Title: No Hiding Place 2: The Great Hall
Author: Rimau
Email address: rimaufic@yahoo.co.uk
Author's webpage: http://www.rimau.aeglos.org/
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairings: Harry/Snape, Ron/Draco (Sirius/Remus)
Date: December 2002 - May 2007
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money. Please don't sue. Lemon Drop?
Summary: -Voldemort has a plan. To make it work, he needs his most loyal Death Eaters and their progeny. After a vicious attack, two Slytherins must decide if blood is thicker than potions.
Warning: This part contains some mild torture, violence and the death of a minor character as well as more emotional angst.

Betaed by the wonderful Wolfsbride and Ria, with extra help from Jin Fenghuang. Big thanks to Allaire for her suggestions and corrections and to the Hekuna ladies, who were more than patient with me. All remaining mistakes are mine.

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No Hiding Place by: Rimau

BOOK TWO
The Great Hall

Part 1

Spring had always been Draco Malfoy's favorite season.

He didn't know why; all logic would suggest the opposite. After all, he did enjoy the dark of autumn, then Yuletide. The first half of the schoolyear was shorter than the second. Most of his Slytherin housemates had their birthdays in autumn, so it was a time for parties and goodies.

But there was something about springtime that usually made him feel good. Snorting at the idiot nature lovers, he refused to even think that it was the way the whole world seemed to be full of life, green leaves blooming on trees. It was probably the fact that he wouldn't freeze his arse off flying.

This year, he should have loved the spring. So many things were finally either ending or beginning. There would be no more school after this year. He'd finally be rid of Hogwarts, ready to embrace his future. It was just a couple of months until his eighteenth birthday and his father was finally trusting him with some of the Dark Lord's plans.

Draco had spent most his time trying not to worry about feeling a bit off; telling himself it was only natural. He was leaving his childhood behind, facing adult responsibilities. Things would be changing. His father already had plans for him. His future.

After proving his loyalty to Voldemort, he was to marry a pureblood girl -- probably either Millicent or Pansy, a choice that definitely depressed him -- and then spend his life serving his Master while his wife gave birth to the next generation of Malfoys. He would stand side by side with his father, ruling the wizarding world under Voldemort's banner.

Thinking about it made Draco nauseous. His perfect life had never felt less perfect.

His father had sent him an owl this morning. That wasn't unusual, but the contents of the letter were. Draco had read the letter twice before really understanding what his father was trying to tell him.

It had been quite clear when he'd finally managed to shake off his disbelief. His father had warned him about things to come, giving him certain dates; places he should avoid, days when he would need a good alibi. Things his friends would do, and to which he shouldn't be connected to.

Draco had spent a few hours before dinner trying to decide what to do with the knowledge he had.

He was glad of the free afternoon. Instead of spending his time off in the Slytherin common room, he'd hidden here in the library. Seeing his housemates would be too hard right now. He couldn't help wondering how many others had received mail from their families this morning. How many had received instructions for the upcoming battles.

Everything had always pointed in this direction; his upbringing, the fact that he happened to be yearmates with Harry Potter. His part in the fight had been clear ever since the Dark Lord had returned.

One day soon he would be called to battle against Potter and Weasley and their mudblood and Muggle-loving friends. He'd be drawn to the other dark figures wearing masks.

He was quite certain he'd rather turn his own wand on himself and end it all.

Draco heard someone laugh at the other end of the reading area. He didn't even have to look up to see who was making such noise. The sound was a familiar one, followed by another, deeper sound of chuckles. Granger and Weasley, probably accompanied by the boy who had the one thing he didn't. Freedom.

It was incredible how mad that sound made him.

Didn't these people know? Didn't they understand everything was racing towards a very ugly end? If they had seen what his father had written, they would be crying.

Like a part of him wanted to. But he couldn't. It simply wasn't what a Malfoy did.

The thought made him sneer at himself. No. A Malfoy wouldn't be human enough to show any weaknesses like that. A Malfoy would simply tremble before his Master and then obey any insane orders he was given.

He'd never felt such confusing emotions before, but his father's plans terrified him. Everyone at Hogwarts would get to know real pain and fear. There would be no great last battle. Only small, precise attacks on people no one really counted on, but who were vital to the ones Voldemort concentrated on.

That had been a shock to Draco. He'd assumed, as everyone else did, that the Dark Lord and his followers would attack Hogwarts in a couple of months. It was logical. One final battle between almost equal opponents.

The outcome of such a fight would have been impossible to predict.

Ignoring the noise the Gryffindor trio was making, Draco contemplated his options. He didn't have anything tangible. A few outlines of the plan. It could be real, or it could be a test to see how he would react.

A test he would pass with flying colors, for he didn't dare to do anything. No one would believe him anyway.

Nothing he could do. Draco smiled cynically. To hold so much power, and still be so damn weak. It was almost inconceivable.

Collecting his bag, he got to his feet. It was almost dinner time. His duty was to make an appearance with the other Slytherins. He would be the one the others would look up to. His father had made it perfectly clear.

He would have an important role in the plan. The Death Eater progeny would follow his lead.

Draco could see the irony in that; to be forced to take such an active role in something he detested was indeed poetic justice. He'd pay for the sins of his father.

Lost inside his gloomy thoughts, he didn't notice the Gryffindors walking towards the door.

"Hey!" Ron Weasley's offended huff brought him out of his reverie. "Watch where you're going."

Looking up at the redhead who'd managed to walk straight into him, Draco felt all his anger gather like a storm inside him. "If you don't want to be squashed like a bug, don't act like one, Weasel." At least this was an enemy he could fight against.

Harry and Hermione hovered behind Ron. Hermione obviously wanted to leave, to simply walk away from the Slytherin menace and show everyone she had grown as a person. The expression on Harry's face was peculiar. He stared at Malfoy, looking puzzled. As if wondering whether he should laugh at him or curse him.

"Bastard." Grounding it out, Ron squeezed his hand in a fist. He'd not let Malfoy treat him like filth anymore.

The simple word made Draco react in an unexpected way. Instead of sneering yet another insult at Weasley, he smiled an open smile. "I wish." Life would be so much easier if he wasn't who he was. Being a bastard son of Lucius would be so much better. At least then he wouldn't have to uphold family traditions like a good son.

Ron saw the condescending smile spread on the hated face, and swung his arm. Seeing his fist connect with Malfoy's face was surprisingly satisfying. The Slytherin was thrown back by the strength of the punch, flailing to regain his balance. Then he fell down on the ground.

He didn't stop smiling.

Hand on his cheek, Draco stared up. It was clear that Weasley was enraged, his face flushed with an interesting shade of pink that clashed with his hair. The sight made Draco's mouth twitch. This was so stupid. So futile to snipe at each other, to keep up the old game.

"What the hell are you smiling at?" Ron growled at the grinning Malfoy. He could feel his anger burn even brighter as the git just kept sitting there.

