FIC: Phoenix Reborn, Part 7 of 8

[geri_chan]

Title: Phoenix Reborn, Part 7 of 8
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Word count: ~10,120
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: Dylan gets in over his head with the Death Eaters; Snape and Lupin quarrel over Harry's Occlumency lessons.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

***

They reemerged in a dark, windowless room. A group of robed and masked figures formed a semicircle around a stone altar in the middle of the room. A woman dressed in a white gown lay upon it, her silver-blonde hair spilling over the sides of the stone slab.

"Mother!" screamed Dylan, and would have ran forward if Lucius had not held him back. As he struggled in Malfoy's grip, a tall figure in black robes stepped forward and the assembled Death Eaters bowed to him. This figure was not wearing a mask, and as he turned his crimson eyes upon Dylan, the boy stopped struggling and froze in place.

"Welcome, Dylan Rosier," said Lord Voldemort.

After a long moment, Dylan managed to work up enough courage to ask, "W-why have you done this? My father was your loyal servant; is this how you repay him?"

"Let him go, Lucius," Voldemort said. Malfoy let go of Dylan and took a step back. The Dark Lord raised his wand and shouted, "Crucio!" Dylan fell to the ground, screaming in pain. After a couple of minutes, Voldemort lowered his wand and the pain ceased. As Dylan struggled back to his feet, the Dark Lord said coldly, "Your first lesson as a Death Eater is never to question me, Dylan. I will not be so lenient with you the next time."

Lucius leaned over and hissed into his ear, "Say 'Yes, Master.'"

"Y-yes, Master," Dylan stammered.

"You learn quickly; that is good," Voldemort said. "That pleases me, so I will answer your question, impertinent though it was. Yes, your father was loyal, and I was eager to reward his son. But alas, your mother was reluctant to let you take your rightful place. I have never been quite certain of our dear Ariane's loyalty, since she never took the Mark. But Lucius tells me that he thinks she was merely being overprotective, so perhaps we should give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, mothers often fail to see how quickly their children are growing."

"Y-yes, my Lord," Dylan said hastily. "I'm sure that's what it was. I know she did not mean to defy you."

"Then step forward, Dylan, and prove your loyalty by accepting the Dark Mark."

Dylan looked frantically around at the Death Eaters, trying to see if Professor Snape was among them, but it was almost impossible to discern the faces behind the masks. That one was too short, that other too fat, the one standing next to the fat one was a woman...

Voldemort laughed, a harsh, chilling sound. "Professor Snape is not here, Dylan," he said, seeming to read the boy's thoughts. "You may expect no help from that quarter. Severus was being a little overprotective of you as well; he seemed to think you were too young to take the Mark, and I did not want to...distress him. But you are not too young, are you, Dylan?"

What little hope Dylan had left drained out of him. "No, Master," he whispered.

"Then step forward." Voldemort frowned. "Why so reluctant? I thought you would be eager to join your father's old companions and take his place."

There was a dangerous edge to Voldemort's voice. Dylan thought quickly, knowing he could rely on no one but himself now. "I AM eager, my Lord. If I seem reluctant, it is only because I am aware of the great responsibility being entrusted to me; I am young and inexperienced, and I do not wish to fail you, my Lord."

Voldemort laughed again. "A smooth-talker like your father! Do not worry, Dylan--I am sure you will not fail me." His words sounded more like a threat than a reassurance.

Dylan knew he could stall no longer. He stepped forward, pulling up the left sleeve of his robe. Voldemort grasped his wrist with his long, spider-like fingers, and Dylan tried not to shudder. The Dark Lord touched his wand to Dylan's forearm, and Dylan screamed as he felt an intense, burning pain in his arm. Then it was over, and Voldemort released him. Dylan looked down at his arm with trepidation, half-expected to see that his flesh had been seared away. Arm and skin were still intact, but there was now a black skull-and-snake tattoo on his forearm: the Dark Mark, the symbol of the Death Eaters. Once he had longed to wear that Mark, but now he was repulsed by it. He staggered towards the altar, whispering, "Mother," and this time no one stopped him. Dylan saw to his relief that she was still breathing, but she did not answer when he called to her.

"She is alive," Voldemort said, "and will remain so, as long as you serve me loyally. Since you have willingly taken the Mark, I will let her be for now. My servants will return her to your family estate; it will seem as if she has collapsed from a fever, and she will remember nothing of this night. But be sure YOU do not forget, Dylan," Voldemort added with a note of warning in his voice. He lifted his wand, and Dylan flinched involuntarily. "Ah, good, I see you remember the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. But the next time I need to punish you, it will be your mother who suffers, not you."

"There will be no next time, Master!" Dylan promised fervently, dropping to his knees.

"Good," Voldemort said, sounding satisfied. "Lucius, take him back to school; we wouldn't want him to miss any classes."

Dylan kissed his mother on the cheek and slipped her ring back on her finger, then left with Malfoy.

***

Malfoy returned Dylan to the school grounds, and somehow he managed to sneak back into the castle unseen. He rubbed his still-aching arm, feeling like he wanted to throw up. {This wasn't how it was supposed to be!} he wailed silently to himself. His induction into the Death Eaters was supposed to have been his moment of glory; the Death Eaters were supposed to be his comrades-in-arms and second family--how could they have done this, how could they have kidnapped and threatened his mother, coercing his loyalty instead of asking for it? Because, despite the doubts and reservations he'd had, if they had simply come to him and told him that they needed him, and reminded him of his duty to his late father's memory, he might still have joined them of his own free will. But too late, he realized the meaning behind Professor Snape's veiled warnings; too late, he realized the Death Eaters and Voldemort were not what he had thought they were.

He stumbled down the stairs leading to the dungeon, but instead of heading towards the Slytherin dorm, he found himself standing in front of Snape's personal quarters. "Professor Snape!" he shouted, pounding on the door. "Professor Snape!"

The door opened, and Snape appeared behind it, looking startled and worried. "Rosier? What's wrong?"

In answer, Dylan pulled up his sleeve, revealing the Mark on his arm.

