FIC: Phoenix Rising, Part 16 of 37

[geri_chan]

Title: Phoenix Rising, Part 16 of 37
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Word count: ~9,645
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: A rift grows between Dylan and Theodore, and Lupin's attempts to befriend Theodore alienate the Gryffindors.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

***

Snape and his student headed upstairs while Sirius and Lupin cleaned up in the kitchen. "An odd pair," Sirius said, shaking his head, "though strangely appropriate. But I never thought that I would see Snape behaving in an almost fatherly way."

Lupin grinned. "He's a bit like Branwen, I think, hiding his concern for his students behind that gruff exterior. But he does care about them, Sirius, all of them, and not just Dylan. He wants to keep them falling victim to Voldemort the way he and his classmates did; you should see how he worries about even the most unpleasant of the Slytherin children, including Draco Malfoy."

Sirius grunted in grudging acknowledgment. "Yeah, and I've heard from Harry's letters that you've been concerned about the Malfoy kid yourself."

Lupin smiled at him. "He's not so bad, or at least he wouldn't be, if not for Lucius Malfoy's influence. However arrogant he might be, he is still a child, one who loves his parents and is worried about them. Someone who is capable of such love cannot be completely irredeemable."

"But when the parents he loves are Death Eaters--"

"We have to show him that there is a better way, Severus and I," Lupin said quietly. "A better way than the one his father has taught him. It will be difficult, but not impossible. After all, Dylan has come over to our side. And I think Narcissa Malfoy could be swayed, if she believed that the Death Eaters were a threat to her son's life. I'm not sure about Lucius, though." Lupin frowned. "I'm not sure that he cares about Draco as anything but a pawn and possession, the heir to the Malfoy house. He showers the boy with money and material gifts, but he always treated his son coldly during the times that I saw them together. I think that's what makes Draco act the way he does, because he is so eager to impress his father and win his approval."

Sirius grunted again. It was bad enough that Lupin and Branwen had forced him to view Snape as a person, with good points as well as bad, and not as just a one-dimensional Death Eater villain, but now he was supposed to feel sorry for Lucius Malfoy's son as well?! Sirius sighed. Well, why not? Now that he had met Dylan Rosier in person, he could no longer think of the boy simply as a Death Eater's son, although life would probably be much easier if he could.

"By the way, Sirius," Lupin said, suddenly giving him a hug, "I'm very proud of you!"

"What was that for?" a startled Sirius asked.

"For apologizing to Severus," Lupin replied. "I know how hard that must have been for you."

Sirius scowled. "Oh, Snape told you about that, did he? Then you know that it didn't do much good. I shouldn't have bothered, it only made things worse."

"You're wrong," Lupin said. "Yes, Severus was upset, but in the long run, I believe it was the right thing to do. I don't know if Severus will ever be able to forgive you, but there could certainly never have been any forgiveness while he believed you were still unrepentant. Perhaps this will help him to heal; those old wounds are still raw, you know..."

"I know," Sirius muttered, flushing with shame as he looked down at his feet, unable to meet Lupin's eyes. "I didn't realize...I didn't know how much I hurt him. I didn't know that..."

"That he really loved me?" Lupin finished, smiling a little, though his expression was still grave. "Do you believe it now, finally?"

"Yes," Sirius said reluctantly.

"Then the apology was worth it," Lupin said, "for your sake as well as Severus's." Lupin suddenly grinned mischievously. "Can it be you're growing up, Padfoot?"

Sirius scowled fiercely for a moment, then gave in and laughed. "Branwen would say it's about time! I suppose I am a slow learner..." Then he scowled again, but Lupin kept grinning, as if he knew that Sirius didn't really mean it. "But I still think you have bad taste in men, Moony!"

Lupin just laughed. "At least I HAVE a boyfriend, Padfoot! I don't see any suitors of either gender lining up outside your door!"

"Ouch!" Sirius said, wincing. "That's a low blow, Moony! Besides, twelve years in prison puts a serious crimp in one's love life!"

Lupin laughed and they finished washing the dishes in companionable silence. There was a faint whiff of tobacco in the air; a small, shadowy figure was visible in the corner of the room. It was Hob, contentedly puffing on his pipe, able to relax now that his "family" was at peace with one another.

"So, what do you think of Dylan?" Lupin asked in a casual manner, as he dried and put away the last dish.

"He seems like a good kid," Sirius said, a little awkwardly. "He's charming, like his father, but he doesn't seem to hold any grudges against Gryffindor."

"Well, he was born of a union of two Houses," Lupin pointed out.

"I actually kind of like him," Sirius admitted. "Never thought I'd say that about a Slytherin!" Lupin managed to look pleased and annoyed at the same time, and let out his breath in that long-suffering sigh he used whenever he thought Sirius being unreasonable or showing his prejudices. Sirius idly wondered for a moment if Snape found that sigh as irritating as he did. "We even got to talking," Sirius continued, "when I went up to tell him dinner was ready. We had a few laughs about the old days."

Lupin smiled. "I wondered what was taking you so long.

"Like you didn't set the whole thing up," Sirius retorted, and Lupin smiled sheepishly, confirming Sirius's suspicions. "You could have gone up yourself, but you wanted me to have a chance to get to know the boy. Well, I have to tell you that it backfired. Snape walked in on us and blew a gasket. Started screaming at me to leave the boy alone, that if I touched Dylan he'd kill me." Sirius frowned. "I know Snape hates my guts, but I didn't expect him to lose it like that. I mean, he was acting like he thought I was only being nice to Dylan to get him off-guard and stab him in the back. Does he really think that I'd hurt a kid, even the son of an old enemy? He started shouting about how I'd tried to kill him in the Shrieking Shack twenty years ago."

Lupin looked concerned, and said softly, "I don't think he really believes that you would hurt Dylan, Sirius. I don't even think that he really believes that you intended to kill him back in fifth year, no matter how much he tries to convince himself that you did."

