FIC: Phoenix Rising, Part 4 of 37

[geri_chan]

Title: Phoenix Rising, Part 4 of 37
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Word count: ~8,770
Warning: AU; my own version of Year 6 (was written pre-HBP).
Author's notes: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts
Disclaimer: No money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.
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), Phoenix Reborn (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8)
Summary: Snape's Occlumency lessons with Dylan stir up memories of the past.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

***

Professor Snape continued to visit Dylan regularly to give him his Occlumency lessons, for which Dylan was grateful. Not just because they would allow him to protect himself against the Dark Lord, but because they provided a welcome distraction from his captivity: both he and his mother were confined to the house for their own protection; they couldn't even go outside for a walk in the garden. Uncle Math had placed protective spells on both the house and the grounds, but an enclosed building was much easier to protect than an open expanse of land. And ever since they found out Lucius Malfoy had secretly kidnapped Ariane off the estate grounds the day Dylan was forced to take the Mark, the adults were taking no chances with his safety. Although Goewin was still treating Ariane coolly, both women were united in their desire to protect Dylan; he was strictly forbidden to set one foot outside of the house. He couldn't fly on his broom, or simply go for a walk through the woods to be alone with his thoughts, as he was used to doing. He read books, practiced spells, and played chess with his great-uncle or Exploding Snap with his great-aunt or his mother, but soon he was ready to go stir-crazy from being cooped up in the house all the time. Dylan was really more the scholarly type than the outdoorsy type, and normally spent most of his time indoors anyway, but somehow being forbidden to leave made his confinement almost unbearable--he was virtually a prisoner in his own home.

So he welcomed any break in his routine, including those visits from Professor Snape. And he was always happy to see Snape, who was the only person who truly understood what Dylan was going through right now, since none of his family, not even his mother, had ever been branded with the Dark Mark.

Dylan continued to progress well in his lessons; he was growing better at protecting his thoughts and blocking Snape's attacks. After the time Dylan had unintentionally broken into his teacher's mind and seen some of his childhood memories, Snape seemed to have increased his own guard, and nothing like that happened again. He did occasionally get fleeting glimpses of blurred images, though, that usually passed by too swiftly for him to identify, but he had recognized the faces of Dumbledore, Potter's father, the pretty green-eyed teacher who had smiled at young Snape in his memory, and the teenaged boy that the young Snape had been spying on, the one with pale blue eyes and long, brown hair.

"Legilimens!" shouted Snape, raising his wand.

Dylan felt Snape battering at his defenses, but his mental walls held. He raised his own wand and said, "Stupefy!"

The spell did not stun Snape--for which Dylan was grateful, as attacking his teacher still made him slightly nervous--but it did force him to stagger backwards and break off his attack.

"Very good," Snape said approvingly, and Dylan smiled happily. Professor Snape doled out compliments very sparingly, so Dylan knew that any words of praise he received were sincere and hard-earned. "It seems you can defend yourself adequately with a wand, but the Dark Lord will kill you if you raise a wand to him."

Dylan sighed to himself; it seemed that he wasn't going to be given much time to savor the praise he'd earned...

"And so," Snape continued, "I think it is time you started defending yourself with your mind alone."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said obediently, putting his wand away. "What must I do?"

"Keep up your mental defenses as you have been, and try to push me away, but with your mind, not your wand."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, a little apprehensively.

"Ready?" Snape didn't wait for an answer. "One--two--three--Legilimens!"

Dylan gritted his teeth and braced himself against Snape's attack, trying to keep up the mental image of a fortress wall, thick and impenetrable. He felt Snape's mind attacking his defenses, like a battering ram striking against a castle wall. At first his defenses held, but then a small crack appeared in the wall, and then another...and then he felt memories flowing through those cracks like water: himself as a child, curled up on his mother's lap, as she whispered to him stories about how brave and handsome his father was...Ariane teaching a young Dylan forbidden Dark Arts spells...the burning pain of the Dark Mark being seared onto his arm...

"Enough!" said Snape, breaking off the attack.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Dylan said shakily, rubbing his arm, somehow still feeling ghostly echoes of pain, although he knew they were not real.

"It was good for a first attempt," Snape said, looking a little shaken himself. "You held out longer than I thought you would. Take a moment to compose yourself, then we'll try again. But this time, don't just act defensively; try to push me away. On the count of three, then: one--two--three--Legilimens!"

Dylan concentrated on strengthening his defenses, then gave a mental shove, trying to push Snape out of his mind. The attack receded for just a moment, then resumed with renewed vigor. But Dylan was encouraged by the fact that he had been able to fend off the attack, however briefly, and shoved again, as hard as he could. Snape stumbled backwards again, reaching out to grab at a nearby chair to keep his balance, and a series of images flashed before Dylan's eyes: a hook-nosed man and a beautiful dark-haired woman who, judging by their resemblance to Snape, were his parents...the mysterious long-haired teenage boy, smiling apologetically...young Snape, stirring something in a cauldron as two other boys watched, sly and mischievous smiles on all three faces. One boy had sandy hair, green eyes, and a cheerful, good-natured expression on his face. The other was almost as familiar to Dylan as his own reflection in the mirror, because his mother had a picture of him in a silver frame on her nightstand: a handsome boy with wavy black hair and intense brown eyes. The young man in the picture frame was a few years older than the boy in Snape's memories, but they were undoubtedly the same person--Evan Rosier, Dylan's father.

