FIC: Phoenix Rising, Part 17 of 37

[geri_chan]

Title: Phoenix Rising, Part 17 of 37
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Snape/Lupin
Word count: ~8,650
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: The Death Eaters stage a prison break at Azkaban.

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, Part 16

***

Draco's final two days of detention were almost pleasant: it seemed that Dumbledore had also enlisted Flitwick for his charity project, and it seemed that the little wizard's hobby was making toys. He helped Flitwick construct and paint model broomsticks, horse and carriage sets (he scowled a little when Flitwick told him that Lupin had carved the horses), and intricate birds, butterflies, and dragons. Draco was surprised to learn that his teacher did most of the work by hand, without magic ("It's no fun, otherwise," Flitwick said cheerfully)--for example the wheels on the carriages and the wings on the birds were attached and moved through clever engineering, not magic. Personally, Draco thought it was a waste of time, but Flitwick claimed there was something relaxing about working with your hands. Still, it was less boring than working in the hospital wing, and Draco secretly enjoyed painting the toys, taking special care with the little wooden dragon, which was his namesake, after all. He painted it Slytherin green with silver highlights, smiling a little to himself as he recalled how he had finally been able to cast a full Patronus in Lupin's class, and to his pleasure, it had turned out to be a dragon. The entire class had been impressed, even the Gryffindors, though they had tried to hide it; the look of shock and outrage on Potter's face as Lupin said, "Well done, Draco! Ten points to Slytherin!" had been quite satisfying.

When the toys were completed, Flitwick had Draco help him set the final enchantments on them. Draco laughed out loud as little broomsticks--duplicates of the latest, most popular models--whizzed around the room as if they had little Quidditch players on them.

"Have you ever thought about making model Quaffles or Snitches, Professor?" Draco asked.

"No, but that's a splendid idea, Draco!" Flitwick said, beaming at him. "Perhaps you can help with them."

"My detention is over after today," Draco pointed out, feeling almost disappointed.

"That is true," Flitwick said. "But if you ever have any spare time, I would certainly welcome your help."

Draco mumbled something about being busy with his studies and Quidditch. {Dad would have a fit if I wasted my time building toys for charity,} Draco thought to himself, then had the traitorous thought, {Well, Dad's not around right now, is he...?}

The birds and butterflies fluttered about the room; the dragon, of course, was too proud to flutter, and soared regally around the room once, then landed on Draco's shoulder. Flitwick said, "Finite," and the toys descended to the table or floor and became still once more, except for the dragon, which remained on Draco's shoulder. Draco and Flitwick packed the toys into boxes, to be sent to the children's charity ward at St. Mungo's. As Draco reluctantly plucked the wooden dragon from his shoulder, Flitwick smiled and said, "Why don't you keep that one, Draco? A reward for all your hard work. Besides, it seems to like you."

{What the hell would I want with a stupid toy dragon?} Draco sneered to himself, but remembered Snape's admonition to "keep a low profile," so all he said out loud was, "Thank you, sir." As he left Flitwick's office, he hid it under his robes so that no one would see him carrying such a silly and childish thing. {I'll toss it into the fire,} he told himself, {or give it to one of the first-years.} But when he got to the Slytherin dorm, he found that he couldn't bear to destroy his creation by throwing it in the fireplace, and decided that those snot-nosed first-years didn't deserve something this nice. So he smuggled it into his room and locked the door. "Volo," he whispered, and let it fly about the room for awhile, then commanded it to stop, and hid it in the bottom of the trunk at the foot of his bed, giving it a little pat before he tucked it under a spare robe and closed the trunk.

***

Snape and Dylan were summoned again--ironically enough, during Dylan's Occlumency lesson. At least this time there were no witnesses, and Dylan didn't have to feign illness to divert his housemates' suspicions.

Snape was very worried, but this time, all Voldemort wanted was for Dylan to trim some roses for him; apparently he had not yet found a way to control the plant himself. Dylan nervously took a sharp knife and cut several flowers from the vines, being careful not to touch the thorns. The plant remained quiescent, oozing a bit of clear red sap where the vines had been cut. Dylan slipped what looked like perfectly normal long-stemmed red roses into tall glass flasks, carefully sealing the flasks with cork stoppers and melted wax, as the Dark Lord ordered. Snape felt uneasy as he noticed that the plant had grown more blossoms since they had last seen it, and wondered if it was supposed to do that on its own, or if the Dark Lord had been feeding it... Voldemort accepted the flasks with a smile of pleasure, and dismissed them.


***

Soon after that, it was all over the news that the imprisoned Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban. The Warden and the off-duty guards had been drugged with Sleeping Draught; they were the lucky ones. The ones who had been guarding the prisoners at the time were all dead.

The news broke on a Sunday morning; Damien and Dylan were hanging out in the common room after breakfast when Draco Malfoy came running into the room waving a newspaper in the air.

"Look! Look at this!" he cried out excitedly, and held up a copy of the Daily Prophet that said "SPECIAL EDITION" across the masthead in bold letters. The headline below that read: "PRISON BREAK AT AZKABAN!"

"What?!" exclaimed Dylan. "How? When?" He grabbed the paper from Draco's hand, but Draco made no objection; he just grinned smugly. Crabbe and Goyle crowded around him, trying to read over his shoulders. "Prison break...guards dead...rumors of inside help..." Dylan muttered. "This doesn't say anything about how they escaped."

