been improved, he still seemed to feel some ill effects, because he spent most of his time in his room resting. The children hardly saw either Lupin or Snape except when they came down for meals, during which Snape would snipe at Lupin, who would cheerfully ignore him. Snape left for a couple of days on some important business, which as usual, was "top secret," but he returned on the day of the full moon.

***

Snape brushed by the children, ignoring their curious looks, and went upstairs to his room. He locked the door, then opened the door that linked his room to Lupin's and walked in.

Lupin had been lying on the bed, but jumped up as soon as Snape walked in. "Severus!" he exclaimed happily, throwing his arms around his lover. Before Snape could reply, Lupin sealed his mouth with a fervent kiss.

"Well," said Snape, a long moment later, gasping for breath. "It seems you missed me." He gave Lupin a sly smile. "Or should I say, the wolf missed me?"

"We both missed you," Lupin said, grabbing the front of Snape's robes and pulling him close for another hungry kiss.

"Hmm," said Snape; Lupin's sudden show of aggression was unusual, but not unwelcome. Snape found it quite exciting, actually. "Enforced celibacy during the week leading up to the full moon seems to make the wolf more aggressive," he said, as Lupin impatiently fumbled with the fastenings on his robes and the shirt beneath them. "Perhaps I should write to Kamiyama and tell him--"

"Severus, shut up and make love to me," Lupin ordered.

Snape grinned. "Make me," he said.

Lupin kissed him hard and shoved him down on the bed in response. {If he's like this after only a couple of days, I wonder what he'd be like if I stayed away for the whole week?} Snape wondered. Lupin growled in his ear, and Snape shivered with pleasure. Maybe it would be better not to find out; the wolf might get desperate enough to jump Black--a truly horrifying thought! Snape resolved to make sure he made time to stop by whenever the full moon drew near, in spite of his undercover job and the discomfort the other residents of the house--particularly the children--caused him. But now the wolf was demanding his full attention, and Snape gave up thinking in favor of satisfying his and Lupin's desires.

He spent an exhausting--but very pleasant--afternoon engaging in some truly amazing and athletic sex with his lover. The closeness of the full moon seemed to make Lupin insatiable, but eventually even the wolf was satisfied, and Lupin dozed off. Snape bathed, dressed, and crawled down to the kitchen to fetch some dinner for himself and for Lupin, who would no doubt be hungry after his transformation.

He was filling two bowls with stew and setting them on a tray, when Mrs. Weasley walked in and said, "Won't you be joining us at the dinner table, Severus?"

"No," Snape said curtly. "I want to...ah...monitor Lupin; he's not feeling well, and I may want to make some adjustments to the potion."

"That's very kind of you, Severus," Mrs. Weasley said, and Snape flushed and scowled at her. He heard a choking noise and saw Ron Weasley standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Ron!" scolded Mrs. Weasley. "That's what happens when you stuff your mouth full of food like that! Now go sit down and eat at the table!" She shooed her son back into the dining room.

Snape sighed with relief and picked up the tray. He started to head back upstairs when he ran into Blackmore. She smiled and said innocently, "Are you feeling all right, Severus? You look quite tired...would you like some help with that tray?"

Snape felt his face flush again. This was why he hated coming back to the house! "No thank you, Branwen," he replied coldly. "I can manage perfectly well on my own."

"Very well," his former teacher said. As Snape started to turn away, she called out, "Severus?"

"What?" he snapped.

"I'm glad you came back," Blackmore said, her voice quiet and serious now. "For Remus's sake. He misses you, you know. He needs your support during his transformations. Not just because of the physical side-effects--" She smiled slightly. "He needs your emotional support as well."

"I know," Snape said gruffly. He knew Lupin wished he would stay at the house more often, and he felt guilty that he didn't. But he didn't feel comfortable carrying on an affair under the same roof as his students. "I'll...I'll try to stop by more often, particularly when the moon is waxing."

"Good," said Blackmore, smiling at him approvingly. "Thank you, Severus."