"Oh, Dylan," Snape said in a despairing voice, "what have you done?"

Dylan burst into tears and flung himself against his teacher. To his surprise, Snape did not push him away, but put an arm around him as he said, "Come inside before anyone sees you here."

***

Snape quickly pulled the boy inside and shut the door; he could not afford to have anyone see Dylan come to him like this, particularly not his Slytherin students. The boy was sobbing hysterically against his chest, and Snape awkwardly put his arms around Dylan, patting him on the back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. The boy wept for a long time, but gradually his sobs grew quieter, and the trembling in his body began to cease. But instead of letting the the boy go, Snape held him more tightly, as an emotion filled him that was so unfamiliar it took him a minute or two to recognize what it was: tenderness, which he had never before felt for anyone but Lupin. Though it was of course not quite the same thing he felt for Lupin: nothing sexual, more a sense of protectiveness... {Is this the way Lupin feels about Potter?} Snape wondered. {Is this the way a parent feels about a child?} It was a confusing and rather frightening feeling: tenderness, anger, and helplessness all jumbled up together--anger towards anyone who might want to hurt Dylan, and helplessness, because he realized that his efforts to protect the boy had failed.

Dylan finally stopped crying, and Snape released him. The boy reluctantly pulled away, wiping at his face with his sleeve. Snape sent him to the bathroom to wash his face, and in the meantime prepared the same tea-and-brandy mixture that had helped to calm a distraught Draco Malfoy last year. However, Dylan's problems were not likely to be solved with a little chat and a cup of tea...

Dylan emerged, face freshly scrubbed but eyes still red, looking pale and chastened. He motioned for Dylan to take a seat in an armchair beside the fireplace and handed him the cup of tea. Snape sat in the chair across from him, and took a sip from his own cup, which also had brandy mixed into it--because Snape suspected he was going to need a stiff drink once he heard Dylan's story. He waited until Dylan had finished his tea-and-brandy, and some color had been restored to the boy's face before he asked softly, "Why did you not heed my warnings, Dylan?"

Dylan began to tremble again. "It wasn't--I didn't--" he stammered, then took a deep breath and said, "I had no choice. They had my mother."

"What?!"

Dylan explained everything that had happened, how Lucius Malfoy had shown up with Ariane's ring and taken him to the Death Eaters' gathering, how Voldemort had purposely refrained from summoning Snape, how the Dark Lord had threatened him into joining the Death Eaters and taking the Mark.

Snape silently cursed. This was very, very bad. He should have kept a closer eye on Dylan. What's more, it was clear that Voldemort did not trust him. Did he suspect Snape was a double agent? It would be very difficult--not to mention dangerous--to help Dylan without further arousing the Dark Lord's suspicions. He would have to talk to Dumbledore about this, but since the Headmaster was in hiding, he would be able to give only a limited amount of help. He could send Dylan away to protect him, either to Grimmauld Place or back to his family's estate; Snape was fairly certain that Mathias Donner would be able to protect his great-nephew if he knew the truth. But then Voldemort would know that Dylan had revealed his secret to someone, and would probably be able to guess who that someone was.

"What should I do, Professor?" Dylan asked in a small and frightened voice.

"I don't know, Rosier," Snape replied wearily, and the boy looked even more scared. "Do nothing for now," Snape said. "You must be very, very careful, or you will get us both killed." Dylan's face went white, but he nodded. "Say nothing about the meeting you attended, not even to Draco; that will be in character--a Death Eater never talks about such things with the non-initiated. Draco knows that; he will sulk, but he won't object. But you must not let Draco or the Death Eaters know how upset you are: your loyalty is already suspect, or the Dark Lord would not have coerced you the way he did. After the way you were treated, they will not expect you to be ecstatic about it, but you must appear to be determined to prove your loyalty. Perhaps, after a suitable interval of time, you can seem to be proud to be carrying on in your father's footsteps. You must appear to be cold, arrogant, and confident, and never show weakness or uncertainty to anyone--especially not your housemates." Snape hesitated. "And it would probably be wise for you to sever your relationship with Miss Granger."

"You know about that?" Dylan asked in surprise.

Snape smiled, just a little. "Yes. I have my sources, Rosier, which I cannot reveal, but I do not think any of the Slytherins are aware of it, and I would like to keep it that way. No Death Eater can befriend a Gryffindor; to do so would put both yourself and Miss Granger in jeopardy."

Dylan felt his heart sink. He had known he would probably have to give up Hermione one day, but he had not expected it to hurt so much. "Yes, Professor," he whispered sadly. "What about my family? Should I say anything to them?"

"No!" Snape said emphatically. "At least, not yet. We cannot risk alerting the Death Eaters to the fact that you are, shall we say, less than enthusiastic about your new status. There are ways I might be able to help you, but it will take time. Try to behave normally for now, as if nothing has happened. I know that will be difficult--"

"Don't worry, Professor," Dylan said bitterly. "I've been playing a role my entire life. I can keep up the act a bit longer."

The bitterness, and the need to hide behind a mask, were very familiar to Snape. {Please, please, don't let the boy turn out like me,} he silently pleaded, though he was not sure whom he was talking to. Aloud, he said, "Try to avoid going anywhere alone, especially with Draco Malfoy."

"I will, Professor, but--"

"I will assign you a special project," Snape interrupted, "assisting me with a potion. That will take up most of your free time and give you an excuse to avoid Malfoy."

"Yes, sir. But what if--" Dylan's voice faltered. "What if the Dark Lord summons me?"

"You know how the Dark Lord summons his Death Eaters, don't you? You saw it happen that night in my office..." Dylan nodded. "You will know when it happens; the Mark will turn black and burn. We are supposed to Apparate immediately to our Master's side when that happens, but they cannot expect that of you, since you are too young to Apparate." Snape frowned, saying, "Come to think of it, that is probably why your father, Lyall Wilkes, and I were not inducted until we were over eighteen." He wondered why Voldemort was recruiting Dylan so young; was he really that desperate for "new blood," as Lucius had hinted? "In any case, if you feel the Mark burn, come to me at once. If you are summoned, I will probably be expected to Apparate us both to the meeting place."