"Then what's his problem?" Sirius asked in exasperation.

"He's probably jealous," Lupin replied calmly.

"Jealous?" Sirius asked, looking bewildered. "Of what? That I was talking to his student?"

"Jealous that someone he cares about might be getting close to you," Lupin explained patiently. "The way he's jealous of you and me. I can count on the fingers of one hand, the number of people that Severus loves and trusts, and Dylan is one of them. I told you before, Severus has trouble understanding that I can love you without it diminishing my love for him."

"But you're his lover, and Dylan is just a kid," Sirius protested. "And Dylan's not even HIS kid!"

"Well, it's probably the fact that it's you," Lupin admitted. "He doesn't seem to mind sharing Dylan with his family and with me. But think about how you'd feel if you walked in on Harry laughing and having a good time with Severus. Wouldn't you feel a little angry, a little jealous, perhaps a little betrayed?"

"That's ludicrous!" Sirius snorted, unable to picture such a scene.

"Yes, it's rather unlikely," Lupin sighed. "But for the sake of argument..."

Sirius thought about it, and, chagrined, said, "I wouldn't like it at all!"

"I rest my case," Lupin said with a smile.

"But now he's probably got the Rosier kid convinced that I'm some kind of demon," Sirius complained. "Didn't you notice the way he was looking at me at dinner?"

Still smiling, Lupin asked, "And it bothers you that a Slytherin child might think ill of you?"

"I told you I liked the kid," Sirius said sulkily. "You're the one who's been trying to get me to be more broad-minded."

"I'm just teasing, Padfoot," Lupin laughed, giving him another hug. "I'm really glad that you like Dylan. And don't worry, I think he will come around once he gets to know you. He's a very intelligent boy, and he's able to think for himself and draw his own conclusions. He liked me even when he still thought that Severus hated me."

Sirius sighed, not really sure why it mattered to him what Evan Rosier's son thought of him. Lupin bid him goodnight and headed upstairs after Snape, and Sirius headed up to his own room, deciding that he'd been open-minded enough for one day. Trying to think objectively about Snape and Dylan was beginning to give him a headache, and he needed to rest his poor, overtaxed brain.

***

Dylan rested and worked on his homework Saturday night, under Snape's watchful eye. Probably his classmates would have found that more draining than relaxing, but Dylan didn't mind. They had some interesting discussions about potions, and Snape was much less sarcastic and intimidating outside of class. Besides, although he tried to hide it, Dylan could see that Snape was still worried about him, and that made him happy. And although he was still getting over the shock, he was also happy to know that his two favorite teachers didn't hate each other after all--quite the opposite, in fact! Lupin sat quietly reading in one corner of the room, looking up to smile fondly at Dylan and Snape from time to time, until Snape finally asked, "What are you smirking about, Lupin?!"

"I was just thinking how fortunate I am," Lupin replied serenely, "to be able to spend time with two people that I care about very much."

Snape turned beet-red, and turned back to the Potions textbook and snarled, "Name five uses for hellebore, Mr. Rosier!"

Dylan obediently recited, "It is a vital ingredient in the Draught of Peace; it can be used in certain healing potions to treat mental disorders; its narcotic properties are useful in inducing visions, as in the Prophecy Potion..." But meanwhile, he gave Lupin a startled look; the werewolf smiled at him, and Dylan shyly smiled back. {Professor Lupin cares about me?} he asked himself. Then, recalling the way Lupin had comforted him and tucked him into bed last night, answered his own question with, {Yes, I suppose he does.} Snape caught him smiling at Lupin, and scowled. Dylan quickly looked down at his textbook as he finished reeling off hellebore uses, but when he glanced up again, he saw Snape gazing at Lupin, a nearly imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Dylan smiled and bent his head back over his book before Snape noticed.

The next morning, he had a leisurely breakfast with his two Professors and Sirius Black, then finished his homework. Snape looked him over carefully and pronounced him fit to travel, and took him to Uncle Math's estate to visit with his family; Lupin said he would meet them back at Hogwarts. Aunt Goewin and his mother covered Dylan with tears and kisses as they took turns hugging him, while Snape and Uncle Math went off to consult privately in his study. They all had lunch together, although Snape looked a bit uncomfortable, probably because Goewin kept glaring at him the entire time, even though Dylan had tried to assure her that his injuries were all healed, and that it wasn't Snape's fault, anyway.

"You never mentioned much about Dad's family," Dylan said to his mother between mouthfuls. "What were they like?"

"Severus says that you met Armand's portrait," Ariane said with a wry smile, and Dylan nodded. "He was already dead by the time I started dating Evan, but I encountered his portrait as well. He was a proud, fierce old man, and he didn't much care for his great-grandson 'defiling' the family line by proposing to marry a Ravenclaw. Evan's parents were kind enough to me, though. They would rather he married a nice Slytherin girl, of course, but they doted on Evan, so they accepted me for his sake."

"They doted too much on Evan for his own good," Goewin muttered under her breath.

Ariane pretended not to hear, and continued, "Your grandfather Julien was a very handsome man, who looked much like Evan, although he was much more serious and stern. Sometimes Evan's pranks drove him to distraction, but your father usually managed to charm his way out of trouble, or Evan's mother Elin would make peace between them. She was much more lighthearted than Julien, and could always soothe his temper and make him smile; I think Evan got his mischievous streak from her. She was an herbalist, come to think of it; she used to brew her own potions and tonics for the household. Perhaps that's where your talent at Potions comes from." Ariane smiled, looking a bit wistful and nostalgic. "I got good grades in Potions, of course, but my strongest subjects were Charms and Incantations, and it certainly didn't come from your father!"

Snape snorted. "Ah yes, I remember the time Evan and Lyall made their cauldron explode in class, but I think it was more deliberate mischief than incompetence on their part. Either way, it earned them a week's detention. Plus they had to scrub down the Potions classroom."