"Who cares?" Draco said. "The main thing is that they're free!" He stared triumphantly at the shocked faces of the children gathered in the common room. "Didn't I tell you my dad wouldn't be in there for long?" he crowed gleefully. The students who had treated Draco less than respectfully after his father's fall from grace looked pale and ill.

"Yes!" said Crabbe, pumping his fist into the air, and Goyle grinned. Dylan handed the paper back to Draco.

"Isn't this great news, Rosier?" Draco said, beaming happily at the front page. "I think I'll have this framed..."

"Yeah, great news," Dylan said, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt.

"We should tell Theodore," Damien whispered to him nervously.

"Yes," Draco said, still staring at the newspaper. "Go tell Nott the good news." He made a dismissive gesture like a king sending a servant out to perform some minor task.

Dylan and Damien ran to the dorm room Theodore and Blaise shared, entered without knocking, and got their second shock of the day, which momentarily drove the news of the prison break out of their heads. The two boys were sitting on Theodore's bed--or rather, Theo was sitting on the bed, and Blaise was sitting on his lap, and they were kissing each other passionately.

"MERLIN'S BEARD!" Damien shouted, and Theodore jumped to his feet, dumping Blaise on the floor.

"Don't you know how to knock?!" Theodore screeched.

Damien just stared back at him, his mouth hanging open. Dylan was just as shocked, but had the presence of mind to shut the door.

"Well, we should have remembered to lock the door," Blaise said mildly, rubbing his backside as he got to his feet.

"Sorry," Theodore said, blushing, and helped Blaise up.

"So how long has this been going on?" Damien demanded.

Blaise smiled sheepishly. "Do you remember the night Dylan was asking Theo about Serafina Avery?"

Dylan thought for a moment, then suddenly something clicked in his mind. "I remember! You made some comment about Serafina having nice eyes--"

"Yes, and I was teasing Theo about being jealous," Damien finished. "Don't tell me--"

"He really was jealous," Blaise laughed.

"Do we have to tell them this?" Theodore grumbled, his face turning bright red.

"Aw, come on," Damien said, grinning. "You can't hold out on your best friends!"

"Oh, all right," Theodore said, still sounding rather grumpy. "It all started with that stupid remark about Sera's eyes..."

***

After finishing their homework, Blaise and Theodore went back to their own room and got ready for bed. Theo pretended not to see the thoughtful looks Blaise kept giving him, and crawled into bed.

"Goodnight, Theo."

"'Night, Blaise." Theodore rolled over on his side, facing the wall. "Say...Blaise?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you...fancy Serafina?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice casual.

"No," Blaise replied. "Why do you ask? Because I said that about her eyes?"

"Yeah," Theodore mumbled. "Forget I asked. I was just curious."

"Well, they are a very unusual color; very striking. But I don't like her that way. I don't really know her well enough to like or dislike her; she never talks to me, or anyone else."

Theodore said nothing, and continued staring at the wall, but he felt relieved. Over the past year, his feelings for Blaise had changed from friendship to something more. He had not told Blaise that, of course, because there was no way that the other boy could possibly feel the same way, and he didn't want to risk ruining their friendship. It was enough for them to remain friends, to just be near Blaise. At least, that's what he had thought up until now; he had not expected to feel such an intense surge of jealousy when Blaise had seemed to be showing interest in a girl. He had panicked and made an idiot of himself; of course Blaise wasn't interested in Serafina! She was such a strange girl; he couldn't imagine anyone being interested in her. But someday Blaise probably would find a girlfriend--someone prettier and more normal than Serafina--and that thought made Theodore more morose than usual.

Suddenly the mattress sagged slightly, and Theodore felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder. He turned, startled, to see Blaise sitting beside him on the bed. "I like your eyes, too, Theo," he said with a playful smile.

Theodore scowled at him. "You and Damien can stop making fun of me," he snapped.

"I'm not making fun of you," Blaise said seriously. "I do like your eyes, they're a really unique shade of green. Not bright green like a leaf, but more..."

"Murky. Muddy. Ugly," Theodore said sullenly. "One of my cousins once told me they looked like swamp water."

Blaise shook his head. "Moss-green," he said. "It makes me think of someplace dark and cool and quiet and peaceful, like a forest."

"Obviously you've never been in the Forbidden Forest, if you think a forest is peaceful," Theodore groused, but secretly he was pleased. "Not bad, though--that was almost poetic. Though I doubt many poets write odes to moss."

"At least your eyes are an interesting color," Blaise said. "Not like mine. Brown is just so...well...ordinary. Nothing poetic about brown. I mean you can say 'as blue as the sky' or 'green as emeralds'. What's brown besides dirt?"

Theodore gazed into Blaise's dark brown eyes. "Brown? Hmm...let's see...how about chocolate?"

"Chocolate?" Blaise laughed.

"Yes, chocolate," Theodore said, suddenly struck by inspiration. "Rich and dark and sweet as a bar of Honeyduke's finest." Then he blushed. {Where the hell did that come from?} He waited for Blaise to laugh at him, but his friend remained silent, staring at him thoughtfully.

"Theo?"

"Yeah?"

Blaise leaned close enough that Theodore could feel the other boy's breath on his face. "Do you...fancy me?" Blaise asked softly. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes looked serious.

"Yes," Theodore managed to croak in a hoarse whisper. This was a joke, some cruel hoax arranged by Draco Malfoy. Or maybe it was a dream, and he would wake up any second now. But no one jumped out and yelled, "Gotcha!" and he had never had a dream where he felt so awake, so intensely aware of everything around him--Blaise's weight on the edge of the bed; Blaise's warm breath on his face; the way Blaise's smooth, black hair--just barely shoulder-length--fell forward and brushed Theo's face as he leaned closer. Then suddenly Blaise's lips--surprisingly warm and soft--touched his.