Draco felt the smile drain from his face. It had once been a perfect opening for even more insults, but not now. He knew exactly what he was staring at, even though he was probably only one of two people at Hogwarts with that knowledge. "A dead man, Weasley. I'm smiling at a dead man." They were all dead, all future victims of the Dark Lord.

"You..." Eyes blazing with rage, Ron stepped closer to him. Malfoy was going too far. He was definitely going to kick his sorry arse this time!

To everyone's surprise, it was Harry and not Hermione, who grabbed Ron's arm. "Don't. Leave him alone." Harry's gaze was on Malfoy. There was something hauntingly familiar in the blond's eyes. Like a reflection of the weariness he sometimes felt.

Ron stared at his best friend for a moment, as if to see if he was serious. When Harry didn't waver, he growled out something, and then rushed out of the library. Looking worried, Hermione followed him.

"You'd better go see Madam Pomfrey." Harry watched Malfoy climb to his feet. "You're bleeding." It wasn't that bad, but there was crimson liquid trickling down Malfoy's nose.

The look in the grey eyes was cold as a midwinter's breeze. "Go to hell, Potter." Grabbing his bag, Draco walked out, not paying any attention to the group of third years who were standing at the door, staring at him and whispering loudly.

Harry shook his head slowly. "I probably will."

Trailing Ron and Hermione to the Gryffindor tower, he couldn't help thinking about the absolute desperation he'd seen in Malfoy. It wasn't all that hard to figure out why his nemesis was looking harried these days.

By some miracle, the winter had passed without any traces of Voldemort's final attacks. At first, Harry had been even more stressed because of it, making his way down to the dungeons mind heavy with doubts and fears. There had been frequent Order meetings, where he'd hidden his true emotions and spent hours talking to the others, trying to figure out different plans to counter any possible attack.

The third week of February had been the most stressful. Then things had started to go better. Harry didn't know why. Nothing special had happened. It just felt like maybe there was a way to survive this after all.

Harry stepped through the doorway, smiling at the Fat Lady. That was something that had changed as well. He didn't have to force smiles these days. They were back, reminding him of a more carefree time.

Seeing Ron and Hermione bicker by the fireplace only widened his smile. Some of his lightened mood was undoubtedly due to his friends.

"I don't care if he's right or not. He's a bloody Death Eater, and you know it!" Ron was still seething with anger, his friend's soft words only annoying him further.

For a second, Harry stood still, words of denial raising to his lips. There was only one person at Hogwarts who had once been one of Voldemort's servants, and he wasn't one anymore. Then he realized they weren't talking about Snape.

Hermione looked doubtful. "We couldn't find any traces of a Dark Mark..." Noticing the way Ron glared, she sighed, "All right. Let's say for a moment Malfoy is a Death Eater. Wouldn't he try to do something worse than call you names then? And wouldn't it be more reasonable for us not to aggravate him if he's joined Voldemort already?" They were the only three people in the common room -- the others probably at dinner already -- but out of habit, the last bit came out as a whisper.

"I'm not going to start tiptoeing around the Slytherin scum!" Ron didn't even know why the whole thing was making him so irate.

"I'm not asking you to." Honestly, some days she wondered if he'd ever grow up. "All I'm saying is that you shouldn't let him goad you into a fight."

Ron grunted. He didn't agree with Hermione. If the bloody ferret kept annoying him, he'd punch him again. And again, until he stopped sneering at him. "Whatever."

Seeing her words had been completely futile, Hermione sighed, "Let's go and get something to eat." With luck, Malfoy would be in the hospital wing, and they could manage the rest of the evening without incidents.

---

Part 2

There were dozens of people talking at the same time in the Great Hall.

Snape glared at the students in front of him. For once he'd like to eat his dinner in peace. But no. By Albus' order, he had to 'enjoy' his dinner in the loud hall. He didn't flinch internally at the sounds and the movements anymore, his years at Hogwarts had cured him of that. Still, he didn't enjoy the crowd.

He'd much rather be in his dungeons; his own private world hidden inside the huge castle. His sanctuary, where no one dared to interrupt him unless it was a matter of life and death.

Then again, that wasn't exactly how things were anymore.

He turned his dark gaze to the left, focusing on the Gryffindor table. He knew exactly where to look. It was the small group of people he'd watched for over six years now. Watched with annoyance, with burning hatred. Now there was simple curiosity in his eyes.

Snape had spent years hating the Gryffindors. Not all of them. Only the ones overly eager to abuse their status. For everyone knew Gryffindors were natural leaders, good at most of the things they set their minds to.

In his opinion, the lion crested House was highly overrated. It produced pompous, half witted people with nothing but stubbornness to give to the world. Most of the Gryffindors seemed to be so enthralled with their House, they didn't even think for themselves. It was always disgusting to see that. Minds wasted because of such stupidity.

It had been like that in his youth. He could remember his yearmates. They hadn't been all that smart, none of them mastering any of the subjects. Lupin had been the only one with any kinds of academic aspirations.

Still, they had managed to do various stunts and tricks, focusing all their energy on unimportant things.

Snape didn't really care what people did with their lives. He was a teacher, not a miracle worker. He did his best trying to get his students to actually think. Whether they did or not was their own business. But to waste energy on childish pranks when a dark lord was gaining power was not only destroying one's own life. It was condemning others as well.

Feeling a stab of guilt, Snape lowered his gaze for a moment. It wasn't like he'd really done all that much better.

A moment later he focused his attention back to the Gryffindor table.

He'd seen Harry Potter as one of the arrogant kids even before the boy had arrived to Hogwarts. Everyone had been so excited about him. Praising him, babbling about him being the one who had saved them all.

Adding one of the unending brood of Weasleys and a know it all Muggleborn to the mix, and it had been impossible for Snape to see the boy as an individual. He seemed to be exactly the way he was thought of. Brave, stubborn. Sticking his nose into everything, especially things that didn't concern him. A privileged snotty bastard who was coddled by Dumbledore and his cohorts. A lucky brat who survived his first years at Hogwarts by pure chance.

Now it felt like he wasn't certain of anything anymore, and he didn't like the feeling.

Down at one of the long tables, Ron was glowering at the Head Table. "He's doing it again." It was a dark mutter. First Malfoy acting like an idiot as usual and now this. Damn, he hated the Slytherins.

"Who's doing what again?" Following Ron's gaze, Hermione shrugged. "Oh. So?"

Harry refused to let a smile show on his face. He knew exactly who they were talking about. "What?" The innocence in his voice was only slightly exaggerated.

"Snape. He's staring at you again, looking like he wants to hex you straight to the next century." Ron wouldn't be surprised if that was exactly what the greasy git was thinking about. Didn't he see Harry was under enough stress without him adding his two Knuts to it?

"Let him. I don't care." It was difficult not to look over his shoulder, but somehow Harry managed to stay put. After all, he knew what he'd see if he turned around. The same thing as yesterday, and the day before that.

Snape staring at him with a dark look in his eyes. It was almost an identical to the one he was so used to. The man was a master at hiding his thoughts, only the burning in his eyes revealed the intensity of his scrutiny.