Goewin looked unhappy at all this fond reminiscing, and Math said quietly, "Dylan should know about his father's good points as well as the bad, my dear." To Dylan, he said, "You need not be ashamed of loving your father, child, so long as you do not forget that the path he chose had dire consequences, both for himself and the people he loved." Dylan flushed and nodded, his good mood dampened. "But there was good in Evan as well as evil; the capacity for both lies inside all of us. He is responsible for the choices he made, of course, but perhaps if Deirdre could have accepted him into the family, we could have steered him away from Voldemort. And perhaps I could have made a difference, if I had reached out to Evan and Ariane, rather than abiding, however reluctantly, by my sister's decision."

Dylan felt stunned, and by the expression on his mother's face, she felt the same. "I did not approve of Evan, either, my dear," Math said to Ariane. "I thought he would be a bad influence on you." Ariane flushed. "But I could see how much you loved each other, and I could see you would not be swayed. So I believed that the wiser course of action would have been to let you marry Evan and accept him into our family. I could see that he was not all bad, though I am afraid Goewin is right, and that his parents spoiled him too much, leading him to believe that he was entitled to whatever he wanted, no matter what the cost. But I could see flashes of goodness in him, the love and loyalty he felt towards you and his friend Lyall. I argued with your mother that we could redeem him, prevent him from going over to the Death Eaters. But Deirdre has ever been set against the Slytherins, particularly since her best friend, Fiona Byrne, married Meredith Blackmore, your old Professor's father. She argued with Fiona over it bitterly, saying that Meredith was a Dark Wizard, and she blamed Slytherin in general and Meredith in particular when Fiona was killed along with her husband in a very suspicious accident." Math sighed. "Meredith was a good lad, more of a dreamer than a Dark Wizard, but he underestimated Voldemort's power and influence. In any case, Fiona's death hardened Deirdre's heart against the Slytherins; that is why she regarded it as such a betrayal when you took up with Evan."

"I didn't know all that," Ariane said in a small voice.

"I should have told you," Math said. "Though I doubt that would have changed your mind. But at least you would have understood the reasons why your mother reacted the way she did. I felt she was wrong to disown you, Ariane, but she is the head of the family, and I abided by her decision. And I did not wish to interfere in the relationship between mother and daughter; I thought it would ruin any chance of a future reconciliation." The old wizard sighed wearily. "I was wrong. But we were so caught up with the war, and there seemed to be little time to tend to personal matters..."

"You stood by me, Uncle, during my trial," Ariane said quietly, reaching out to clasp Math's hands. "I know it was you who persuaded Mother to exert her influence on the Ministry, and I am grateful. And I am grateful that you took me in and showed my son kindness when everyone else scorned him for his father's blood."

Math smiled, though he still looked weary and a little guilty. "The ties between family are not so easily broken, no matter what your mother and brothers think." He affectionately patted Ariane's hand and kissed her on the cheek. "Now, let us finish our meal."

Everyone turned their attention back to lunch, and talked of inconsequential matters, much to Snape's relief, judging from the look on his face. Dylan smiled and made small talk along with the others, but inside he was troubled by Math's confession. All the people he had thought were so wise and powerful, like Uncle Math and Professor Snape, kept talking about how much they regretted the mistakes they had made. If someone as old and wise as Math was fallible, what chance did Dylan himself have? He wanted to weep when he imagined an alternate future in which Evan Rosier had never become a Death Eater, in which his father was sitting with them at the table laughing and joking, in which Dylan could have met his father's parents and learned potion-making from a loving grandmother. Then he saw his mother and Professor Snape looking at him with concern in their eyes, and he forced himself to smile and talk about how his friend Damien had made the Quidditch team this year. {No sense dwelling on "what-ifs,"} Dylan told himself. He had to live in the present, and protect the people he loved that were still alive. And his life wasn't so bad; he had his family--Mother and Aunt Goewin and Uncle Math; he had Professor Snape and Professor Lupin; and he had his friends--Damien, Theo, Blaise, and even Hermione. Slightly cheered, he was able to smile sincerely and describe how Crabbe and Goyle had crashed into each other during practice, and his mother laughed and Snape cracked a small smile, which was as much emotion as he tended to show in public.

Snape let him visit with his family for a few more hours, then returned him to the school in time for dinner. His housemates gathered around him in the dorm, clamoring to know what had happened to him.

"I added a little too much hellebore to my potion," Dylan lied, repeating the story he and Snape had rehearsed. "It used to be used as a purgative, you know."

"What?" Crabbe asked dully.

"It makes you throw up," Damien translated impatiently. "That explains why you had a stomachache. But some of the other students made mistakes worse than yours, and none of them got that sick."

"Well, hellebore has rather unpredictable effects," Dylan said glibly. "It could have been worse; hellebore is also a narcotic, so I could have been rolling on the floor hallucinating about, I don't know...pink elephants or something."

"Poor Dylan," crooned one of the Slytherin girls. "If you'd stayed in the hospital wing, we could have visited you."

"I wouldn't have been very good company, puking up my guts," Dylan said lightly.

"Oh, you poor thing!" exclaimed another girl. His female admirers crowded around him, fussing over him and giving him get-well cards and gifts, while the boys watched with varying degrees of amusement and jealousy.

"Come on, you lot!" Malfoy finally growled. "We'll be late for dinner, and I don't want the teachers taking points off us for that!"

"You're the one who lost us twenty points in Blackmore's class," one of the older boys grumbled, but under his breath, and the Slytherins began filing out of the dorm.

As they were leaving, Theodore pulled Dylan aside and whispered, "Be careful that you don't get in over your head, Rosier."

"I'll certainly be more careful when mixing my potions from now on," Dylan said lightly, pretending not to understand what Theo was really talking about.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Theodore hissed. Dylan forced himself to stare back at his friend blankly. Theo gave him a frustrated look, then leaned close and whispered in a threatening tone, "Do whatever you like, Dylan, but don't get Blaise and Damien mixed up in it!"