"Enough," gasped Snape, and to Dylan's disappointment, the image of his father vanished. "Very good," Snape said, but he looked a little disturbed. "I had not expected you to do so well on only your second try."

"Th-that was my father, wasn't it?" Dylan asked, his voice trembling slightly. "The boy in your memory..."

"Yes," said Snape curtly, but he still looked more shaken than angry.

"And the other boy...?" Dylan asked, although he suspected he knew the answer already; the sandy-haired boy was not as familiar to Dylan as his father, but Dylan was almost certain he had seen a couple of pictures of him in a scrapbook Ariane kept from her schoolgirl days. Common sense told him he should drop the subject, since Snape obviously didn't want to talk about it--they never discussed the memories they saw during the lessons--but the sight of his father awoke an old longing in Dylan, and made him more reckless than usual.

Snape just sighed wearily and confirmed Dylan's suspicions. "That was Lyall Wilkes, your father's best friend."

"Yes, Mother has told me about him. And...so did you, a little, last year," said Dylan, recalling how Snape had recounted some of Evan's and Lyall's childhood pranks for him. Since Snape hadn't yelled at him yet, Dylan persisted a bit further and asked, "What were the three of you doing?"

Snape sighed again. "Do you recall the prank I told you about, the one where they sent a Gryffindor boy a box of chocolates laced with Swelling Solution from a 'secret admirer'?" Dylan nodded. "Well," Snape said a little sheepishly, "what I didn't tell you was that I helped them make the chocolates."

Dylan laughed. "I should have guessed! You were the one with an expertise in Potions, after all!" But it was hard to picture Snape playing pranks and acting like a carefree child. "Um...just out of curiosity, who did you give the chocolates to?" He had a hunch, but he wasn't sure...

For a moment, Dylan thought Snape wasn't going to answer, but then he said, "Mr. Potter's father," still sounding sheepish, but a little pleased with himself at the same time.

Dylan laughed again. He wasn't surprised at Snape's answer; after all, he had heard from both his mother and Draco about how Snape had hated Potter's father, and it was clear that he hated the younger Potter as well.

"Those days weren't all fun and games, Mr. Rosier," Snape said sharply. "All three of us took the Mark--" Snape tapped his left arm. "--and I am the only one still left alive."

"Sorry," mumbled Dylan, looking down at his feet. "I remember, Mother told me that Lyall Wilkes was killed alongside my father. I know why my dad joined the Death Eaters; why did Wilkes join?"

Snape hesitated for a moment, then answered quietly, "Because your father asked him to. Because Lyall worshipped your father, and everything Evan did, Lyall did as well."

Dylan looked up and stared at Snape in horror as his teacher's words sunk in. "You're saying he died because of my dad?" Dylan whispered.

Snape looked sad and angry and guilty all at the same time. "Yes and no. We were all eighteen, legal adults, when we took the Mark, so we were all responsible for our own actions. But Lyall was a follower, not a leader, and he always followed Evan's lead, no matter how much trouble it got him into. At first that trouble was just detention, but later..."

Dylan had idolized his father all his life; it was only recently, after he had discovered how ruthless the Death Eaters really were, that he began to suspect that his father had perhaps not been as perfect as he had always thought. When Dylan was forced to break off his friendship with Hermione for her own good, he'd had the fleeting and traitorous thought that his mother might have been better off if Evan Rosier had given her up as well: Ariane had sacrificed everything to be with the man she loved, and in the end she had been disgraced, disowned, and sentenced to exile. And now this revelation, that his father had been responsible for the death of his own best friend, hit him like a physical blow. Dylan wanted to cry out that it wasn't true, to yell at Snape not to tell lies about his father, but then he looked up and saw the sympathy in his teacher's black eyes, and the anger drained out of him. Snape offered pity even less than he offered praise, so if Snape felt sorry for him, then the situation must be even worse than it seemed.

"It was not entirely Evan's fault," Snape said softly. "Lyall was very naive--an odd trait for a Slytherin. He believed what the Dark Lord told us, without question. Some chose to serve merely for power, but Lyall honestly believed that he was helping to save the wizard race by exterminating Muggles and Mudbloods."

"And my father," Dylan whispered, no longer so certain of his father's motives for joining the Death Eaters. "Why did he choose to serve?"

Snape hesitated again, then said, "For both power and love. He wanted power, yes, but mainly so that he could be with Ariane, after her family tried to separate them. But your father was an ambitious man...I honestly don't know whether or not he would still have joined the Death Eaters, if Ariane's family had not forbade their marriage."

That didn't really make Dylan feel any better; if anything, it made him feel more miserable. Snape seemed to take pity on him again, and said, "Evan was not perfect--far from it, but none of us are. He made some terrible mistakes, but he did honestly love your mother. He was willing to defy his House for her sake. I think that is the only reason Lucius Malfoy gave in, and gave his approval to their relationship, because otherwise he feared losing his influence over Evan--and he wanted to recruit your father to his Master's cause. And in his own way, Evan was an honorable man. He could have surrendered to save his life; he could have turned coat to buy his freedom. But he chose to die rather than betray his Lord. He never broke faith with his Master, but the Dark Lord did not repay his loyalty in kind."

Dylan rubbed his arm where the Dark Mark was branded; physical proof of the Dark Lord's betrayal. "Why did you join, Professor?" he asked, wondering if he was pushing his luck too far. But in many ways, the Potions Master was a complete cypher; Dylan still had no idea what had pushed him to join the Death Eaters or what had pushed him away from them, and Dylan very much wanted to know the answer to those questions.