Harry could only wonder what Snape was trying to see. It wasn't as if he'd said anything strange to him recently. Quite the opposite, actually.

Grabbing his glass, he concentrated on his dinner.

He enjoyed the Friday evenings, the promise of a good night's sleep and a full two days with nothing special to do. They wouldn't be going to Hogsmeade this weekend, so there'd be plenty of time to just laze around. Of course Hermione would pester them all to study for the N.E.W.T.s, but sometimes even that could be fun.

At least Hermione seemed to think that. She kept babbling about the upcoming exams as if they were the core of her whole being. She hadn't sounded that ecstatic about studying since the third year.

By the time they were finished, Ron was looking a bit like a pigeon caught in front of a Firebolt.

"So if nothing else comes up, we're going to go through the Arithmancy text one more time." Hermione didn't sound like she was actually asking anything.

Ron sighed, pushing his plate away from him. He was glad he'd finished his dinner, because he sure as hell didn't have any appetite after that comment. "Yeah. Sure." It wasn't as if there was much hope of anything sudden happening. Life had been rather boring lately.

Standing up, ready to leave the Great Hall, Harry glanced to the teachers' table, hiding his smile as he saw Snape sit there with a dark cloud hanging over his head. It was clear the professor didn't enjoy Fridays as much as he did. Harry had been quite astonished to learn about the private tutoring the man gave to his least intelligent Slytherins every week. Maybe he shouldn't have been. There had to be an explanation why Crabbe and Goyle had managed to pass most of their courses.

Those four hours every week were the only time he was absolutely banned from Snape's presence.

Harry smiled at that, sobering the next moment as a shadowy figure drifted across the room, heading towards the Head Table. He followed the ethereal bird with his gaze, noticing how only a few people in the Great Hall seemed to be able to see the ghostly twin of Fawkes.

"You coming?" Ron turned to look at his friend, who was acting strangely again. Harry was like that some days, his eyes focusing on something only he could see and then muttering some excuses, disappearing for hours. "Hey, Harry! Are you okay?"

No. Harry wasn't okay. "I'm fine, Ron. You go ahead, I have to drop by the owlery to send a message to Snuffles." Keeping the lie as simple as possible, Harry didn't wait to get a reply. He walked slowly towards the hallway, sprinting off when he was certain no one could see him run.

Ron stared at the doorway his best friend had disappeared through. He didn't like Harry's disappearing acts at all, no matter how they seemed to bring him peace at times.

"One day he's gonna tell me what this is all about." Muttering to himself, he went to find Hermione.

There was a rhythm with which some of the staircases moved. Harry hadn't noticed that before the Headmaster had told him. It was good to know now. He knew he had to hurry, in case it was important.

Everyone knew about the Order of the Phoenix these days. Older wizards and witches could still remember it from the first reign of Voldemort; Dumbledore's semi-secret organization battling against the evil.

Fawkes was their symbol, and as tenacious as the phoenix, they were once again fighting to conquer Voldemort. It didn't matter how much it cost. Like Fawkes, the Order would rise from the ashes as long as the Dark Lord lived.

Harry had been proud to join the Order, knowing his godfather was a member. Sirius had told him that all the Marauders had considered joining before that terrible evening when Peter Pettigrew guided his Master into the small cottage in Godric's Hollow.

It was a rather pleasant thought to be following the path Harry's dad would have chosen if he hadn't been betrayed.

Few people knew that there was a small band of fighters in the Order that would not attend regular meetings. They were never spoken of, were never seen with other members. The few who would go to both meetings, never mentioned these secret ones to anyone.

Harry wasn't certain he wanted to be a part of the secret. He would have preferred to being one of those who simply followed Dumbledore's orders.

He reached the second floor, rushing across the hallway to the gargoyle. It had been only a couple of days since the last meeting, and he hoped this didn't mean something bad had happened.

Dumbledore was already in his offices, sitting on an armchair, speaking softly with Minerva McGonagall. He smiled at Harry as the boy stepped into the room. "Harry. Good. Come and sit down with the others." Gesturing at the men sitting on the plush couch, he didn't even try to hide his pleasure at seeing Harry grin and run to hug his godfather.

Seeing Sirius and Remus sit there looking relaxed made Harry feel better. He hadn't seen the two of them in months, ever since the holidays. There had been occasional letters, but nothing more.

It felt good to have Sirius wrap his arms around him. He didn't even seem to mind when Harry accidentally stepped on his foot, laughing at the youthful exuberance.

"It's good to see you, too, Harry." Teasing his godson, Sirius hugged him right back.

Next to them, Remus Lupin chuckled. He enjoyed seeing his old friend like this. These moments he shared with James' kid made him perfectly happy. "Hello, Harry."

"Hello, Remus." It came out naturally now. The urge to call the man 'professor' had passed some time ago. "How are you two?"

"We're fine. Just came back from a little trip to south." The fact that Remus was speaking for the both of them wasn't a surprise. Ever since the Triwizard tournament, the two had been inseparable.

Harry squirmed a little, sitting down on the couch, squeezing between Sirius and the armrest. "You know what this is all about?" He couldn't keep the worry out of his voice.

"Sure." Sirius nodded. "We have something to report. Just wait till everyone's here." Glancing around the room, he added, "Seems to me our favorite Slytherin hasn't yet risen from his dank dungeons."

"Good news or bad?" Not commenting on the jibe at Snape, Harry changed the subject. He didn't want to make fun of his professor. Not anymore. Not like this.

It was clear that Harry was worried, so Sirius hurried to assure him. "Not exactly good, but definitely not bad either." He could feel the boy relax at that. Maybe he should talk to Dumbledore; Harry was definitely under more pressure than anyone his age should be.

The door to Dumbledore's office opened, and Snape swept in.

"Ah, Severus. Now that you're here, we can begin." The Headmaster sounded pleased. "Arabella and Mundungus won't be joining us this evening, so it's just the six of us. Sirius, would you please begin?"

Focusing his attention on Black, Snape sat in his usual place, a rather comfortable chair by the wall. Hiding in the shadows was what he did well.

"Sure." Black nodded, and then started talking about a strange smuggling system he and the werewolf had uncovered in the south. Apparently people rarely paid attention to a lonely man walking a dog, so they had been able to spy on the half-Muggle half-wizard operation.

Snape listened to the story with interest. He understood the importance of this as he heard Black mention that most of the items smuggled into Britain were various magical creatures, both alive and dead. Jobberknolls weren't exactly rare, but their feathers would be important to anyone planning on making truth potions. Lethifolds however, were a bigger problem.

"We managed to see one of our old acquaintances there." Sirius' gaze was full of anger as he continued his report. "Otto Avery."

The name was certainly familiar; the man was a known Death Eater.

"So Voldemort is gathering his forces again." McGonagall sounded stern. "If he's using dark creatures to aid in his battle, we could be in serious trouble."

Dumbledore nodded. "I agree. We must tell the others about this. Hagrid can probably give us a comprehendible lesson on all the creatures Sirius and Remus saw. In the meantime, I suggest we all revisit Scamander."

