FIC: Phoenix Rising, Part 12 of 37

[geri_chan]

Title: Phoenix Rising, Part 12 of 37
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Word count: ~9,390
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: Dylan serves detention with Lupin, but finds that it's not quite what he had expected.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

***

At the end of the day, Dylan reluctantly went to Lupin's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Lupin called.

Dylan walked in, and Lupin looked up from his desk where he was grading papers, and said cheerfully, "Have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Dylan's mouth dropped open. "Um...I don't mean to be rude, sir, but do you always offer tea to the students who are serving detention with you?" {That's certainly a change from Professor Snape!}

To his astonishment, Lupin laughed. "Oh, I'm not really giving you detention, Dylan!"

"You're not?"

Lupin grinned at him. "No, I knew that you didn't draw that picture; Brad's handiwork is quite distinctive, I assure you. Though you were rather rude to Ginny." Dylan flushed a little. "But I think I understand why; it would cause trouble for you in Slytherin House if you were seen being too friendly with a Gryffindor, wouldn't it?" Feeling a little stunned, Dylan nodded. "That's why I arranged this little charade. I got the feeling on the first day of class that you wanted to talk to me, but were afraid of what your housemates might think. So...would you like a cup of tea?" Dylan nodded dumbly, and dropped into the chair in front of Lupin's desk. "Cream? Sugar?"

"Both, please," Dylan said faintly, still feeling rather stunned at how cleverly Lupin had arranged all this, and feeling rather uneasy about how easily Lupin had read him. He prided himself on being able to disguise his emotions and only let people see what he wanted them to see; it bothered him that Lupin had seen right through him. And why was Lupin going through all this trouble to help the son of a Death Eater? Lupin handed him a tea cup, and Dylan took a sip from it as he tried to calm himself and compose his thoughts.

Lupin drank from his own cup, then said pleasantly, "So, what did you want to talk to me about, Dylan?"

"You...you mentioned my father on the first day of class," Dylan said hesitantly. "You said that you went to school with him."

"Yes, that's right," Lupin said calmly. "We were in different Houses, of course, but we were yearmates and did share some classes together."

"But no one ever talks about my father!" Dylan exclaimed. "Well, except for Professor Snape, a little. But most people don't like to talk about him; it makes them uncomfortable because he was...well..."

"Because he was a Death Eater," Lupin finished, still in that calm voice.

"Yes," Dylan said, confused. "I mean, sometimes people taunt me with that fact, call me devil's spawn or a murderer's child--" Lupin looked angry and distressed when he heard that, which confused Dylan even more. "But you just said, 'I went to school with your father,' like he was an old friend..."

"No, Evan wasn't my friend, and I can't claim that I was close to him," Lupin replied. "Because of House rivalries, it was almost impossible for someone from Gryffindor to be friends with a Slytherin." Lupin smiled sadly for a moment, then continued, "But I didn't hate him; in fact, I rather liked him, to tell you the truth, though of course I never told my Gryffindor friends that."

"You liked my dad?" Dylan asked incredulously.

Lupin laughed again, the sadness in his eyes replaced by a mischievous gleam. "Well, Evan was a very charming boy. But perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I admired his audacity. He and his friend Lyall had quite a reputation as pranksters, you know."

"So I've heard," Dylan said with a grin. "But weren't you and your friends the victims of some of those pranks?"

Lupin grinned back at him. "Well, they never targeted me specifically, but yes, Gryffindor was their usual target. In particular, I remember a batch of Valentine's Day chocolates laced with Swelling Solution..."

"But they were never caught--" Dylan said without thinking, then clamped his hand over his mouth, but Lupin just chuckled.

"No, no one was ever punished for that prank, but believe me, everyone knew who was responsible."

Dylan dropped his hand and asked cautiously, "And...you weren't mad?"

"Well, my friends were furious, of course," Lupin replied, "but no, I wasn't really angry. James Potter was one of my best friends, and mostly he was a very good person, but..." Lupin sighed. "He did have the usual bias against Slytherin, and I'm afraid he and some of my other friends pulled a number of pranks against...um...certain members of Slytherin House, some of them rather cruel pranks, I'm afraid." Lupin sighed again, then smiled wryly. "So I can't really claim that James was an innocent victim in the matter."

"Why didn't you hate the Slytherins the way your friends did?" Dylan asked curiously.

"I suppose because as a werewolf, I knew what it was like to have people judge you on appearances," Lupin replied gravely. "Not many Headmasters would have admitted a werewolf to Hogwarts, you know."

"Or a Death Eater's son," Dylan added softly.

"Yes," Lupin agreed. "Professor Dumbledore believes in judging people by their actions, not by their wealth, or their families, or even by a particularly dangerous disease they might happen to suffer from. So it seemed to me that I should do the same. Besides, as a werewolf, I hardly had the right to be pointing fingers at anyone else."

Dylan was silent for a few minutes as he thought things over, and Lupin patiently sipped his tea and waited. Finally, Dylan said, "That explains why you didn't hate my father when you were students. But he did eventually join the Death Eaters, so you had plenty of reason to hate him after that."

"I won't lie to you, Dylan," Lupin said quietly. "I can't condone what your father did. But I hate his actions rather than the man. I mourn his death, and I mourn the loss of what he could have been." He paused, as if trying to choose his words carefully. "Your father was led astray and seduced by Voldemort and his followers--"

Dylan winced; Lupin and Dumbledore were the only people he had ever heard met who referred to the Dark Lord by name.

"--and he made some terrible mistakes, but...he was not 'born bad,' as people often say Slytherins are."

Dylan blinked in surprise; Snape had said something similar about Evan Rosier making "terrible mistakes."

"He did have his good points as well," Lupin continued. "He cared for his friend Lyall. He loved your mother very much. And Professor Blackmore liked him."

"She did?" Dylan asked, feeling shocked.

Lupin smiled at him. "Yes, apparently she was very fond of him. Have you never heard the story of how he asked her for a dance at the Yule Ball?"