{If this is a dream, please don't let me wake up yet,} Theodore silently pleaded, and wrapped his arms around Blaise and returned the kiss.

***

"You sly dogs!" Damien laughed, throwing an arm around each of the blushing boys. He had apparently recovered from his shock. "I can't believe you've been keeping this a secret the whole time!" Then, looking a trifle hurt, he added, "We're your best friends! You could have told me and Dylan, even if you didn't want the rest of the House to know!"

"Sorry," Blaise said, his eyes sliding over to Theodore. "Theo wanted to keep it private. Besides, it's a little awkward...you know, do we just blurt it out at the dinner table: 'Can you pass the salt, and oh, by the way, Theo and I are an item now...'" Damien laughed; he could never hold a grudge for long, and Blaise looked relieved. "Er...you're not weirded out by this, are you?"

"It's a bit of a shock," Damien admitted, "but I'm happy for you two." Then he grinned. "Lucky for you the Slytherin dorms only have two people to a room; I hear the Gryffindors have four or five to a room. You wouldn't get much action in that case!" He laughed out loud as Blaise turned red.

Theodore was not laughing; his eyes were serious and a little frantic. "You can't tell anyone, understand?" he snapped. "Especially not Malfoy!"

"We're not gonna gossip about your love life," Damien said, looking a little puzzled.

"Are you ashamed of me?" Blaise asked quietly. "I can't imagine Malfoy cares whether you shag boys, girls, or sheep, so is it because my family has fallen into what is politely termed 'genteel poverty'? I know how the likes of the Malfoys sneer at us--"

"I don't care about that, you stupid git!" snarled Theodore. "Haven't you figured out by now that it's not safe to attract too much attention from 'the likes of the Malfoys'?!"

"Oh God!" Dylan exclaimed. "I almost forgot, that's why we came to see you!"

"What are you talking about?" Theodore asked.

"The Death Eaters broke out of Azkaban!" Damien said, all his playful good humor gone. "It's in the Daily Prophet; Malfoy's gloating about it in the common room right now!"

All the blood drained out of Theodore's face, turning it from red to sheet-white. "No!" he whispered.

"Theo," Blaise said, looking concerned. He reached out to touch Theodore's arm, but Theo pulled away from him and sat down on the bed, holding his head between his hands, not seeming to notice how hurt Blaise looked.

"Merlin, this is so bad," he whispered despairingly.

"Your dad is free now," Damien said uncertainly.

"You think that makes me happy?" Theodore snapped, looking a little wild-eyed. "I don't come from a nice, normal little family like yours, Pierce! My father's a Death Eater, or have you forgotten that?!"

Dylan realized that Theodore was afraid of his father. "He won't dare come near Hogwarts, surely," he said, trying to sound comforting.

"I can't stay here forever!" Theodore snarled. "Besides, this is not just about me and my dad! Don't you guys get it? The Dark Lord is back! The second war is coming, and soon!"

His three friends exchanged nervous looks. "Um...well..." Damien stammered.

"Right," Theodore said contemptuously. "That's how the Ministry acts, that's how everyone acts--if we don't talk about it, maybe it will all go away!"

"We're just kids," Damien protested. "What are we supposed to do about it?"

"Nothing," Theodore mumbled, the anger draining out of him, replaced by despair. "There's nothing you can do." He lay down on the bed and turned away from them. "Go away."

"Theodore--" Dylan said.

"Go away!"

"Go," Blaise said softly. "I'll stay with him.''

Dylan and Damien left the room, feeling very much subdued. "Theo's dad is a Death Eater, but he--"

"Shh," Dylan cautioned him. "It's not safe to talk about such things, especially in this House."

Damien fell silent, and gave his friend a measuring, speculative look. Although he said nothing, Dylan knew what he was thinking: "Your father was a Death Eater, too. Which side will you be on, when the time comes?"

{And now it begins,} Dylan thought to himself. {The fear, the suspicions, even between friends and members of my own House. If even my own friends don't really trust me, if Slytherin House is divided, how is the entire school supposed to unite?}

They returned to the common room to find Draco sprawled out across the couch, surveying the room like a king holding court. "So where's Nott?" he asked.

"Still in his room," Dylan said. "He was, um, overcome with emotion." Which was true enough, after all...

"Hmm, didn't think Nott was the sentimental type," Draco mused. "But it is great news, after all." He smiled smugly. "Soon, Rosier, soon...there'll be no more foolish talk about 'uniting the Houses' and we won't have to put up with those Mudblood-loving Gryffindors. Slytherin will rule Hogwarts, the way we were meant to..."

Crabbe and Goyle grinned. A few of the other Slytherins looked excited, and many more looked frightened, but no one dared to contradict Draco.

***

"Theodore," Blaise whispered, but his friend and lover ignored him, remaining curled up on his side on the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?" Silence. "Why do you hate your father, Theo?"

"The less you know about my family the better," Theodore said in a hollow voice. "In fact, you should stay away from me, for your own good."

"I don't care that your father is a Death Eater," Blaise said. "I know you're not like him."

"You're too trusting to be a Slytherin, Blaise," Theodore said, without looking up. "How did you ever wind up in this House?"