Snape grunted and headed back upstairs. He was thrilled, really he was, that his favorite teacher was not dead after all, but by Merlin's beard, he wished she would stop interfering in his love life! Fourteen years of being unable to interact with the human world except by watching it in her grandfather's magical scrying pool had turned her into a bit of a voyeur, despite her protests to the contrary. Why couldn't she just remain cold, strict Professor Blackmore? Why did she have to turn out to be a real person, a woman with a strong sense of compassion and a wicked sense of humor...?

***

"The Dark Lord is getting impatient with me, Albus," Snape said nervously. When Voldemort had been banished and bodiless, Snape had been brave enough to speak his name aloud, but now that he was resurrected, Snape found himself behaving with what the Headmaster referred to as "superstitious fear." Voldemort had implied to his followers that he could hear when someone spoke his name. Although such power was commonly found in old legends and tales, Snape knew that for the most part it was a myth. The problem was that Voldemort was not most wizards; no one, not even Dumbledore, knew exactly what the Dark Lord could and could not do. And Dumbledore had never been on the receiving end of a Cruciatus Curse cast by Voldemort, while Snape had. So, although he was ashamed of himself for doing so, since returning to the Death Eaters, Snape had been careful not to speak his Master's name out loud.

"He's not satisfied with the tidbits of information we've been feeding him, then?" Dumbledore asked, looking at his Potions Master with concern in his eyes. He knew Snape was under a lot of pressure--being a double agent was more than most people would be able to handle, and on top of that, Dumbledore knew that being parted from Lupin was causing him additional stress. And it probably didn't help that Lupin was now living at Sirius Black's house, along with other members of the Order. The couple was now able to only steal a few moments alone together here and there. Dumbledore would have liked to have given them some time off, but that was simply impossible; Snape was the only member of the Order who could get close to Voldemort, and there were vital tasks for Lupin to perform as well.

"No," Snape replied. "He still doesn't trust me. He wants me to prove myself."

"How?"

"He wants to put an agent of the Ministry on the staff. You know they passed that decree about the Ministry appointing a teacher if you can't find one. And you still haven't filled the DADA position, have you?"

"No," said Dumbledore reluctantly. "Branwen was willing to take it, but I want to keep her presence concealed from Voldemort for now."

"Of course, you could always give it to me," Snape suggested hopefully.

"But then we would still be one position short, and qualified Potions Masters are hard to come by as well, Severus."

Snape sulked. "I've served you faithfully all these years, haven't I?" he asked resentfully. "Why do you trust Black and not me?"

"If you'll notice, Severus," Dumbledore said dryly, "I haven't given Sirius the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, either. It's not a matter of trust!" He patted Snape on the shoulder and said in a kinder tone, "Of course I trust you, my boy. But isn't it safer if it appears to the outside world that I do not?"

"Oh," said Snape in a small voice, feeling rather stupid. He cleared his throat. "Ahem, well then, about the position..."

Dumbledore sighed. "I hate to give the Ministry a foothold in the school, but even if I can stop them here, they will find another way in eventually. At least this way we'll have some control over it. And I am concerned about your safety, Severus. Very well; I'll inform the Ministry I can't find anyone to fill the position, and you can tell Voldemort that he's outfoxed the old man..."

***

Ariane was walking on the estate grounds gathering wildflowers for the dinner table. Math and Goewin had taken Dylan shopping for school supplies, and when they returned, there would be a "surprise" birthday party waiting for him, although she was quite sure that Dylan would not be very surprised. She did have a gift that she hoped would be a pleasant surprise for him, though: his father's ring, which Evan had worn as heir to the now fallen house of Rosier. It was a heavy, ornate silver ring, carved with an intricate design of thorny vines, and set with a red crystal cut to resemble a rose in bloom. Professor Blackmore had sent it back to her after Evan's death, all that was left of him after he killed himself fighting the Aurors; there had not even been a body left to bury, nothing but ashes...and the ring. She had received the ring, along with a letter that explained the circumstances of Evan's death, and curiously, expressed sorrow over it, from Blackmore shortly before her own mysterious disappearance. Ariane hated Alastor Moody for his part in her lover's death, but strangely enough, she believed that her former teacher had been sincerely remorseful about Evan. Professor Blackmore had kept in touch with her after graduation--although Ariane hadn't told Evan that--and tried to steer her away from Voldemort. But even when it became clear that her arguments were falling on deaf ears, she had still treated Ariane kindly. So Ariane could never really bring herself to hate Blackmore. No point in it anyway, since she was dead... She sighed and looked down at the ring on her finger, a more delicate, feminine version of Evan's ring; it had been his gift to her, an engagement ring. But they had never had the chance to marry; perhaps they should have listened to Professor Blackmore after all...