Dylan shuddered, but nodded and said, "Yes, sir."

"If we are lucky, that will not happen. Since you are so young, and unable to Apparate, any instructions the Dark Lord wishes to give you may be passed along in a more conventional manner." At least, Snape hoped so. "In the meantime, I will attempt to ascertain what the Dark Lord expects from you, and I will try to deflect his attention away from you, but to be honest, Rosier, I don't know how much I can do..."

"I understand," Dylan whispered. "They don't really trust you, either, do they? Or you would have been summoned to the meeting along with the others."

The boy was very perceptive, which was dangerous. He was too young to guard his mind against Voldemort, and if the Dark Lord realized Snape was helping him this way, he could lose not only his cover, but his life. But he had failed to save Dylan's father and Evan's friend Wilkes; he would not fail Dylan as well.

{Is it worth risking so much just for one boy?} Snape's inner voice quietly asked. {Whether you are killed or your cover is just exposed, countless innocents could die if the Order no longer has access to the information you've been feeding them about the Dark Lord's plans.}

{After all I have risked for the Order,} Snape replied fiercely, {I am entitled to one selfish request. I will not let the boy be sacrificed, not even to save those "countless innocents." I will save him, no matter what!}

"Professor?" Dylan asked quietly. "Why are you helping me? What...what turned you against the Death Eaters?"

They were treading on dangerous territory again. "Let us simply say that I am trying to atone for mistakes I made in the past," Snape said grimly. "I had hoped to prevent you from making the same foolish choices I did, but..."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Dylan said, bowing his head.

"You had no other choice," Snape said. "At least you did it only to save your mother; I joined the Death Eaters of my own free will, so I have no such excuse."

"I might have done it anyway," Dylan admitted. "If they had asked me instead of forced me. I didn't know what they were really like. Mother said that my father regarded the Death Eaters as a second family. Families aren't supposed to do such things to each other." Dylan laughed bitterly. "Then again, look at my own family--my grandmother disowned my mother, and my uncles raped their uncle's apprentice! So perhaps the Death Eaters really are a family...but I had hoped they would be a more loving one!"

"The Dark Lord believes love is a weakness," Snape said quietly. "You can expect no mercy, no affection, from your new 'family'."

"I know that now," Dylan sighed. "I should have paid more attention to what you told me, I should have been more careful..."

"It is too late for what-ifs," Snape said. "But I will protect you as best I can."

"Thank you, Professor," Dylan whispered.

"In order to do that," Snape continued, "you must allow me access to your mind." Dylan looked up, startled, as Snape reached into his robe and pulled out his wand. "I must put blocks around the memories of this conversation and the others we have had, so that the Dark Lord does not see them and realize that we are working against him."

"The Dark Lord can read minds?" Dylan asked fearfully.

Snape sighed; he had already had this conversation with Potter, and he didn't feel like going through it again. "It's not that simple, Rosier, but I don't have time to explain it right now. Suffice it to say that the Dark Lord is able to delve into another person's mind and gain access to that person's feelings and memories. We need to prevent him from gaining access to yours." Perhaps Snape ought to be teaching Occlumency to Rosier along with Potter; he would have to speak to the Headmaster about it. Then he inwardly flinched, feeling a twinge of guilt as he remembered how he had discontinued Potter's lessons after catching him spying in the Pensieve. He knew the Headmaster would not be pleased to hear that...

Dylan interrupted his thoughts, asking nervously, "Are you going to use a Memory Charm, sir? Will I forget what we've discussed?"

"No, that would be pointless since I need you to remember my instructions. I will merely be putting a wall of sorts around your thoughts, so that the Dark Lord will not be able to see them, but you will still have access to them."

"All right, sir." Dylan still looked confused, but seemed willing to take Snape at his word. "What do I have to do?"

"Just try to relax, and not to fight me. It will be disconcerting to have someone else enter your mind, but I won't hurt you, and I'll do this as quickly as possible."

"Yes, sir."

Snape lifted his wand and cast the spell. He found himself inside Dylan's mind, images flashing before him: Ariane, young and beautiful, singing a lullaby; Gwydion Donner sneering and berating a young Dylan; Hermione Granger at the Yule Ball, looking surprisingly lovely, at least from the perspective of Dylan's gaze. Then more recent memories, still sharp with fear: Lucius Malfoy holding Ariane's ring; Voldemort's red eyes; the excruciating pain of the Mark being branded into Dylan's arm... He felt the boy begin to panic and resist Snape's exploration of his mind. Snape tried to send out soothing thoughts, and he felt Dylan make a conscious effort to let down his defenses. Snape was a little surprised at the control the boy showed; he would be a natural at Occlumency...but now was not the time to be thinking about that. He quickly found the memories he was looking for and blocked them off, effectively hiding them from anyone who might be searching Dylan's mind. Then he exited the boy's mind and ended the spell.

Dylan blinked, looking pale and a little shaken. "Is...that it? Are you finished?"

"Yes," Snape said, then added approvingly, "you did very well," and Dylan managed a small but sincere smile. "You should go back to your dorm now, before anyone gets suspicious."

"Yes sir." He rose from his chair and said in a quiet but heartfelt voice, "Thank you, Professor. Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," Snape said, and watched the boy leave, still feeling strange. He was not quite sure how to deal with these new emotions; it had been bad enough having one hostage to fortune--Lupin--and now he had two to worry about. He wasn't entirely sure that Voldemort was wrong about love being a weakness...

***

Snape sat in his chair staring at the fire for a long time after Dylan left, but he finally got to his feet and headed for his bedroom. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he needed to contact the Order and pass along this new information. He touched the bottom drawer of his desk, reciting a brief charm to unlock the warding spell that prevented anyone but him from opening it, then pulled open the drawer and took out a small, round mirror that was hidden under a pile of papers and wrapped in a piece of cloth. As he unwrapped the cloth, he was surprised to find that a small light was flashing from inside the glass, which meant that someone from the Order had been trying to contact him. The light was blue (they were each assigned different colors), which meant that person was Lupin. Snape looked into the mirror and called, "Lupin? Lupin, are you there?"