McGonagall, Snape and Harry all felt slightly annoyed at that, not that any of them would ever have admitted it. The spring was busy time already with O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s coming up. They really didn't need any extra reading material right now.

The rest of Black's story was rather uninteresting. Snape sat back and listened halfheartedly.

These meetings were necessary, he knew, but he wished he didn't have to attend. It was always the same. First the news. Dumbledore explaining strategy and the progress of all the seventh years trusted with extra curricular activities. Then Black and Lupin's news from their network, listing Voldemort's atrocities. At that point Potter usually looked sick.

It went down hill from there.

Snape watched the others, cataloguing everything they said, with or without words. He was excellent in reading body language, and was by now mastering Potter's rather well. Some of the things always hit him hard.

Especially the descriptions of the Death Eater deeds. Amazingly, Potter seemed to be connected to Voldemort somehow, sensing whenever he was murdering people. It had come as a surprise to Snape, even though when he thought about it, he realized it shouldn't have.

They both had their scars, and whether they liked it or not, they would be connected to the Dark Lord until the day he was finally defeated. There would be no end to the nightmares any time soon.

These private meetings were getting more frequent. Before the beginning of the year, there had been one every two or three months. Now these meetings were monthly.

That meant the Order was also assembling more often now. Snape was glad Albus was not including him in those meetings. He was a spy, and as such, his dedication to the Order was to be known by few people. To his knowledge, only seven people knew of his work; Dumbledore, Potter, Black, Lupin, Figg, Fletcher and McGonagall. Not all of them by his choice. He just hoped they hadn't told anyone else.

He'd asked Potter about that after one of the meetings; had needed to know if he'd told Granger and Weasley about him. Another surprise there. He'd been certain Potter would admit telling his friends, but he'd simply shook his head, saying that they had never spoken of it since all the confusion during their fourth year.

Trust was the most important issue to Snape. He was appalled by the way Potter had placed his trust in him, even though the boy knew of his real status as a spy. Had also hated being outed even to these few people.

He could still remember Albus telling Barty Crouch junior -- under the disguise of Mad-Eye Moody --about him being a spy; it had been something confirming half forgotten rumors. The thought made him shiver. Potter had once asked him if he was ever afraid. That first Death Eater meeting after Crouch's scheme being revealed had been the worst thing he'd suffered through for years; he'd been certain Voldemort would kill him. It was a miracle Crouch had taken the secret with him to the Dementor who had kissed his soul away.

It had been Albus' decision to tell the others. He'd said Snape needed that protection. If something happened to him, Snape would need people to know he was on their side.

Black, Lupin and McGonagall weren't exactly the ones Snape would have chosen. He had nothing against Minerva knowing; she would never betray Albus willingly. The only threat was torture, for no truth potions would work on her. But to include Black and Lupin in the inner most circle of the order... Snape shook his head. It was almost like telling Arthur Weasley about a Muggle invention and then expecting him not to be all excited about it.

His old schoolmates had reacted pretty much the way he'd expected. Lupin had smiled a little. He'd always been ready and eager to believe that people were good inside. Black's ranting could have probably been heard across the castle. His view on Snape had always been painfully obvious.

It didn't seem to be any different now. Just as Snape couldn't really stand the man, no matter how he fought side by side with him. He was always happy when the mutt of a man was on a longer mission, able to only send notes of the progress he and Lupin were making.

Trying not to think about things past, he sat there, listening to the others make plans about the Death Eater smuggling operation. His part of the mission would be to make inventory of all the items they'd get, to find out just exactly what kinds of potions Voldemort might ask him to brew in the future. The sooner he knew that, the sooner he'd have counter measures.

Snape sighed as the meeting ended, knowing he would be busy this weekend. He had some reading to do. Would have to prepare some potions for the upcoming mission.

Would probably have Harry Potter knocking on his door as soon as Black and Lupin left Hogwarts.

---

Part 3

Shifting his book bag to his side, Harry wiped his sweaty palm on his robe.

It was early. Everyone in the seventh year dormitory had still been sleeping as he'd sneaked out of the Gryffindor tower. It wasn't as if he'd actually planned to sneak out again. He'd woken up before dawn, and since he hadn't managed to go back to sleep, he'd decided to go searching for some peace of mind.

Saturday had been wonderful. Remus and Sirius had spent the night at Hogwarts. Instead of studying, Harry had stayed with his godfather, loving every minute.

By mutual agreement, they hadn't spoken of the war. Instead, Sirius had told Harry about the times he'd been still a student at Hogwarts, reminiscing about all the adventures the Marauders had shared. Remus had commented on the most outrageous tales, trying to get his friend admit that some of his stories were highly colored by time and a very active imagination.

It had been glorious to escape the reality even for only one day.

Waking up this morning, he'd returned back to the here and now. There were things he needed to do, mostly studying. He was certain Hermione had forced Ron to spend the previous day reading. It was amazing how she could find the energy to do everything.

Harry had collected his books and tried to read in his bed, but Neville's loud snoring and the soft whimpers coming from Dean's bed were too distracting. Somehow, he couldn't concentrate on his reading and sooner or later his mind would start to wander to Sirius and Remus. He wondered what they were doing now.

That of course lead him to think of the missions they were on, making him worry. He couldn't stop thinking about how unreal yesterday had felt, because it had been a fantasy in a way.

It was the one thing he really didn't need right now. But the more he tried not to think about it, the sharper the thoughts became.

Annoying. For once he was actually willing to spend the day studying, and now he couldn't.

Eventually, Harry had shoved his books into his bag and got out of bed. He'd dressed quietly, making sure he had his wand with him. After leaving a short note on Ron's nightstand, he walked out of the dormitory.

Now he was here, in the familiar corridor, hesitating outside Snape's door.

It was not unusual for him to come here at weird hours. Especially in the beginning, when he had been haunted by strange dreams. No matter the time, he'd always been allowed in. Sometimes he wondered just exactly when did Snape sleep. The man seemed to be awake every time he came to his door.

He'd never come here like this before; not without a good reason. Sometimes, he'd spent hours in the dungeons, doing his homework or holding a book in his lap, his mind working on something quite different. Snape had allowed him to stay, waiting for him to either come to some kind of conclusion on his own or start talking. This time, there was nothing bothering him. Not really.

Only the silence and being alone bothered him. The dark thoughts weren't swirling around his head, but they were waiting somewhere close.

Dumbledore would undoubtedly call this a pre-emptive strike. To hit the enemy before they could hit you.

Wiping his hand on his robes once more, Harry took a deep breath and then planted his palm on the ornament on Snape's door. He'd chosen to walk here, not sure if he should come after all. It was morning, so officially, he was allowed to be walking around the castle. If he'd decided not to come to see Snape after all, he could have just strolled around.

A few seconds later the door swung open, revealing the Potions master. Snape looked like he'd been expecting him. "Come on in, Potter." It was the usual curt command.