"Hello, Ariane," said a smooth, silky voice.

Ariane jumped a little, and looked up to see Lucius Malfoy standing in front of her. "Lucius! What are you doing here?"

"Is that any way to welcome an old friend?" he asked with a smile.

"Of course I'm delighted to see you, Lucius," Ariane lied, " but my uncle has just begun to trust me again, and all the years I have worked to regain that trust will be wasted if he finds you here on his property! So whatever you have to say, be quick about it."

"Very well," Lucius said. "I will get straight to the point. The Dark Lord has returned, Ariane, and he is gathering his old followers to him once more. Of course," he added, pointedly staring at her arm, "you never took the Mark, so you would not have heard his call."

"That was at Evan's insistence," she said coolly. "And a good thing too, or I and my unborn child would have been sent to Azkaban." She had not forgotten that Lucius had not lifted a finger to help her.

"I knew your family would not allow you to be sent to prison," Lucius said smoothly, as if reading her thoughts. "Otherwise, I would of course have intervened."

"Of course," Ariane said, still in that cool voice.

"But for Evan's sake, will you join us now?"

"I cannot leave the estate without my uncle's permission, and he is too powerful a mage for me to defy," Ariane said, trying to put him off without offending him too much. This was all happening too fast, she wasn't ready for this...

"When the Dark Lord takes his rightful place, you will be a prisoner no longer," Lucius said. "And you will no longer be enslaved to that foolish old man. Providing, of course, that you prove your loyalty."

"My betrothed sacrificed his life for the Dark Lord's cause; is that not proof enough?" Ariane asked, being careful to keep up a haughty demeanor and prevent any of the fear she felt from showing on her face.

"The Dark Lord remembers those who were loyal, and fell in his service," Lucius said with a smile that was not one bit reassuring. "He is eager to reward Evan's son for his father's loyalty."

Ariane felt the cold chill of fear flow like ice through her veins. "Dylan is too young to become a Death Eater!" she said in a shrill voice.

"Not now," Lucius said calmly. "But soon. I accept that you cannot leave the estate...for now. But it can be arranged for Dylan to slip away from Hogwarts when it becomes necessary. Draco was very disappointed that his friend could not come to visit this summer."

"My mother," Ariane said desperately, "she would not allow it. And she is the head of the Donner family--"

"But your Uncle Mathias has taken over Dylan's care, has he not? Or rather, your lovely young Aunt Goewin has. She has just filed the official documents naming Dylan her heir with the Ministry." He laughed at the expression on Ariane's face. "Really, Ariane, did you think I would not find out? I work there, you know. Not in the clerical department, of course, but I hear things... It's all very nice for Dylan, of course, but he can rule so much more than a small country estate in Wales if he chooses the right master..."

"Evan died!" Ariane snapped. "And Dylan and I have spent the last fourteen years in exile! I will not risk my freedom and my son's life without some guarantee that things will turn out better this time than they did the last!"

"Ever the fence-sitter, Ariane," Lucius sneered. "Just like Snape's family. Be careful you don't wait too long before you pick which side to join, or it may be too late."

Ariane wanted to ask Lucius if Snape had returned to the fold, but she wasn't sure she could believe anything he said, so she didn't bother. She fought to remain calm, and smiled at Lucius in a conciliatory fashion. "Dylan is still a boy now; later, perhaps, when he is ready to take on a man's responsibility..."

"There are things Draco could teach him, things I could teach him, to prepare him for that day," Lucius said in a silky voice.

"I am no mean mage myself," Ariane said coolly. "I have tutored him quite...extensively. You will not find his education lacking in any area."

