FIC: Phoenix Rising, Part 9 of 37

[geri_chan]

Title: Phoenix Rising, Part 9 of 37
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Word count: ~10,110
Warning: AU; my own version of Year 6 (was written pre-HBP).
Author's notes: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts
Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Hob, who belongs to William Mayne; 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: Lupin receives a letter with a mysterious warning, and Sirius finally begins to grow up; also, Branwen finds a replacement for Kreacher.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

***

Snape had just given his report at the latest Order meeting, and an uneasy murmur rose up around the table.

"What on earth was Bellatrix doing?" Sirius muttered with a frown.

"And we know Dylan is important to his plans somehow," Lupin said thoughtfully. "But we still don't know why."

"I'm more worried about the potions he wants you to make," Shacklebolt said to Snape. "Sleeping Draught and Polyjuice Potion...that implies he's getting ready to break the prisoners out of Azkaban."

"Sleeping Draught to drug the guards," Tonks said musingly, "and Polyjuice Potion to disguise the Death Eaters, I suppose. Of course, some of us don't need disguises..."

She changed her face to look like Lucius Malfoy's, and Snape said sharply, "Cut that out, Nymphadora!"

Tonks sighed and changed her face back to normal. Snape never called anyone but Branwen by their first name, so she supposed he was only doing it to annoy her. Probably he was still miffed about her walking in on him and Remus; it was certainly not out of any particular fondness for her. He had made it clear that he didn't like her--well, actually, he didn't seem to like anyone but Remus and possibly Branwen, but he had taken an active dislike to her for some reason. Probably because she was (a) a Gryffindor, and (b) related to Sirius Black. Snape had actually been one of her teachers at Hogwarts, although since she had been neither troublesome nor talented enough in Potions to warrant special attention, he had not singled her out for more abuse than he normally doled out to the average Gryffindor--except when her clumsiness occasionally caused her to knock over a cauldron or spill something in class. Then he had subjected her to a few terse but scathing remarks, but he had always addressed her as "Miss Tonks," even if in a rather scornful voice. It had been a bit intimidating, dealing with him as a member of the Order, but she had reminded herself that she was a full-fledged Auror, and that they were now adults and equals. She had not been quite sure at first how to address him, but finally settled on "Severus," since "Snape" seemed a bit rude, and "Professor Snape" a bit too servile, since she was no longer his student. Snape had given her a sour look the first time she called him by name, but had made no comment, and for the most part had ignored her up until now.

Well, she probably shouldn't provoke him; she had just been joking around, but she suddenly recalled how often people in the wizarding world referred to Snape as "Lucius Malfoy's lapdog," so she supposed that it was a bit of a touchy subject with him. "Sorry, Severus," she said aloud. "I was just trying to make the point that two can play at that game. If we could find out exactly when the breakout is, we could lay a trap for them, maybe switch places with the imprisoned Death Eaters...?"

Snape scowled at her. "The Dark Lord has said nothing to me about any breakout attempt, and you would likely only get yourself killed, anyway."

"Tonks is an Auror," Sirius snapped, his temper flaring. "She can take care of herself, Snape!"

"Yes, she can," Tonks said mildly. "I'm not a little girl anymore, Sirius; I don't need you to defend me." Her cousin looked a little hurt, so she added with a playful wink, "Not that it isn't nice to have a white knight ride to my rescue, but perhaps you should be exerting yourself on behalf of more eligible ladies, ones who aren't related to you!"

Sirius chuckled, and Snape muttered under his breath, "White knight, hah!"

Shacklebolt looked a little annoyed at their banter and sniping. "Well, we can't just sit back and let them escape!" he said impatiently.

"If I learn more, I will of course notify you," Snape replied in an equally curt tone. "But if the Death Eaters find a group of Aurors lying in wait for them at their rescue attempt, the Dark Lord will probably be able to guess that I leaked out the information, and I'd rather not be on the receiving end of a Killing Curse."

"We can't let Severus's life be endangered!" Lupin said, looking alarmed.

"Then what should we do?" Shacklebolt asked in frustration.

"Gwydion Donner joined the Death Eaters reluctantly," Tonks said slowly, as an idea occurred to her. "He only joined up to get the potion for his brother, right? He's not exactly what you'd call loyal, and he's privy to the same information you are, Severus, maybe more, because he works at the Ministry. Maybe we can make it seem like Gwydion leaked out the information instead of you..."

Snape looked startled, then gave her a look of grudging respect and almost smiled. "Not bad," he conceded. "Very clever, in fact."

Lupin smiled with what Tonks recognized as relief and a fierce sense of protectiveness for his lover, but to those who didn't know about his relationship with Snape, that smile probably looked a bit vicious, because many of the Order members were staring at the usually gentle werewolf with a look of surprise on their faces.

"Won't that likely get Gwydion killed?" Dedalus Diggle asked nervously; he had been one of those who'd had a hard time believing Gwydion had really joined the Death Eaters.

"He's a Death Eater," Mad-Eye Moody said coldly. "He deserves whatever he gets."

Snape gave the former Auror an irritated look; privately, he agreed that Gwydion Donner deserved no pity, but he didn't much care for the way Moody had phrased it, or for the way Moody had pointedly looked at Snape when he said it.

"We will do our best to avoid any unnecessary deaths on either side," Dumbledore said firmly, and Moody looked a bit disappointed. "But Severus's safety comes first. And Gwydion Donner isn't stupid; perhaps if he finds himself in danger, he'll come over to our side." Seeing Moody's skeptical look, he added, "If only to save himself, and his brother."

"If you say so," Moody muttered, and the meeting broke up soon after that.

Lupin noticed that Snape had a brooding look on his face, and quietly asked, "What's wrong, Severus?"

"Not here, Lupin," Snape said, his eyes darting towards the departing Order members, and they went upstairs to continue their conversation in private.

***

"What's bothering you, Severus?" Lupin asked again, when they were alone in their rooms.

"It bothers me that the Dark Lord had me perform the same spell that I used to save Black," Snape said, a hint of fear in his black eyes.

"But surely there's no way he could know," Lupin protested anxiously. "Is there some way he can tell what spells you have recently cast?"