Lupin's face appeared in the mirror, looking anxious. "Severus! I've been trying to contact you!"

"Well, I've been a bit busy, Lupin," Snape said waspishly. "I just had a visit from Dylan Rosier..." He quickly told Lupin what had happened.

"Oh no!" Lupin said, looking dismayed. "That poor boy! I'll pass that information on to Albus; will Dylan be safe at Hogwarts in the meantime?"

"I think so," Snape replied. "If they had wanted to kill him, he'd already be dead. They must think he can be of some use to them, which means they'll keep him alive. For now, anyway..."

"All right," Lupin said, still looking worried. "But please be careful, for your sake as well as Dylan's. I don't like the fact that Voldemort--" Snape flinched a little as Lupin spoke the Dark Lord's name out loud. "--didn't summon you to the meeting. I'm worried that he may suspect something."

"He may just think I'm too soft on Dylan," Snape suggested, but Lupin didn't look convinced, probably because Snape wasn't either. Snape shrugged and said, "Well, what applies to Dylan applies to me as well: as long as I'm still useful to him, the Dark Lord won't kill me. And he wants me to brew more of that Mind Restoration Potion; I still don't know why. The Azkaban escapees seem sane enough, at least by Death Eater standards... By the way, what did you want, Lupin?"

Lupin gave him a hard stare. "Don't you have something else you want to tell me, Severus?"

Snape felt a sinking feeling in his stomach; he suspected he knew what Lupin was talking about, but he said in a cold voice, "I don't have time to play guessing games, Lupin. If you have something to say, just say it."

"Very well," Lupin said, looking a little disappointed in him, and Snape felt a sharp stab of resentment. "I know you stopped Harry's Occlumency lessons."

Snape's face went red, with both anger and embarrassment. "I should have known that brat would break his promise! I told him not to say anything--"

"It's not a promise he should have kept," Lupin interrupted. "You know how important these lessons are!"

"Did he tell you what he did?!" Snape shouted.

"I know he looked into the Pensieve," Lupin said quietly. "But--"

"He saw us in the Shrieking Shack!" Snape screamed. "Who knows what else he saw?!"

"He saw the incident in the Shrieking Shack," Lupin said, still in that quiet voice, "and that time by the lake, right after final exams at the end of our third year. Nothing else."

"That's all?" Snape asked.

"That's all," Lupin replied. "He still doesn't know that we are, or were, lovers, Severus."

Snape breathed a brief sigh of relief, then scowled. "Well, that's still bad enough! He saw me humiliated by his dear father and godfather--did he have a good laugh about it?"

"No, Severus. Harry isn't that kind of person; he was horrified by what he saw. That was why he contacted us, because he was so disturbed by how he saw his father behaving--"

Snape laughed, harshly and mirthlessly. "So he finally saw that his precious father wasn't such a saint after all!"

Lupin sighed. "Yes, he saw that James was not perfect."

"But I suppose you and Black made excuses for him," Snape sneered. "You always did; everyone always overlooked James Potter's faults, the noble Gryffindor hero--"

"That's not fair, Severus," Lupin protested.

"Don't tell me what's fair, Lupin!" Snape said furiously. "Was it fair that your three friends ganged up on me because they were too cowardly to face me alone? Was it fair that they stripped me and humiliated me in front of half the school? Was it fair that you stood by and did nothing while it happened?!"

"Oh, Severus," Lupin said helplessly, his eyes filling with tears, but Snape was not moved.

"You have no idea, Lupin!" Snape ranted. "You have no idea what it's like, to feel so violated, to know that Potter's son has seen the way his father humiliated me, to know that he's seen my most private and painful memories!"

"I know what it's like to be helpless, Severus, because I am reminded every month that I lose control of my body to the full moon," Lupin said quietly. "And I know what it's like to be humiliated."

Snape flushed with guilt; he was the one who had humiliated Lupin, exposing the secret of his lycanthropy to the entire school, and the students and parents had quickly passed on the gossip till it had spread through most of the wizarding world. But Lupin rarely reminded him of it, and Snape said accusingly, "So you're taking Potter's side?"

"No, Severus," Lupin said patiently. "I know what Harry did was wrong. So punish him--give him a month's detention, a year's detention, take a hundred points from Gryffindor--but you must not stop the Occlumency lessons."

"Do you think detention or points will make up for what Potter did to me?!" Snape screamed.

A little annoyance was starting to creep into the sympathetic expression on Lupin's face. "No, Severus, I do not, but the lessons are more important than your pride."

"I won't teach that brat after what he did to me!" Snape roared, letting Lupin see only his rage, unable to tell his lover that the real reason he didn't want to teach Potter was that he couldn't bring himself to look the boy in the eye even during Potions class. He was too ashamed and humiliated to face Potter, knowing the boy had seen him rendered weak and helpless in the Pensieve memories. It also awoke in him the old feelings of loneliness and jealousy, and of course the old hatred for Potter's father, which had been transferred to the son...

"Severus!" Lupin shouted. "You can't stop the lessons! Hate Harry if you want, but you cannot stop the lessons! You of all people know how important it is for Harry to be able to block Voldemort out of his mind! My life, your life, the lives of all the Order members could be jeopardized if Voldemort gains control of Harry! Not to mention all the people who will die if we are unable to defeat Voldemort--"

"STOP SAYING HIS NAME!" screeched Snape. Lupin stared at him in shock, and Snape blushed with shame, because he had never told Lupin that he was afraid to speak the Dark Lord's name aloud, although Lupin had probably noticed by now that he never referred to Voldemort by name.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Lupin said gently. "I don't want to argue with you, but I must insist that you begin teaching Harry again, or I will have to tell Dumbledore about this."

Snape stared at Lupin with something that was very close to hatred. "All right," he said, spitting the words out of his mouth. "But I'm not going to go to the boy and beg him to come back. Tell him to come to my office, and tell him I expect an apology--and it had better be a good one--before I start teaching him again."