Lucius smiled approvingly. "I'm glad to see you have not completely neglected your duties, Ariane."

Ariane stared back at him coldly. "Tell me, Lucius, are you so eager to hand your own son over to the Dark Lord? When will you let Draco take the Mark?"

"Soon, Ariane," Lucius said, just as coldly. "Draco will do his duty as a Malfoy, and accept the risks that go along with it."

For once, Ariane believed him; there was no fear, no fatherly concern in Lucius Malfoy's cold face. She believed that he really would hand his own son over to the Dark Lord without a second thought, and for a moment she pitied the boy, foolish and arrogant though Dylan claimed he was. But she had her own son to protect, and could not spare any of her time or energy to worry about someone else's. "I will keep your words in mind, Lucius. But you had better go now; Math will be back soon."

Lucius bowed in a courtly, if ironic, manner and said, "Think very carefully about what I said, Ariane."

"I will, Lucius," she replied, and he Disapparated, leaving her alone once more. She returned to the house, shaking with fear. If she told Math what had happened, he could use his powers to protect Dylan...but what if Lucius was right? If the Dark Lord did triumph in the end, she did not want to burn all her bridges behind her. Severus was in a better position to protect Dylan and delay his entry into the ranks of the Death Eaters, if she could find a way to ensure his cooperation. She had an idea of how to go about it, but it would take some investigation and careful planning on her part...

***

"Ariane Donner is proving to be more reluctant than I would have thought, my Lord," Lucius said, in a private meeting with Voldemort. "Motherly love has made her soft; I think she fears Dylan's life will be endangered if he joins us."

"Disappointing," Voldemort said. "She would have been an asset, and I had hopes for Evan's son..."

"I think she may yet be reasoned with, my Lord."

"Perhaps. Severus says the son is talented, but guarded, not giving any indication one way or the other whether he wishes to follow in his father's footsteps."

"The mother's influence, no doubt; she is one of those who sits on the fence, waiting to see which side will come out ahead. But Draco thinks he can bring Dylan over to our side."

"I hope our two wayward sheep will come back to the fold, Lucius, but I have a contingency plan in mind in case they do not. But I will need Severus's help to put it into motion. I still do not completely trust him, and it will give him a chance to further prove himself..."

***

"I am pleased with you, Severus," said Voldemort. "Dumbledore has agreed to accept our choice of candidate for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. It will put us in an excellent position to gain control of the school."

Snape bowed low. "I am always eager to serve you, my Lord."

"Good," Voldemort said. "Because I have another task for you. I want you to brew a Mind Restoration Potion."

Snape was startled. "B-but my Lord, that potion has only a temporary effect, and some of the ingredients are very rare and difficult to obtain--"

Voldemort glared at him. "Did I ask you to tell me what I already know?" he asked in a cold voice.

"No, Master," Snape whispered, falling to his knees.

The Dark Lord seemed mollified by his show of humility. "I will provide you with all you need, Severus." He made a beckoning gesture with one hand, and Wormtail crept forward with a small casket. He set it on the ground in front of Snape and lifted the lid. Inside were the rare ingredients the potion required--enough to make about six doses, as well as a number of gold Galleons, presumably to purchase the remaining ingredients, which were less rare, but still expensive.

"Thank you, Master," Snape said, bowing to the Dark Lord again. "I will not fail you."

He wanted to ask Voldemort what he wanted the potion for, but decided that probably would not be a good idea. And he was very glad he had not asked, because a moment later, Wormtail asked eagerly, "What is the potion for, Master?"

"When I want you to know something, Wormtail," Voldemort said angrily, "I will tell you!" He lifted his wand, and Wormtail fell to the ground screaming in pain.

"Mercy, Master! I'm sorry, please forgive me, mercy!" Wormtail screamed as he groveled at Voldemort's feet.

"I have no mercy, and only fools and weaklings expect any!" Voldemort snarled, and let Wormtail writhe in pain for a few minutes more, just to prove his point. Finally, he ended the spell and asked his assembled Death Eaters, "Does anyone else have any questions?"