"It's none of your business, Rosier," Snape said, but in a weary voice that Dylan somehow found more unnerving than his anger. The children in Slytherin saw their Head of House as near-omnipotent, and it was quite disturbing to find out that he was human after all.

"You know everything about me and my family," Dylan pointed out quietly. "But I know almost nothing about you."

"Too much knowledge can be a dangerous thing, Rosier," Snape said sharply, sounding more like his old self, and Dylan felt both relieved and disappointed.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Dylan, suddenly afraid that he had gone too far. Snape's goodwill meant a lot to him, and he didn't want to lose it.

Snape said, "That's enough for today. Keep practicing, and I'll come again in a few days if I'm able." He started to leave the room, but paused at the door and said, "I wanted revenge on someone I believed had betrayed me."

Dylan looked up startled, and realized that Snape was answering his question after all. "'Believed'...?" he asked.

Snape smiled at him, but it was a smile tinged with bitterness. "You are perceptive, Dylan...a little too perceptive sometimes. It would be best if you did not let the Death Eaters become aware of that. There is such a thing as being too smart for your own good, you know."

"Yes, sir," Dylan muttered, flushing.

Snape was silent for a moment, then he said quietly, "That person had not betrayed me after all, though I did not realize it at the time. There were others who had wronged me, that I also wanted revenge on...but whatever they had done, it was not worth the price I paid. And in the end, I never did get my revenge...not really." Then he left, closing the door behind him, leaving Dylan with even more questions than he'd had before.

***

{Revenge...} thought Snape. His old enemies had suffered, though it had been none of Snape's doing: James Potter was dead, and Sirius Black had spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. But somehow Snape had found himself unable to take any pleasure in their suffering; he had lost too much himself...he had lost Lupin, lost his comrades and former classmates Rosier and Wilkes, and most of all, lost his childish innocence. Not that he had ever had much to begin with, but what little was left had been swept away in the tide of blood that marked the Dark Lord's reign. Some of that blood stained Snape's hands and his soul, and no matter what he did to atone for it, he would never truly be able to wash all of it off.

He had intended to visit Lupin at Grimmauld Place after Dylan's lesson, but right now he felt like being alone with his memories. He returned to Hogwarts, and walked by the lake, thinking back to his schoolboy days...

***

Classes were over for the day, and the students filed out into the hall. Snape lingered outside the classroom door, scowling as he watched James Potter sauntering down the hall, surrounded by admirers--giggling girls trying to catch his eye, and younger boys who idolized Gryffindor's star Quidditch player. And of course, at the center of the crowd were Potter's three best friends: Black, Pettigrew, and Lupin. Remus Lupin was a decent sort, for a Gryffindor; what on earth did he see in a conceited git like Potter? {Well, let's see,} the little voice in Snape's head said sarcastically. {Potter's rich, smart, and popular, not to mention the star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team...}

Snape didn't even notice Rosier and Wilkes coming up behind him until he heard Evan's sneering voice say, "Look at Potter, strutting around like he owns the school!" Both Rosier and Snape were on the Slytherin Quidditch team, which had lost its last game to Gryffindor, and Rosier was still feeling bitter about it.

Meanwhile, Potter seemed to be describing a particularly daring play he had made during that game while his adoring crowd oohed and ahed. "Just because they managed to win one game, it's totally gone to his head," Wilkes agreed; but then he always agreed with whatever Rosier said.

"Potter's head has gotten so big," Snape said sourly, "that I'm surprised the weight of it hasn't snapped his scrawny little neck."

Wilkes laughed at that image. "That's pretty funny, Snape!"

"We should put him in his place," Rosier said, a malicious gleam in his dark eyes.

"You've got an idea, haven't you, Evan?" Wilkes asked eagerly, sensing another prank in the making. No matter how many times he served detention, he was always up for more mischief.

"Yes," said Rosier, grinning slyly. "I know just how we can take Mr. Potter down a peg or two--but we'll need Snape's help to do it."

"Me?" asked Snape warily. Rosier and Wilkes were famous in Slytherin for the outrageous pranks they pulled--and famous as well for the amount of time they spent in detention.

"Yes, you," Rosier said firmly. "What if we gave Potter a swelled head for real? All we need to do is slip him a little Swelling Solution..."

"And I suppose you want me to make the Solution," Snape said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Professor De Lacy is always holding you up as a shining example in Potions class," Rosier pointed out. "While me and Lyall are just getting by..."

"I don't know..." Snape hedged. "I just finished serving detention for hexing Black."

"Aw, come on, Snape," Wilkes coaxed. "It'll be fun!"

Snape was about to retort that polishing the silver in the trophy room had not been much fun; in fact, it had been particularly galling to have to polish the Gryffindor awards and trophies. But just then, Lupin laughed at something Potter said, and looked up at him admiringly. Snape felt a sudden surge of hatred and jealousy that seemed to originate from his stomach; it felt like his insides were twisting themselves into knots, and he gritted his teeth against a pain that was almost physical. Snape knew with a bitter certainty that Lupin was never going to look at him that way. Though of course Lupin was a penniless little nobody, and a Gryffindor to boot; there was no reason for Snape to care what Lupin thought of him...

"I'm in," Snape said abruptly.

Rosier blinked, startled at Snape's sudden change of heart, then grinned and said, "Great! Now all we have to do is figure out how to get him to take the Swelling Solution."