Dylan laughed, "Yes, I heard it! Professor Sn--" He suddenly broke off what he was about to say, belatedly realizing that Professor Snape might not care for Dylan bandying his name about with his childhood enemy.

Lupin just grinned. "I'd already guessed that Professor Snape must have told you stories about Evan, but I won't mention it if you don't want me to. Anyway, I think Professor Blackmore admired Evan's audacity a little, too, although that she never let that stop her from giving him detention. But she cared about him, cared about all her students very much."

"But wasn't she an Auror?" Dylan asked. "Weren't she and my father on opposite sides of the war?" There was a certain danger in speaking so openly with Lupin, but the werewolf was willing to talk about things that even Professor Snape wouldn't discuss, and somehow Dylan felt like he could trust Lupin. It was ridiculous; he had no logical reason to do so, and Dylan never let his guard down completely with anyone but his mother or Snape, but some instinct kept telling him that it was all right to trust Lupin, that the werewolf would never betray him. Maybe it was Lupin's kind and easy-going manner--after all, he had won over most of Dylan's Slytherin housemates, except for Draco's diehard cronies, which was no easy task for someone who was not only a werewolf, but a Gryffindor to boot.

"Yes, they were," Lupin said solemnly, his playful smile vanishing. "But she tried to save him, Dylan, right up until the end. She tried to convince him to surrender..."

"She was there when my father died?" Dylan gasped, his eyes flying wide open.

Lupin cursed under his breath; clearly he hadn't known that Dylan was unaware of that fact. "Yes," he said reluctantly. "I thought you knew."

"No," Dylan replied, feeling a little faint with shock. "I know Mad-Eye Moody killed him and Lyall Wilkes; that's all my mother told me."

Lupin sighed unhappily. "Perhaps I shouldn't say anything more..."

"Please tell me what happened!" Dylan begged. "I want to know, even..." His voice faltered a little. "Even if it's something bad. I'm his son; don't I have a right to know?"

Lupin stared at him for a long time, then said, "Very well. Professor Blackmore and Alastor Moody were the Aurors who confronted your father and Lyall, along with two young Aurors-in-training, Miles Dempsey and..." Lupin hesitated, then finished, "Sirius Black."

Dylan had thought he could not possibly be shocked any further; he was wrong. "Sirius Black? The murderer?"

"Falsely accused murderer," Lupin corrected him sharply. "His name has been cleared."

"Right, I read about it in the Daily Prophet," Dylan said hastily. "I didn't mean any offense."

Lupin smiled, albeit sadly. "None taken. I suppose it takes more than a statement from the Ministry to undo years of notoriety. Anyway, the four of them were sent to apprehend Evan Rosier and Lyall Wilkes. I'm not sure, but I suspect that Branwen purposely took that assignment so that she would have the chance to save Evan and Lyall; another Auror might have killed them on sight. She pleaded with them to surrender, promised to protect them and speak on their behalf in court if they would give themselves up."

"Why would she do that?" a bewildered Dylan asked.

"Because she cared about them."

"But why?"

"If you want to know that, you will have to ask her," Lupin said, then smiled a little at Dylan's horrified expression. "She isn't quite the ogre she seems, you know," he said lightly. "Not unlike Professor Snape."

Dylan thought that if his eyes opened any wider, they would probably pop right out of his head. "Pr...Professor Snape?" he repeated weakly.

"Yes, Professor Snape," Lupin agreed, that mischievous twinkle back in his eyes. "The entire faculty knows that he's taken you under his wing, Dylan. Don't tell me that you haven't noticed that he has at least a few redeeming qualities..."

"Yes, but I didn't think that YOU knew that," Dylan replied, feeling a little dazed.

"Well, I do," Lupin replied, still smiling. "I don't hate Severus, even if he still harbors a grudge against me. Unfortunately, my friends and his did not get along very well."

"More of those pranks you mentioned earlier?"

"Clever lad," Lupin said, looking amused. "I'd give you points, if we were still in class."

"About my father...?" Dylan prodded, trying to steer the conversation back on track, although he was finding this tangential line of discussion about Snape to be quite fascinating.

Lupin's mood turned serious again. "Professor Blackmore begged your father to surrender."

"But he refused to," Dylan said softly.

"Yes," Lupin replied, in an equally quiet voice. "One of his good qualities was his loyalty, but in this case it was misplaced. Voldemort did not deserve that loyalty. He sent his minions out to fight, and in some cases, die, but he did not mourn their deaths, and did nothing to protect them. Vol--" He saw Dylan wince, and changed his words to, "The Dark Lord values only strength, and in his eyes, those who got themselves killed were by definition weak, so he cared nothing for either the people he murdered or the followers who died in his name."

Once, Dylan would have been angered by Lupin's words. But now he knew what the Dark Lord was really like, and he knew that Lupin was telling the truth. He was a little surprised to hear Lupin call Voldemort "the Dark Lord"--he had never heard anyone but the Death Eaters refer to him by that name; the rest of the wizarding world always called him "You-Know-Who" or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". Curious...

"Please don't hate Professor Blackmore," Lupin said, in a quiet and earnest voice. "She did her very best to save him. Even Moody is not really to blame--"

"He killed my father," Dylan said in a hard voice. "Even if it was in self-defense, I can't--"

"Moody did not kill your father," Lupin said softly, looking Dylan directly in the eyes.

"What?! B-but I thought--"

"When Evan saw that defeat was inevitable, he cast a Death Strike spell. It's a very ancient Dark spell that--"

"I know what it is," Dylan interrupted, not caring that he was giving away the fact that he knew more about the Dark Arts than he should.

"Evan believed that death was better than dishonor," Lupin said, still holding Dylan's gaze. "The spell killed him, of course, along with Dempsey, and badly wounded Moody and Lyall; Branwen and Sirius managed to shield themselves. Lyall, loyal to the end, tried to attack Moody, and Moody killed him in self-defense."