They all uttered hasty and fervent demurrals, and Voldemort dismissed them.

***

Snape was telling his fellow Order members of Voldemort's latest request. "What's a Mind Restoration Potion?" Tonks asked curiously.

"It is a healing potion," Snape explained, "that can undo magical damage inflicted upon the mind--for example, restore the mind of someone whose wits have been addled after being hit with one too many Memory Charm spells."

"Like Bertha Jorkins?" Mrs. Weasley asked in a musing tone. "Or Gilderoy Lockhart?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "However, the effects are only temporary--it cannot permanently heal the patient's mind. Also, most of the ingredients required to make it are extremely rare and expensive, and on top of that, it is very difficult to make and takes over a month to brew. Thus, it is hardly ever used, since the expense and effort of making it usually outweigh the benefits."

"But you're able to make this potion?" Tonks asked.

"Of course," Snape said haughtily, sounding offended that she would even ask.

Lupin frowned, looking worried. "Do you know what--or perhaps I should say who--he wants this potion for, Severus?"

"No, I do not."

"Didn't you ask?" Sirius said, scowling. "Isn't that your job, Snape, to find out what old Voldie's up to?"

"I know better than to ask the Dark Lord for information that he does not want to share, Black," Snape replied in a condescending tone that clearly said he thought Black was an imbecile. "Your old friend Pettigrew did ask the Dark Lord that very same question, though, and was punished for his impertinence with a Cruciatus Curse."

"The information you have brought us is still very valuable," Blackmore interjected, giving both Snape and Sirius a quelling look.

"And of course we wouldn't want you to put your life at risk, Severus," Lupin added.

"My life is already at risk, Lupin," Snape pointed out in that same patronizing tone he had used with Sirius, but flushed a little at the wounded look in Lupin's eyes. He cleared his throat and hastily changed the subject. "Of course, I can only speculate as to what the Dark Lord wants the potion for, but it seems possible that he might be intending to break some of his imprisoned Death Eaters out of Azkaban. Their minds will likely be damaged after so many years of close contact with the Dementors." His black eyes flickered over to give Sirius a significant look; Sirius glared at him. "Perhaps he wants the potion to aid in their recovery," Snape continued, "or at least make them sane long enough to carry out some task for him. The potion cannot, however, restore even temporarily the mind of someone who has undergone the Dementor's Kiss."

Sirius was still glaring at Snape. "Is it really wise for you to brew this potion for your Dark Lord if he intends to use it set more Death Eaters loose on the world?"

"As I said, we don't know for sure that's what he intends, Black," Snape retorted. "But no doubt, even if it isn't, he has some equally nefarious plan in mind. However, I have no choice but to brew the potion; if I refuse, he will surely kill me." He gave Black a humorless smile and said sarcastically, "And it is, as you pointed out, my job to gather information from 'old Voldie.' I can hardly gather any information if I'm dead."

Shacklebolt sighed wearily; the constant sniping between Black and Snape was getting rather old; he didn't know how Remus and Branwen put up with it on a regular basis. "The information does help," he said aloud. "As an Auror, I can make some quiet inquiries and check on the security at Azkaban. Perhaps I can arrange for some precautions to be taken."

"Very good," Blackmore said approvingly. "Does anyone have any further questions, or any new business to report?" No one did, so the meeting was adjourned.

The wizards rose from their seats and began to disperse. Snape called out in his usual overbearing manner, "One moment, Lupin! I need to speak with you in private."

"As you wish, Severus," Lupin said meekly. "Shall we go upstairs, then?"

The two wizards left the room together, and Shacklebolt looked after them curiously. "I wonder what project Dumbledore has them working on, that's so top-secret that they can't discuss it with the rest of us?"

Sirius scowled, and Blackmore suddenly had a coughing fit. "Are you all right, Branwen?" Shacklebolt asked solicitously, as he thumped her on the back. "Ouch!" he exclaimed as Bane pecked his hand sharply. "What was that for?" he asked the raven indignantly.

Tonks giggled. "I think Bane thinks you're getting fresh with Branwen!"