"Theo," Dylan said helplessly. He wanted to tell his friend that he wasn't really a Death Eater, that he wished he'd never gotten involved with them, that he wasn't like Lucius Malfoy and the others...but he had been sworn to secrecy. He had never really minded before, when his classmates--usually the Gryffindors--accused him of being a Death Eater, but he couldn't stand to see one of his best friends looking at him with such contempt in his eyes.

"Hey, are you two coming or what?" Damien called out.

"Coming," Theo called, and hurried to catch up without looking back. Dylan followed, but he had little appetite at dinner, causing the girls to fuss over him again and ask him if he was still feeling sick.

***

Dylan went to see Snape in his office the next day. "Theo knows that I'm a Death Eater, I'm sure of it!"

"Theo?" Snape asked, startled. "Theodore Nott?"

Dylan nodded. "He told me not to get in over my head. He told me not to get Blaise and Damien mixed up in it."

Snape shook his head, still looking a little stunned. "Well, Nott is a Death Eater's son; he would recognize the signs, I suppose. He hasn't told anyone else about this, I hope?"

"No, I don't think so," Dylan replied. Then he said in dismay, "Professor, he really thinks I'm a Death Eater! He thinks I'm like Lucius Malfoy and all the others! The way he looked at me last night...can't I tell him the truth?"

"He's the son of a Death Eater, Rosier," Snape said sharply.

"So am I!" Dylan retorted, upset enough at the thought of losing his friend to talk back to Snape, though he would never have done so under normal circumstances. "He's not like them; he hates his father--he said he was glad that he was in Azkaban!"

"He could be acting," Snape replied coolly, but there was an odd look in his black eyes. Concern? Speculation? Hope? "He might be testing you."

"He's not, I'm sure of it! You didn't see the way he looked at me!"

"People believe that I'm a loyal Death Eater, Rosier," Snape pointed out. "I'm a good actor; perhaps Mr. Nott is as well."

"I don't believe that, but you could use your Legilimency to find out for sure, couldn't you? You could tell whether he was lying or not!"

"It would be very dangerous," Snape said. "I can't just haul him into my office and openly cast the spell on him. I'll try to determine his true loyalties in more subtle ways, but regardless of what they may be, you are not to say a word to Mr. Nott about either your Death Eater status or the fact that you are not truly one of them, do you understand me, Dylan?"

"But Professor--"

"It would be too dangerous, even if you are right about Mr. Nott," Snape said sternly. "If he should let an idle remark slip in front of his father--"

"His father's in prison!"

"I doubt he will be there much longer," Snape snapped. "Or if he should say something to his mother or Draco Malfoy...it is possible that he might even someday meet the Dark Lord, and Theodore does not have Occlumency to protect his thoughts as you do. For your own safety and his, you must say nothing. That is an order, Mr. Rosier!"

"I'm afraid he'll hate me," Dylan whispered.

Snape smiled bitterly. "One gets used to being hated, after awhile."

"How could you stand living like this for fifteen years?" Dylan asked despairingly. "Having everyone believe the worst of you?"

"Well, it's a bit easier for me, I suppose," Snape said sardonically, "since I don't have any friends to worry about. Well, except for Lupin and Professor Blackmore, of course, and they already know the truth." Then he looked more sympathetic, and came over to lay a hand on Dylan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Dylan, I know that it's difficult. But you would only be putting Theodore in danger if you told him the truth. I am glad you told me this, though; I was afraid for awhile that Mr. Nott was heading down the path of becoming a Death Eater himself. Perhaps I can save him from that fate, but I must be careful, and it will take time." He smiled that bitter smile again. "It might also be difficult to win his trust, since he probably believes that I really am a Death Eater. But I'll do my best. In the meantime, Dylan, promise me that you will say nothing to Mr. Nott."

"I promise," Dylan said reluctantly.

"Mr. Rosier?" Snape said as Dylan prepared to leave.

"Yes, sir?"

"Have any of your other housemates shown any signs of being for or against the Death Eaters?"

"Well, Draco can't wait to join, but I guess you already know that," Dylan said, grimacing slightly at the thought of Malfoy's foolishness. "And of course Crabbe and Goyle are the same. Brad Doherty's a little wanna-be, always fawning over Draco, but I don't think Draco takes him seriously. He's not part of Draco's in-crowd." Dylan frowned thoughtfully. "I think most of my housemates are as scared of the Death Eaters as everyone else. They still defer to Draco because they're afraid that the prisoners will break out of Azkaban sooner or later. Oh, and I almost forgot! Serafina Avery said something odd to me in the library once."

"And what might that be?"

"She said..." Dylan paused, trying to remember her exact words. "She called me Draco Malfoy's lapdog." Surprise flickered in Snape's black eyes, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly; he looked amused and annoyed at the same time, and Dylan recalled that many people referred to Snape as Lucius Malfoy's lapdog behind his back. "Um, and I told her that her father was Draco's father's lapdog himself, and she said, 'I thought you were smarter than my father.' I was surprised to hear her talking that way, since she's a Death Eater's daughter, so I...um..." He was pretty sure that Snape wasn't going to like this part. "I asked her wasn't she looking forward to the day when her father and the other Death Eaters reigned supreme--"

Yes indeed, Snape was looking very irate. "Rosier, didn't I tell you to keep a low profile?"

"Yes, sir, I know I shouldn't have said that," Dylan apologized hastily. "I'm sorry. But I was so curious...and I tried to make it sound like a joke..."

Snape sighed. "Well, what was Miss Avery's response?"

"She said that I was a fool if I believed anyone other than the Dark Lord would reign supreme. She said that the fact that my dad's dead and hers is in prison ought to tell me something."

"My goodness," Snape murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't heard Miss Avery say more than two words in class so far this term. I wouldn't have expected such a passionate speech from her." He gave Dylan a wry little smile. "Worked your charm on the young lady, have you?"