Snape shook his head, frowning. "No, not without a Prior Incantato spell, and he's never touched my wand. I suppose it could simply be a coincidence, though I don't normally believe in such things..."

"Is there some reason why he would call on you in particular to perform a Blood Healing spell?" Lupin asked. "Can the other Death Eaters cast it?"

Snape thought it over, and said, "No, I don't think so," looking a little relieved. Perhaps it really had been a coincidence, after all. "It's a difficult spell to master, and it takes a very delicate touch not to kill the donor. He can't afford to sacrifice any of his Death Eaters right now, and there probably wasn't time to round up a Muggle or Muggle-born victim." Then the brooding look returned to Snape's face.

"What's wrong, Severus?" Lupin asked in concern. "You...you didn't have to kill anyone, did you?"

"Not this time," Snape said grimly.

"Wh-what do you mean, 'this time'?" stammered Lupin.

A look of guilt and shame crossed Snape's face, and he said quietly, "When I was a Death Eater, back in the old days, Evan used to say that I didn't like to get my hands dirty. My talents lay more in research and potion-brewing than combative magic, or at least, that's what I let the Dark Lord think. That way I could avoid going Muggle-hunting with the others, and I could tell myself that I hadn't actually killed anyone--even though they used my potions to poison people, even though they used the curses I taught them to kill and torture..."

"Severus," Lupin whispered, "you had to do those things, in order to keep them from suspecting you. Without the information you passed on to the Order, even more people would have died--"

Snape ignored him, continuing, "But I could convince myself that I had never harmed anyone directly. Until the day Rodolphus Lestrange was badly wounded in a battle with Aurors, and the Dark Lord ordered me to perform a Blood Healing spell to save his life. The Death Eaters had captured a Muggle, and they held him down while I cut his wrist and performed the spell. He screamed and struggled at first, but soon he was too weak to move." Snape's voice was low and hollow-sounding, almost emotionless, but Lupin could see the haunted look in his eyes. "Lestrange was very badly hurt, and I ended up draining nearly every drop of that man's blood to save him. I killed him, Lupin. Not Lestrange or Rosier or Malfoy, but me. It doesn't matter that he was a Muggle, whom I had been brought up to despise, or that the Dark Lord would probably have killed me if I had refused to cast the spell. I became a murderer." Snape smiled bitterly. "I got my hands dirty." Then his dark eyes turned fearful, and he asked in a subdued, slightly quavering voice, "Do...do you still love me, knowing what I have done...?"

"Of course, Severus!" Lupin cried, throwing his arms around Snape and holding him tightly. "I told you before, I will always love you, no matter what!" he said fiercely. "You did what you had to do, in order to survive!" Lupin looked up, a slightly wild and desperate look in his eyes. "I told you before, when you were feeling guilty about failing to save Rosier and Wilkes, that I would trade their lives, trade a hundred lives for yours! You are my mate, my love, and I can't bear to lose you, not even if it means sacrificing Gwydion Donner, not even if it means sacrificing the life of an innocent Muggle!" He laughed shakily, a sound that was closer to hysteria than mirth. "I suppose a proper Gryffindor would never say such things, would never sacrifice an innocent person, even to save someone they loved, but I don't want to be a proper Gryffindor if it means losing you!"

Lupin began to tremble violently, and Snape held him tightly, finding himself comforting Lupin instead of the other way around. His own feelings of guilt vanished as he stroked his lover's hair and back, and whispered, "It's all right, Remus, shh, love, it's all right..." His words didn't seem to matter so much as his tone of voice, and he kept up a stream of soothing patter until Lupin's trembling ceased. Snape's insecurities perpetually gnawed at him, making it hard for him to believe that Lupin really loved him, no matter how much Lupin assured him of that fact. But now he felt deeply touched and awed by what Lupin had just confessed to him. Remus Lupin was the very epitome of a noble Gryffindor, the kindest and least selfish person Snape had ever known. It was not in his nature to wish harm upon anyone, even his worst enemies, and he knew what it must have cost Lupin to admit that he would sacrifice an innocent to save Snape. And finally, Snape began to realize how much Lupin really did love him, and he felt ashamed for having caused Lupin pain, while at the same time he felt a sense of ecstatic joy. He wanted to shout it from the rooftops--"Lupin loves me!"--and laughed inwardly as he imagined his students and colleagues reacting to the sight of a giddy, infatuated Death Eater dancing for joy atop the roof of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Then he looked down at his lover, who still looked tearful and vulnerable, reminding him of the teenaged boy who had pleaded with a stubborn young Snape for understanding and forgiveness after the Shrieking Shack "prank," and suddenly giddiness gave way to tenderness and remorse. "I love you, Remy," he whispered, planting a gentle kiss on the top of Lupin's head.

Lupin's pale blue eyes widened, and he smiled through his tears. "Severus," he said in a voice hoarse with emotion, "you've only called me by that name twice before."

"I have?" Snape asked, slightly startled, and paused to think.

"The first time was in the Shrieking Shack," Lupin reminded him softly.

Snape looked even more startled. "You remember that? Even though you were in your wolf form, with no Wolfsbane Potion?"

"I remember the madness of the wolf," Lupin whispered. "And I remember the sound of your voice restoring me to sanity for just a moment. I will never forget those words: 'Please, Remy, please.'"

Snape was stunned into silence; he had no idea what to say. He knew that Lupin had managed to overcome the wolf just long enough for James Potter to save his life, but he had not known that Lupin retained the memory of that moment, that Lupin still remembered the exact words that Snape had spoken.

"The second time," Lupin continued in that hoarse whisper, "was last summer, the night you returned from your first meeting with the Death Eaters."

That night was still a bit hazy in Snape's mind, but he recalled making love to Lupin on the floor of the werewolf's cottage, with no tenderness or gentleness on his own part, but only raw desire and a frantic need to banish the taint of the Death Eaters from his mind. And now he remembered how he had called Lupin's name--no, Lupin's childish nickname, "Remy"--over and over again. Snape gently reached out and touched Lupin's lower lip, remembering how he had kissed Lupin with such force that his lip had split open and bled, remembering how he had held Lupin so tightly that he had left bruises on his lover's body. But Lupin had not complained, and had simply held him, and comforted him, and loved him. "Remy," he whispered, and Lupin smiled, his blue eyes shining with joy even as they filled with tears once more.