Stricken, Dylan stared into Lupin's blue eyes; the compassion and concern he saw there were more than he could stand, and he dropped his gaze, staring at the floor while he fought back tears. {Is everything I thought I knew about my father a lie?} he wondered in despair.

He felt a gentle hand touch his shoulder, and looked up to see that Professor Lupin had come around from behind the desk. "Why would my mother lie to me?" Dylan whispered.

"I'm sure she was telling you the truth as she knew it," Lupin said kindly. "The details were not made public, and most people believe that Moody killed both Evan and Lyall. I'm sorry, Dylan, perhaps I should not have told you all this--"

"No," Dylan said in a shaky voice, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "I asked you to. And I guess I'd rather know the truth, than go on believing a lie."

"One thing that is not a lie is that he truly loved your mother," Lupin said, his hand still resting on Dylan's shoulder. "Never doubt that."

"Yes, Professor," Dylan whispered, touching the ring that he wore on his right hand--his father's ring. The gesture comforted him, just a little. Lupin squeezed his shoulder, and that comforted him a little, too, and then his teacher went back to his desk and fixed Dylan a cup of fresh tea. Dylan drank it, the heat from the liquid driving out some of the chill that had settled in his body when he had heard the true story of Evan Rosier's death. Lupin sat watching him as he drank, with that kind and worried look in his blue eyes.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Dylan finally asked.

"You're my student," Lupin replied, as if stating the obvious, looking a little confused by Dylan's question. "And the son of an old classmate."

"I'm the son of a Death Eater," Dylan said bitterly. "Aren't you afraid that I'll turn out to be a Death Eater, too? That's what everyone else thinks."

"Not everyone," Lupin said firmly. "Not the Headmaster. Not Professor Flitwick. And not me."

"You don't even know me," Dylan pointed out.

Lupin smiled at him, an oddly tender look in his eyes that totally bewildered Dylan. "I have a...feeling about you, you might say. And my instincts are usually correct. I suppose some people might call me a fool, but I have faith in you, Dylan."

Dylan was even more confused than before, but Lupin obviously couldn't, or wouldn't, explain it any more clearly that that. He happened to glance up at the window, and saw that the sky outside was turning dark. Lupin's eyes followed his gaze, and he exclaimed, "Oh my, I didn't realize it was that late! You'd better hurry--we'd both better hurry, or we'll be late for dinner!"

Dylan rose to his feet, saying shyly, "Thank you for the tea...and everything, Professor."

Lupin smiled at him. "You're welcome, Dylan. Feel free to stop by my office anytime."

"By the way," Dylan asked, some of his good humor restored, "what was my detention? In case my housemates should ask."

Lupin thought for a moment, then decided, "I made you write lines. 'I will not behave disrespectfully in class.' And I lectured you about inter-House rivalry and the importance of getting along with your peers until your ears nearly fell off. I know some of the staff and students think I'm too softhearted; that should fit in with their view of me. Oh, and if you want to talk to me again, signal me and I'll give you detention. Just make a nasty comment about werewolves or something.'" Lupin grinned. "But try not to pick too many fights with the Gryffindors, please."

Dylan found himself grinning back at his teacher. "Yes, sir!"

"Run along, then, Mr. Rosier. We probably shouldn't be seen heading to the Great Hall together."

Dylan ran ahead to dinner, thinking to himself that he liked Lupin very much; it was really a pity that Snape hated him... 

***

"All right, Lupin, what are you up to?" Snape asked his lover as soon as they were alone in his quarters together after dinner.

"I don't know what you mean, Severus," Lupin said, feigning innocence.

Snape just gave him the same daunting glare he used to intimidate his students, but it had little effect on Lupin. "Why did you give Dylan Rosier detention?"

"Did Dylan tell you about that?" Lupin asked, feeling a bit surprised. He hadn't thought that Dylan would discuss their conversation with Severus; he'd gotten the distinct impression that Dylan thought that Professor Snape would disapprove of him associating with "the werewolf".

"No, but Doherty told Malfoy, and Malfoy told me. So, I repeat, Lupin, what are you up to? Dylan is much too careful to get caught doing anything that would warrant detention."

"Actually, I think he was trying to defend me, in his own way," Lupin replied with a grin. "It was kind of cute, really." He explained how Brad had drawn the unflattering werewolf caricature, how Dylan had tried to make him erase it, and how Dylan had turned on Ginny when she stood up for him.

"So you've already won over Dylan Rosier after only two days of class?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm impressed; he's very guarded, and doesn't readily trust most people."

"Sounds like someone else we know," Lupin said, smiling at Snape.

"Being a Death Eater doesn't exactly inspire warm feelings and faith in humanity," Snape pointed out dryly.

"It must be my charm and good looks," Lupin said, fluttering his eyelashes at Snape, who rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. "Besides, most of the Slytherins, particularly the younger ones, don't really hate me; they only pretend to so that Draco won't give them a hard time. Damien Pierce likes me, and he's Dylan's best friend, so he's probably persuaded Dylan that I'm all right."

"Let me see if I've got this straight: Dylan Rosier, who has always been more guarded and calculating than most adults twice his age, is leaping to defend you from one of his housemates," Snape said. Lupin grinned and nodded. "So I repeat, why did you give him detention?"

"I wanted an excuse to talk to him without Draco accusing him of getting friendly with me," Lupin said. "I think he wanted to talk to me, too."

"And why would he want to do that?" Snape asked uneasily, because his inner voice had no trouble coming up with an answer. {Because he saw Lupin in your thoughts, during the Occlumency lessons, and he wants to know why images of Lupin are floating around inside your head...}

But Lupin was replying, "Probably because I happened to mention in class yesterday that I went to school with his father. Which is true, of course."

Snape felt amused, annoyed, and relieved, all at the same time. "You deliberately played on his one weak spot, Lupin. Very devious, for a Gryffindor."