"I don't think so, sir," Dylan replied, feeling a little embarrassed. "She doesn't seem to like me very much. She doesn't seem to like anyone very much, actually. Theodore's known her for years, and he says..." Dylan hesitated. "He says that her father used to hit her, but he stopped when she hexed him."

"Yes, I know about Mr. Avery's reputation," Snape said, drumming his fingers on his desk, still looking thoughtful. "Very well, Mr. Rosier, you may go. But let me know if you hear anymore...ah...interesting gossip from your housemates."

"Yes, sir," Dylan said, and left the office.

To Dylan's relief, Theodore made no more reference to the Death Eaters or the night Dylan had been summoned, and neither did he shun Dylan. In fact, he acted as if nothing had happened--almost. The only difference was very subtle: Theodore would speak politely to Dylan, even joke with him as usual, but never spoke of anything consequential, and was just a little more taciturn and guarded than usual. Dylan, of all people, recognized a mask when he saw one, and it made him sad that his friend no longer trusted him. No one else seemed to notice--or at least, Damien didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong. Dylan wasn't so sure about Blaise; he caught the older boy looking very thoughtful once or twice, but if he had any questions or suspicions, he never mentioned them, at least not to Dylan.

***

Snape felt sorry for Dylan, but there was far more at stake here than a schoolboy's hurt feelings. It would cause trouble if Nott let slip, either accidentally or on purpose, that Dylan was a Death Eater, and it would cause even more trouble if he began to suspect that Dylan was not a loyal Death Eater. He had never paid much attention to Nott, who was quiet, if sullen, and seemed content--or perhaps "resigned" would be a better word--to remain in Draco Malfoy's shadow. Clearly that had been a mistake.

One day after class, Snape told Nott to remain behind; Nott looked at him nervously, and Malfoy curiously. Snape said in a cool voice, "I need someone to help me prepare potion ingredients, and Mr. Malfoy cannot be spared, as he has Quidditch practice this afternoon. Better run along, Draco; you need to get your team in shape. I would like to see us beat Gryffindor this year--that trophy has been in Professor McGonagall's office for too long."

Draco beamed with pride; he loved being reminded of how important he was--which was exactly what Snape had been counting on. "Yes, sir!" he said. "I won't let you down!" Then he eagerly ran out of the room.

Snape saw Potter and his friends lingering behind, and added in a loud, scathing voice, "And I dare not entrust Mr. Potter with such a task, not without endangering the entire student population." Nott dared to snicker a little, and Potter turned red and stomped out of the room, followed by the other Gryffindors. Weasley glared at Snape on his way out, and Granger gave Snape that hurt, disappointed little look she always wore when she thought he was treating Potter unfairly.

Zabini lingered behind, saying hesitantly, "I could stay behind to help too, sir, if you like..."

But Snape needed to speak to Nott alone. "Did I ask you to remain behind, Mr. Zabini?" he asked coldly.

"Uh, no, sir."

"Then what are you still doing here?"

Zabini gave Nott an apologetic glance and fled the room. Snape handed Nott a large bundle of dried herbs that Professor Sprout had prepared, and ordered him to strip the leaves from the stems and put them into little packets. Nott settled down to work, looking relieved that he hadn't been given a more odious task. Snape sat at his desk, pretending to look at some papers, and slipped his wand out of his pocket, keeping it under the desk, out of Nott's line of sight, and silently mouthed the word, "Legilimens."

"How are you doing in your classes, Mr. Nott?" Snape asked casually.

Nott looked up and said, sounding a little bewildered by his teacher's sudden show of interest, "Well enough, sir."

"Your mother wrote to me at the start of term, asking me to look after you," Snape said, which was true enough. The mothers of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Avery had written him similar letters.

"I'm fine," Nott said curtly, looking back down at the herbs he was sorting.

"She was very concerned about you--" Snape started to say, and Nott couldn't quite suppress a little snort of derision. Snape raised an eyebrow. "Do you find something amusing, Mr. Nott?" he asked coolly.

Nott looked up again, meeting his eyes; good. "No, sir," he said hastily, flushing a little. "It's just..." Snape sensed feelings of contempt, resentment, and hurt.

"Just what, Mr. Nott?"

Nott looked down again. "She's never been particularly concerned about me before," he muttered sullenly, "so I don't know why she'd start now."

Snape frowned. Even though he couldn't see the boy's eyes right now, the resentment in his voice was plain enough. "I'm sure she knows that this is a difficult time for you right now," Snape said in a silky voice. "With your father being in Azkaban..."

Nott was startled into looking up and meeting Snape's eyes again; this time there was a strong rush of hatred and fear. He opened his mouth, and for a moment Snape thought he would lose control and speak honestly, but he took a deep breath and repeated, "I'm fine."

Snape sighed inwardly; Slytherins just had too damn much control. "It's possible, of course, that he will not be there for long," he said, just to get a reaction out of Nott. He got one, all right--pure terror. "I mean, of course," Snape added in that silky voice, "that counsel for the accused Death Eaters has been filing appeals to overturn their wrongful conviction."

"Of course," Nott said weakly. Now Nott's fear and resentment were directed towards Snape. It was more than the normal fear and loathing for a harsh teacher, even one like Snape; Dylan was right--Nott hated the Death Eaters. But now that Snape knew the truth, what was he going to do about it?

Snape pocketed his wand and came around from behind the desk to stand in front of Nott. "Is there something you wish to tell me, Mr. Nott?" he asked quietly, trying to look and sound as nonthreatening as possible, which did not come easily to him.

"No, sir," Nott said, shaking his head almost frantically.

"No problems with the Gryffindors harassing you or the other Slytherins?"

"No, sir," Nott replied, fighting to keep a calm demeanor. His control was good, but not quite as good as Dylan's. Snape wondered if Nott might make a good Occlumency candidate, but he didn't think he should risk it right now. Nott might hate his father, but he also feared him, and that fear might prevent him from turning against his father and the Death Eaters. After all, Nott had been following Draco's lead for the past five years, either too afraid to defy him, or not believing that he had any other choice. And how many adults had stood by in the first war and done nothing as the Dark Lord carried out his murderous rampage, too cowed by fear to take a stand against him?