"The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Ravenclaw," Blaise replied, "but I asked it to put me in Slytherin because my family have always been Slytherins, and my parents would be upset if I were put in another House. And I've always wanted to learn everything about magic that I could, and I knew there were some things that you could only learn in Slytherin House." Blaise smiled. "Besides, I'd never have gotten to know you if I'd gone into Ravenclaw."

"You'd be better off there," Theodore said in that hollow voice. "Safer. It's not safe to be my friend, Blaise."

"I don't care," Blaise said. He lay down beside Theodore and wrapped his arms around him. "I won't leave you!" he said fiercely. "I'll never leave you."

"You should," Theodore whispered, but he let Blaise hold him.

***

Dumbledore convened an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Arthur Weasley looked very tired, rumpled, and shaken, and Molly Weasley's eyes were red from weeping. "They're accusing Arthur and Tonks of orchestrating the break-in!" she cried out.

"The Warden of Azkaban claims that Tonks and I showed up to conduct a surprise inspection, which of course is not true," Arthur said wearily. "They questioned me for hours, and only let me go 'pending further investigation' because a number of witnesses placed me at St. Mungo's at the time." He smiled wryly. "For once, we have to be grateful for Fred and George's experiments. There was a mishap with some fireworks they were experimenting with; nothing serious, just some minor burns and scrapes, but the hospital notified us--over the boys' protests, I might add--so of course Molly and I went down to see them--"

Molly wept. "I was so angry at the time, but thank goodness..."

"Where's Tonks?" an alarmed Sirius asked, jumping to his feet.

"She's still being held at the Ministry," Kingsley Shacklebolt said grimly. "Unlike Arthur, she was home alone last night, and has no one who can testify to her whereabouts." Sirius jumped up, and Lupin and Branwen had to wrestle him back into his seat to prevent him from charging to his cousin's rescue. "Don't be a fool, man," Shacklebolt said sharply. "What are you going to do, wage a one-man assault on the Ministry of Magic? Not to mention that it won't look good for her if the notorious Sirius Black shows up to try and break her out of custody."

"What are you going to do to help her?" Sirius demanded.

"I know she's your cousin, Black, but she's my colleague and friend!" Shacklebolt snapped. "You're not the only one who cares about her!" He took a deep breath and said, "Sorry, I'm on edge. I haven't gotten any sleep since I was alerted about the break-in last night."

"We need to know what happened before we can help Tonks," Branwen said with uncharacteristic gentleness. "Will you be patient for a little while more, and let Kingsley tell us the whole story?" Sirius nodded reluctantly.

"Why on earth would Arthur be conducting an inspection, anyway?" Goewin asked. "He's head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. And Tonks is an Auror, but a relatively young and low-ranking one. They're the least likely pair I can think of to head up such an investigation; wasn't the Warden suspicious?"

"They had perfectly forged documents that appeared to have the Minister of Magic's signature and seal," Shacklebolt replied. "And you know how the Ministry works--follow orders without question. But the impostors did have a reasonable explanation, that the Minister wanted someone from outside of the Department to head up the inspection, someone more likely to be objective."

"That's logical," Branwen said dryly, "which makes it all the more unlikely that Cornelius Fudge would ever suggest such a thing."

Shacklebolt almost smiled at that. "Also, Arthur's status has gone up recently, since Albus has once more won back his respect and influence--and now that Lucius Malfoy and his cronies, who were always attempting to belittle and discredit Arthur, were revealed to be Death Eaters. And Tonks is regarded as a bit of a hero since she was wounded in that battle at the Ministry, so to be fair to the Warden, it seemed unusual but not suspicious that Arthur and Tonks would be checking on security at Azkaban."

"So what exactly happened?" Sirius asked impatiently.

"The Warden showed Tonks and Arthur around the prison, had some coffee with them in the cafeteria--they must have drugged him and the other guards then; the preliminary investigation showed traces of Sleeping Draught in the tea and coffee urns. Then apparently they disabled the protective wards on the prison and let in a number of masked Death Eaters, and they attacked the remaining guards and freed the prisoners." Shacklebolt's expression turned grim. "Those guards are all dead, but one survived long enough to identify Tonks and Arthur as being among the attackers. The Death Eaters probably left him alive on purpose so that he could implicate them."

"That's crazy!" shouted Sirius. "Tonks is a Metamorphmagus; why would she use her real face if she were going to participate in a prison break?"

"A logical assumption," Shacklebolt said, "and one I pointed out to the investigators. Likely it is the only reason why she is being held in 'protective custody' and has not been outright arrested and charged with murder yet. But the Ministry is in a panic, and she is the only suspect they have at present."

"Damn it!" Sirius said, pounding his fist on the table. "We all know who's responsible, it's Gwydion Donner!" He glared at Snape. "And you--the Death Eaters must have used the Polyjuice Potion you made to impersonate Arthur and Tonks!"

"I warned you that a prison break was coming sooner or later," Snape said in a cold voice. "And I warned you that the Dark Lord ordered me to make Polyjuice Potion and Sleeping Draught. But I did not know whom they were planning to impersonate. The Dark Lord did not give me the hairs of the intended targets; I finished brewing the potion, save for the final step, and sent it to him uncompleted, as ordered. It seems he does not completely trust me. Then again, the Dark Lord has always been paranoid, and he never fully informs his servants of what he plans to do."