Shacklebolt was very glad that his dark skin prevented his sudden blush from showing on his face. "Of course I wasn't 'getting fresh,' I was only trying to help her--" he spluttered.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley was handing Blackmore a glass of water. The witch gratefully took the glass and gulped it down. "Ah, thank you, Molly; that really helped." She left the room, chuckling to herself, and Bane shot Shacklebolt one last suspicious look from his perch on his mistress's shoulder. Sirius followed her, looking rather peevish.

"So do you have any idea what Remus and Snape are working on, Sirius?" Tonks asked.

"Believe me," Sirius said darkly, "you don't want to know!"

***

Snape stayed for dinner after the Order meeting and his private conference with Lupin, much to Harry's dismay. But it made Professor Blackmore happy; she seemed fond of him for some reason that Harry couldn't comprehend. Hermione believed that it was because Snape, along with Lupin and Sirius, provided a link to her past, whatever that meant. But perhaps Hermione was right, because she did seem to get a bit nostalgic that evening over dinner. And Snape, while he was never really nice to her, treated his former teacher with more respect than Harry had ever seen him show anyone else. He seemed to be almost in a good mood that evening, perhaps because he and Blackmore were comparing detention punishments.

"Yes, bedpan-scrubbing is quite an effective punishment," Blackmore was saying.

"Indeed," Snape agreed. "Forcing the students to use a toothbrush was a nice touch." There was an admiring tone to his voice, and Ron scowled, because Snape had once inflicted that very punishment on him.

"Very nice," Blackmore said with a wicked grin, looking almost as scary as Snape, despite the fact that she was considerably prettier than the sallow-faced, greasy-haired Potions Master. "Do you remember the time Mr. Goyle and Mr. Crabbe decided to summon a water elemental as a prank?"

Harry was startled, thinking for a moment that she was talking about his classmates, then realized she must be talking about their fathers.

"Oh yes," Snape said, leaning back in his chair with a smile. "As I seem to recall, they were planning to flood Gryffindor Tower. But they got the water-elemental summoning spell mixed up with the spell to summon an earth elemental--"

"And summoned up instead a creature made of mud," Blackmore finished.

"And of course those two idiots were unable to control it," Snape continued. "There was mud splattered all over the dungeon! Professor De Lacy was furious."

"So furious that he agreed to turn the miscreants over to me." Blackmore smiled in a positively evil way. "I made them scrub the dungeon clean with toothbrushes. Very handy thing, toothbrushes; they went through several pairs before they were done. After that, it was back to scrubbing bedpans for a month. I don't think either of them ever wanted to see a toothbrush again after their detention was finally over!"

"That would explain Crabbe's bad breath," Sirius muttered to himself.

Snape ignored him, saying, "Although I am rather fond of disemboweling horned toads as a punishment..."

"Mm, yes, but what about stewing slugs...?"

Ron groaned softly, "As if he wasn't bad enough on his own, she's got to go and give him more ideas..."

Snape left directly after dinner, to the children's relief, and things returned to normal. But later that night, Harry felt restless for some reason, and couldn't sleep even after Ron and Hermione had gone to bed. He wandered downstairs, thinking maybe he might go to the kitchen for a snack. He saw a light on in the drawing room and peeked through the open door. Branwen Blackmore was sitting on the sofa; there was a chess set laid out on the coffee table in front of her. There was no one on the opposite side of the chess board except for Bane, who was perched on the table. Blackmore moved a piece, and Harry watched in fascination as Bane cocked his head to one side, as if pondering the situation, then nudged a pawn forward with his beak.

"Can he really play chess?" Harry asked.

Blackmore looked up and smiled at him. "Yes, he's very clever."

"Does he ever win?"

"Not usually; it would be rather humiliating to lose to a bird, wouldn't it?" She laughed as Bane made an indignant croaking noise, then reached over to scratch his head affectionately. He hunkered down to accept her caress, but still looked a bit sulky.

There was something Harry had been wanting to ask her, but he had been too intimidated to approach her, and anyway she always seemed to be busy with Order business. But she was alone, smiling at him in a friendly way, and apparently had nothing better to do than play chess with her familiar. "Professor Blackmore? You said you taught my father when he was at Hogwarts, didn't you?"