"Why do you never call me by that name?" Lupin asked softly.

"I don't know," Snape replied, feeling a little puzzled. He wasn't sure why it seemed to be so important to Lupin, but apparently it was, so he thought about it carefully. "I suppose because that was what Potter, Black, and Pettigrew called you," he finally said. "It seemed to be something special that the four of you shared, like your other nickname, 'Moony.' I wanted to be that close to you, but I wasn't sure if I ever would be. And...I wasn't sure if I wanted to be." Lupin looked hurt, and Snape hastily added, "No, of course I wanted to be as close to you as Potter and the others were, but I was scared! Scared by how much I wanted you, scared that you would reject me, scared to love you and give you that much power over me."

"Yes, when we were children," Lupin replied patiently, and gently caressed Snape's cheek. "But now?"

Snape sighed, "Old habits die hard, I suppose. I know I'm not exactly the most romantic person in the world, and I know that sometimes I push you away when I don't really mean to, but I am trying to change, and I do love you, Remus--"

"I know you do, Severus," Lupin interrupted with a smile. "I love you, too."

"Do you want me to call you 'Remy'?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Lupin admitted with a sheepish little smile that Snape found quite endearing. "I'm not sure exactly why, but I do. It makes me feel closer to you, somehow."

Snape smiled back at him warmly, the smile that eased the lines on his face, the smile that Lupin loved because it was just for him. "All right, Lupin--I mean, Remy," he said, a little awkwardly, but Lupin was pleased by the effort he made. Then Snape's expression turned stern, but Lupin was not fooled. "But only in private," Snape warned. "I'm not going to go around calling you 'Remy' at Order meetings or at Hogwarts!"

"Well, 'Professor Remy' does have a certain ring to it!" Lupin giggled, and Snape rolled his eyes. "But yes, in private is fine."

Lupin was beaming at him as if he had just hung the moon, and Snape marveled at how little it took to please his lover. "Remy," he said, experimentally, and watched Lupin's smile grow even wider.

"Have you ever had a nickname, Severus?" Lupin asked curiously.

Snape scowled. "You mean besides 'Snivellus' and 'Sevie'?" he asked sarcastically, referring to the names that Black had used--and occasionally still did--to annoy him as a student.

"Names that you liked, Severus," Lupin clarified, looking apologetic even though he had never called Snape by either of those insulting nicknames.

"Not really," Snape replied, frowning. "Malfoy used to call me 'Sev'--still does, actually--which I guess isn't really that bad, but he says it in such a condescending way that I can't stand it." He blinked and looked more closely at Lupin. "Why, do you want to call me by a nickname?"

"Not if it bothers you," Lupin said.

Snape knew that meant "yes." He repressed a sigh; it wasn't as if Lupin asked for much, so he supposed he should indulge his lover in this one small, irrational desire. "I suppose it's all right if YOU call me 'Sev,'" he said, trying to hide his reluctance.

"Really?" Lupin asked, so eagerly that Snape smiled despite himself. "Are you sure it's all right?"

"Yes, Remy," Snape said, suddenly feeling magnanimous.

"Sev," Lupin said, beaming at him again, and suddenly that nickname no longer seemed annoying at all.

"But please don't ever call me 'Sevie'!" Snape pleaded.

"Whatever you say, Sev," Lupin laughed, slipping his arms around Snape's neck.

"You like that, do you, Lupin?" Snape grinned, raising an eyebrow.

Lupin leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "Yes, Sev."

Lupin's warm breath against his ear sent a shiver down Snape's spine. Yes indeed, "Sev" was sounding better and better all the time--as long as it was Lupin who was saying it, and not Malfoy. Well, two could play at that game... "Remy," he purred into Lupin's ear.

"Sev," Lupin groaned.

"Remy," Snape repeated, fumbling with his and Lupin's robes.

"Oh, Sev!"

"Oh, Remy!"

They spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, saying nothing but each other's nicknames over and over again...

***

The summer was winding down to a close, and both the children and the Professors began preparing for their return to school. Snape had finally finished brewing the Mind Restoration Potion, which was ready to be bottled and sent to the Dark Lord. He grudgingly admitted to himself--but no one else--that Granger's assistance had been quite helpful. And Dylan and Potter seemed to be progressing well enough in their Occlumency lessons. Dylan was still doing better than Potter, but at least Potter seemed to be making a real effort at his lessons, and the Dark Lord no longer seemed to be invading his dreams, which was a great relief.

An even greater relief was that Lupin finally seemed to be completely content now that they had "gone public" (as Lupin put it), and shared nicknames--something that was trivial to Snape but obviously meant a lot to Lupin. The werewolf was happy and relaxed, and no longer tried to "molest" Snape in public--although he was quite ardent with his affections in private, which suited Snape just fine. And privately, Snape had to admit that it was easier and more relaxing not to have to sneak around and hide their relationship, although he was a little irritated by Tonks's knowing grins and the way Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger would sometimes giggle when they saw Snape and Lupin together, although they would quickly fall silent and look properly cowed when Snape shot a glare their way. On the other hand, their relationship obviously irritated the hell out of Black, which Snape found very amusing, and when the children weren't around, Snape would unbend enough to kiss Lupin on the cheek or lay a hand on his shoulder, which earned him Lupin's gratitude and made Black grind his teeth in frustration. All in all, things were going quite well...

Almost too well, in fact, so Snape was not particularly surprised when one day, Lupin received an ominous letter that put a damper on the last idyllic days of summer. Snape had just returned from a shopping trip to Diagon Alley to pick up some supplies for his classes, when he found Lupin frowning down at a letter sitting on his desk. Snape peered over his shoulder and saw that it was written in Japanese.

"What's wrong, Lupin?" Snape asked. "Did Professor Kamiyama send some bad news?"

Lupin opened his mouth to reply, but just then Branwen leaned in the doorway and said, "The meeting starts in ten minutes, you two. You cut it a bit close, didn't you, Severus?"

Snape scowled and retorted in a testy voice, "I made it back on time, didn't I? I assure you I didn't forget that there was a meeting scheduled today!" The worried look on Lupin's face eased slightly as he chuckled in amusement. "So what did Kamiyama have to say?" Snape asked.