"Slip it into his food at dinner?" suggested Wilkes.

"It'll be tough to get near the Gryffindor table without them noticing," Rosier said, frowning.

Snape watched as Potter called out to Lily Evans, who gave him a contemptuous look and walked past him without even slowing down. "I have an idea," he said in a silky voice. "It's Valentine's Day next week. We'll send him a box of chocolates--from a 'secret admirer.'"

"Not bad, Snape," Rosier said, sounding mildly impressed. "But do you think he'll be suspicious?"

"Not him," Snape snorted. "He's always chasing after that Mudblood girl, Evans. Even though she won't give him the time of day, he's so full of himself that he'll be sure it's from her."

Snape brewed the potion in their dorm room, and they experimented with injecting the solution into some store-bought chocolates, but it was too obvious that the sweets had been tampered with. Finally, Snape declared they would have to make the candy from scratch. They bought big bars of Honeydukes chocolate and melted them down in a cauldron as they stirred in the Swelling Solution.

As they dropped spoonfuls of chocolate onto a tray to cool, Rosier said dubiously, "I don't know if this is going to work, Snape." He prodded an odd-sized lump of chocolate with his spoon. "He's never gonna believe these were bought at Honeydukes."

"Trust me, this is even better," said Snape. "He'll be thrilled that his dream girl went to the trouble of making homemade chocolates for him."

"Has anyone ever made homemade chocolates for you, Evan?" Wilkes asked with a grin. Evan Rosier was the most popular boy in Slytherin House, second only to Lucius Malfoy, and always received a large pile of Valentine's Day cards and gifts every year. In fact, he was so handsome and popular that he received presents from girls outside of Slytherin, which was almost unheard of.

"No," said Evan, looking a little disappointed. "But I have gotten homemade cookies."

Snape said nothing; no one had ever given him anything for Valentine's Day, homemade or not. But at least he would have the pleasure of seeing Potter get his just desserts.

They put their homemade chocolates into the empty heart-shaped box that had held the first set of chocolates that didn't work out. Wilkes made a huge heart out of red paper and white doilies, snickering the entire time. They glued it onto the top of the box, and Rosier wrote, "To James: Happy Valentine's Day from your secret admirer," on the heart in a flowing, feminine script. The three boys laughed at their cleverness, and Snape found he was enjoying himself, not just because Potter would be humiliated, but because for the first time, he felt a sense of camaraderie with his Slytherin housemates. He wasn't foolish enough to mistake it for real friendship--they were merely allies temporarily united for a common cause--but he enjoyed it nevertheless.

They snuck into the Owlery before breakfast and used one of the school birds to deliver the package, then hurried to the Great Hall to watch the fun. They had just seated themselves at the Slytherin table when the owl dropped the package on the Gryffindor table in front of Potter.

"Ooh, James, who's your secret admirer?" Black teased.

"If I knew," Potter said lightly, "it wouldn't be a secret." But his eyes slid down the table to where Lily Evans was seated. Although she seemed to be ignoring him, he grinned widely. He opened the box and said, "Hey, homemade chocolates!"

"Whoever she is, she must be really stuck on you, James!" Pettigrew said enviously.

Potter just grinned smugly and popped one of the chocolates into his mouth. From the Slytherin table, Rosier, Wilkes, and Snape watched eagerly as Potter chewed and swallowed. "Mm, they're good!" he said, then held out the box to Lupin, who was sitting next to him. "Want to try one, Remy?"

Rosier and Wilkes grinned at each other; they hadn't intended to dose anyone but Potter, but if other Gryffindors got a taste of the Swelling Solution, well, that was an added bonus. Snape, however, felt slightly alarmed as Potter offered the candy to Lupin; he hadn't wanted to do anything to Lupin, who was the only one of Potter's group who was halfway decent to Snape. {It's not as if Lupin's really your friend,} he told himself, then thought viciously, {It serves him right, for hanging around with the likes of Potter and Black!}

But still, Snape felt relieved when Lupin just laughed and said, "Oh, I couldn't take any--your secret admirer made them specially for you!"

"I'll take one!" Black said, reaching out for a piece of candy, but Potter dropped the box, spilling the chocolates on the floor, and clutched his head between his hands.

"Are you all right, James?" Lupin asked, looking concerned.

"I feel a little dizzy," Potter replied.

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing," Black started to say, but his mouth dropped open as Potter's head--along with his body and limbs--began swelling up like a balloon.

Rosier, Wilkes, and Snape burst out laughing. Their housemates soon followed suit, but it had not escaped Black's notice that the three of them had started laughing first. As Professor McGonagall hurried Potter off to see Madam Pomfrey, Black ran over to the Slytherin table and shouted, "You did this! I'll get you for this, Snivellus!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Black," Snape said coolly.

Black reached for his wand, but by then Professor Blackmore and Professor De Lacy, the Head of Slytherin, had made their way down from the head table.

"What's going on here?" De Lacy asked in a cold voice, sounding annoyed at having his breakfast interrupted. He was a tall, thin man with silver hair and an air of aristocratic elegance about him. He always looked a little weary, and conducted his classes as if he were reluctantly granting his students a great boon by deigning to share his knowledge with them. Lately, though, he had been looking more tired and frazzled than usual, and it was rumored that he would retire soon.

"Put that wand away before I give you detention, Black," Blackmore added sharply.

Black put away his wand, but pointed at Snape and his two cohorts, and said accusingly, "They poisoned James!"