"Well, you once told me I would make a good Slytherin, Severus," Lupin laughed. "But yes, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist coming to me after that. I've heard so much about him over the past two years; I wanted to see him for myself--"

"You see him in class every day," Snape pointed out.

"--and I wanted to get to know him," Lupin finished. "Because...well, because you care about him." Snape flushed and scowled, and Lupin smiled tenderly. "You can't deny it, Severus."

"Don't go getting all sappy on me, Lupin," Snape said muttered, but didn't try to deny it. Lupin slipped an arm around his waist and kissed him on the cheek. "So," Snape said, trying to sound grumpy, in spite of the feeling of contentment that was slowly spreading through his body, "what did you think of Mr. Rosier?"

"A complicated boy," Lupin said, laying his head on Snape's shoulder. "A little bitter, which is not surprising, considering the circumstances. But at heart, a good person. Even if you had not intervened, I'm not sure that he would have followed in his father's footsteps." Lupin kissed Snape again, this time on the mouth. "Like you--and unlike Evan, I'm sorry to say--he thinks too much; he would not have been content to blindly accept Voldemort's propaganda for long. Eventually, he would have started to question, and to doubt. I think his friendship with Hermione proves that."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to get too close to him, Remus," Snape said, serious now.

"Why?" Lupin asked, looking a little hurt.

"He's very clever, and I don't want him to find out about us," Snape said, gently stroking Lupin's cheek in an attempt to soften his words. "It could be dangerous, for him and for us."

"I'll be careful, Severus," Lupin promised. "It's not out of character for me to befriend a fatherless Slytherin boy; I am a softhearted Gryffindor fool, remember? And I've openly made it my mission this year to foster inter-House cooperation." He sighed sadly. "But I do wish I could tell him the truth about how much you mean to me." He paused to think, and frowned a little. "Er...do you think he would be shocked? By us, I mean?"

"I'm sure he would be shocked to find out that the werewolf I claim to hate is my lover," Snape said with wry humor. "And I'm sure the entire school would be shocked to find out that anyone, even a werewolf, could feel love for me. But once he got over the initial shock, I don't think he would care that we're both men, if that's what you mean. Slytherins are rather blase about such things, you know. Though of course we're still expected to make proper marriages and sire little brats to carry on the family name regardless of our sexual preferences."

"Good," Lupin said, ignoring Severus's last sentence, because he had no fear that his lover was going to run off and sire little Snapes on some woman, although the thought of several little Severus Snapes running around was quite amusing. But he was happy that Dylan was not likely to hate him or be disgusted when--in some nebulous future--he found out that his two teachers were lovers. Severus loved Dylan, so Lupin wanted Dylan to like him. And Lupin sincerely liked Dylan; he found himself feeling almost fatherly towards the boy. Oddly enough, it was that very un-childlike, too-adult guardedness Severus had mentioned that made Lupin feel so protective of Dylan, because he knew it was a sign that the boy's childhood had been stolen from him--by Voldemort, by his grandmother's bitterness, by the prejudice of society in general.

It was silly, Lupin knew, because even if his father was dead, Dylan still had a family that loved him, but he found himself wistfully imagining a future in which the war was over, and he, Severus, and Dylan formed an odd little family of sorts. Perhaps it was because Severus (though he would never admit it out loud) thought of Dylan like a son, and because Lupin had long ago--even before he and Severus became lovers--resolved never to have children; there was no way he would ever risk inflicting his curse on a son or daughter. Dylan was likely the closest both he and Severus would ever come to having a child. There was Harry, of course, but Harry regarded Lupin as more of a mentor and favorite teacher than a parental figure; that role was rightfully filled by Sirius, his godfather. And although Severus had set aside his grudges enough to teach Harry, Lupin doubted that he would ever be able to like the boy, much less love him. Dylan was someone they could both love...

"But someday," Lupin whispered. "Someday, when it's safe, we can tell him?"

Snape did not quite understand the look of sorrow and yearning in Lupin's eyes, but he said, "Someday," and tenderly kissed his lover on the forehead, and Lupin seemed to be comforted by that.

Neither of them knew that "someday" would come sooner than they thought, and that it would not be safe at all...

***

Things went fairly well for Dylan as the first few weeks of school progressed. Snape was driving them harder than ever, to prepare them for their O.W.L.s, but Dylan had no trouble keeping up in Potions class; indeed, he relished the challenge, and was happy to help his less-adept classmates with their homework, although he was careful not to let Draco catch him at it. He and his classmates also continued to surreptitiously enjoy Lupin's class; they were still working on their Patronus Charms, as well as studying shield spells and countercurses. And Lupin had caught Brad Doherty off guard, when he returned Brad's "punishment" essay to him the following week.

"Well done, Brad," Lupin said cheerfully. "You really did your research on this." Lupin grinned mischievously. "And your illustrations were first-rate; very realistic." He held up the piece of parchment so the class could see the detailed drawings Brad had done of a werewolf and a real wolf, with little notes scribbled next to each picture pointing out the subtle differences between the two. "Ten points to Slytherin."

Brad sat up a little straighter in his chair, beaming with pride, until he remembered that Lupin was supposed to be the enemy, then flushed and scowled at the werewolf. Lupin just smiled and held out the parchment to him. Brad snatched it out of his hand, and for a moment Dylan thought he was going to crumple it up and throw it away, but instead he very carefully rolled it up and stowed it away in his bookbag.

Professor Blackmore's class was fascinating, although she was as strict and terrifying a teacher as Snape; she had the entire class--even the rowdiest of the Slytherins--too petrified with fear to step out of line. Dylan could not quite put his finger on it; she was a beautiful young woman, and had (so far) never actually harmed any of her students, but there was something about her that projected an aura of power and menace. And there was a very strange quality about her emerald-green eyes; they were not the eyes of a thirty or even forty-something year old woman...they seemed somehow ancient and otherworldly, more befitting of a faerie queen or demon princess than a schoolteacher, and Dylan was reminded of those old rumors about her family's supposed demon blood, and of her mysterious disappearance fifteen years ago.