Lupin hesitated, then said, "We had better get downstairs. I'll tell you about it at the meeting."

Snape shrugged. "All right, just let me get these packages put away and I'll be right down."

***

At first it seemed like there would not be much to discuss at the meeting. The Dark Lord had not summoned his Death Eaters recently. Kingsley Shacklebolt reported that Gwydion Donner was working diligently at his new job, and had developed a promising new enchantment that he believed could be placed upon a collar or bracelet which could then be locked around a prisoner's neck or wrist. The spell would drain the mage's power, rendering him as helpless as a Squib so long as he wore the enchanted item.

Lupin shuddered a little, and Snape felt guilty for having once jokingly threatened to keep Lupin on a leash. A wolf would have a natural aversion to being bound, particularly one who'd had to be restrained or locked up before the Wolfsbane Potion had been invented. "A nasty spell," Lupin said. "And you can be sure he will pass the information on to his Master. We may have to defend against it ourselves one day." He rubbed his neck nervously and added, "I hope the Ministry doesn't get the bright idea of using it on anyone they deem dangerous, such as werewolves..."

Fortunately, Dumbledore was able to allay his fears somewhat, by reporting that the anti-werewolf legislation had been officially revoked, and Lupin breathed a sigh of relief.

A few other minor matters were discussed, and Branwen asked, "Does anyone else have any news to report?"

"I do, Branwen," Lupin said softly, and she gave him a startled look. He held up the letter he had been reading earlier. "I received this letter just before the meeting; I had no time to discuss it with you or anyone else. It's from Professor Kamiyama's granddaughter, Miyako." He read aloud, "Lupin-san, I have been having disturbing dreams for some time now. I told you about them the last time you visited: dreams of snakes and skulls. Warnings, I believe, of the danger your Lord Voldemort poses to us all. But last night I had a different dream, a dream of blood and roses. I dreamed of tangled, thorny vines, and black roses dyed red with blood. I don't know what it means, but I sense great danger, for you and Snape-sensei; please be careful. I will offer a prayer at the temple for the two of you. Miyako."

"Dreams," Moody muttered dismissively, and several of the other wizards agreed, but Dumbledore, Branwen, Goewin, Snape, and Lupin looked very concerned.

"Miyako is a true Seer, Alastor," Lupin insisted.

Goewin believed him, because she had once had the Sight herself, before Gilbert and Gwydion had stolen it from her, along with her virginity. "Do you know what the dream means, Remus?" she asked.

Lupin shook his head. "No, I don't. But could it have something to do with Dylan? Perhaps it's symbolic, the roses standing for 'Rosier'?"

Snape looked very troubled. "The Rosier family crest is a rose," he said. "And I visited Evan's house a few times when we were younger. The grounds were covered with rosebushes, but not ordinary ones. The roses were black--not dark red or purple, but a true black, which is supposed to be impossible. They were quite exotic, and much admired by the other pureblood families, and as far as I know, they grew nowhere else but on the Rosier lands."

Shacklebolt, who had looked skeptical at first, began to look worried. "The Rosier lands and wealth were supposed to be confiscated after Evan Rosier's parents were killed. But no one was able to enter the grounds on which the family manor stood. It was heavily warded with protective spells, which mainly seemed to be placed on those black roses you mentioned. After the Rosiers died, the roses grew wild, surrounding the house. Anyone who tried to enter the grounds was attacked by the roses, their vines lashing out like whips. And the thorns on those vines were very nasty; the Ministry agents who came to confiscate the Rosiers' property were nearly killed. Fortunately, they had a few Aurors with them, since they figured they'd have to deal with Dark Magic. They tried cutting the vines, burning them, withering them magically--nothing worked. Finally, the Ministry gave up and declared the property off-limits."

"Like the old fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty," Tonks mused.

"I doubt there's a princess waiting inside the manor," Snape said sarcastically.

"Severus, you have to protect Dylan!" Goewin cried out, her face turning pale. "You can't let him associate with the Death Eaters anymore--what if this dream was a warning foretelling his death?"

"That's not necessarily what it means, Goewin," Snape said. He was still troubled but forced himself to keep up an outwardly calm demeanor. One of them had to remain calm, after all, and besides, he didn't want the other Order members to realize how much he cared about Dylan. "Prophetic dreams are difficult to interpret, and you can rarely take them literally--"

"Don't lecture me about Divination, Severus!" Goewin snapped. "I was an Oracle once, remember?"

Snape just nodded, taking no offense at her tone, because he knew it was fueled by her fear for Dylan. "Dylan is a Rosier," he pointed out. "I don't think the roses would hurt him. But..."

"But that must be what Voldemort wants the boy for!" Sirius finished excitedly. "He wants to use him to get past the enchanted roses and into the house!"

Shacklebolt looked even more alarmed, and fear made him edgy as well. "Dammit, Snape!" he said. "You were friends with Evan Rosier, you've been to his house--do you really have no idea what You-Know-Who wants from it?"

Snape was less patient with the Auror than he had been with Goewin. "I wasn't THAT close to Evan," he said waspishly. "We played pranks at school together; he gossiped to me about his love life--but he didn't share family secrets with me."

"You joined the Death Eaters together," Moody growled, but fell silent after Dumbledore gave him a stern look.

"I suppose the Rosiers probably possessed Dark Magic items," Snape said, shooting a quick glare Moody's way, "but I don't know specifically what the Dark Lord might want."

"Then maybe Goewin is right," Shacklebolt said. "If he intends to use Dylan Rosier to get his hands on some kind of weapon, then we have to keep the boy away from him."

"I think Goewin was more worried about Dylan's safety, Kingsley," Tonks said quietly.

"Well, of course we want to keep the boy safe," Shacklebolt hastily added, looking a little embarrassed.

But Snape was shaking his head. "No, we don't know how long we'd have to keep Dylan in hiding. It could be years--"

"But Severus--" Goewin protested.

"I told you before," Snape said impatiently, but there was a hint of sympathy in his eyes, "Dylan will be in more danger if the Dark Lord thinks he is a traitor. If he does not answer when summoned, the Dark Lord will hunt him down and kill him."

"Whatever happened to Karkaroff?" Lupin wondered out loud.