Snape sighed and left Nott in peace, much to the boy's relief. It would take time to win Theodore's trust; coming on too strong too soon would only arouse suspicion. Perhaps he could ask Lupin to reach out to the boy; he seemed to have a way of winning over distrustful children...

***

Theodore left Snape's classroom shaking with fear. {Merlin, please, don't let him be trying to recruit me!} he pleaded silently. Snape had always ignored him before, and he had been grateful for that. Unlike Draco, he did not want to be singled out; anonymity was much, much safer. When the Dark Lord was still safely banished, Theodore had not minded so much being Draco's lackey. And at home, his father would rant about how one day the Death Eaters would rule the world, and how one day Theodore would join his father in their ranks, but Theodore took it in stride, because it seemed like that day would never come. But at the end of fourth year, the Dark Lord did return, killing Cedric Diggory in the process, and suddenly that day seemed all too close at hand.

Theodore wondered if Dylan had said anything to Snape, and if that was what was behind Snape's little chat today; he grimly thought to himself that he should have kept his mouth shut. At first he had befriended Dylan only because he was part of Malfoy's crowd, but he had come to sincerely like the younger boy. Dylan was not arrogant or cruel like Draco; like Theo, he had seemed to defer to Malfoy only because that was what one had to do to survive in Slytherin House. Dylan's real friends, Damien and Blaise, were much nicer than Malfoy's crowd, and Theodore had enjoyed having real friends, ones he could trust--to a certain extent--and let his guard down with.

But he had let his guard down too far. That was no stomachache Dylan had suffered last Friday; Theodore's parents were Death Eaters, and he recognized a summons when he saw one. He had noticed, even though Damien and Blaise had not, that Dylan's right hand had been heading towards his left arm before he jerked it away at the last moment and grabbed his stomach instead. And he had noticed how Draco had acted sulky and jealous, while everyone else had been worried about Dylan. He knew that Draco was just dying to be allowed to join the Death Eaters; it must be killing him that Dylan had beaten him to it.

{How could you be so stupid, Rosier?} he silently raged at his friend. But Dylan had never known his father; no doubt he had some misguided, glamorous notions of what the Death Eaters were like. Well, he would find out the truth soon enough. Theodore knew that he was destined to suffer the same fate as his friend; the best he could hope for was to put it off as long as possible. He knew that it was suicide to try and leave the Death Eaters, and he wasn't brave enough to try. The only thing he could do was to try and keep Blaise and Damien from getting mixed up in all this as well. Although if the Dark Lord won the war, then nothing Theodore did or did not do would matter...

***

Snape arranged a private talk with Serafina Avery, which was even less successful than his talk with Theodore. For one thing, the girl seemed to have natural psychic blocks; she was very difficult to read. Or perhaps she really was as emotionless as she seemed--Snape had seen that before in the Death Eaters, people whose capacity to feel joy or fear or even hatred had been burned out by the atrocities they had seen and committed. When he mentioned her father, he did feel a faint stirring of contempt from the girl, but no fear...more a sense of resignation. He told her that he had heard that some of the Gryffindors in Lupin's class had taunted her, and registered only indifference.

"I don't care what they think of me," she said, and she seemed to be telling the truth.

"Your mother expressed concern about you in her letter," Snape said, receiving a blank stare and no emotional reaction. "I've talked to your other teachers; they say your grades are good but you do not participate enough in class discussion." Still no reaction. "Professor Lupin--" Snape allowed a hint of distaste to creep into his voice. "--commended your progress in his class, though. He says that you were able to conjure a full Patronus." There was just a hint of something that time--confusion? Probably because she didn't understand why Lupin had been defending her against the Gryffindors, Snape decided. "How is your mother doing?" Snape tried, though he didn't expect anymore of a reaction than he had received to his other questions. "I know things must be difficult for her."

But this time there was a reaction--contempt, this time directed towards Snape. "None of my father's friends have ever cared about her well-being before," she said in that toneless voice she always used. "Why should you start now?" Yes, very strong contempt, and a hint of protectiveness. So--she did not care about her father, but she did feel something for her mother.

"Watch your tone, Miss Avery," Snape automatically snapped, but he flushed a little. He, like all the other Death Eaters, knew that Andreas Avery beat his wife, and like the other Death Eaters, he had never done anything to stop it--it would hardly be in character for a Death Eater to come to the defense of a damsel in distress. Besides, he was able to summon up little sympathy for Delia Avery, a pale, cringing woman with less personality and backbone than that sniveling jellyfish Longbottom. Snape had always had contempt for those who could not, or would not, stand up for themselves. But Serafina's words somehow made him feel ashamed of himself.

"I apologize, sir," Serafina said, remote and indifferent once more.

Snape hesitated over whether to give her detention or not; it would give him a chance to spend more time observing her, but it might also increase her resentment of him when he wanted to win her trust. Finally he sighed wearily and said, "Dismissed," and the girl turned and left. But before she walked out the door, she stopped to look back at him for a second, and he felt just the faintest touch of curiosity, so faint that he wasn't sure if it was real or if he had imagined it. Then the door closed behind her and she was gone.