"Branwen has already given him a lecture and told him to apologize to you," Lupin said. "And I told him to go to you as soon as possible and tell you that you must not stop the lessons. So he will probably come to you tomorrow."

"Very well," Snape said curtly. "When you contact Dumbledore, tell him I'm going to start teaching Dylan Occlumency as well--at different times, of course; I won't tell him that I'm teaching Potter." Snape had changed his mind about asking Dumbledore's permission first; if they were going to force him to teach Potter, then by Merlin, he was entitled to teach a student of his choosing, one more talented, motivated, and deserving than Mr. Potter...

Lupin looked startled. "But--"

"What applies to Potter, applies to Dylan as well, Lupin," Snape snapped. "He has to be able to block the Dark Lord out of his mind, or his Master will soon see that Dylan is not a sincere convert, and that I have been trying to save him from the Death Eaters. I placed a few blocks around his memories, but I cannot continue to do that indefinitely. It is very difficult to single out a specific memory, and it will only grow harder as the memories continue to accumulate. He must be able to fend off the Dark Lord on his own eventually. Of course," Snape said in a bitter voice, "Dylan is unimportant, so perhaps no one but me cares whether he is saved or not. After all, he is merely the son of a deceased Death Eater, not the savior of the wizarding world like Mr. Harry Potter--"

"You know that's not true, Severus!" Lupin said angrily. "Dumbledore fought for Dylan to be admitted to Hogwarts; Flitwick has defended him as well; and I care what happens to Dylan even though I have never met him! I care because I don't want to see any child put in danger, but I care especially because he is important to you, Severus!"

Snape flushed, more than a little discomposed--how could Lupin have known that Snape cared about Dylan before Snape had realized it himself? "All right," he mumbled. "Then you understand why it's important for me to teach him."

"Yes, I do, but I still think you should consult with Albus first--"

"I don't have time to wait for Dumbledore's reply, and quite frankly, Lupin, I don't much care what you think." Snape felt mingled guilt and satisfaction at Lupin's hurt and startled look. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a great deal of work to do--"

"Severus, wait!" Lupin cried. "Please--I know you're angry, but I don't want this to come between us--"

Lupin looked frightened; a spiteful part of Snape was glad, but another part of him felt ashamed of that reaction.

"Please, Severus," Lupin said softly. "I don't want to lose you over this..." He stared at Snape with pleading, tearful eyes.

Snape remembered that look--he had seen it after the Shrieking Shack, when Lupin had tried to tell him that he had not known what Black was going to do. He felt uneasy; he didn't want to lose Lupin either, but he was not ready to forgive him yet. Snape stared at Lupin's image in the mirror for a long time, then finally said, "You won't lose me. But right now, Lupin, I really don't feel like looking at your face."

"Severus--" Lupin said, the tears spilling out of his eyes, and Snape broke off contact. The mirror went blank, and he sat there staring at his own reflection, hating Lupin though he still loved him, and hating himself even more.

***

Snape braced himself to face Potter, but the boy did not come to his office, and he secretly felt relieved. In Potions class, he and Potter ignored each other as much as was humanly possible. {It's not my fault,} Snape told himself. {I told Lupin I wouldn't teach the boy unless he came and apologized to me first.} But deep inside, he felt guilty, because he knew he should be continuing the lessons, or at the very least he should inform Lupin that Potter had not shown up for them. But he kept putting it off, telling himself that he would contact Lupin tomorrow. And when tomorrow came, he would put it off again, just for another day or two...

He did assign Dylan to work with him afterschool on the Mind Restoration Potion, although he didn't tell Dylan what it was. The less he knew about Death Eater business, the better, Snape figured. Snape had to do the actual brewing himself, as it was too delicate a process for even a talented student to handle, but he did allow Dylan to assist him in preparing the ingredients.

He also began Dylan's Occlumency lessons, using Dylan's "special project" as a cover. As far as the rest of the school was concerned, Dylan was assisting Snape in potion-brewing. It was a little unusual, but not completely unexpected, for a teacher to take an exceptionally talented young student under his wing and single him out for special attention. And most times, Dylan actually was helping him with the Mind Restoration Potion. But twice a week, after working on the potion, Snape taught Dylan Occlumency. And this time, although Dylan was much better behaved than Potter, Snape took no chances--he removed his thoughts well before Dylan arrived for his lessons, hid the Pensieve out of sight in a cabinet, and did not restore the thoughts to his head until after Dylan had left.

The boy, as Snape had suspected, was a natural; he certainly learned much more quickly than Potter had. {Though perhaps,} his conscience nagged, {that's because you're more patient with Dylan than with Potter...} The only problem Dylan had was that his fear and respect for Snape were so deeply ingrained that he found it difficult to attack his teacher...

"Damn it, Rosier!" Snape said in frustration. "You have to defend yourself, or you'll be helpless before the Dark Lord!"

"I'm sorry, sir," said Dylan. "It's just--it's difficult to bring myself to attack a teacher, especially you!"

Snape smiled in spite of himself, then said dryly, "Don't worry about hurting me, Rosier. I think I can manage to defend myself against a fourth-year student." Dylan blushed. "But you must try to ward off my attacks!"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's try this again, shall we? Empty your mind of emotion, and on the count of three...one--two--three--Legilimens!"

***

To Dylan's great relief, he received no further summonses from the Dark Lord. Draco eagerly asked him what had happened that night, but Dylan replied, as Snape had instructed, that he was not allowed to talk about it. And as Snape had predicted, Draco sulked but didn't try to force the issue.

"Don't worry, Draco," Dylan said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "I'm sure they'll summon you soon." {If you only knew what you were in for!} "Your father is the top-ranked advisor of our Lord, after all."

"That's right," Draco said, sounding happier as drew himself up with pride.

"Probably they have something special planned for when you join; maybe that's why you have to wait longer." {I just hope, for your sake, that "something special" isn't your mother laid out on an altar like a sacrificial lamb!}

"You're probably right, Rosier," Draco agreed, his hurt pride salved, and their relationship went more or less back to normal.