Whatever the reason, Dylan and his classmates were always very well-behaved in Incantations class. He had not yet worked up the courage to talk to her privately about his father, but occasionally he caught her staring at him in class thoughtfully. And one day, when they had been practicing drawing protective circles in class, Blackmore stopped to examine his handiwork and said, "You have a very careful and precise touch, Mr. Rosier--much like your mother. Good work; five points to Slytherin." She actually gave him a small smile, but before Dylan had time to react, she had already moved on and was berating another student for their sloppy work.

And then, of course there was Quidditch. Draco was in a much better mood of late, because Montague had graduated, and Snape had appointed Draco Captain of the Slytherin team. And, of course, Montague's departure meant that there was another opening on the team...

***

"I'm going to try out for the team," Damien announced eagerly as the usual foursome of friends were doing their homework one night. They had gathered in Dylan's and Damien's dorm room rather than the common room, in an attempt to keep a low profile and avoid arousing Draco's ire.

"What about you, Theo?" Dylan asked. "Are you going to try out?"

"No," Theodore replied flatly.

"Why not?" Damien asked, looking surprised. "I figured you'd be a shoe-in, being so tight with Malfoy and all. And I thought you liked Quidditch--"

"I do," Theodore replied, looking almost as sour as Snape. "But I more than have my fill of Malfoy lording it over me all day long in class; I don't much fancy being bossed around on the Quidditch Pitch by him as well." There was an awkward silence, then Theo managed a slightly twisted smile and said, "But good luck to you, Damien. I'll be cheering you on."

"Yes, well, I suppose I should thank you," Damien said, trying to make light of it, "since my chances of making the team will be better now. I don't mind sucking up to Malfoy a bit to make the team; it seems to be a prerequisite of entering Slytherin House, anyway..." He fell to the floor and began groveling extravagantly. "Yes, sir, Malfoy, whatever you say, Lord Malfoy..."

He looked so ridiculous that the other boys had to laugh. "Get up, you clown," Theo snorted, prodding Damien slightly with his foot.

Damien got up and picked up his textbook again, but looked pleased that he'd managed to cheer up his usually-morose friend. "So what about you, Blaise?" he asked. "Going to try out?"

"No, no, no," Blaise said fervently, shaking his head. "I'm not much good on a broomstick; I got bucked off on my first flying lesson." He turned a little red, no doubt remembering his classmates' laughter; Slytherins were not exactly known for their compassion. "Anyway, I agree with Theo about Malfoy." He gave his friend a sympathetic smile. "He's already chewed me out once for doing too well in Potions class; the last thing I want to do is attract more attention to me, good or bad."

***

So Damien tried out and made the team, joining Dylan as a Chaser. Malfoy scowled a little when he heard that Potter had been made Captain of the Gryffindor team, but seemed a little consoled by the fact that at least they held equal status. Dylan silently thanked every god he could think of that Montague had graduated last year; there would have been no living with Draco if Potter had been made a Captain while he was still a mere team member.

Meanwhile, the Gryffindors, even the girls, began to treat Dylan more coldly than usual, once word of how he had turned on Ginny Weasley got out, as he discovered one day in the library...

Dylan was studying in a secluded corner of the library late one afternoon. He was taking notes on a Summonings text that was a reference book, and thus, "Not allowed out of the library; no exceptions," Madam Pince had informed him coldly, and he knew better than to argue with her.

Hermione Granger walked by carrying a large stack of books, started to sit at the table, then saw Dylan and said in an icy voice, "Oh, I didn't know YOU were here."

From the look in her eyes, that coldness was real and not feigned. He looked around carefully to make sure they were really alone, then gave her his most charming smile. "Hermione--"

She just looked down her nose at him in a such a disdainful way that it would have put Narcissa Malfoy to shame. "I heard how you treated Ginny in Professor Lupin's class."

Dylan sighed. He had forgotten that she and the Weasley girl were friends. "Aw, come on, Hermione," he said. "You know I didn't mean it."

She dropped her books onto the table with a loud thump and sat down across from him, still looking rather irritated, but at least she wasn't doing her Ice Queen imitation anymore. "Every time you do something mean, Dylan Rosier, you always say afterwards, 'I didn't mean it'..."

"How would it look to Malfoy if I hid behind a Gryffindor girl's skirts?" Dylan asked, and Hermione glared at him. "Okay, bad analogy," he said hastily, holding up his hands as if trying to ward off an attack, cringing with a look of exaggerated fear on his face. Hermione tried to keep the stern look on her face, but her lips twitched upwards in a smile, and she gave in and laughed.

"Oh, all right, I forgive you, even though I shouldn't!" she said. "You really hurt her feelings, you know, and she always thought you were nice even though Ron and some of the other Gryffindor boys were always putting you down."

"I know, I know," he sighed. "I'm sorry, really I am, but I have to keep up my cover."

"I know," she said in a quieter voice. "Professor Snape told me. I guess I shouldn't be talking to you right now, should I?"

"Not really," he reluctantly agreed.

"Are you really in danger, Dylan?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"I can't talk about it," Dylan said quietly. "For your safety, as well as mine. I wish I could." Hermione nodded and picked up her books, preparing to leave. "Hermione, wait! Professor Snape talked to you during the summer?" She nodded. "When did that happen? What were you doing talking to Snape during summer vacation, anyway?"

She looked uncomfortable. "I...I can't talk about it, either."

Dylan stared at her, wondering what secret she and Snape could possibly be sharing. "Well," he said slowly, "it looks as if we both have secrets to conceal."

"Looks like it," she agreed. "Be careful, Dylan."

He was about to reply, "You too," when he heard footsteps approaching, and said in a loud voice, "I don't care if I hurt your little friend's feelings, Granger! That will teach her not to interfere with her betters!"