***

Theodore's teachers suddenly seemed to be singling him out for attention, and that was making him very, very nervous. First there was that odd discussion with Snape, which Theo tried to write off as Snape just watching over the Death Eaters' children as usual, although Draco and Dylan were the only ones who normally received that kind of special attention. And recently, Professor Lupin seemed to be going out of his way to be kind to Theodore and praise his efforts in class. Of course, Lupin was always nice to everyone, even Draco, but he seemed to be expending more effort than usual on the Slytherins. He seemed to be trying very hard to encourage Crabbe and Goyle, and now apparently had decided to make Theo his latest pet project. {He's an idealist; or at least that's what Draco said Snape says,} Theodore sneered to himself. {He's probably trying to save our little souls from the Death Eaters.} But although Theodore tried hard to summon up the appropriate feeling of contempt, he felt more regret and despair than scorn. {You're wasting your time, Professor. It's too late. My father would rather kill me than have me turn "traitor." And even if I could escape my father, the Dark Lord never lets go of anything that belongs to him. Our parents pledged us to the Dark Lord before we could even walk.}

Theodore responded to all of Lupin's overtures with a sullen glare so that Draco couldn't accuse of him of "sucking up to the werewolf"--Crabbe and Goyle had already been berated for the same offense just because they had smiled a little when Lupin praised their pathetic attempts at a Patronus. So far Lupin didn't seem to be discouraged by Theodore's lack of enthusiasm, though.

Lupin paired them off today, having one partner cast hexes while the other defended with the Patronus Charm or some other countercurse or shield spell. Despite the fact that Lupin said he wanted to promote "inter-House cooperation," he wasn't stupid enough to pair up Gryffindors with Slytherins on this little exercise; no doubt he realized the hexing would get out of hand if he paired up members of rival Houses. Unfortunately, that meant that Theo's partner for today was Draco Malfoy. He knew that Draco had a malicious streak and wouldn't hold back or show any mercy just because Theodore was his "friend."

Theodore had not yet been able to cast a full Patronus, although he had been able to cast a fair-sized silver cloud. But it seemed that having Malfoy as an opponent gave him that extra spur of fear he needed. Draco shouted, "Serpensortia!" as Theo countered with, "Expecto Patronum!"

"Draco!" Lupin shouted in alarm, pulling out his wand. "Nothing lethal, I said!" But before he could dispel the serpent that burst out of Draco's wand, a sinuous stream of silver mist emerged from Theodore's wand and formed itself into the shape of a weasel. The silver weasel immediately pounced on the snake, bit it sharply behind the head, shook it vigorously, then let the limp body of the serpent fall to the floor. The weasel hovered in front of Theodore, baring its silver fangs threateningly. The entire class, including Draco, stared at it in awe.

Lupin pointed his wand at the snake, and it vanished in a flash of light. "What were you thinking?!" he shouted at Draco, looking pale and a little frightened. "You could have hurt, even killed, your own friend!"

"Aw, Nott handled it just fine," Draco drawled, trying to affect an air of indifference, but he looked a little shaken--probably more by the Patronus than by the thought that the snake could have bitten Theodore.

"Twenty points from Slytherin!" Lupin snapped. "And detention for a week!"

"You can't do that!" Draco protested furiously. "Professor Snape--"

"I most certainly can," Lupin said, in a steely voice Theo had never heard him use before. "And Professor Snape can take it up with me if he doesn't like it."

"It's no big deal, Professor, really," Theodore said nervously, because he knew that he was the one that Malfoy would end up blaming.

"It's a very big deal, Theodore," Lupin said firmly, then smiled. "But you did very well; twenty points to Slytherin." Draco looked as if he didn't know whether to be annoyed or pleased that his lost points had just been negated. "A most impressive Patronus," Lupin continued, as the weasel looked him over warily, as if trying to decide whether he was a threat or not.

"It figures that a Slytherin would have a Patronus like a weasel," Seamus Finnigan muttered scornfully.

The normally unflappable Lupin looked like he was beginning to run out of patience. "Voldemort will not have to waste any energy on us at this rate, if you are determined to tear this school apart from within!" he snapped. "You must learn to work together, like it or not, because more than your grades are at stake here! Your very lives might depend on working together someday!"

The Gryffindors looked a little stunned at the sight of their favorite teacher losing his temper. "But Professor," Weasley--who never seemed to know when to shut up--protested, "how can we trust someone who's a Death--"

"The next person," Lupin interrupted, "to utter a derogatory remark about another House will be joining Mr. Malfoy in detention! Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," the class muttered.

"And a weasel is a bold and fierce fighter," Lupin said, smiling at Theodore again. "Quite an appropriate protector, and one you should be proud of."

Theodore just grunted, thinking to himself sullenly, {You aren't doing me any favors by being nice to me, Professor. It's just getting me into trouble with Malfoy.} He saw some of the Gryffindors giving their teacher puzzled and resentful glances as Lupin told everyone to get back to work. {Not to mention that it's turning the Gryffindors against you.}

***

"What's wrong with Lupin?" Ron complained at dinner.

"There's nothing wrong with Lupin!" Hermione said indignantly.

"He's been favoring the Slytherins a lot recently," Dean Thomas said.

"Yeah, we don't need two Snapes," Seamus agreed.

"Come on, you're exaggerating, Dean!" Ginny said, glaring at her boyfriend.

The sixth-year Gryffindors explained what had happened in class earlier that day, and Ginny frowned. "It doesn't sound to me like he was being unfair. After all, he gave Draco detention."

"I admit," Harry said, "that I didn't think Malfoy would use such a nasty spell on his own friend."

"Wouldn't it be nice," Ron muttered, "if the Slytherins all killed each other off?"

"Ron!" Ginny and Hermione cried in outrage.

"I don't feel sorry for Nott," Ron said defensively. "His dad was one of the Death Eaters who attacked us at the Ministry, remember? They tried to kill us!"

"I just don't understand why he's always sticking up for the Slytherins," Dean said, "considering the way Snape treats him--"

"Professor Lupin wouldn't punish a student just because their Head of House is rude to him," Hermione said, glaring at him.

"--and how rude ALL the Slytherins are to him," Dean finished.

"Not all of them are," Ginny protested. "The ones in my year like him; they're just afraid to show it because of Draco Malfoy!"

"Oh right," snapped Dean. "The saintly Dylan Rosier is in your class; you girls always leap to his defense."

"Sometimes, Dean," Ginny said angrily, "you really are an idiot!"

"Oh, he's just jealous," Parvati Patil said in a dismissive tone. "All the boys are jealous of Dylan."

Dean glared at her. "I am not!"