"That's quite an accusation, Mr. Black," said De Lacy. "Have you any proof to back it up?" Professor De Lacy, like most of the other Heads of House, tended to favor his own House above the others. If his students were caught in the act of wrongdoing, he would punish them mercilessly, but his unspoken motto was, "If I didn't see it, it didn't happen." His reasoning was, if his Slytherins were clever enough not to get caught, he didn't really care what they did, and if they were stupid enough to get caught, then they deserved whatever punishment they got.

Pettigrew ran over with the box of chocolates, while Lupin just watched from the Gryffindor table with a slightly worried look on his face. "Here!" said the mousy boy, thrusting the box at the two teachers. "They must have put something in the candy!"

De Lacy carefully picked up one of the chocolates, examined it closely, and cautiously sniffed at it. "Swelling Solution, I believe. Mr. Potter will be fine once Madam Pomfrey gives him a Deflating Draught."

"If it's something to do with potions, then it must be Snape!" Black shouted.

Snape stared back at Black calmly, and said in a tone of offended dignity, "Does anyone really think that I would be sending Potter, of all people, candy on Valentine's Day?"

"Potter's not at all your type, Snape," Wilkes agreed helpfully, and the other Slytherins laughed.

"He did it!" Black shrieked. "I know he did! And those two probably helped him!"

Blackmore said, "There's no name on the box. Did anyone see them deliver it?"

"It came by owl," Black admitted reluctantly. "But I know it was Snape! Who else could have brewed the Swelling Solution?"

"We all learned how to make it in second-year Potions class," Snape said scornfully. "It's a simple enough potion; even YOU could have made it, Black..."

"Mr. Snape," Blackmore said, a note of warning in her voice, and Snape subsided.

"What self-respecting Slytherin would make such a silly-looking thing, even to poison a Gryffindor?" Rosier asked in an oh-so-reasonable tone of voice, his eyes wide with feigned innocence, as he pointed at the frilly heart-shaped valentine Wilkes had made. "Can you really picture SNAPE sitting in his room cutting out paper hearts?" The Slytherins laughed again, and Professor De Lacy glared at them, although Professor Blackmore seemed to fighting back a small smile.

"Well," De Lacy said as the laughter died down under his quelling stare, "unless you can produce any proof connecting my students to this prank, Mr. Black, you may go back to your table and keep your baseless accusations to yourself."

"So they're just going to get away with it?!" Black howled.

"This may not be a court of law, Mr. Black," Blackmore said in a cool voice, "but we do not convict anyone without evidence. Just as, I seem to recall, no one was punished for certain drawings that were made in the second floor boys' bathroom, since no one could prove who drew them, although there were a few likely suspects..." She gave Black a hard stare, and Black flushed, nervously evading her gaze. Someone had drawn caricatures of Snape with an exaggeratedly big nose on the bathroom wall; Snape knew perfectly well that Black was responsible, but couldn't prove it. Snape had gotten his own back by casting a hex on Black that had made his nose grow till it was nearly three feet long; that was the stunt that had cost him the week's detention he had just finished, but it had been worth it. Blackmore was a strict teacher, but notoriously fair; she didn't normally tolerate such things, but since Gryffindor had not been punished for their last prank, it seemed she was willing to let this one slide on behalf of Slytherin.

Black fumed, and muttered under his breath, "You'll pay for this, Snivelly."

"If I hear one more word out of you, Black, it will be ten points off Gryffindor," Blackmore said. "Now get back to your table."

Snape, Rosier, and Wilkes grinned at each other as Black slunk back to the Gryffindor table, with Pettigrew scuttling after him. Their smiles faded as the two Professors glared sternly at the trio.

"I don't like having my breakfast interrupted," De Lacy said coldly. "And I expect the rest of the day to be quiet and uneventful--in fact, I expect the rest of the week to be quiet and uneventful; is that clear, boys?"

"Yes, sir," the trio chorused. De Lacy headed back to the staff table, but Blackmore lingered behind.

"I'm getting very tired of this inter-House rivalry," Blackmore said in a dangerous tone. "As far as I'm concerned, Gryffindor and Slytherin are even now, so you three had better not put one toe out of line, or you'll all be scrubbing bedpans in the hospital wing. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused. And such were Blackmore's powers of intimidation, that even Rosier and Wilkes were remarkably well-behaved, at least for a couple of weeks...

***

Snape sighed, his mind returning back to the present. He supposed that prank, and a few other similar incidents, were the reason why he had felt so guilty about Rosier's and Wilkes's deaths, and why he had felt duty-bound to help Rosier's son: Rosier and Wilkes had been the closest thing he had to friends in school. Not friends the way the Marauders had been friends, of course, but someone like Snape couldn't afford to be too picky...he wondered if the pangs of loneliness he had experienced in school would have been quite so sharp if not for Lupin. For most of his first two years at school, Snape had been content with his standing in Slytherin House. He had resented Potter, for winning the top rank in school as well as the Headmaster's favor, but on the other hand, his housemates had been impressed by his knowledge of the Dark Arts, and the influential Lucius Malfoy had welcomed the younger boy into his inner circle, which made young Snape one of the Slytherin elite. It was not until Snape became aware of Remus Lupin, that he noticed how alone he really was. It was not until he saw how close Lupin was to Potter, Black, and Pettigrew, that Snape began to covet that same closeness, and was consumed by jealousy and bitterness, because he knew it was something he could never have...