"Yes, Harry," she replied, looking more serious.

"What was he like?" Harry asked eagerly.

Blackmore looked a little uncomfortable. "Well...he was a very clever lad, but very mischievous as well. He and Sirius and Peter Pettigrew were always getting into trouble together. Remus was better behaved, but often they would drag him into their escapades, which I admit made me rather cross at times. I was fond of Remus, and didn't like seeing him get into trouble because of his friends. I gave your father detention many times, and I'm afraid he didn't like me very much. But that wasn't really unusual; most of my students were terrified of me, much as you and your friends now seem to be a little afraid of Professor Snape." She smiled again, looking a little mischievous herself. "I suppose I must take some of the blame for that; I seem to have been more of an influence on Severus than I originally thought..."

Harry didn't want to hear about Snape; he wanted to hear about his father. "Um, yes," he said, trying not to sound too impatient, "but about my father...?"

"I didn't really know him very well outside of class," Blackmore said, somewhat evasively. "I'm sure Remus or Sirius could tell you more. But I do know that he was head over heels in love with your mother, almost from the time they both entered Hogwarts. One of the many detentions I gave him was for passing a note to her during class. Lily was a lovely girl--kind, smart, independent--not unlike Hermione, come to think of it." She laughed at the startled expression on Harry's face. "Everyone says you look like your father, Harry, but I see a great deal of Lily in you, too--your eyes are very like her. And you are a great deal like her in spirit as well."

Harry listened raptly as Blackmore praised his mother, describing how well she had adjusted to life at Hogwarts despite coming from a Muggle background; not only had she done well academically and socially, but she had dealt with the usual anti-Muggle prejudice and managed to keep both her dignity and her temper. But finally she said, "It's getting late, Harry. Perhaps you should go to bed; Bane and I will be retiring soon as well."

Harry reluctantly stood and bid her goodnight as she packed away the chess set. It was only after he got to his bedroom that he realized she had very neatly steered the conversation away from his father. She seemed to know a great deal about his mother, Sirius, and Lupin, so Harry didn't quite believe that she knew as little about his father as she claimed. Was there something about his father that she felt Harry shouldn't know? Or did she just dislike him? After all, she clearly liked Snape, who had hated Harry's father. But on the other hand, she liked Lupin and Sirius, whom Snape also hated. Professor Blackmore was such a mysterious woman--perhaps this was just one more mystery that would never be solved, such as where she had disappeared to for fourteen years; her brief explanation at dinner when Harry had first arrived at Grimmauld Place had raised more questions than it had answered...

***

Soon it was time to go back to school. Sirius insisted on accompanying Harry to the train station in his dog form. Both Mrs. Weasley and Hermione clearly thought that was a bad idea, but the only people Sirius might have listened to were gone: Lupin had gone ahead with Fred, George, and Ginny, and Professor Blackmore had disappeared on some mysterious errand the night before. So 'Snuffles' joined them on their walk to King's Cross, and Harry laughed as Sirius acted very dog-like, barking happily as he snapped at pigeons and chased his own tail; he had been trapped inside that grim old house too long.

But Harry had second thoughts when he encountered Draco Malfoy on the train. "Well, watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line," the blond-haired boy said maliciously.

Harry exchanged a nervous look with Hermione. Was it just his imagination, or had Malfoy slightly stressed the word "dogging"? Had Draco's father seen Sirius on the platform and guessed the truth? Which would mean that not only was he aware that Sirius was in London, but that the Weasleys, Lupin, Tonks, and Moody knew where he was hiding? Had Sirius not only just gotten himself in trouble, but his friends as well? Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea after all...

***

Snape was beginning to question the wisdom of allowing a Ministry agent to join the staff, despite the fact that it had been done at his urging. The Umbridge woman looked like a toad--a fluffy pink toad in that ridiculous cardigan--and he knew that she was the one who had been behind the anti-werewolf legislation that made it almost impossible for Lupin to get work. Professor Kamiyama gotten him some translation jobs from overseas, and of course Snape would never have let his lover starve, but he was still angry. And despite the fact that Snape gave him new robes every Christmas and birthday, Lupin insisted on wearing his shabby, patched robes in public. He said he didn't want people to wonder why he was suddenly so well-off; it would make them suspicious. But Lupin shouldn't have to wear rags in public; he should be wearing robes as handsome and glorious as he himself was...