Snape shrugged. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's dead," Snape replied, not sounding as if he cared much one way or the other, and Lupin frowned at him. Snape scowled. "I told Karkaroff it would do no good to run, but he didn't listen to me. He was a fool; no one is allowed to leave the Death Eaters."

Sirius nodded in grim agreement, remembering how his brother Regulus had been killed when he realized what the Death Eaters were really about and had gotten cold feet. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Lupin had to repress a smile; it was extremely rare to see Severus and Sirius agreeing about anything.

"Karkaroff's no loss," Moody muttered. "Ministry should've never let him out of Azkaban." Then he looked at Snape and added menacingly, "Don't you forget which side you're on, Snape!"

"Alastor!" Branwen said sharply, and Moody fell silent, giving her a resentful and puzzled look. He had worked closely with her in the old days, so he had no doubt of her loyalty despite her family's reputation. But he had never understood why she had been so attached to her Slytherin students in general, and Snape in particular.

The meeting broke up soon afterwards, with Snape promising to keep an eye on Dylan, and Shacklebolt and Tonks saying they would try to learn more about the Rosier manor and try to have the Ministry keep an eye on it.

"But discreetly," Snape warned. "We don't want word of this getting back to the Dark Lord, or to Gwydion Donner, for that matter! And Gwydion works in your department now."

"That makes it more difficult," Shacklebolt muttered, still looking peeved about Gwydion being in the Ministry. "But we'll be careful."

Before Goewin left, she paused and said to Snape in a cold voice, "If anything happens to Dylan, Severus, I'm holding you personally responsible!"

"Goewin--" Lupin started to call after her as she stalked out of the room, but Snape shook his head.

"Let her go, Lupin," he said quietly. "She needs to be angry at someone, and it might as well be me. And she's right, it is my fault; I should have been watching him more carefully. I should never have let Lucius Malfoy get anywhere near him."

"It's not your fault, Severus," Lupin said gently. "You couldn't be with him every minute of the day. And Lucius Malfoy's son is Dylan's housemate. Even if Lucius had been unable to get to Dylan on the Quidditch field that day, he would eventually have found another way, perhaps have sent Draco to lure him out with Ariane's ring."

Snape just shook his head again. "I promised Ariane I would protect him. I promised myself--" He broke off his sentence when he realized that although the other wizards had all left, Sirius Black was still in the room with them, staring at Snape with a thoughtful look on his face. He scowled at Black and quickly left the room, a concerned-looking Lupin following close behind.

***

Sirius just sat there, feeling stunned. There had been genuine concern and remorse in Snape's voice and eyes, and Sirius had never seen him show those emotions before--at least, not for anyone but Lupin, Sirius grudgingly admitted to himself. He knew that Snape was tutoring Dylan Rosier, and that he had exhibited a certain protectiveness towards the boy when defending him against Moody's suspicious, insinuating comments, but for the first time Sirius realized that Snape really cared about Dylan, maybe as much as Sirius cared for Harry. It was a very disconcerting thought.

First of all, Sirius realized, feeling a bit ashamed of himself, that he had not been particularly concerned about the Rosier boy. Intellectually he agreed that it was a terrible thing for a child to be forced to join the Death Eaters, but emotionally he had remained detached. He had never met the boy, after all, and he had never liked the boy's father. Evan Rosier had been a Slytherin, and in Sirius's eyes, that alone had made him an enemy. To make matters worse, Rosier and his friend Wilkes had been inveterate pranksters, and the objects of their pranks were usually Gryffindors. And to top it all off, unlike Snape, Evan Rosier had been handsome, charming, and popular, although there had always been a sly, devious look in his dark eyes that everyone else seemed to overlook. He had charmed students and teachers alike; even the terrifying Professor Blackmore had occasionally laughed at his antics (although she also gave him detention numerous times) and had allowed Evan to coax her into dancing with him at the Yule Ball during their fourth year.

Actually, not much coaxing had been required. Bold as brass, Evan had strutted right up to Professor Blackmore, bowed with a courtly flourish, and said, "Will you grant me the honor of a dance, Milady?" A stunned silence had fallen over the crowd as every person in the room held their breath, expecting Blackmore to strike him down on the spot. Even old Dumbledore had looked a little worried, and had slipped his hand into his pocket, as if to reach for his wand and prepare to stop her from killing Evan or turning him into a toad. But to everyone's amazement, Blackmore had just smiled, curtsied, and replied, "I would be delighted to, good sir." She had held out her hand, and Evan, looking a little dazed, had taken it and led her out onto the dance floor.

Evan Rosier had been the talk of the school for weeks afterwards, regarded with awe by both the male and female students alike. The adult Sirius was now a little chagrined to realize that he had been jealous of Rosier, although he had refused to admit it at the time. He was used to being the most popular boy in the school, along with James, and he had resented the Slytherin boy coming along and stealing his thunder. Sirius had the advantage, being a Gryffindor, of course, because the Slytherins were mostly disliked by the other Houses, but Evan's good looks and charm to some extent overcame the reputation of his House, and from time to time, one of his outrageous stunts would serve to vault him into the spotlight over Sirius and James. And Sirius and James, of course, would feel obligated to pull off something even more outrageous... {No wonder we got so many detentions,} Sirius thought to himself, feeling a little amused, and at the same time, a little ashamed of his pettiness.

Because of his dislike for Dylan's father, Sirius had assumed that the son was much the same--at worst, a true Death Eater, or at best, someone foolish and shallow enough to be ensnared by the Dark Lord's promises. {Like my brother Regulus,} Sirius thought guiltily. Although he had told Harry that he had hated his family, deep down Sirius had loved his younger brother. He recalled what Branwen had said about Lyall Wilkes: "Lyall was not a bad boy, just very gullible and easily misled." Now that he thought about it, Sirius realized that his brother had been very much like Wilkes: cheerful and happy-go-lucky, but not very bright. Regulus had believed all the rubbish their parents and Voldemort had fed him about pureblood superiority, and had willingly joined the Death Eaters. But he had never really been cruel or malicious, and had been horrified when he realized that his Dark Lord expected him to murder people. Poor, foolish Regulus had tried to leave the Death Eaters, only to find that Voldemort allowed none of his minions to escape his grasp, save through death.