He tried to shake off those old feelings of jealousy and insecurity, reminding himself that Lupin was his lover now. {Lupin loves me,} he tried to reassure himself. {Loves me best, more than Potter or Black.} He remembered what Lupin had told him, the night Snape had saved Black's worthless life: "You can be first in my heart, always," and Snape felt a little better. He knew his thoughts were childish and petty, but it still gave him great satisfaction to know that he was finally first in Lupin's affections, after so many years of following Lupin around and watching from the sidelines just to get a small smile and an occasional kind word. Suddenly Snape no longer wanted to be alone, and wanted more than anything to see Lupin in person. He quickly left the school grounds and Apparated himself over to the Phoenix headquarters.

***

"Severus!" Lupin said, looking surprised but pleased. "I'm so glad to see you!"

For once, Snape wasn't annoyed with Lupin for looking happy to see him; in fact, thanks to the unpleasant memories Dylan's lesson had stirred up, Snape was actually grateful for it. Besides, no one seemed to be around right now, so Snape said softly, "I'm glad to see you too, Remus." He almost laughed at the stunned expression on Lupin's face. "What's the matter, aren't you happy to see me?" he asked jokingly.

Lupin recovered quickly, and grinned at Snape. "I'm always happy to see you, Severus! Can you stay over tonight?"

"Yes," Snape said, feeling his bad mood dissipate. "Would you like to--" Snape was about to suggest they go upstairs to their rooms, when Hermione Granger walked in the front door carrying an armload of books. Sirius Black followed behind her, carrying a suitcase. The girl's mangy cat trailed after them, hissing at Snape as if he had heard the unspoken "mangy" comment.

"Hello, Professor Lupin," Granger said cheerfully. Then, politely but a little nervously, "Hello, Professor Snape."

"Hello, Hermione," Lupin said with a smile.

Black frowned when he saw Snape, but all he said was, "Let's get your stuff stowed away, Hermione."

"Thanks, Sirius!" the girl replied, and they both headed upstairs, followed by the cat.

Snape scowled, thinking to himself that his good mood had been very short-lived. "Are the brats moving in already?" he asked, not quite able to keep a whine out of his voice.

"Yes, Severus," Lupin replied calmly. "I was just about to leave with Sirius and Branwen to pick up Harry."

"Lovely," Snape muttered sourly. Then he looked around suspiciously, thinking that the house was awfully quiet. "Are the Weasley brats here yet?"

Lupin sighed, in his usual long-suffering way. "Please try not to call them brats, Severus. At the very least, not when Molly's around. But no, they aren't here yet. Molly and Arthur will be bringing Ron and Ginny over later tonight. Perhaps you'll be relieved to learn that Fred and George are too busy running their new joke shop to spend the summer with us."

"Thank Merlin for small favors," Snape said.

"Yes, well, try not to bring up the subject around Molly. She's still rather upset about them dropping out of school. They refused to come back, even after Albus was reinstated as Headmaster. I hear the shop's doing well, though."

Snape started to say he didn't give a damn about how the shop was doing, then changed his mind. If the shop did well, it meant two less Weasleys at both Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts, which was all to the good, as far as Snape was concerned. He felt a little better; no more worrying about the Weasley twins eavesdropping with their Extendable Ears, no more worrying about them blowing up the house with some ridiculous experiment...

Branwen came down the stairs, followed by a large dog--Black in his Animagus form. Snape stared in shock: she was dressed in Muggle-type clothing--a green blouse, short (well, compared to her usual floor-length robes) black skirt, and ankle-high black suede boots. Her hair was tied back in a long tail, and she looked surprisingly young and girlish--almost young enough to pass for a student, in fact.

She smiled self-consciously and said, "I feel a bit silly dressed like this."

"You look lovely, Branwen," Lupin said gallantly, and Snape belatedly noticed that he was also dressed in Muggle clothes, although his attire--long overcoat over faded-and-patched shirt and trousers--was not that different from what he normally wore.

Snape looked back at Branwen, then realized his jaw was hanging open and hastily closed it. Black seemed to be in a state of shock as well, although it was difficult to tell when he was in his dog form, but his eyes looked a little dazed, and his tongue was hanging out in a way that looked more human than canine. Snape also noticed that the dog's eyes seemed to be staring at Branwen's bare legs, and he frowned and said, "I hope you aren't looking up her skirt, Black..."

Branwen and the dog let out simultaneous yelps. Black growled at Snape reprovingly, but he did seem to look just a bit guilty...

"He had better not be," Branwen said, flushing slightly as she gave the dog an evil look. "Unless he wants to be trapped in that form permanently."

"Why is he in that flea-bitten form, anyway?" asked Snape. "He's no longer a fugitive."

Black snarled, and made as if to bite Snape's ankle, but Branwen snapped, "Sirius, heel!" The dog looked mortified, but tucked his tail between his legs and slunk over to Branwen's side, giving Snape a sullen glare.

Lupin just looked amused, and replied to Snape's question, "He said he'd rather be a dog than wear Muggle clothes."

"Er...you're not going out without your wand, are you?" Snape asked Branwen. She wasn't exactly dressed scandalously--at least, it probably wouldn't seem so if she hadn't once been his teacher--but he didn't see anyplace she could possibly hide a wand in that Muggle costume.