"That's not all," Shacklebolt interrupted, before Sirius could make a retort. "The witness said that some of the guards were felled by Unforgivable Curses, but others..." He fell silent for a moment and his eyes turned towards Snape. "Others were felled by magical roses. The Death Eaters hurled glass flasks containing roses at the guards; they shattered on impact, and the roses latched onto the flesh of the guards and began draining their blood. I saw the bodies; it was not a pretty sight."

"Oh Merlin," Goewin whispered. "He used Dylan's roses." She glared at Snape. "This is all your fault!"

"I'm sorry," Snape said quietly, to the amazement of everyone but Lupin, Branwen, and Dumbledore.

"Sorry doesn't do much good now, does it?" Goewin snapped.

"Don't blame Severus--" Lupin started to say.

"Can we get around to assigning blame later?" Sirius shouted. "What are we going to do to help Tonks?!"

"I will go and speak to Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly, although he looked tired and worried, "and try to talk some sense into him."

"Good luck," Snape said sarcastically.

Sirius did not seemed satisfied with Dumbledore's response. "We're all agreed on the fact that Cornelius Fudge has no common sense!" he snapped. "Maybe it's time for Snape to break his cover and testify--"

"It would put Severus at risk!" Lupin protested.

"So we should just let them convict Tonks and send her to Azkaban--?"

"She hasn't been convicted yet," Lupin said.

"And it's just been proven that Azkaban is not much good at holding anyone," Snape muttered under his breath. Both Sirius and Lupin glared at him.

"You could at least pretend to be just a little concerned, Snape," Sirius complained.

"I have no particular fondness for Miss Tonks," Snape said coolly, "but neither do I wish her any harm. If the Headmaster orders me to do so, I will testify against the Death Eaters, but the word of one Death Eater against another may not be worth very much, and you should be aware that if I do so, I will not only be endangering my life but Dylan's. Everyone believes that I have selected Dylan as my protege, and if my loyalty becomes suspect, so will his."

"NO!" Lupin and Goewin shouted at the same time.

"Dylan's been put in enough danger as it is!" Goewin said in a voice shrill with fear. "I won't have him subjected to more!"

"But--" Sirius protested.

"I understand your frustration and concern, Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly. "But before taking such drastic measures, let me try to resolve this by conventional means. It is not a step to be taken lightly, endangering two lives, not to mention losing the only spy we have in Voldemort's camp."

"Let Albus handle this first, Sirius," Branwen said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "If that doesn't work, then we can discuss what to do."

"I'll do everything I can for her as well," Shacklebolt said. "She has many friends among the Aurors; we won't just stand by and let her be railroaded, trust me."

"All right," Sirius said reluctantly. "But I want to go with you, Albus." To his annoyance, everyone in the room looked alarmed, except for Snape, whose face held only its usual expression of cool disdain. "I'm not going to throttle Cornelius Fudge," he said in a caustic voice. "At least, I'll try my very best not to. But I want to see Tonks, make sure she's okay. She's practically all the family I've got left--not counting the ones who are Death Eaters."

"I think I can arrange for you to see her," Shacklebolt said. "But you'd damn well better keep your temper under control, Black. You won't be doing your cousin any favors if you start screaming insults and threats at Ministry personnel."

"All right," Sirius said, grinding his teeth. "I promise."

"Very well," said Dumbledore, although he didn't look entirely convinced. "The three of us will leave now, and I'll send the rest of you word as soon as I can."

The meeting adjourned, and the members dispersed, leaving only Snape, Lupin, and Branwen behind. As soon as they were alone, the mask on Snape's face slipped, revealing guilt and horror. "The Dark Lord has put blood on Dylan's hands," he said.

"Dylan didn't hurt anyone," Lupin said. "It's not his fault--"

"No," Snape said, "it's mine. But Dylan will feel responsible when he finds out. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the Dark Lord's intention. That is how he draws people into his web, step by step. Some of the Death Eaters were all too eager to kill and torture, but others were more reluctant. He drew them in slowly, making them indirectly responsible for a victim's death or pain. And once they had blood on their hands, most of them felt there was no turning back."

Branwen nodded solemnly. "That is rather demon-like," she said. "To corrupt by slow and subtle means. Some, I imagine, became gradually inured and hardened till they felt no guilt, and for others, the guilt was so overwhelming that they believed there was no redemption or forgiveness for them." She gave Snape a look of concern and sympathy.

Snape laughed, a harsh and bitter sound. "You liked to read Shakespeare when we were in school, didn't you, Lupin? I feel rather like Lady Macbeth, unable to wash the blood off my hands. I wanted to spare Dylan that guilt, but I have failed."

"Perhaps we shouldn't tell him," Lupin suggested, but Snape shook his head.

"No, he'll learn the details sooner or later, and it's better that he hears it from me than from the Daily Prophet or Draco Malfoy."

"From us," Lupin said firmly, slipping his arms around Snape and holding him tightly.

"Please, Lupin, restrain yourself," Snape complained, flushing as Branwen grinned at them, but Lupin's gesture of support did make him feel just a little bit better.

"I am restraining myself," Lupin said, feigning a wounded look. "I didn't do this, after all." He kissed Snape on the mouth, a long and deep kiss.

Snape pulled away--but not too quickly. "Lupin!" he spluttered.

"I think that's my cue to leave," Branwen laughed. "I'll see you two back at school."

***

Even though Sirius's name had been cleared, people at the Ministry stared at him with fear and suspicion. Sirius had to clench his fists and grit his teeth to keep himself from saying or doing anything rash, which probably didn't do anything to make him seem less threatening. Sirius was left cooling his heels in the Atrium while Shacklebolt and Dumbledore went to haggle with some Ministry officials, then Shacklebolt returned alone.