{Maybe if I'd remained at home, I could have persuaded Regulus not to join the Death Eaters,} Sirius thought. {If I'd tried harder to stay close to him, maybe I could at least have saved him after he left, by taking him to Dumbledore for protection.} But Sirius had left home at an early age, and had not kept in touch with his brother. He had loved Regulus, but had been jealous of him as well, for being the favored son, their mother's pet, when nothing Sirius did was ever good enough to please his parents. They had quarreled bitterly before Sirius departed the family house--Sirius's words sharpened by jealousy and resentment--over Regulus's blind obedience to their parents, and his sympathy for Voldemort's ideals. So Regulus had not confided in Sirius, either when he joined the Death Eaters or when he left them. Sirius suspected he could not have stopped his brother from joining the Death Eaters, but he might have been able to warn him how dangerous it would be to leave them. But by the time he had found out, it was too late and Regulus was dead. At the time he had merely cursed his brother for being a fool, but now he finally permitted himself to feel the sorrow and guilt that he had repressed for so many years.

Overwhelmed by grief, Sirius acknowledged that the second reason he had been surprised by Snape's genuine concern for Dylan Rosier was that he hadn't really believed that Snape was capable of feeling love--or any other unselfish emotion--for anyone. This despite Branwen's and Lupin's protests to the contrary, despite the fact that Snape had turned spy against the Death Eaters, despite the fact that he had helped to create the Wolfsbane potion for Lupin, and put up with Moony's exhibitionist displays of affection, despite the fact that he had saved Sirius for Lupin's sake... Finally, Sirius reluctantly admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong about Snape. Yes, Snape had behaved recklessly and thoughtlessly when he had turned against Lupin after the Shrieking Shack incident, when he had joined the Death Eaters, when he had exposed Lupin's lycanthropy at Hogwarts, and most recently, when he had stopped Harry's Occlumency lessons, thereby making him vulnerable to Voldemort's manipulations. But was Sirius himself any better? He had turned his back on his little brother. He had gotten Lily and James killed by convincing them to make Peter their Secret-Keeper, and gotten himself imprisoned because he had not told anyone about the switch. He had behaved childishly this past year, hurting both Harry and Lupin with his thoughtlessness and selfish complaints.

And...twenty years ago he had hurt and endangered Remus with his stupid "prank." For the first time ever, Sirius admitted to himself that it had not just been a "prank." He had wanted to hurt Snape, yes, and drive him away from Moony, but he had also wanted to hurt Remus. Oh, he had not intended to get him executed, imprisoned, or even expelled--typically, Sirius had not bothered to consider the possible consequences of his actions. But he had wanted to punish Remus--and he knew Remus would be hurt when Snape rejected him, as he was sure to once he realized Remus was a werewolf--for sneaking around with that slimy git behind their backs, for choosing Snape over his true friends. {For choosing Snape over me,} Sirius silently corrected himself. He had never had romantic feelings for Moony, but he had loved him like a brother, had loved all three of his fellow Marauders like brothers. They had become his family, after his real family rejected him, and he was fiercely loyal and devoted to them. And he had expected the same loyalty in return....and at the time, he had felt Remus had betrayed that loyalty when he fell in love with Snape. Sirius suddenly remembered what Remus had told him last summer, about Snape being jealous and insecure, how he looked at love as a finite thing, believing that if Remus loved Sirius and Harry, there might be nothing left for him. With horror, Sirius realized he had been no better than Snape: he had believed that if Moony loved Snape it meant that he loved his Marauder friends--loved Sirius--less. He had not believed that Remus could love them all equally at the same time; he had tried to make Remus choose between them countless times over the years. Snape had made that choice for them the first time, when they were teenagers, but Lupin had refused to play that game as an adult.

Sirius felt deeply ashamed of himself, and began to weep--for his brother, for Remus, for the stubborn, insecure, self-centered, thick-headed boy he had been. That he still was, if truth be told...

The door swung open and Branwen called, "Sirius? Are you still in here?" He quickly turned away and ran his sleeve across his eyes, but he could not seem to stop sobbing, no matter how hard he tried. "Sirius!" she said, looking alarmed and concerned. She sat down next to him and put her arms around him, saying in a tender and gentle voice, "My dear child," and Sirius found himself weeping on her shoulder as she stroked his hair, comforting him much the same way she had comforted Lupin last year, when he had been lonely and overwhelmed by the wolf's instincts when Snape had been unable to come to him as the full moon approached. He did not tell her why he was crying, and she did not ask, but simply held him and murmured, "Shh, Sirius, shh, it's all right..."

***

Sirius never told Branwen what had triggered his emotional outburst the day she had held him while he wept; he was too ashamed, and not quite ready to speak those words aloud to another person. And though she must have been curious, she did not press him; perhaps she was able to guess on her own, a little of what he had been feeling. From the time she had been their teacher at Hogwarts, she had always been quite perceptive--so much so that the students had fearfully joked that she could read minds. Sirius occasionally wondered if she was versed in Legilimency, but he supposed that could not be true, since Dumbledore had said Snape was the only person other than himself who could give Harry Occlumency lessons.

But mind-reader or not, for the rest of the summer, she treated him more kindly and gently than she normally did, watching over him with a concerned look in her eyes that was usually reserved for Snape. Part of Sirius was touched by her concern, while another part of him was embarrassed and annoyed. Sirius did not want Branwen to mother him; ever since he had been an Auror-in-training under her supervision, he had wanted to win her respect. He wanted her to see him as an adult and an equal, a colleague and friend--not a wayward schoolboy.

Shortly before school was about to start, when Snape was out of the house on an errand, Sirius went up to Lupin's room. It was about twenty years too late, but he owed his friend an apology...

"Hello, Sirius," Lupin said with a cheerful smile, which quickly changed to a look of concern when he saw the expression on Sirius's face. "My, but you look glum," he said lightly, although the worry in his blue eyes belied his tone of voice. "What's wrong?"

"I...I just wanted to apologize, Moony," Sirius said awkwardly.

"For what?" Lupin asked, sounding puzzled.

"For sending Snape to the Shrieking Shack," Sirius whispered.

Lupin looked even more puzzled than before. "Why are you apologizing for that now?"