"It's right here," she said, patting a large purse that was slung over one shoulder. "It seems a bit inconvenient, though, for Muggle women to have to tote this thing around everywhere they go." Black had crept forward to growl at Snape again, and Branwen lightly whacked the dog across the nose with the purse. "Hmm, it can come in handy, after all," she mused, as Black yelped and gave her a reproachful look. She ignored him and asked, "Ready to go, Remus?"

"Yes. We'll be back soon, Severus." Lupin looked at Snape a little anxiously. "You are still staying over, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll stay," said Snape. Although he wasn't pleased about the brats moving in, he really needed to be with Lupin tonight. As the three wizards headed towards the front door, something suddenly occurred to him. "Wait a minute! All three of you are going?" He didn't see Tonks or Shacklebolt around, which was not surprising, since it was not a meeting day, and Lupin had already said that the Weasleys weren't coming till later. "You're leaving me alone with Granger?" Snape asked, feeling put out and somehow a little frantic.

"Surely you're not afraid of a little girl, Severus," Branwen said dryly, and Black made a barking noise that sounded very much like a laugh.

"Well, no, but..." Snape said, his voice trailing off as he tried to come up with a reasonable objection. He didn't know why the idea bothered him so much; it wasn't as if he didn't normally have a dungeon full of brats to look after at school...but the idea of spending his free time, his vacation time, here with the girl--a Gryffindor and Potter's friend, two strikes against her already--was distinctly unappealing.

"Actually, I'm glad you showed up when you did," Lupin said cheerfully. "Even though the house is well-protected, I didn't really want to leave Hermione alone--"

"I'm not a baby-sitter!" Snape yelled. Maybe that was what was bothering him; it was one thing to be an Order member visiting the house where the brats were living. It was quite another to be left in charge of the girl, as if she were a friend or family member. He didn't want to have any sort of personal relationship at all with the children; it was bad enough being their teacher!

"For heaven's sake, Severus," Branwen said irritably. "No one's asking you to baby-sit; the girl is responsible and well-behaved. She'll probably spend the whole time unpacking; I doubt you'll even see her until we get back." Then she grinned. "And besides, you won't be alone; Bane is staying behind." The raven, who was perched on the staircase railing, gave a loud, disgruntled croak and glared at his mistress. "There's no point in going to the trouble of wearing Muggle disguises if I'm going to carry around something as conspicuous as my raven familiar. People will stare, and we don't want to attract attention. Besides, Harry says his relatives hate anything remotely magical or witchy." Bane continued to sulk, and Branwen reached over to scratch him on the head. "You'll protect Severus from Miss Granger, won't you?" she crooned.

"BRANWEN!" Snape howled, while Lupin chuckled and Black barked out another laugh.

"I'll see you soon, love," Lupin said, giving Snape a quick peck on the cheek.

"And don't do that while there are children in the house!" Snape roared.

"Better be quiet before Hermione comes down to see what all the fuss is about," Branwen said with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. Snape glared at her, looking almost as sulky as the raven, and despite his complaints about being left alone with Granger, was a little relieved when she finally left, along with Lupin and Black.

Snape growled to himself, until he realized he was sounding more like a dog than Black, and headed upstairs to his room. To his surprise, Bane flew over and landed on his shoulder. "Oof!" Snape said. "You're heavy, Bane! I wonder how Branwen carries you around all the time without dislocating her shoulder?" Bane glared at him, and snapped his beak shut perilously close to Snape's ear. Snape chuckled and reached up to stroke Bane's chest, and the bird looked mollified. "Well, we've both been abandoned, so shall we keep each other company till they get back?" Bane croaked in agreement, and they went upstairs.

Snape paused on the first landing; what was that dreadful caterwauling noise coming from down the hall? He had thought Black and the others had gotten rid of all the vermin in the house, but perhaps Miss Granger had managed to stumble across a previously hidden occupant. He pulled out his wand and headed down the hallway, grumbling to himself, "I told Lupin I'm not a baby-sitter!"

But as he drew closer to the source of the sound, he realized it was music--or at least something that was supposed to pass for music. He peered in the half-open door of Granger's room, and saw the girl bent over her suitcase, unpacking her belongings. The "music" was indeed coming from some Muggle contraption; no doubt Lupin would find it fascinating. Snape scowled and pocketed his wand, and had turned to leave when suddenly a small object came flying out of the room and struck him on the leg. He winced and reached down to rub his shin, as Bane squawked and flapped his wings to keep his balance on Snape's shoulder.

Granger, looked up, startled, at the sound of Bane's voice. "Professor!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you standing there! I was aiming for the wastebasket." She hastily ran over to pick up the object, which was a small box that had fallen open and spilled out its contents, a pair of rose-shaped silver earrings.

"Considering your aim," Snape said sourly, "it's a good thing for Gryffindor that you don't play on the Quidditch team." The girl flushed, then picked up the box and earrings and threw them in the wastebasket. "Er..aren't those Mr. Rosier's Christmas gift to you?"

"Dylan doesn't want to be my friend anymore," Granger said in a rather snippy tone; if they'd been in class, Snape would have taken points off Gryffindor for that. "So I don't want his presents!" As she turned away, Snape noticed that her eyes were red, and he thought he heard a sniffle as she continued to unpack her suitcase.

{It's none of my business,} he told himself as he lingered outside the door. {It's none of my business; it's none of my business...} But his body was not listening to his mind, because he found himself bending down to retrieve the earrings from the wastebasket. {Damn it, hanging around with the werewolf has made me soft!} He stood there scowling down at the earrings in his hand. Why was he doing this? It wasn't as if he wanted Dylan taking up with a Gryffindor girl... Bane cawed softly, as if to encourage him, and Snape growled, "You're just as bad as your mistress." He strode across the room and slammed the earrings down on the girl's desk with a loud thump. She looked up with a start as Snape said curtly, "A gift from a friend should not be so easily discarded."