Hermione blinked, looking surprised for just a moment, then quickly retorted, "Her 'betters'? I think all the adulation you get from the female students has swelled your head, you arrogant little git! Ginny Weasley is worth ten of you!"

"Ha! I'm worth ten Weasleys--and come to think of it, there are at least ten of them, aren't there?"

Serafina Avery stopped in her tracks, and looked from Dylan to Hermione and back again, her violet eyes expressionless. "This is a library," she said mildly. "You should keep your voices down."

"I'm sorry for the disturbance, Serafina," Hermione said politely, then shot Dylan one last glare--although there was just a hint of laughter in her eyes--before turning on her heel and stalking away.

"And what are you looking at, Avery?" Dylan snarled, feeling rather grumpy at having his brief conversation with Hermione interrupted.

Serafina was staring at him with a look of mingled puzzlement and contempt. "You confuse me, Rosier," she said, still in that mild, almost conversational voice. "Sometimes you act almost human, and other times, like now, I could swear that you were really Draco Malfoy in disguise."

Dylan stared at her in surprise; that was more than she normally said in a week! "So what's it to you?" he asked, more curious than angry.

"It's nothing to me," she replied in an indifferent voice, "if you want to be Draco Malfoy's lapdog."

Dylan felt his face turning red; now he was angry. "Look who's talking!" he snapped. "Your father was Draco's father's lapdog, and look where it's gotten him!"

"I know," Serafina replied, apparently not offended. "But I thought you were smarter than my father."

Now Dylan was utterly confused. He wavered for a moment, torn between caution and curiosity; curiosity won out. "Aren't you looking forward to the glorious day when the Dark Lord triumphs and his followers, including your father, reign supreme over the wizarding world?" he asked, in a sarcastic voice so that he could claim later that he was just joking, in case anyone heard about it and tried to use it against him.

Serafina's usually expressionless eyes were now filled with pure contempt. "You're a fool, Rosier, if you think anyone other than the Dark Lord will 'reign supreme.' The fact that my father's in prison and your father's dead ought to tell you something."

Dylan bit down hard on his lip to keep from screaming at her. Even if Evan Rosier had made a terrible, foolish mistake by joining the Death Eaters, he was still Dylan's father. {Control,} he reminded himself. {Stay in control.} He snapped the book shut, grabbed his things, and rose from his seat.

"If you're done with that book, I'd like it," Serafina said calmly. "That's why I came looking for you. Madam Pince said you had it, so I came to ask if I could read it when you were done."

Dylan took a deep breath and counted to ten in his mind, then handed her the book, resisting the urge to throw it at her head. After leaving the library, he calmed down a little--after all, she hadn't said anything that was untrue. Well, he wasn't Draco's lapdog, but since he had deliberately cultivated that image, he couldn't really blame her for thinking that. But he was surprised to learn that she didn't seem to approve of her father being a Death Eater. He had assumed that Serafina, like Draco, and like himself before he had learned the truth about the Dark Lord, wanted to follow in her father's footsteps. Isn't that what all the children of the Death Eaters wanted? Dylan frowned. Maybe not. He didn't want it, and Serafina obviously didn't, either. Did Theo? His friend had always agreed with Draco and parroted his opinions, but on the other hand, he had made it clear that he didn't much like Draco, and only hung out with him because that was what was expected of him. And he didn't seem to be very concerned about his father, who was in Azkaban along with Draco's and Serafina's fathers, not to mention Crabbe's and Goyle's. So perhaps Theo did not much care for the Death Eaters, either, although he had never said so.

{But I'm his friend,} Dylan thought. {Wouldn't he tell me the truth?} But then again, Dylan had not told Theodore the truth, had he? His mother had told him to trust no one, so he had not told even his closest friends that he aspired to follow in his father's footsteps and become a Death Eater, nor had he told them of his growing misgivings, and he had certainly not told them when the Dark Mark had been forced upon him. So it was not really unthinkable that his friends might be keeping a few secrets from him...that was a very disconcerting thought.

Later that night, at their usual study session, Dylan asked Theodore, "What do you know about Serafina Avery? I ran into her at the library and she was acting a little weird."

"Weird how?" Theodore asked. "That girl is just plain weird to begin with; you need to be a little more specific, Rosier."

Dylan paused as he mentally edited the afternoon's events into something safe for him to discuss, and was reminded once again about how much he was hiding from his friends. "Well, she actually spoke to me, for one thing," he said wryly.

"She did?" Damien asked incredulously, then grinned. "I told you she had a crush on you, Dylan! Eh, you can do better than that, though, when you've got girls like Lisa Turpin or the Patil sisters drooling over you. Avery's kind of scrawny and plain-looking."

"She's got nice eyes," Blaise said in an offhand manner without looking up from his book.

"Ah, so that's your type, is it?" Damien teased. "Too bad she's hung up on Dylan!" Blaise just smiled and shook his head.

"She's not hung up on me," Dylan protested.

"The girl's a freak!" Theodore snapped, scowling fiercely.

Blaise raised his eyebrows and said mildly, "Well, you don't have to be mean about it, Theo."

"Well, she IS weird," Theodore muttered sullenly. "She never says anything, just stares at you with that freaky look on her face, like you're one of the specimens in Snape's jars..."

"You have nice eyes, too, Theo," Damien cooed, batting his eyelashes playfully. "No need to be jealous!"

"Oh, bugger off, Pierce!" Theodore--whose eyes were an odd, murky shade of gray-green--snarled, his face turning red.

"Jeez, some people just can't take a joke," Damien muttered, sounding a little hurt.

"So what did she say to you, anyway?" Blaise asked Dylan hastily, giving Theodore a puzzled look.

"Well, she caught me arguing with Hermione Granger," Dylan replied casually. "She was chewing me out for hurting Ginny Weasley's feelings--"

Damien snickered. "Aw, I bet if you went and apologized and made nice to Ginny, she'd forgive you like that!" He snapped his fingers. "She is pretty cute, and--" Damien grinned wickedly. "--Ron Weasley would have a fit if you started dating his sister!"