Hermione was harder to handle. He tried to avoid her, but she cornered him in the library one day. "Dylan, I want to tell you what I've been doing for S.P.E.W.--"

"I can't be a part of S.P.E.W. anymore," Dylan said, cutting her off. He reached into his pocket and handed her his badge.

She looked at him, confusion and concern on her face. "What happened, did Draco find out--?"

"No," Dylan said curtly. "But I can no longer take the chance that any of my housemates might find out about it if I wish to advance in Slytherin House. In fact, I think it's best that we don't see each other at all anymore." Hermione flinched, as if he had slapped her, and Dylan forced himself to continue in a cold voice, "It's nothing personal, Hermione, but it just isn't possible for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to be friends. Not if I wish to make something of myself in the wizarding world."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears and she said angrily, "I didn't know you cared so much about ambition and advancement, Dylan Rosier! But I guess you were sorted into the right House, after all! And after I defended you to Ron and Harry and everyone else who said, 'you can't trust a Slytherin'!" She turned on her heel and ran out of the library.

Dylan wanted to stop her, to tell her that he didn't really mean it, but he reminded himself that it was for her own safety--and his mother's as well, for if the Dark Lord believed Dylan was a traitor he would hurt, perhaps even kill, Ariane. So he stood and did nothing, even though it felt like his heart was breaking. {I was fooling myself, Father,} he thought, looking down at his ring. {I'm not such a ladies' man after all; there is only one girl I really want. But perhaps we are alike after all, for in the end, you truly loved only one woman--my mother. But maybe she would have been better off if you had let her go...}

The one consolation he had was his after-hours work with Professor Snape. The Potions Master set him to work preparing ingredients for some devilishly complicated potion that had to be prepared to exacting specifications. He was pleased that Snape trusted him enough to let him help, although he would not tell Dylan what the potion was, or why they were making it, which made him suspect that it had something to do with the Death Eaters. So he did not ask, although he was very curious, because Professor Snape clearly thought it was something he was better off not knowing, and after all Snape had done to help him, it wasn't Dylan's place to question his teacher's judgment. And also, he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the fragile bond that had seemed to develop between them; their shared secret had somehow brought them closer. If someone had told him before this that Snape would hold and comfort a crying student, Dylan would have laughed in their face. But Snape had done exactly that, and risked his own safety to help Dylan, for no reason that he could see other than his supposed friendship with Dylan's father, and Dylan had already guessed that they had never really been close. But for whatever reason, Snape was protecting Dylan, and treating him kindly, in his own gruff way--he had even unbent enough to smile at Dylan a couple of times when he had performed well during the potion-making or his Occlumency lessons.

Dylan was progressing well in Occlumency, except that he found it difficult to bring himself to actually attack Snape, even with his teacher's permission. He could drain himself of emotion, and set up a protective wall around his thoughts, but not actively fight off Snape's attacks...

He felt Snape break through his defenses and a series of images rushed through his mind: Deirdre Donner telling Ariane, "Don't call me 'Mother'--you are no daughter of mine! We saved you from Azkaban only so you would not further shame the Donner name!" ...Dull-witted Uncle Gilbert, who still had enough sanity left to hate Dylan, sneering, "You little Slytherin bastard!" ...Uncle Gwydion telling an eleven-year old Dylan, "You will never be found fit to enter Hogwarts, you slimy little spawn of a Death Eater..." ...And finally, his grandmother spitting out the words, "Tainted blood!"

"Damn it, Rosier!" Snape said; his voice was angry, but there was something like pity in his dark eyes, and Dylan felt ashamed that his teacher had seen him being berated and humiliated by his relatives. "You have to defend yourself, or you'll be helpless before the Dark Lord!"

"I'm sorry, sir," said Dylan. "It's just--it's difficult to bring myself to attack a teacher, especially you!"

Snape said dryly, "Don't worry about hurting me, Rosier. I think I can manage to defend myself against a fourth-year student."

Dylan blushed, feeling rather silly; of course there was no way he could actually hurt a wizard as powerful as Snape! But it was not really fear for Snape that had stopped him--it was more fear OF Snape, as well as his admiration for his teacher that made it difficult...

"But you must try to ward off my attacks!" Snape was insisting.

"Yes, sir."

"Let's try this again, shall we? Empty your mind of emotion, and on the count of three...one--two--three--Legilimens!"

This time when he felt his teacher attack his defenses, Dylan raised his wand and shouted the first spell that came to mind: "Impedimenta!" He felt the attack halt as Snape stumbled backwards a step, and suddenly he was seeing memories that were not his own: A young boy with black hair and a beaky nose performed a spell far advanced beyond his years as a man with a similar nose watched closely; the boy's face fell when his only reward was a curt nod... The same boy, his face lighting up as Professor Dumbledore entered his room and sat down to play a game of wizard chess with him... The boy, a few years older now, sitting in a classroom, looking proud and pleased with himself as a beautiful woman with long black hair and green eyes smiled at him and said, "Very good; Severus--ten points to Slytherin!" ...The same boy hiding behind a tree near the lake on the Hogwarts grounds, watching with an intense, almost hungry look in his eyes as four boys laughed and played with a Golden Snitch: one was small and mousy, one was tall and handsome, one looked just like Potter, but it was the last boy that the young Snape seemed to be watching most closely--a thin, pale boy with long, untidy brown hair and blue eyes...

"Enough!" shouted Snape, and the visions ceased. Dylan blinked, and saw that Snape was breathing hard and looking paler than usual.

"Are you all right, Professor?" Dylan asked anxiously. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"

"It's all right, Rosier," Snape said curtly, cutting him off. "You did well."

"I did?" Dylan asked eagerly.

"Yes," Snape said. "Better than I had expected; I will have to be more careful in the future." There was an odd look in his black eyes, and Dylan felt extremely uncomfortable knowing that he had seen what were clearly some of his teacher's childhood memories. "Well, it seems you have gotten over your fear of attacking me," Snape continued, a hint of dry humor in his voice, and Dylan blushed again. "I think that's enough for tonight; continue practicing your mental exercises. Eventually, when you are strong enough, you will be able to ward off attacks solely with your mind, and not need to resort to using a wand. Now run along, or you'll be late for dinner."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said obediently, and left Snape's workshop. As he headed for the Great Hall, he was still distracted, and a little disturbed by what he had seen. Young Snape had looked so vulnerable and hungry for approval, so much different than the adult Snape who was cold and arrogant and didn't seem to care what anyone thought of him...but of course he could not be as cold as he appeared, or he would never have helped Dylan. And Dylan knew that Snape had hated Potter's father when they were students, but who was the long-haired boy that the teenaged Snape had been staring at so intently...?