"But...but..." Granger stammered. She clearly wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but unlike her friends Potter and Weasley, was too well-mannered to talk back to a teacher. It was a pity, really, that she had been sorted into Gryffindor, but she was too much of a goody-two-shoes to have ever been sorted into Slytherin. And of course, a Muggle-born girl probably would not have fared very well in Slytherin House...

"Do not blame Mr. Rosier," Snape said, still in that curt, cold voice. "It was I who told him to sever relations with you."

"B-but why?" Granger asked, looking hurt and angry.

"Use your head, you silly girl!" Snape snapped. "I thought you, at least, had some sense, even if your idiot friends have none! It would be dangerous if people found out that Dylan had a Gryffindor friend."

"I know Dylan was afraid of getting expelled, but--"

"I said dangerous, not inconvenient, Miss Granger!" Snape snarled. "Getting expelled is the least of Mr. Rosier's worries at present."

The girl began to look frightened. "Dylan is in danger?"

"Do you really need to ask, considering everything that's happened recently?" Snape asked impatiently. "Is it not obvious that we are all in danger? I know that little detail has not escaped your attention, because the Headmaster told me the true purpose behind the 'Dumbledore's Army' you organized."

Granger flushed, and looked at Snape nervously, as if expecting to be berated for her role in the illicit group. When he said nothing, she asked, "Dylan is in danger, because Vol--" Snape flinched, and she hastily changed it to, "--You-Know-Who would be angry if he found out the son of one his followers was associating with a Gryffindor? Or is it something more...?"

The girl, like Dylan, was too damn clever for her own good. "Let's just leave it at that, Miss Granger," Snape said in a tone that brooked no argument. "I've already told you more than I should. To say more would put both you and Dylan in greater danger." Granger gave him a startled, thoughtful look, and Snape silently cursed his little slip of the tongue; he had not meant to imply that he was concerned about the girl, because he wasn't! Really! He was merely worried that she might get both Dylan and himself killed if she started gossiping to her friends, and they in turn spread it around the school.

"So Dylan doesn't really hate me," she sighed in relief.

Snape scowled. Stupid moony girl; he had thought Miss Granger was more sensible than that. {I seem to recall a boy who spent most of his time at school mooning over a certain werewolf...} the sarcastic voice in his head pointed out.

{So who asked you?} Snape retorted. Aloud, he said, "No, he does not. But you will not repeat any of this to anyone, including Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley." Then, remembering that Granger had shared this room with Ginny Weasley last summer, he added, "Or Miss Weasley, for that matter. In fact, this conversation never happened; do you understand me, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir," she said, smiling at him gratefully. "Thank you, sir." Snape felt his face grow hot, and he quickly turned away to leave, when Granger called out, "Oh, Professor?"

"What is it?" he asked irritably.

"Would...would you tell Dylan that I'm not mad at him anymore?" Granger asked timidly.

"Do I look like a messenger owl?" Snape said in a waspish voice. The girl's face fell, and Snape once again cursed Lupin for infecting him with his softhearted attitude. "Oh, very well," he grumbled. "When I happen to see him, which might not be till school starts again." Which was a lie, of course, but he didn't want any of the children to know that he was secretly giving Dylan Occlumency lessons.

Granger beamed at him. "Thank you, Professor Snape!"

"Remember, this conversation never happened!" Snape growled in a threatening voice.

"What conversation?" she asked innocently.

Snape turned on his heel and quickly fled the room. From his shoulder, Bane began to laugh in a hoarse, croaking voice. "Oh, shut up!" Snape snapped, but the bird, like most of the other occupants of the house, paid him no heed.

***

Hermione sat down on the floor in a state of shock. Had Professor Snape actually done something NICE for her? Although she consistently defended him to Ron and Harry, she would never have expected him to do such a thing; even though he was on the side of the good guys, she knew it was unrealistic to expect Snape to suddenly start behaving as kindly as Dumbledore. She giggled a little at that thought, and Crookshanks ambled over and curled up in her lap. She absent-mindedly stroked the cat as she replayed her conversation with Snape over in her mind. No matter how hard she racked her brain, she could not come up with a logical reason for Snape to have told her about Dylan's true reasons for breaking off their friendship...except to spare her feelings. Why would Snape care whether her feelings were hurt or not? He had never gone out of his way to be nice before. But on second thought, that wasn't really true...he had given them those Potions textbooks for Christmas last year, even if Professor Lupin had made him do it. And come to think of it, he had just complimented her, if in a rather backhanded way: he had thought she was sensible enough to be told the truth, intelligent enough to recognize the danger, and trustworthy enough to keep it confidential. He had even agreed to carry her message to Dylan--rather grudgingly, to be sure, but still, he had agreed to do it.

"I knew he wasn't so bad after all!" she said triumphantly to Crookshanks, who just purred at her. She wished Harry and Ron had been here to witness what had just happened, because they stubbornly persisted in doubting Snape's loyalty despite the fact that Dumbledore trusted him. It was too bad that she couldn't tell them about it, but she had promised to keep it a secret. She sighed and muttered, "Oh well, they probably wouldn't believe me, anyway..."

Part 5