Harry followed him inside, closing the door firmly behind him.

The sight that greeted him was different from the neat chambers he was used to seeing. There were various boxes on the floor, some open with weird looking herbs inside. The acrid smell of bile came from the other end of the room and the comfortable chair Harry had claimed as his was covered in something that looked suspiciously like Veela hair.

It was quite obvious Snape was busy. Working hard to prepare the Order for whatever it was they were about to face.

Hesitating a little, Harry stood by the couch, wondering if he was welcome. He didn't exactly need to be here; he knew that if he left, he wouldn't exactly be reduced into a gibbering idiot in the matter of hours.

He wanted to be here. It was so much easier to stay in the dungeons. They were the last place anyone would come to look for him.

"You're busy. Do you want me to leave?" Harry asked Snape's back. The professor had walked back to the table as soon as he'd closed the door. He was obviously in the middle of chopping something. "I could come back later."

Snape turned to glance at him, his eyes shining with cold amusement. "Sit down. Unlike some of us, I can work and listen at the same time." The jibe was so obviously a reminder of several occasions Harry had been daydreaming during the Potions class.

Reading the meaning behind the words, Harry plopped down on the couch, his bag on his lap.

He'd brought his Potions textbook with him. After missing a whole day of studying, he'd decided to work on the subject he wasn't all that good at. Besides, he'd done his Potions homework in here a couple of times before, and Snape had graciously explained to him a thing or two when he'd been at a loss even after reading the chapter twice. Sometimes his professor hadn't even used the word 'idiot' during those explanations.

Harry fingered the thick book, thinking about all the things he needed to memorize before taking N.E.W.T.s. It was almost enough to plunge him back to depression.

Instead of opening the heavy volume, he kept watching Snape. The man was moving around the table, adjusting jars and piles of roots. Something squirmed on the table, but one stab of Snape's knife seemed to take care of that. After everything was the way the professor seemed to prefer it, he grabbed some daisy roots and resumed the chopping.

"Snape?" Since the man had told him not to call him professor when they were alone in the dungeons, but had not offered him the use of his first name -- not that Harry had expected for that -- he simply called him by his family name. Just like Snape always called him Potter. "Can I help you with anything?"

The reply was the much anticipated snort. "Even in a hurry, I am not desperate enough for your help, Potter. We wouldn't want the Order to suffer more from the cure than from whatever poison they may encounter, now would we?" He finished with the root and poured the thin slices to a bowl. Then he grabbed another root. "Your style of cutting usually leaves much to be desired."

Harry smiled slightly at that. Sure, he'd asked for it. "Okay. Tell me if you change your mind." He leaned back on the couch, still watching his teacher.

These rooms seemed like a second home by now. It was rather amusing for a Gryffindor to find the Slytherin dungeons homely in any way.

Maybe it was because he'd spent so much time here these past two months. When they'd first agreed on this with Snape, he'd come here twice a week. When he'd realized his old nemesis had actually meant it when he'd said he could come by whenever he needed, his visits had become more frequent.

Even now, Harry refused to be ashamed of those visits. Snape had never seemed to mind his rants and bouts of doubt. Had never made fun of him when he was confused and lost. The jibes came only when they wouldn't cut to the bone, never when they would truly hurt.

At least not outside the classroom. There, everything was possible.

"Actually, there is something you could do, if you're just going to sit there."

Snape's words jolted Harry out of his thoughts, and he realized the man had stopped the slicing and was staring at him. "What?" He didn't say anything about the barely veiled comment on his silence. He felt good. Didn't really need to talk about anything.

It wasn't exactly the first time he wasn't babbling the moment he stepped through the doorway or out of the fireplace. He'd been stunned when he'd managed some intellectual conversaton with his professor.

Gesturing at the bookshelf, Snape said, "If you have nothing else to do, you could get the Scamander book and read out loud. There's no need for us to waste the whole day. Like I said, I can actually work with Potions ingredients and listen at the same time."

"Oh." Harry realized it was a good idea. That way he didn't have to sit in silence and wonder if he should actually say something. "I have it right here." He pulled the small book out of his bag. He'd thought it would be refreshing after an hour or so of suffering through Magical Drafts and Potions.

The look Snape threw at him was surprised. "I'm amazed you actually have that book."

Harry grinned. There was a lot his professor didn't know about him, no matter how many secrets he'd shared with him. "It's good to have a manual close at hands whenever Hagrid's teaching about something new." With the visible classification of every poisonous and otherwise dangerous creature, the book was a life savior. Literally.

"I would imagine so." The sneer was back.

Opening the book, Harry flipped through the first few pages, shaking his head at things Ron had written on them. "All right. You want me to read the introduction too?"

"No." Snape had already turned back to his roots, his sharp knife making soft background noise as it sliced through the shriveled greens. "Start with the creatures themselves."

Harry nodded. " 'Acromantulas. The Acromantula is a monstrous...' "

He'd read about the magical creatures a dozen times before, but he didn't find reading the book again boring. After six and a half years studying at Hogwarts, he'd managed to bump into most of the non-lethal creatures. A couple of lethal ones too. He made a few comments about them as he read and was glad Snape just listened.

When Harry got to Dugbogs, Snape made an indelicate sound. After a questioning silence, he made a curt comment about the Dugbogs being highly underestimated. They did feast on more important roots than Mandrakes, and would be very vicious if annoyed. Apparently, their eyes were highly valuable in various love potions.

Harry shuddered at that. He was quite sure it couldn't be true love if it forced you to give someone a drink made of Dugbog eyes.

He kept on reading, pausing every now and again to have Snape make more observations. Most of his tales dealt with potions, which wasn't exactly a surprise.

Slicing the various ingredients he would need in his potions, Snape let his mind drift as Harry read to him. He made sure to comment on the creatures every now and then, when a familiar name awakened some memory of a thick skin or slimy intestines. Potter's voice was a pleasant buzz in the edge of his consciousness.

He was rather glad the boy had come to him this early in the day. He hadn't slept well. Strange nightmares had kept him awake. His dreams had reminded him of ages past, of the years he had cursed Hogwarts, not knowing the old castle would one day be a safe haven.

Usually these dreams were a warning, as if his Dark Mark knew of things to come. It worried him. The more frequent the Order meetings were, the fewer the dark gatherings were. He hadn't been called to his old Master since Yuletide.

That meant something big was approaching. Voldemort would scheme with some of his closest Death Eaters -- probably the Gryffindor traitor and Lucius Malfoy -- and when it was time to act, he would call all the others to marvel at his plan.

Snape didn't like it one bit. It would leave him very little time to act. Perhaps too little to stop whatever was coming from happening.

There would be casualties. People would be hurt, even die. And Poppy would need fresh batches of potions.

At least this was something he could do now. He didn't have to sit in his rooms and wait. No matter how morose, brewing potions to help the wounded in the battles that would come was something he was best suited for.

By midday, Harry had finished with the book. He was actually surprised the reading had taken so much time. Must be because of all the things they had talked about.