"Because I owe you an apology, even if it's twenty years late," Sirius said, hanging his head. "I mean, I've apologized before, but I wasn't really sorry, and you knew it. But I am now. I'm sorry I hurt you, Moony."

"What brought all this on?" Lupin asked gently.

Sirius flushed. He wasn't quite ready to talk about his somewhat-revised view of Snape yet. "I...I've been doing a lot of thinking," he mumbled. "All that stuff they were talking about at the meeting, about no one being allowed to leave the Death Eaters alive--it made me think of Regulus." Although talking about his brother was difficult, it was still easier than talking about Severus Snape.

"Your brother?"

Sirius nodded. "I cut off all contact with my family, including Regulus. But even though he was a fool, he was still my little brother. I should have kept in touch with him, I should have looked after him--maybe I could have saved him from the Death Eaters. But I turned my back on him. Now it's too late for me to apologize to Regulus, but at least I can apologize to you." Lupin was staring at him with a very thoughtful look on his face. "I always called Snape sneaky and selfish, but I was just as bad. I let Regulus down. I let James and Lily down--"

"Don't go wallowing in guilt and self-pity," Lupin said, but there was a gentle smile on his face.

Sirius ignored him. "And I let you down. I..." His voice faltered and he almost couldn't get the words out, but he forced himself to continue. "I tried to hurt you," he whispered. "Not just Snape, but you, because I was selfish and petty and jealous. Because I was angry that you were seeing someone who was our enemy--at least, I thought he was an enemy." Sirius, who had always been so sure of everything, was no longer certain what was true anymore. "Because I thought you were choosing Snape over us."

"Oh, Sirius," Lupin said sadly, shaking his head.

"But I swear, I never meant to put you in danger!" Sirius cried out. "I never realized that you could be imprisoned or killed for what I did!" Then he flushed and said, "Not that that's any excuse. I know saying 'I'm sorry' doesn't make up for what I did, but I am so sorry, Remy--"

"I forgive you, Padfoot," Lupin said, still in that gentle voice, and embraced him. They held each other for a moment, then Lupin let go of him and added softly, "But there is someone else you owe an apology to..."

Sirius flushed again; he knew Remus was right, but it taken almost all of his courage just to face his best friend, who was forgiving almost to a fault. He felt like a coward, but something inside him quailed at the thought of facing the sarcastic, bitter Potions Master with an apology. "I...I can't," he whispered in a choking voice, his throat constricting with fear and guilt. "I'm sorry, Remy, I just can't, not yet..."

He expected to see anger or disappointment in his friend's eyes, but Lupin just gave him a tender little smile and embraced him again, saying, "When you're ready, then."

Sirius left Lupin's room feeling very humbled and chastened. Remus had always seemed so fragile and in need of protection, with his meek and gentle demeanor. {When did he become so strong?} Sirius wondered. {Or did I underestimate him all this time?} For the first time, Sirius thought that perhaps Remus's forgiving nature was not a sign of weakness after all, but rather, a sign of strength...

***

Before Branwen had departed for Hogwarts, she had cast a Summoning spell for Sirius, although it was not so much a summoning as it was a call; she did not try to summon a specific creature, but merely broadcast a message that there was a house in need of a friendly spirit. No one was compelled to answer it--neither Sirius nor Branwen believed in slavery--and the restrictions on the spell would block out any creatures with ill-intent. What appeared in the middle of the rune-filled circle Branwen had inscribed on the floor was a little round man, slightly taller and much wider than a house-elf. "Round" described the creature very well: he had a belly so round that he almost looked like a ball with limbs and a head attached, and he had a plump, round, very cheerful-looking face. He had bristly black hair, a large nose, and friendly brown eyes, and he was clad only in what looked like a set of long underwear (a pale, faded yellow) and a pair of tatty green slippers.

"Hob heard your call," the man said, a little nervously. "Does this house need looking after?"

"Indeed it does," Branwen said, kneeling down to be on eye-level with the man. "There are several wizards living in the house at present, and we have been taking care of it ourselves, but soon we will be leaving, and the master of the house--" She motioned to Sirius. "--will be all alone. And it is a bit much for one person to handle."

"Taking care of houses--and people--is what Hob does," the little man said.

"You're a hob?" Sirius asked curiously, crouching down on the floor beside Branwen. "I've never met one before."

"Hobs usually serve simple, common folk," the man replied, "not grand wizards."

Sirius snorted. "There's nothing grand about me, or my family, or this house."

"Wizards prefer to have house-elf servants," Branwen explained to the children, who were watching wide-eyed, "because the elves are virtual slaves and cannot leave unless their masters free them. A hob will leave if it is mistreated, or if it is given clothes, of course." She gave Hermione a stern look. "If the hob agrees to stay, you must not give him clothes!"

"No, no clothes!" the hob agreed fervently. "Clothes make Hob vain and full of himself. They make him feel too proud to serve, and he forgets his duty to his family, and leaves his house." The hob looked mournful. "And Hob has been without a home and a family for a long time. The humans these days do not follow the old ways, they do not leave Hob's gift beside the fire. They do not believe in magic; even the children cannot see Hob."

"Normally, only young children and wizards can see a hob," Branwen explained, "because it requires a belief in magic to do so."

"But he's not a slave?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "He can leave if he wants to?" Branwen and the hob both nodded. "You'll pay him wages?" she asked Sirius.

"All Hob asks is that his gift be left by the fire every night," the hob said. "A piece of buttered toast, a bowl of cream, or perhaps a little tobacco for his pipe--"

"Smoking's bad for you--" Hermione started to say, but Ron elbowed her in the side and said, "Shh! Do you want to chase off the hob?" She glared at him but fell silent.

"--maybe even a nice tea cake with currants or a custard tart once in awhile," the hob finished, licking his lips and patting his round belly.

"Another person with a sweet-tooth!" Sirius laughed. "You should get along well in this house! Snape and Bane already eat so much sugar I'm surprised their teeth haven't rotted away. Well, Bane doesn't have any teeth, come to think of it..."

"That's all you get paid?" Hermione asked indignantly. "A piece of toast or a tea cake? You should pay him a decent wage, Sirius, in Galleons--"

"What would Hob do with money?" the little man asked, scratching his head in a puzzled fashion.