"They'll let you see Tonks," he said. "I'll take you there." Tonks was being held in what was essentially a holding cell; it was not officially called such and there were no bars, but there was a pair of guards outside the door, which was covered with magical wards, and Sirius and Shacklebolt were required to surrender their wands before they were allowed to enter. Inside it looked like a normal enough room, with a small table, two chairs, and a couch, but there were no windows. Tonks had been lying on the couch, but she jumped up when she saw Sirius and Shacklebolt.

"Sirius!" she exclaimed. "Kingsley!" She ran up and hugged her cousin; Sirius held her tightly for a moment, then pulled back to take a look at her. Her spiky violet hair was looking a little limp, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but what really caught his eye was the collar around her neck: a wide band of silver etched with runes and set with a faintly glowing green gem in the center. Tonks grimaced and said, "It's one of Gwydion's Squib Collars--that's what they're calling them now, you know. Never thought I'd be wearing one myself. I can't tell you how strange it is not to be able to touch my magic--my dad might've been Muggle-born, but for the first time I understand what it must really feel like to be a Muggle, and I don't much like it."

"Damn that Gwydion," Sirius snarled, but Shacklebolt touched his arm and gave him a look of warning.

"Be careful what you say," he cautioned. "There are eyes and ears everywhere in the Ministry."

That meant "don't talk about Order business," and Shacklebolt was right; Sirius wouldn't be surprised if someone was listening in on them right now--in fact, he'd be more surprised if they weren't.

"Are you all right, Tonks?" Sirius asked anxiously. "You haven't been hurt...?"

"They haven't brought out the thumbscrews yet," she replied, managing a wry smile. "But they did roust me out of bed in the middle of the night and grill me for hours. Of course, I can't tell them anything, because I don't KNOW anything..." She sighed in frustration. "It's so stupid! Why would I use my own face to commit a crime, when I could pretend to be anyone I wanted? And if I wanted to openly declare myself as a Death Eater, why would I sit at home waiting to be arrested?" She raised her voice, as if to address any unseen listeners eavesdropping on them. "If I am a Death Eater, why am I not at my Master's side, rejoicing?"

"Take it easy, Tonks," Shacklebolt said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I believe in you; we all do." He raised his voice as well. "None of the Aurors believe you could possibly have committed such an act." He sighed and said in a more normal voice, "Unfortunately, there are some misguided fools in the Ministry who are not quite convinced of Sirius's innocence, and they say that you must be in league with your cousin."

"WHAT?!" Sirius roared.

"Don't tell him things like that," Tonks scolded her fellow Auror.

"He needs to know the truth if we are to help you," Shacklebolt said unrepentantly, then added, "You promised to keep your temper, Black."

"Dammit, Wormtail was spotted at the Ministry battle when he was supposed to be dead," Sirius complained. "What more do they want?"

"It would have helped if we were able to capture him," Shacklebolt pointed out. "Seeing is believing, and none of your naysayers personally witnessed the battle."

"Well, I would have liked to," Sirius said sarcastically, "if I hadn't been slightly disabled by my dear cousin Bellatrix blowing a hole in the middle of my chest. I swear, when I get my hands on that little rat--"

"Temper, Black," Shacklebolt warned.

Sirius realized he must be looking rather murderous right now, and took several deep breaths and got himself under control. "Why did the Death Eaters choose you and Arthur to impersonate?" he wondered out loud.

"I don't know," Tonks replied. "Maybe because of what Kingsley just said; maybe they counted on your status as a supposed criminal to rub off on me. And maybe because Arthur and I are known supporters of Dumbledore, and they wanted to get back at us, especially me, since I did some damage to a few of them personally at that last battle."

"Maybe they just chose whoever's hair they could get hold of," Shacklebolt suggested, then rubbed his bald pate. "Maybe the only reason they didn't impersonate me was because I had no hair to get hold of!"

Tonks giggled in spite of herself. "If I ever get out of here, perhaps I'll start shaving my head!"

"Someone in the Ministry obviously has to be involved," Sirius said pointedly, for the benefit of whatever Ministry agents were spying on them. "Probably someone who works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, someone who would have easy access to Arthur's office or the Aurors' desks and be able pick up a stray hair or two without anyone noticing."

They spent what seemed like hours in that cell-that-was-not-really-a-cell. They rehashed the prison break for awhile, until Tonks finally pleaded with them to talk about something more cheerful, so Sirius talked about how Harry was doing at school and how Hob kept hinting that Sirius should find himself a "Missus".

Tonks actually laughed at that last comment. "Perhaps you should, Sirius!"

Sirius was pleased to see her smile. "Well, if you line up some likely candidates..."

"As soon as I'm free," she promised.

Finally, a weary-looking Dumbledore showed up. "I was not able to convince the powers that be to free you, my dear," he said to Tonks. "But I was able to wring a compromise out of them. I have convinced them to release you into your cousin's custody, but you will remain under house arrest at his residence; you will not be permitted to leave it without express permission from the Ministry, and..." Dumbledore paused and grimaced. "They insist you wear that so-called Squib Collar."

"Dammit, Albus!" Sirius shouted, jumping to his feet.

"It was the best I could do," Dumbledore said. "And I had to personally guarantee her good behavior. It is only until we clear her name--"

"And how long will that take, with the Ministry being so stubborn?" Sirius snarled. "In the meantime, there are Death Eaters on the loose, and she's helpless with that collar on!"