"Are you out of your mind, Pierce?!" Dylan said disbelievingly. "Draco would kill me if I dated a Gryffindor girl, especially Weasley's sister!"

"True," Damien said, heaving a sigh of disappointment. "Too bad, she really is kind of hot. Did you notice that she filled out a little over the summer?" Damien leered and said, "Do you think Malfoy would care if I went out with a Gryffindor?"

"Yes," Dylan and Theo said firmly, and Damien sighed again.

"Do you ever think about anything but girls?" Blaise asked.

"Not really," Damien replied cheerfully.

"So what did Sera say when she walked in on your argument?" Theodore asked curiously.

"'Sera'?" Blaise asked, raising his eyebrows again. "Not 'the freak'?"

Theodore rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, that was kind of mean of me. But we're Slytherins; we're supposed to be mean! Nasty, evil, slimy..." His friends laughed, and Theo smiled a little. "Sera's her nickname, sort of. I can't really say we were friends, but our parents were, so I've known her since I was, like, five years old. 'Serafina' was too big a mouthful, so I used to just call her Sera. So, anyway, what did she say?"

"She said that sometimes I seemed almost human, and at other times, I was just like Draco Malfoy."

The other three boys burst out laughing. "Oh, that's a good one," Damien said, laughing so hard that he had to wipe tears from his eyes. "I'd love to see her say it to Malfoy's face!"

"I take it she's no fan of Malfoy, despite the...er...family connection?" Dylan said delicately, and Damien and Blaise, who were not the children of Death Eaters, looked a little uncomfortable.

Theodore frowned. "Who knows what she thinks? She never talks to anyone; I'm surprised she spoke to you at all."

Dylan hesitated, then asked, "What's her family like?"

Theodore looked uneasy. Draco bragged incessantly about how high his father ranked in the Death Eaters, but Theodore and Dylan, as if by unspoken agreement, said very little about their fathers or the Death Eaters in general. "Mr. Avery likes to act big, like the Malfoys do, but they outrank him, and he knows it. So he takes it out on his family; he knocks around Sera's mum, and he used to hit Sera, too. He's basically an overgrown bully." The expression on Theodore's face turned dark and brooding, and Blaise and Damien looked even more uncomfortable.

{So these are my father's comrades,} Dylan thought bitterly. {Lucius Malfoy, who lords it over everyone, and kidnapped my mother, his old friend's lover, to make me join the Death Eaters. Mr. Avery, who's apparently a wife-beater. And Mr. Nott is probably no prize, either.} He silently asked his father, {How could you have been taken in by these people? How could you have called them your friends?} Then he realized there was something odd about the way Theodore had phrased his words. "Used to hit Sera?" he asked.

"Used to," Theodore said, smiling in a rather nasty way. "Until she hexed him."

"Hexed him?!"

"Hexed him," Theodore agreed, still smiling. "Not long before she entered Hogwarts. Nasty one, too--he had to go to St. Mungo's to have it taken off. Lots of warts, blisters, and pustules. Oozing pustules." Damien made a face and pretended to gag. "Very painful, I imagine. Never touched her again, though he still yells at her. But she just ignores him like she ignores everything else. She's a little scary; you don't want to mess with her."

Damien shuddered a little, and Blaise said, "I'm having some trouble with my Potions homework...why is hemlock listed under both healing herbs and poisons?"

Dylan gratefully let him change the subject, and everyone looked relieved. "Well, obviously, hemlock is poisonous, but in small doses it can be used as a sedative--"

"There must be easier ways of putting someone under than giving them a deadly poison," Damien said dryly, and his friends laughed, a little louder than his joke deserved, and they talked about nothing more serious than homework and girls for the rest of the night.

***

Things were not exactly going badly for Harry at school, but he wasn't sure he could say they were going well, either. He was kept very busy with all his classes, and while he was proud to be the new Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team (the look of outrage on Malfoy's face when he heard had been quite satisfying), his new duties, combined with his homework, left him very little spare time. And on top of all that, he still had to take Occlumency lessons.

"From Snape?" Harry wailed. "I know I have to take the lessons, but why does it have to be Snape?"

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore reminded him.

"Why do I have to keep taking lessons from Professor Snape, sir?" Harry asked. "You said he was giving me lessons during the summer because you were too busy, but I thought you'd take over when school started!"

"Well, I was going to," Dumbledore replied with a smile, as his eyes twinkled mischievously behind his half-moon glasses. Harry thought darkly that he didn't find the situation one bit humorous. "But it really is better for you to learn from one teacher if possible--consistency is important, Harry. And Professor Snape tells me that you are progressing well in your lessons."

"That's news to me," Harry said skeptically. The most Snape ever said to him was a scornful, "Not bad for such an undisciplined amateur such as yourself, Potter," or "Well, I suppose you weren't as incompetent as usual today, Potter".

Dumbledore's eyes kept twinkling. "Professor Snape is not very demonstrative in his praise, it is true--"

{That's got to be the understatement of the year!} Harry thought.

"--but I assure you, he does believe you are making progress."

"I'd make more progress with you, Professor!" Harry said desperately.

"Besides," Dumbledore added, looking a bit more serious, "I think it is important for you and Severus to learn to get along with each other."

"But--" Harry protested.

"You don't have to like him, Harry," Dumbledore said sternly. "But you do have to learn to work with him, and respect him, like it or not. He is a valued member of the Order of the Phoenix, and we are all working towards the same goal, and I will not allow petty dislikes to jeopardize something so important."

"'Petty dislikes'? He hates me!"

"No," said Dumbledore quietly, "he hates your father."

"Yeah, well, he seems to have the two of us a little mixed up!"