***

Lupin sat in his room, brooding. He was trying to read a letter from Professor Kamiyama, but he could not concentrate hard enough to translate the Japanese characters into English; every time he tried, he got distracted by thoughts of Severus. And he could not talk about it with Sirius, nor with Branwen for fear of Sirius overhearing them, because Sirius was still angry at Snape about the Occlumency lessons, and Lupin didn't want to add fuel to that fire--things were bad enough as they were without making them worse.

Lupin was deeply hurt by Severus's last words--"But right now, Lupin, I really don't feel like looking at your face"--and scared, for the first time in two years, of losing Severus. Oh, he knew that deep down, Severus really did love him, and he tried to reassure himself with the the fact that Severus had also said, "You won't lose me." {He's angry, but he'll forgive me eventually,} Lupin told himself. {He just needs some time to cool off.}

But there had been a profound look of pain and anger in Severus's black eyes, such as Lupin had not seen since Sirius had returned to Hogwarts and Severus had believed that Lupin had betrayed him. One could not really say that Severus was scarred by the past, for scarring implied healing; Severus's wounds ran deep, and were still raw and unhealed. Lupin was very afraid that Severus would never be able to get over the past, never be able to let go of his hatred for James and Sirius; Severus was incapable of being rational about those two, and by extension, Harry.

And although they loved each other, and had for the most part a satisfactory--better than satisfactory!--relationship, at times the past lay between them like an unbridgeable gulf. Lupin was still haunted by the fact that he had failed to protect Severus in school, and Lupin knew that whenever Severus brooded about the past he was reminded that his feelings of love for Lupin had been mixed with equal parts of resentment and hatred. Even though they had each forgiven the other for whatever hurts, intentional and unintentional, that they had inflicted on each other, and even though Severus had proved his love for Lupin countless times over, Lupin knew that Severus still harbored some resentment towards him. It was buried deep, and emerged only occasionally, usually when Severus was in a bad mood and lost his temper, and he usually apologized afterwards, but it was still there. Lupin did not hold it against him; he only wished he could ease his lover's pain. But Lupin knew he could not expect Severus to suddenly become a carefree, light-hearted creature when he had spent most of his life building up walls to keep other people out. Bitterness had become so much a part of Severus that Lupin could not imagine what he would be like without it.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and Lupin put what he hoped was a cheerful smile on his face and said, "Come in." To his relief, it was Branwen and not Sirius.

"Are you all right, Remus?" Branwen asked.

{So much for the cheerful smile,} Lupin thought in consternation.

"You are a talented mage, Remus," Branwen said with a smile, "but a very bad actor. Did you and Severus have a fight?"

"Sort of," Lupin sighed. "To say he's upset about Harry looking at his memories would be an understatement, and he was angry at me for insisting that he continue the Occlumency lessons. But he'll get over it. Eventually. I hope."

"He loves you, Remus," Branwen said reassuringly. "He'll forgive you. Though really, you haven't done anything that requires forgiveness; you were right about the Occlumency lessons and he knows it...which is probably why he's so angry."

"It's more than that," Lupin said unhappily. Unconsciously, he pulled out the quartz good-luck charm he always wore around his neck--his first Christmas present from Severus twenty years ago--and began fiddling with it. "He was reminded of our past; he's never really gotten over the way James treated him, and he's never gotten over the fact that I supposedly chose my friends over him. And maybe he's right about that," Lupin sighed. "I never stood up for him directly, and even when we became lovers, we kept it a secret, as if it were something to be ashamed of."

"As I recall, Severus was just as determined to keep your relationship hidden from the Slytherins as you were to keep it from the Gryffindors."

"And after we broke up," Lupin continued, ignoring Branwen's words, "I let him go. I should have tried harder to win him back; I should never have let him go over to Malfoy..."

"There is no point crying over spilled milk, Mr. Lupin," Branwen said impatiently, sounding like the stern Professor Blackmore he remembered from his schoolboy days, and Lupin smiled.

"I suppose I am wallowing in self-pity," Lupin admitted. "But Severus's wounds have never really healed. He has never forgiven James and Sirius, and I suspect a part of him cannot forgive me, even though he does love me..."

"Severus would make a good demon," Branwen said dryly, and Lupin looked puzzled. She smiled and said, "My grandfather Araqiel once told me demons never forgive and never forget."

"Yes, that sounds like Severus, all right," Lupin sighed. "Though I suppose he has forgiven me, or we would not be together, but I know he cannot forget the way I hurt him."

Branwen sighed also. "I'm afraid that Sirius is not the only one who needs to grow up..."

"It's not that simple, Branwen. Severus sees love as a kind of weakness...and his memories of the past only serve to confirm that theory." Lupin smiled sadly. "I suppose that's why he's so insistent that we keep our relationship a secret even now; he doesn't want to publicly expose his vulnerabilities. Come to think of it, that's probably why he's so good at Occlumency; he's spent his entire life hiding his emotions from the outside world..."

"Yes," Branwen murmured musingly. "That would be in character with his upbringing; his father always despised what he called 'sentimental fools'...but Remus, I don't think you should let this fester. Perhaps you should contact Severus--"

Lupin shook his head. "No, not while he's in this sort of mood, especially when I can't talk to him face-to-face. It's better to let him calm down a little, first." If Severus had been physically present, Lupin was sure he could cajole him out of his bad mood, but it was much harder when they had to communicate by mirror, when Severus could sever contact anytime he got in a snit. Well, that wasn't really fair...the time they spent apart was putting a strain on them both...

Branwen looked skeptical, but didn't argue. "Did you contact Dumbledore?"