"Which is another reason why she must not leave your house," Dumbledore said gravely. "For her own safety."

Sirius was about to raise more objections, but Tonks stopped him. "It's all right, Sirius. I know that Albus did his best, and it's certainly better than remaining here or occupying a guest suite at Azkaban!"

"But--"

"Please, Sirius," she said. "I don't like it either, but I have been staring at these walls for hours, and I would like to get out of here, have something to eat, and get some rest."

She looked so tired, and despite her show of good spirits earlier, near the end of her rope, and it awoke Sirius's protective instincts towards his younger cousin. "All right," he said gently. "Let's get you home and have Hob serve you a nice hot meal."

"That sounds wonderful," she sighed.

Sirius put an arm around her, and they prepared to leave, but Dumbledore stopped them before they walked out the door. "By the way, Sirius, I must warn you not to tamper with the collar. I know of course, that a law-abiding citizen like you would never try to illegally remove it--" His eyes twinkled a little despite his weariness. "--but if someone should try such a thing, it would set off an alarm that would immediately alert the Ministry, and Tonks's conditional release would be revoked."

"I understand," Sirius said in a surly voice.

Dumbledore patted Tonks on the shoulder affectionately. "We will be doing everything we can to clear your name and free you."

"I know you will, Albus," Tonks said. "I'll be counting on you." She looked at Shacklebolt's worried face and said, "On you, too, Kingsley. And don't worry about me in the meantime; Sirius will take good care of me." Shacklebolt did not look reassured by that; if anything, he looked more worried, and Tonks laughed. "I'll just consider it a vacation," she said lightly. "I'll catch up on my reading and get fat on Hob's good cooking. I'll be fine." She stood on tiptoe and gave Shacklebolt a peck on the cheek. Sirius was not sure, but he could have sworn that the dark-skinned wizard blushed. Then he escorted his cousin out of her cell and took her home.

***

Dylan was surprised when he was summoned to Professor Snape's office and found Lupin there with Snape. They broke the news to him--Lupin doing most of the talking in a kind and gentle voice--about how the Death Eaters had used his roses to kill the guards at Azkaban.

"It's all my fault!" Dylan said, filled with horror and dismay. "If I hadn't brought the roses out of my father's house for the Dark Lord--"

"He would have killed YOU," Snape finished. "You had no choice, Dylan."

"But if I hadn't been so stupid in the first place, if I'd listened to your warnings--"

"The Dark Lord had his eye on you from the moment you entered Hogwarts," Snape interrupted again. "You are the son of one of his Death Eaters; there is no way you could have escaped his attention. He probably would have had you either recruited or eliminated eventually, even if you had heeded my warnings. The Dark Lord regards the Death Eaters as his property, and he does not allow his property to just walk away from him."

"But--"

"You are not responsible for the deaths of those guards, Dylan," Lupin said in a firm but gentle voice, placing his hands on Dylan's shoulders. "The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters are the ones who wielded the roses as a weapon, not you."

"But I put that weapon into their hands," Dylan said, shuddering. He remembered what the roses had done to him, their own "master"; that had been bad enough. It was all too easy to imagine what it would be like if the roses did not stop, but kept on drinking until their victim was dead.

"The person who wields the weapon and commits the crime is the one who bears the guilt and the blame," Lupin insisted. "Incantations and Summonings was banned from the curriculum for many years for supposedly being of the Dark Arts. But Professor Blackmore said the spells were like a knife--in the hands of a surgeon, a scalpel could be used to heal, but in the hands of a murderer, the same object could be used to kill."

"That might be true enough of Professor Blackmore's spells," Dylan replied, "but the roses were obviously made for nothing but death."

"It's still not your fault," Lupin said quietly.

"Even without the roses, the guards would still have perished," Snape pointed out. "Most of them were slain with Killing Curses. The Dark Lord didn't really need the roses for this mission; he probably just wanted to see how they worked."

Dylan did not find that very comforting. "That only means that he plans on using them for something even worse."

"Probably," Snape sighed, and Lupin shot him an irritated look that obviously said, "We're supposed to be comforting the boy, not making him feel worse!" Dylan couldn't help but smile a little at that, and the two adults looked relieved.

"Well, I just thought you should hear about it from us rather than Malfoy or the Daily Prophet," Snape said awkwardly.

"Yes, sir," Dylan said. "I appreciate that."

"Very well," Snape said. "You may go now, Mr. Rosier."

"And you may come see me--see us--anytime you like," Lupin said. "If you just want to talk."

"Thanks for volunteering my services, Lupin," Snape muttered sarcastically.

"Anytime, Severus," Lupin replied cheerfully, giving Snape a sweet smile.

Snape started to turn red and look flustered, so Dylan decided that now was a good time for him to leave. He left the room feeling a little confused, about his Professors and about himself. There was a certain affection in the way Lupin teased Snape; why had he never noticed that before? Probably because they had gone through great lengths to hide it, Dylan decided. Besides, no one would ever suspect a Gryffindor of being in love with a Slytherin and vice versa. Dylan shook his head a little; it was still a great shock to him that the two supposed enemies were a couple. They were such polar opposites; he wondered what had drawn them together. Then again, Dylan's mother and father had been opposites, too, come to think of it--Ariane the typical studious, serious Ravenclaw and Evan the charming, roguish prankster. Maybe there was some truth to that old saying that opposites attract.