But Snape's thoughts were interrupted by the Sorting Hat's song. This year, the song was different; the Hat sang about the four founders of Hogwarts, and the discord that had driven Salazar Slytherin away. It sang of what Branwen Blackmore had said she always feared, that the division between the Houses would lead to Hogwarts', and perhaps the entire wizarding world's, downfall:

...Listen closely to my song
Though condemned I am to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong,
Though I must fulfill my duty
And must quarter every year
Still I wonder whether sorting
May not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you...
Let the Sorting now begin.

Snape felt a chill run down his spine. Was the Hat right? Had Branwen been right all along? {Maybe she had the right idea, with her exercise in inter-House cooperation,} Snape thought. But that experiment had failed miserably, thanks to Black's cruelty and Snape's stubbornness, and thanks to the Donner family's prejudice and Lucius Malfoy's manipulation of Evan and Ariane...

Snape's misgivings about Umbridge were increased tenfold when she interrupted the Headmaster's opening speech. No one--NO ONE--ever interrupted Dumbledore! Most of the students' eyes glazed over as Umbridge droned on, and they paid no attention to her speech, but Snape noticed that both Dylan Rosier and Hermione Granger looked thoughtful and concerned. It figured that his two star pupils would be able to discern the deeper meaning behind Umbridge's seemingly innocuous speech. Snape sighed to himself; this was going to be a long school year...

***

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

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

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

Snape felt slightly more cheerful when Potter botched his potion; he had forgotten to add the hellebore. "Evanesco," Snape said gleefully, tapping Potter's cauldron with his wand, and the potion disappeared, which meant zero marks for Mr. Potter. He ordered the rest of his students to leave a sample of their potions on his desk, gave out their homework assignment, and dismissed them. Weasley and Potter glared at him on their way out, and Miss Granger gave him a quick, disappointed look that was much like the ones Lupin gave him when he felt Snape was being unfair. It made Snape feel small and petty, which in turn annoyed the hell out of him. {Don't expect me to turn into a creature of sweetness and light just because I have joined the Order, Miss Granger,} he thought coldly. {It hasn't changed my feelings towards Mr. Potter and his little friends.} His conscience was stirring uneasily, though, and to quell it he added, {Besides, Draco would find it suspicious if I suddenly started treating Potter fairly, and he would report it to his father, who would in turn report it to the Dark Lord...} He shuddered slightly, remembering the Cruciatus Curse the Dark Lord had placed on him as punishment for not answering the summons on the night of the Tournament. And that was actually the punishment that Snape feared least; there were far more terrible things that Voldemort could do to someone who betrayed him...yes, keeping the Dark Lord's suspicions lulled was a very good idea, indeed...

***

Snape was walking through the classroom as he always did, checking on his students' progress, and stopped by Potter's desk. To his disappointment, Potter seemed to be brewing his potion in an adequate fashion, and he was oddly subdued. There were dark circles under his eyes; perhaps he was too tired to be his usual impertinent self--Snape had heard that Umbridge had given him detention the past couple of nights. Then Snape froze in place as he caught sight of Potter's right hand. The sleeve of Potter's robe pulled back slightly as he reached for an ingredient, and Snape caught sight of the words, "I must not tell lies" etched into the boy's skin as if with a knife, still raw and red. He was a former Death Eater and the son of wizards who practiced the Dark Arts, but the sight disturbed him deeply. It was a particularly twisted, sadistic kind of punishment...the kind Snape's father would have enjoyed--except that he was careful never to leave a physical mark on his son. That would have been crude and careless, and might have attracted unwanted attention, especially once the Headmaster had taken an interest in young Severus Snape...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

"Harry Potter, sir!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The house-elf stopped pounding his head on the wall and grinned happily at Harry. "Dobby is always happy to help Harry Potter!"

Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8