"Harry," Dumbledore said, sounding...not exactly impatient, but a little disappointed. "I know you have seen a different side of Professor Snape this summer. You know he saved Sirius at the risk of his own life. You know about his relationship with Remus. And you know that he volunteered to give you the Occlumency lessons this summer in an attempt to make up for his earlier mistakes. It takes a very brave man to admit that he is wrong, Harry."

"I suppose," Harry muttered, and suddenly he remembered that he had never apologized to Snape--as he had told Professor Blackmore and Lupin he would--for spying in the Pensieve. He felt a little guilty about that, although he tried to tell himself that Snape was unlikely to accept such an apology, anyway.

Dumbledore smiled at him and patted him on the shoulder. "I know it won't be easy, but you are a brave boy, Harry, and I believe you are up to the challenge. And you may always come and talk to me anytime you wish."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, resigning himself to the inevitable. Well, at least the Headmaster wasn't going to keep him in the dark and avoid him like he had last year. It was a little disconcerting--not to mention frightening--to learn that the adults he trusted, even one as wise and powerful as Dumbledore, could be fallible and make mistakes.


***

"Six o'clock, every Monday and Wednesday evening here in my office, Potter," Snape said coldly. "Don't be late."

"And what's my excuse to be this year? Sir?" Harry said through gritted teeth. "I can hardly be taking Remedial Potions if I'm in your advanced class. Sir."

Snape gave him a sour look. "Don't be cheeky, Potter. I assure you, I'm not enjoying this any more than you are. You are here for extra tutoring, to keep up in class." He sneered a little. "Since the Headmaster forced me to accept you, even though I told him you were not ready."

"Why do you hate me so much?" Harry burst out, unable to hold it in any longer, although he knew that he was probably going to earn himself a detention.

"Let's see," Snape said sarcastically. "There are so many reasons to choose from: your insolence and arrogance, your constant rule-breaking--"

"You've had it in for me from the beginning!" Harry retorted. Snape was going to kill him, but somehow, he didn't care. "Before I had broken a single rule!"

"I knew from the moment I first set eyes on you that--"

"I'M NOT MY FATHER!" Harry shouted. {Okay, I'm dead!} he thought, but at the same time it felt satisfying to finally get years of resentment off his chest.

Snape looked more stunned than angry, though. "I assure you," he said in a slightly unsteady voice, "that you are very much like your father."

"Look," Harry said, in a quieter voice, "I'm sorry about how my dad treated you, but--"

"I don't need your pity, Potter!" Snape snapped, looking a little wild-eyed and paler than usual.

"But I'm not like my father," Harry finished. "Not that way. At least, I don't want to be." Snape just stared at him, apparently having gone beyond anger straight to disbelief. "And..." Harry hesitated, then swallowed hard, remembering Dumbledore's words about it taking a brave man to admit he was wrong. "I...I'm really sorry that I looked into the Pensieve, sir."

"Sorry that you saw what your father was really like you mean," Snape spat contemptuously.

{See, I knew apologizing wouldn't do any good,} a sullen corner of Harry's mind said. But another, more reasonable, part of him thought that he would have a hard time forgiving anyone who had seen him so thoroughly humiliated--especially if that someone just happened to be the son of the person who had humiliated him. "No," Harry said quietly. "I mean, that too. But I'm sorry, because what I did was wrong."

Snape's jaw dropped, and he just stood there with his mouth hanging open, looking absolutely flabbergasted, and Harry had to repress a smile in spite of himself. Snape recovered quickly, though, and scowled and said, "A thoughtless sort of prank like that is exactly the same sort of stunt your father would have pulled."

"It wasn't a prank, sir," Harry argued, then Snape glared at him, and he thought perhaps he should have left well enough alone.

"Then what was it, Potter?" Snape asked coldly.

Harry flushed and mumbled, "I thought...I thought, at the time, that maybe you were still working for Vol--for You-Know-Who, and I thought maybe you were hiding something about the Department of Mysteries in there..."

For a moment, Snape looked shocked, angry, and...something else. Hurt? Disappointed? Resigned? Then the emotion drained out of his face, to be replaced by an expressionless mask. "Ah, I see," Snape said sarcastically. "It was not a schoolboy prank, but merely delusions of grandeur."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Well, guess what, Potter?" Snape retorted. "Saying 'I'm sorry' doesn't magically make everything all right, nor does it obligate me to forgive you. Forgiveness is something that must be earned."

Harry flushed, anger beginning to replace guilt. Yes, what he did was wrong, but did Snape have to be so nasty about it, especially when he was trying to apologize?

"Control, Potter," Snape said coldly. "We've wasted enough time already. Prepare yourself." He took out his wand, and Harry braced himself, trying to get his emotions under control. "One...two...three...Legilimens!"

Harry felt Snape attack his mental "wall," and memories began to escape: young James Potter playing with a Golden Snitch...Ron being attacked by a brain-like creature in the Department of Mysteries...Lupin kissing a struggling Snape in the Headmaster's office while a just-healed Sirius looked on in outrage...

Snape's attack faltered, and Harry pushed back with his mind, and was a little sorry he did so, because suddenly he was in Snape's head again: Dumbledore patting a young James Potter on the shoulder affectionately...a teenaged Lupin laughing as James described a Quidditch play he'd made, accompanied by expansive gestures...James hovering protectively over a tired and ill-looking Lupin in class...and watching from the shadows, in every scene, a young Snape, with hungry and jealous eyes...

"ENOUGH!" shouted Snape, breaking off the spell. Harry stared at him nervously, expecting to be yelled at, to be given detention, maybe to have a few jars thrown his way, but strangely enough, Snape looked more weary than angry. "Enough," Snape repeated, in a softer voice. "Enough for tonight."

"Sir?" Harry asked, beginning to feel concerned. Was Snape feeling sick or something? It was extremely rare for Snape not to be able to summon enough energy to get angry at him. Unheard of, in fact.

"Get out of here, Potter!" Snape snapped, sounding more like his old self, and Harry felt oddly relieved. "And you had better show more control at your next lesson!"

Part 13