As for himself, Dylan was still disturbed by the fact that the Dark Lord had used his roses to kill people, although in the back of his mind he had known that was what Voldemort must have had in mind--it wasn't as if the Dark Lord was planning to take up gardening as a hobby, for Merlin's sake! When Dylan had aspired to be a Death Eater like his father, he had taken it for granted that he would have to kill in the Dark Lord's service one day, but now he found that it was much harder to face the reality than the fantasy. {I wonder if it was hard for my dad to kill his first victim, if he felt regret or horror?} Dylan wondered. {Or...was it easy? Did he like it?} He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know the answer to that...

***

Halloween was soon upon them; there was some talk of canceling the students' trips to Hogsmeade after the prison break, but it was eventually decided that the trips would be permitted to continue, with some of the teachers going along as chaperones. The students were also cautioned to be on their guard, stay in groups, and not run off on their own. Some of the parents, of course, chose to revoke their permission for their children to leave the school. Dylan's mother was one of them; she sent him a letter saying that he was not allowed to leave the school unless personally accompanied by Professor Snape.

{Oh great,} Dylan thought to himself. {Like Snape is going to want to play baby-sitter!} There was a certain bond that had developed between them, it was true, and he even believed that Snape would risk his life on Dylan's behalf (he already had, actually, by teaching Dylan Occlumency and enlisting the Order's help to heal Dylan, because Voldemort would surely kill him if he ever found out about it), but he did not by any stretch of the imagination think that Snape would be happy to play chaperone on a Hogsmeade outing. Snape was still Snape after all; the fact that he was a secret spy and hero for the Order of the Phoenix did not negate that fact that he was also the dour, acerbic Potions Master. Some of his bad temper was probably feigned, but Dylan knew him well enough by now to realize that most of it was real, although that didn't change his respect or liking for the man.

But...no harm in asking. (At least, Dylan hoped not.) So he went to Snape's office a couple of days before Halloween, letter in hand, although he didn't have much hope of a positive response.

Snape did not seem offended, but he did look tired and distracted. "Your mother sent me a letter, too, Dylan. I'm sorry, but I don't have time to go to Hogsmeade; I have some errands I need to run in Diagon Alley that day."

"I understand, sir," Dylan replied. He was disappointed, but he had expected as much.

But his disappointment must have shown in his face, because Snape hesitated, then said, "You could come with me if you like, I suppose. It might be rather boring; I'm just buying potion ingredients and such..."

"Thank you, Professor!" Dylan said, his face lighting up. "I'd love to!"

Snape actually smiled, seeming pleased if a bit puzzled. "Fine. Meet me here at my office after breakfast, then."

When Malfoy heard about it, he was of course very put out. "Why do you get to go on a private trip with Snape?" he demanded in a slightly jealous tone.

"Yeah!" Crabbe and Goyle echoed, flanking Draco with threatening looks on their faces.

Dylan just rolled his eyes. "Does anyone really think that spending their holiday in Snape's company sounds like fun?"

"Uh..." said Crabbe, scratching his head. "When you put it like that..."

"No?" Goyle finished.

Theodore said, "He does have a point, Draco. I'd certainly consider being stuck with Snape the whole day--our day off, no less--more punishment than reward."

Draco frowned, but looked less angry. "Well then, why'd you agree to go with him, Rosier?" he asked.

"I thought he might be offended if I said no," Dylan replied. He sighed heavily. "I'd much rather go to Hogsmeade with you guys, or even just stay in and read. He'll probably turn a trip to the Apothecary into an impromptu lesson." He mimicked Snape's deep voice, "Identify this herb, Rosier, and name five different potions it can be used in..."

The children in the common room laughed, and even Draco smiled. "Chin up, Rosier," he said, patting Dylan on the shoulder in a sympathetic--if slightly patronizing--way. "We'll bring you back some chocolate from Honeydukes."

"Thanks," Dylan said, feeling pleasantly surprised. Draco Malfoy being nice--was the world coming to an end? Then Dylan was struck by the realization that the world as they knew it would indeed come to an end if Voldemort won the war, and it no longer seemed so funny.

When Draco had moved out of earshot, Damien said, "Maybe it won't be so bad. There are a lot of cool shops in Diagon Alley. Maybe Snape will let you do a little shopping of your own, if he's in a good mood. Fortescue's has great sundaes, and Snape does have a sweet tooth. And there's Gambol and Japes, they have a lot of neat trick and gag items. And--" he lowered his voice to a whisper. "--I hear that shop the Weasley twins opened, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, is really cool!"

"Are you out of your mind?" Dylan hissed. "Do you really think Snape is going to want to go to a shop run by a couple of Gryffindors? And you know how much he hates the Weasleys!"

Damien shrugged. "Maybe you can convince him to let you go off on your own for a bit while he's picking up his potions stuff. You are his favorite student, after all. Anyway, if you do get a chance to go there, pick me up a Skiving Snackbox; there's a quiz coming up in History of Magic that I'm dying to get out of."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just study rather than make yourself sick?" Blaise suggested pointedly.

Damien grinned unrepentantly. "Just a little bit sick, and maybe I can get the girls to fuss over me the way they do Dylan!" Blaise just sighed and rolled his eyes, and Dylan laughed. "And get me some of those Ton Tongue Toffees," he added. "I'd love to slip one of those to Doherty, the little git."

Theodore shook his head. "Just don't let Malfoy find out you've gone there; he'll have a fit."

"I doubt I'll get a chance to go there," Dylan said, smiling. "But I'll see what I can do."

Part 18