"Aren't you?" Lavender Brown smirked.

"Didn't Rosier mouth off to you in class?" Ron asked with a scowl.

Ginny shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't care. He was probably just afraid that Malfoy might think he was getting too friendly with a Gryffindor."

"You shouldn't be 'getting friendly' with a Slytherin in the first place!" Dean snapped.

Ginny glared at him again. "First of all, I wasn't 'getting friendly' with Dylan; all I did was tell Professor Lupin the truth about who made the werewolf drawing on the blackboard. And second, you have no right to tell me who I can or can't be friends with!"

Things rapidly went downhill from there, with the whole table quarreling over Lupin and Dylan until finally McGonagall came down from the head table to scold them and threaten to dock points from her own House unless they started behaving in a more seemly manner. From the head table, Snape smirked, Blackmore looked annoyed, Lupin looked tired and worried, and Dumbledore looked thoughtful as he stroked his beard.

***

"I've heard the gossip," Snape said later that night when he and Lupin were alone. "It's nice of you to try and befriend the Slytherins, Lupin, but I don't think it's working out. All you're doing is alienating your Gryffindors."

"They're not MY Gryffindors," Lupin said testily; the full moon was drawing near, and his emotions were running a little higher than normal. "Minerva is their Head of House, not me."

"Fine, but the Slytherins will never defy Malfoy for your sake, and the Gryffindors are turning against you because they think that you're favoring the Slytherins."

"Being likable is not a prerequisite for a teaching position," Lupin said, with that stubborn look on his face that said he would not be moved.

"Fortunately for me," Snape said with wicked grin, and Lupin smiled.

"I knew it wouldn't be easy," he sighed. "I can't expect to undo hundreds of years worth of animosity in a few weeks. If I want the different Houses to work together, I have to lead by example. I'm not giving up, Severus, just because the Gryffindors are getting a little put out with me."

"Poor Lupin," Snape crooned, running his hands through his lover's long hair. "You'll be gaining a few more gray strands before the year is out, and not from the transformation."

Lupin chuckled. "A little more gray won't matter." He batted his eyelashes at Snape playfully. "As long as you still find me attractive, love."

"I'll always find you attractive, Lupin," Snape murmured as he continued to stroke Lupin's hair.

"Mmm, that feels nice," Lupin sighed, this time with pleasure.

"It's more silver than gray, anyway," Snape said, pressing his lips against Lupin's hair. "Silver and gold."

"My, but aren't you the romantic one, Professor Snape?" Lupin laughed.

"Don't tell anyone," Snape said. "You'll ruin my reputation."

Lupin grinned at him. "You'll have to pay for my silence."

Snape grinned back. "Oh? And what is it going to cost me?"

Lupin whispered a suggestion into his ear.

"You drive a hard bargain, werewolf."

Lupin bared his teeth in a feral grin. "Care to negotiate, Professor?"

Snape licked his lips. "No," he said in a husky voice. "I accept your terms." He pulled Lupin into his arms and kissed him hungrily. They stumbled towards the bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing along the way.

***

Lupin informed Draco that he should use his detention time to "reflect on what you've done" and to "help those less fortunate than yourself." {Self-righteous werewolf,} Draco thought sullenly but silently, not wanting to risk getting more detention. {Lupin used to be such a pushover; I wonder what made him change?}

When Draco complained to Professor Snape, the Potions Master just scowled at him and said, "Didn't I tell you to keep a low profile, Malfoy?"

"Yes, but--"

"And using a Serpensortia spell," Snape continued, "particularly on one of your own housemates--you should know better than that! What would I tell Nott's mother if he'd been killed? You will serve your detention and stay out of trouble from now on, or you will answer to me, do I make myself clear, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir," Draco said sullenly.

"Slytherin House has been under even more suspicion and scrutiny than normal since your father and his comrades were arrested, and my own position at the school is none too secure. The last thing we need right now is to draw more attention to ourselves."

"I'm sorry," Draco said in a more chastened voice; he hadn't thought his actions might cause Professor Snape trouble. {So Dumbledore doesn't trust his pet reformed Death Eater as much as he pretends to, hmm?} Draco mused.

"Low profile," Snape repeated sourly. "Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

The only thing Snape did to help him was to make sure that Draco was still allowed to attend Quidditch practice, but that was probably more due to Snape's desire to beat Gryffindor than out of any sympathy for Draco. Lupin said in a mild tone that it was fine with him, as long as Draco still got his detention chores done. Draco was relieved, but with double duty--both detention and Quidditch practice--it meant he had practically no free time left over. So he ordered Nott and Rosier to do his homework for him; it served them both right--Rosier for showing off how smart he was, and Nott for causing Lupin to give him detention in the first place. Draco ignored the little voice in his head that told him it was actually the spell he himself had cast rather than anything Nott had done that had earned him a detention. Draco frowned a little at that faint stirring of his conscience; he was not used to having such feelings, but he quickly dismissed it and forgot about it.

It seemed that the werewolf meant what he said about helping the less fortunate because Draco's assigned tasks were varied but all in keeping with that theme. He spent a couple of afternoons assisting Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing doing boring, menial tasks such as folding linens, serving meals to patients, and helping to inventory supplies; however, Draco was very relieved that he was not required to scrub bedpans. The next couple of detention sessions were less pleasant: he was ordered to help Hagrid care for some sick and injured birds in the Owlery. Several of the damn ungrateful birds bit and scratched him, but he didn't dare complain to Snape about it after the last lecture he had received. Draco was almost grateful to report to the Headmaster the next day, who put him to work packing boxes of food and cast-off clothing to give to charity--the typical holier-than-thou sort of project that Dumbledore was fond of. Draco made no complaints, because it was much better than tending sick, irritable birds with sharp beaks and claws, but he sneered a little as he worked, thinking to himself smugly that the Malfoy family, though temporarily fallen from grace, was still the wealthiest of the pureblood families and would never have to stoop to taking handouts.

Part 17