Snape put away his knife, washing his hands on a basin before calling for the house elves for lunch. It was a familiar ritual by now. Every time Harry was here, they shared a meal together; neither wanted to go to the crowded Great Hall to eat.

Since the white strands of hair were still spread on the comfortable chair, Harry took a better position on the couch. He was starving, even though he hadn't even realized he was hungry before Snape mentioned food. The sight of the tray full of steaming bowls made his stomach growl.

The sound was surprisingly loud in the room.

"Go ahead and eat." Sitting on the other side of the couch, keeping his distance, Snape waved at the tray. "Brains need nourishment in order to work, and I do believe yours need as much help as possible."

Harry snorted as he piled food on his plate. "We can't all be geniuses, you know." He was proud of the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Deciding not to grace that with a reply, Snape grabbed a roll.

They ate in silence. Harry had found out that he rather enjoyed the peace and quiet. Sharing every meal with hundreds of other teenagers all talking at the same time could be somewhat disturbing, especially if you were feeling a bit tense. The novelty of eating without having to discuss anything with anyone had not yet burned away, and he smiled as he refilled his glass.

Snape saw the faint twitch of lips. Curious. It almost looked like the boy was getting back to the way he'd used to be before this outbreak of -- what Snape considered -- sanity.

Everything Potter had said had been true. Astonishingly, he hadn't wallowed too much in self-pity, had never said things that would require Snape to show sympathy. Had never asked for pity or praise. That had been a surprise to Snape. It hadn't exactly shattered the image he'd had of the hope of the wizarding world, but he'd realized he could actually stand his presence.

Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone.

When they had finished, Snape sent the dishes back and then grabbed a dusty thick potions book from the shelf. He returned to the couch to read it. Even he didn't remember all the dark potions by heart, and needed some studying before choosing which potions he needed to make right away.

He snorted at Harry's surprised look. Students! They never thought about the vast amount of work their teachers did for every class. It was extremely annoying to see that they still didn't understand even the simplest of lessons their teachers had tried to teach. They didn't need to know everything; they needed to know the basics, and then where to find more information.

Oh the joys of educating the young ones.

Harry watched his professor sit on the other side of the couch with a book. He couldn't help but to stare. Snape had rarely stayed so close to him, or acted quite that relaxed in his presence.

He rather liked it. It was almost like staying at the common room, minus all the noise. He didn't really want to leave yet, no matter how strong the bile smelled from the other end of the room. Since Snape so obviously needed to read, he decided to try the potions book as well.

Ten minutes later he realized he was still staring at the introduction on page five.

Harry couldn't really concentrate on the text. He kept thinking about how strange it was he wasn't all worried right now. Well, sure he was worried for Sirius and Remus, but he didn't feel the apprehension build up inside him like weeks ago.

After months of fighting desperation, he was slowly realizing that he might be able to survive the absurd mess that was his life after all. He was even beginning to see the irony of the whole thing.

All the answers had already been there, in his mind. He just hadn't seen any of them behind the overwhelming anxiety. Once he'd started to let out the jumble of confused thoughts, he'd been able to think about everything a bit more coherently. Had seen what Snape had obviously seen all the time and it hadn't been easy to accept. He was still not certain he wanted to accept it.

Life was what one made of it, but it was never fair. Sure, it was unfair he was treated like the savior of the wizarding world, when all he'd ever done was to have been loved by his mother. It was unfair that everyone expected him to be the hero, but that was life and nothing he did or said could really change it.

Accepting that had made things easier somehow. He no longer felt the all consuming dread when thinking about the future. It would come whether he dreaded it or not. Voldemort and he did share a bond, and due to it, he would most probably have to face the Dark Lord some day.

Brooding on it wouldn't help him that day. Trying to keep a level head would. That's what he was trying to do. Make sure he didn't store all his fears inside his mind, letting them fester there.

Harry turned his gaze back to the book, trying to concentrate on the text.

Potions. Potions ingredients. Preparing the ingredients. Getting proper tools with which to prepare the ingredients. Harry browsed through a couple of chapters, getting more frustrated every minute.

He'd always tried in class, had done his best. Even at Divinations, before realizing what an utter crap it was. He even understood most of the things he was studying, especially the magical creatures and DADA. Potions, however, were a mystery to him. He knew his Herbology, could calculate things, like his Arithmancy teacher could tell. Still, he couldn't find himself interested in Potions.

Annoyance made him even more determined. He slowed his pace, reading everything with thought. He could do this. Even Neville had managed to pass potions every year.

There were explanations on every page and the text wasn't all that complicated, but for some reason he simply couldn't grasp the point of most of the things he read. It was almost as if the author of the book was trying to contradict himself every now and again. First they said potions were the craft of a meticulous and patient mind, then there was a page that described intuition and something called 'sharpness of the eye'.

Harry wondered if the author had been somehow mentally ill. Wouldn't surprise him. Everyone so enamoured with potions must suffer with instability, probably due to spending so much time in the fumes. Maybe Snape was simply an exception to that rule.

It was infuriating, because he knew his lack of success in the Potions class wasn't because he didn't try. He did. He listened in the class, paid attention to every instruction Snape gave. He read the books, did his homework. And yet he was feeling he should be doing better.

"I suck at Potions!" Tossing the book to the side, Harry slumped on the couch. He hated this.

Snape raised his gaze from the book he'd been reading and nodded. "Yes, that is a rather accurate term." It was just a plain statement. He didn't even seem to be all that gleeful about Harry's words. "But if you study hard, you'll pass the N.E.W.T.s."

Looking highly suspicious, Harry glanced at him. He still wasn't sure if Snape was joking or not. What a strange notion; Snape having a sense of humor. "You sure?" He flustered a bit as he saw the raised eyebrow. Of course Snape would be sure. "Why? You know I've been doing the reading. Why do I... suck?"

"Because you have absolutely no eye for details."

That was certainly not true! "Sure, I do," Harry protested. He could prove that simply by showing Snape one of his Divinations papers. He'd got excellent at painting very vivid and detailed descriptions of his own death during the years.

Snape didn't make any comment on the petulant tone, even though it was slightly amusing. Once Harry had realized his comments during these moments he was in Snape's private rooms wouldn't lose Gryffindor House points, he'd stopped worrying about the things he said.

Impudence and snotty remarks were always met by scathing sarcasm. Honesty was usually appreciated.

"No, Potter, you really don't. You can handle the rudimentary potions well, because they are simple. A few ingredients and a certain way to make them. When there are various ingredients and variables to take account of, your work is a dismal failure. Maybe you were predispositioned to focus on only one thing at the time." It was said with confidence coming from teaching the boy for years.

Harry tried to figure out if it had been an insult or a compliment. Somehow he didn't think it was either. "Explain." A familiar command usually said by Snape.

Turning a little towards his student, Snape wondered how to make his point so that even Potter would get it. He could use any number of potions as an example, could mention various ingredients that would need special preparation before mixed together. Could probably talk until he ran out of words, but he was certain he wouldn't be understood.