"Yes, he was upset to hear about what happened, but he seems to blame himself more than Severus. He said he has placed so many burdens upon Severus, and perhaps this was one burden too many. But he was reassured to hear that Severus agreed to start the lessons again."

"And what did he say about Dylan Rosier?"

"He was concerned, of course, but agrees that Dylan should remain at school for now. He says he will contact Dylan's great-uncle, Mathias Donner, and warn him. He was a bit taken aback to hear that Severus insists on teaching Dylan Occlumency, but agrees that it's a good idea."

Branwen nodded. "Good; at least that's settled. Have you heard from Severus or Harry about whether he's actually resumed the lessons yet?"

"No, not yet. But Harry doesn't have a safe way to contact us, and Severus probably doesn't want to talk to me right now."

Branwen frowned. "This is more important than Severus's hurt pride, Remus. I'll contact him if you don't want to--"

"No!" said Lupin. "Please, Branwen, he'll be hurt and even more angry if he thinks we don't trust him." {And then it will take him even longer to forgive me...} Lupin thought. Aloud, he said, "It will be all right, Branwen. However angry he might be, I have never known Severus Snape to break a promise. If he says he'll teach Harry, then he will."

His former teacher frowned again, but said, "Very well, Remus. You know him best, I suppose; I'll trust your judgment."

***

Harry did not keep his promise to Lupin about talking to Snape; he kept putting it off, telling himself that he was giving Snape time to cool down. Harry was a little afraid of how Snape would react during Potions class, expecting Snape to be even nastier towards him than usual, but Snape had apparently decided to deal with the matter by behaving as if Harry did not exist. Since that was a distinct improvement over how Snape had treated him before, Harry made no complaint. If Lupin had told Snape to continue the Occlumency lessons, Snape must be ignoring him as thoroughly as he was now ignoring Harry. He felt a little guilty every now and then, but Harry figured he had enough to deal with studying for his O.W.L.s without having to take extra classes. {After the O.W.L.s are over,} Harry told himself, trying to ease his guilty conscience, {then maybe I'll go talk to Snape...}

But that never happened, because during the History of Magic exam, Harry had a vision of Voldemort torturing Sirius, trying to force him to take a glass sphere down from a shelf in the Department of Mysteries--the mysterious weapon Voldemort had been seeking? Hermione tried to tell him that Voldemort might be trying to trick him, but he couldn't take that chance. Harry was all for heading straight to the Department of Mysteries, but finally he agreed to try and contact Sirius first in Umbridge's fireplace.

His friends arranged a distraction so he could get into her office, but Kreacher answered his call instead of Sirius. "Where has Sirius gone?" Harry yelled. "Kreacher, has he gone to the Department of Mysteries?!"

"Master does not tell poor Kreacher where he is going."

"But you know! Don't you? You know where he is!"

The elf paused, then cackled, "Master will not come back from the Department of Mysteries! Kreacher and his Mistress are alone again!"

Then Harry felt a sharp pain on the top of his head; Umbridge was dragging him out of the fireplace by his hair. Malfoy was leaning on the windowsill smirking at him as his Slytherin classmates dragged in Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville, who was trapped in a stranglehold by Crabbe and looked to be in immediate danger of suffocation. Umbridge sent Draco off to fetch Professor Snape.

***

Malfoy burst into Snape's office, looking extremely smug, and told him that Headmistress Umbridge wanted to see him. As they headed for her office, Malfoy nattered on about how Potter and his friends were in big trouble this time, and would probably be expelled.

{Damn that brat,} Snape thought sourly. {What has he done this time? And how am I supposed to get him out of trouble without exposing my cover?}

Snape entered Umbridge's office and looked around indifferently at the pairs of struggling students as he said, "You wanted to see me, Headmistress?"

"Ah, Professor Snape," said Umbridge with a wide smile. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," he lied coolly. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient." Of course the Veritaserum he had given her earlier had been fake, anyway. He supposed he could give her another fake bottle, but he thought it would be better to try and bluff his way out of this, because he didn't think Potter would be able to lie convincingly enough.

Umbridge flushed. "You can make some more, can't you?"

"Certainly," said Snape, his lip curling in a sneer. "It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

"A month?" squawked Umbridge. "A MONTH? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with person or persons unknown!"

"Really?" Snape blinked, feigning an air of mild interest as he looked at Potter. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules." He stared into Potter's eyes, and Potter stared back at him unflinchingly, as if trying to tell him something. For the first time, Snape cursed himself for not continuing Potter's Occlumency lessons; if he had, perhaps he might have been able to pick up a hint from Potter's mind of what he was trying to convey...

"I wish to interrogate him!" Umbridge snapped. "I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!"

"I have already told you," Snape said smoothly, "that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter--and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy if you did--I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling..."

Snape looked at Potter one more time; the boy's eyes were frantic, but he still couldn't pick up on Potter's thoughts. If only he could use his wand...but of course he could not start casting spells in front of Umbridge...

"You are on probation!" shrieked Umbridge. "You are being deliberately unhelpful! I had expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave when Potter shouted desperately, "He's got Padfoot! He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

Snape froze, his hand on the door handle, while Umbridge turned to Snape and asked eagerly, "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

Snape looked at Potter, careful to keep his face inscrutable. "I have no idea," he said coldly. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me, I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job." Then he slammed the door behind him and left.

Part 8

***

Afterword: I created the character of Dylan Rosier because I wanted to explore how differently Snape might behave with a student that he liked, as opposed to Harry's limited POV in the books. And once Book 5 came out, I found myself wondering if the Occlumency lessons might have gone better if Snape wasn't teaching a student who brought back such bad memories. Admittedly, Harry wasn't a very good student, but on the other hand, Snape didn't give much instruction to Harry on how he should "empty his mind" or defend against Snape's attacks. In general, I think that Snape would be impatient with students who don't catch on right away, but I thought that he might show a little more patience and understanding with a favored Slytherin student. I could have used Draco, of course, but at the time, Draco seemed too arrogant and self-assured for Snape to identify with to the extent that I wanted.