"She is a Muggle," Branwen explained gently. "She doesn't understand." To Hermione she said, "What a hob really wants is not money or possessions, Hermione, but a place to belong and a family to look after. A hob does more than just clean and cook; it makes a house, well...happier. It chases away bad spirits that cause dissension and discord, and makes things run more smoothly. The family in return leaves out a gift for its hob every night to show their appreciation." She smiled at the hob. "A hob is like a living good-luck charm, you might say."

"I have to warn you," Sirius said, "that this is a very big house--perhaps a lot for one hob to handle. Though of course I don't expect you to take care of it all by yourself--"

"Big is not a problem," the hob said firmly, looking a little insulted.

"The other thing is, well, there's no 'family'--it's just me."

"No children?" the hob asked, looking disappointed. "But I see four children here--"

"They are only staying with me for the summer," Sirius said. "They are students at Hogwarts, and must return to school in the fall. The other wizards staying here with me are teachers at the same school, so they must leave as well. But they'll come to visit during the holidays, or at least I hope they will."

The children promised that they would come visit during Christmas vacation, and the hob cheered up slightly. "Well, Hob cannot afford to be too picky these days," he admitted. "And you seem like a good person, Mr.--"

"Call me Sirius," Sirius said firmly. "Not 'Master' or 'Mister,' but just plain Sirius." He held out his hand and the hob shook it. "And what name should I call you by?"

"Hob is Hob," the hob said, as if stating the obvious.

"Very well, then," Sirius said with a grin. "Welcome to the family, Hob!"

***

For about a week, the house was a cheerful and lively place. There was a great deal of magic in the air; even the children were wizards, it seemed. Hob had never lived with wizards before, and it made him a little nervous. The children were kind, though, especially Hermione, although she did have some rather odd notions--she kept talking about wanting to free the house-elves. What was a house-elf supposed to do if it had no house to keep and no family to serve? But she did knit him a little blanket for his bedding when he moved into a cupboard under the stairs. It was a nice, cozy little space once he cleaned it out, and the Master of the house--who insisted on being called by his name, Sirius--found some Hob-sized furnishings up in the attic that had once belonged to some Black child's dolls. But Hob's chosen quarters seemed to distress the boy Harry, for some reason.

"You can't make him live in a cupboard, Sirius!"

"But that is where Hob always lives," Hob said, puzzled. "It is Hob's favorite space, where he can hear the comings and goings of his family. It is a cozy little cupboard; Hob likes it."

The adults led Harry away, gently comforting him and explaining things to him. Hermione whispered to Hob, "Harry's aunt and uncle made him live in a cupboard under the stairs for years; that's why it bothers him so much."

"A cupboard is home for a Hob, but it is not a place for a child!" Hob said, feeling distressed himself. "What kind of people would put a child in a cupboard?"

"Bad people," said Hermione darkly. "But don't worry; Harry's got us to look after him now."

Hob shook his head; he didn't understand wizard ways, but these people seemed like good folk. He liked Mrs. Weasley, who was always bustling about cooking tasty things in the kitchen. And there was Lady Blackmore, who had summoned him--he could not conceive of calling her "Branwen," although she told him that he could. He wondered if the other residents of the house realized that Lady Blackmore was not human; she had old magic, dark magic singing in her veins--more power than a human, even one who was a mage, should possess. She had an aura similar to that of a noblewoman of the Sidhe, or perhaps even a Dark spirit such as a demon. And her familiar was no ordinary bird; he was some sort of Dark creature bound in the shape of a raven. Yet there was no darkness in Lady Blackmore's soul; he would never have answered her call, otherwise. She was kind, if stern, and he could feel how much she loved the occupants of the house, especially Sirius, Snape, and Lupin.

Snape was the one that Hob thought of as the Dark Man, because he was always cloaked in black, and his mood was usually bitter and dark to match. Sirius did not like him. But Hob soon saw that he was not as scary as he seemed: he would often slip the bird-who-was-not-a-bird a treat when no one was looking, and once, when all the wizards were talking and having tea in the drawing room, the Dark Man saw Hob hiding in the shadows, and quietly laid down a cookie beside the fire for him.

And the Dark Man's mood always lightened whenever Lupin entered the room. Very odd folk, these wizards: there was Lady Blackmore, who was something more than human, and there was Lupin, who was a wolf in the shape of a man. Yet he was not scary at all; while Snape was full of darkness, Lupin seemed to radiate light and happiness. He was cheerful and friendly, and always left out little treats for Hob, even though Sirius, the Master of the house, dutifully left Hob's gift by the fire every night.

Sirius seemed to be composed of equal parts of dark and light, as reflected by his face, which was handsome, but permanently marked by lines of hardship and privation, and there were hidden shadows in his dark eyes. He was mostly happy and good-natured until his friends all departed for school, then he turned moody and brooding. He was lonesome, Hob realized, so although Hob normally did his work out of sight and did not show himself to his family (except, occasionally, to the children), he remained visible and conversed with Sirius and took meals with him, as his Master requested, and sometimes even played checkers or chess with him in the evenings. Hob was not much good at such games; a hob lived in the moment, and rarely thought very far ahead, but it was all right, because Sirius seemed to want companionship more than he wanted a challenging opponent.

It was no wonder Sirius was so moody; the house was very dark and gloomy, so Hob tried to brighten it up a bit. A touch of magic brightened the colors on fading wallpaper, and he drew open the drapes and scrubbed the windows clean to let the light in. He chased out a boggart who had taken up residence in the basement. He made sure to fix any loose, squeaky floorboards that might wake the portrait of Mrs. Black in the Entrance Hall, and had Sirius replace the old troll-leg umbrella stand with one too sturdy and heavy to be knocked over by the Master's kind but clumsy cousin, Tonks. Sirius seemed pleased with the changes, and they settled down into a pleasant, if rather humdrum life. But hobs liked humdrum; they liked peace and quiet, and did not care much for excitement and great adventures.

But Hob should have known that a wizard's life was not likely to remain humdrum for long...

Part 10

***

Afterword: Hob comes from the series of Hob books written by William Mayne; I really loved them when I was a kid, and when I read the HP books, the house-elves reminded me a bit of Hob, only more fawning and servile.