"Quidditch." Seeing the blank look on Potter's face, Snape sighed. "It's like you and Quidditch. Maybe if you were a Beater, you'd be able to see all the nuances of potions as well."

Harry realized he looked like an idiot with his mouth hanging open. Had Snape just compared Potions to Quidditch? "So you mean..." He thought about it for a moment, glad that he wasn't prompted for a quick answer, unlike in the classroom. "You mean that since the Seeker focuses completely on the Snitch, he doesn't have to pay attentions to all the details of the game?"

It actually made sense. He always trusted the Beaters to make sure no one was brained by a Bludger, trusted the Chasers to get out of his way when he swooped down from the sky, trying to catch the Snitch.

"Something like that." Snape nodded. Maybe when the war was over, he would write a textbook for idiots. Maybe an 'Idiot's guide to Potions', explaining all the important things using Quidditch terms.

"I don't think that's really true." A memory of a gleeful smirk came to Harry. "If it was, Malfoy would be just as bad in Potions as I am." No matter how he wanted to blame Malfoy's good grades on the favoritism Snape still showed on him, Harry had to admit that the Slytherin was truly skilled in Potions.

Was probably practicing for his future as a murderer. Backstabbing was always so messy. Better use a poison.

Snape's only answer to that was a cold stare.

"So I'll have to pay attention to the details." He could do it. Harry was sure he could. To hide from the stare, he grabbed the book, and tried reading some more. If he was indeed to pass the exams, he would have to at least remember the stuff he read, even if he didn't really get it.

Disappearing behind the book, he missed a rare sight. Snape's lips curled into a genuine smile. It lasted for a few seconds, until the man was able to get his expression back under control. Not letting his amusement show, he returned to his task of selecting poisons against which he would probably have to find counter measures.

---

Part 4

Ron was starting to feel like he was now living in the school library.

It had been like this for weeks now. When the classes were over, Hermione would drag him to the library. Whenever he was around, Harry would join them. They'd spend hours by the tables, browsing through books.

Arithmancy, Herbology, Potions, DADA, Divinations... It was all a jumble in his head. He wasn't sure he could get every single piece of knowledge he'd aquired in its right place. With his luck, he'd ramble about unstable parables in his Herbology test.

Too much knowledge was bad for you. It had been the Weasley motto ever since Bill had attended Hogwarts. Percy may have renounced it, but Ron was a firm believer. His throbbing headache was proving him right.

"That's it." He slammed the book he'd been staring at with glazed eyes shut. "I refuse to read another sentence. My head is about to burst open any minute now, and before that happens, I intend to enjoy this weekend."

Hermione had jumped at the loud sound, now staring her friend with disapproval clear on her face. The desperate words made her expression soften. "Okay."

Getting ready to rant and rave to defend his statement, it took a moment for Ron to actually realize Hermione had agreed with him. "Huh?"

"I think you're right. It's no use if you burn out studying." She smiled at that. What a novelty to most of her yearmates that must be. "Let's just leave the books till Monday."

Or maybe Sunday afternoon. She'd enjoy the Hogsmeade weekend like the rest of them. A sugar rush sounded perfect right now. So did sleep. Trying to take care of her duties as the Head Girl and studying for the final exams was almost impossible, but she did her best, and as a result rarely got more than five hours of sleep every night.

Ron was still staring. "Are you feeling all right?" He was only half joking. Ever since the beginning of the term, Hermione had spent all her free time studying.

Deciding it was futile to get mad, she just stuck out her tongue at him.

Harry was smiling at the both of them. It was good to see Hermione relax for once. The whole school was buzzing about the weekend. There would probably be lots of visitors for Madam Pomfrey's Sunday morning; there was such a thing as chocolate overdose.

Things were going quite well. He'd even managed to read through the accursed Potions book, even if it had taken him most of the week. Sirius had sent him an owl yesterday, telling him that everything was going smoothly.

He was going to enjoy the Hogsmeade weekend as well. It was only the second this year. This time nothing short of a Death Eater attack could stop the students from getting some happiness in their lives. How on earth were they supposed to study without sweets? Chocolate was supposed to be good for your mind.

Snape's comment about feeding the brain popped up in his mind and he wondered what his professor would say if he visited him while he was on a sugar high. Would probably sigh in exasperation. "I think we definitely need to visit Honeydukes."

"Oh yeah!" Ron was practically bouncing now. "They should have got that new shipment of Chocolate Frogs by now!" Last time they'd been to the store, they'd run out of his favorite sweets.

The glare Hermione threw at him reminded of the one McGonagall usually saved for her most irritating students. "You are not going to have a frog hunt in the boys' dormitory again." Ron's excellent idea had resulted in half the Gryffindor boys ending up in the hospital wing.

"Of course not! Wouldn't dream of it." Looking like the epitome of innocence, Ron patted his friend on the shoulder as he got up. When he was certain she couldn't see, he winked at Harry over her head.

Hermione pushed her books in the bag, and then said sweetly, "I believe you, of course." Her turn to share a knowing glance with Harry.

All three were wearing identical grins on their faces as they escaped the library.

Draco Malfoy slipped from behind the shelves he'd been using as a cover. He hadn't really been hiding, no. He'd simply tried to avoid yet another unpleasant encounter with Weasley. Didn't fancy getting his nose broken by him again. Once was quite enough.

Snorting at the thought, he walked to the tables. So maybe he had been hiding. How appropriate. He was a coward after all.

A cowardly descendant of a coward.

He sat down on an empty table. There were no Slytherins at the library at this hour. All were probably either in the Great Hall or the common room. He didn't really care as long as they stayed out of his way.

This was unbearable; to know everything was about to change forever, and simply stand by and watch it happen. Draco had been dreading for this weekend for days, hoping that by some miracle the teachers would change their minds and cancel the trips to Hogsmeade.

Now it seemed like hope had completely abandoned him.

There had been no notes from his father. The sly old fox probably knew mail would draw attention to his son. Draco had burned the letter he'd got a week ago. The lessons had been well learned; never leave evidence.

The words were still playing in his head, though. He didn't need to see them written down to remember every single sentence. He wished he could rid himself of the knowledge.

A line from one of the only Muggle stories he'd ever liked came to his mind. Something wicked this way comes. How true. Evil was arriving, and it would destroy everything. Not just the disgustingly goody-goody Gryffindors, but absolutely everything.

Draco would have to hide his real feelings. He'd have to go through the motions, appear an obedient son. Since there was no hope left, all he had was survival.

He wondered if he could just stay here in the library for the evening. He wasn't at all hungry. Actually, he was quite sure he'd throw up if he tried to eat. But everyone would be gathering in the Great Hall soon. Even Vince and Greg would be there, both looking frightened after their weekly tutoring session with Snape.

His absence would be suspicious; there would be questions later on. He wasn't stupid, he knew that there were always eyes watching. His father had been most adamant about the date.

Sighing, Draco collected his belongings.

He didn't bother to go to the common room, the detour would take too much time. Besides, once in the dungeons, he might be tempted to stay there. To continue hiding, not just from Weasel and his friends, but from the whole world.

The Great Hall was full. Dinner had already been served, and most of the people were eating and speaking at the same time, making plans for tomorrow. Especially the third years seemed to be excited. It would be their second Hogsmeade weekend ever, and since the first one had surpassed all expectations, everyone was thrilled.

Even those who would usually look dour or scared were now full of nervous energy. Draco sat at his usual place next to Vince and Greg, noticing that the two were looking rather happy.

He poured himself some juice, knowing that very soon, most of the Slytherins would look even happier. From the corner of his eye, he could see Millicent casting expectant looks at the huge doorway as if she was expecting for something to happen.

It certainly made Draco wish his father had not chosen her for him. He abhorred stupidity, even though his choice of company might sometimes suggest otherwise.

Vince and Greg he could handle. He didn't have to share a bed with either one of them.

Not really listening to whatever his friends were talking about, Draco kept his attention divided between other tables. He cast a brief look at the Gryffindor table, noticing that Potter and his cohorts were still joking and laughing. That didn't really interest him right now.

He could see some somber faces at the Ravenclaw table. It didn't exactly surprise him. Not all Death Eaters were Slytherin, no matter how eagerly the other Houses seemed to believe that.

Finally he looked at the Head Table. His gaze hit the empty seats at first. Oh yes. Hooch and McGonagall were once again patrolling Hogsmeade, making sure the students would be safe the next day. Nothing strange with that. Dumbledore was talking animately with professor Pahicna, managing to draw out a smile or two from her with his words.

The only person at the teachers' table looking gloomy and forbidding was Snape. Draco stared at him for some time, wondering if it was because that dark expression was Snape's trademark or because of what would happen soon.

He honestly couldn't tell. Snape had always been a complete mystery. He seemed to be a rather simple man, with passion towards potions and tormenting his students, but he also had a secret life outside Hogwarts. His gaze was unreadable. Sometimes the dark eyes shone with malevolent glee, but most of the time, they were completely blank, like an obsidian mirror revealing nothing but a reflection of the one standing in front of him.

Snape had to know. From what Draco had seen, he was one of those people Voldemort truly needed. There weren't many Potions masters alive, and having one work for him voluntarily was not something the Dark Lord would willingly throw away.

It was amazing how Snape could just sit there and eat calmly, as if nothing was wrong. As if the world wasn't coming to an end.

"Draco? Could you pass me the potatoes?"

The small voice jolted him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Blaise stare at him from the other side of the table. "Yeah. Sure." Grabbing the bowl he hadn't touched, he shoved the potatoes towards his housemate.

Blaise flashed him a smile, the first real one in weeks. "Thanks." He shoveled more food on his plate, his appetite probably due to the fact that Pansy was keeping her attention on the door and not on him.

Draco was about to mutter something polite to him as he felt a shiver run down his spine. It was a ghostly touch, a premonition.

Proving his instincts right, Pansy gasped, "Here it comes." She grabbed Millicent's arm in excitement. "Watch this!"

The door to the Great Hall banged open, the sudden movement drawing everyone's attention to the slight form entering. Whispers started immediately as Madam Pomfrey strode across the room, an angry expression on her usually so calm face.

She was accompanied by a brightly colored form that followed her with silent wings. Fawkes the phoenix was in the middle of his cycle, looking magnificent.

"Poppy?" Turning his attention from the DADA professor, Dumbledore frowned. It was rare to see her out of the infirmary. Seeing Fawkes follow her was even rarer. He usually never accompanied anyone but him. "Is something wrong?"

Keeping her steady pace, Madam Pomfrey walked to the Head Table, not saying anything. When she reached the Headmaster, she leaned down, whispering something urgently.

Everyone was staring at the scene. They wanted to know what had happened, knowing by now it had to be something bad. If someone had been killed, the Headmaster would undoubtedly make an announcement any second now.

Draco watched the old wizard's face. Even after ridiculing the man for so long, he was well aware he was the most powerful wizard alive, with the possible exception of his father's Master. That's why he felt panic rise when he saw the expression on the Headmaster's face.

No anger, no sorrow. Nothing. There was no emotion on Dumbledore's face, his eyes flat and lifeless.

Fawkes landed on the back of his chair, making a soft sound. The magnificent creature seemed to know his presence was sorely needed now.

When their mediwitch straightened herself again, everyone sat in silence, waiting. Dumbledore simply sat there, staring into distance. The sight was scaring everyone. If the news affected their Headmaster like that, it must be terrible indeed.

He didn't seem to be aware of the curious looks. It was as if his consciousness had disappeared somewhere, leaving only a lifeless husk behind.

Fawkes made the soft sound again, like a questioning note.

It brought Dumbledore back to this moment. He blinked, and then nodded at Madam Pomfrey. "Thank you, Poppy. Please stay." Clearing his throat, he stood up, only his iron will keeping him from swaying. "People! I am sorry to have to tell you this, but the flying lessons have been cancelled for an indefinite time. Madam Hooch has been seriously injured."

There were a few gasps at that.

"Also, due to an unfortunate accident, the Hogsmeade trips have been cancelled." It was added almost as an afterthought.

This time there were more gasps, even barely concealed protests. They died at the Headmaster's stern glare. No wonder. Dumbledore rarely showed such a grim face.

"That is all. I suggest you all finish eating and then go to your dormitories." Pushing back his chair, Dumbledore reached out with his hand. "Come." Fawkes obeyed the gesture immediately, rising into the air and then following the Headmaster as he and Madam Pomfrey walked out of the Great Hall.

Everyone was so busy talking at the same time, that no one noticed the phoenix brush his wing against Snape's head as he passed the Potions master by.

From the general commotion, it was clear that no one would be eating anymore. The noise level in the vast room was almost deafening. Even the teachers were talking out loud with each other, no one controlling the spreading turmoil. It was usually the Headmaster's work, and if he was indisposed, professor McGonagall would quickly take over. Neither was present now.

Draco for one wasn't at all surprised when Snape's voice rang out even over the ruckus. "Everyone, follow the prefects back to your Houses." He paused for a fraction of a second, and then added, "Immediately."

His voice was probably the only thing everyone present would obey. If not out of respect, then out of sheer fear and self preservation. The prefects jumped up as if prodded with a spear and began herding the students towards their common rooms. Draco was one of the first Slytherins to get up. He just wanted to go to his bed and pretend none of this was happening.

Sleeping would be difficult, probably because most of his yearmates would want to party.

Harry sat frozen in place, not following the others as they hurried towards the door. Ron and Hermione sat with him, both looking alert. They all had seen Dumbledore's little gesture with Fawkes, the soft word he'd uttered as clear as a message, as if he'd addressed them directly.

"We should follow the others and then slip away from the crowd and head to his offices." Hermione's lips barely moved as she whispered that out. Not that anyone would have paid her attention even if she'd shouted it out loud.

Nodding, the boys got up and drifted towards the door.

Out in the corridor, they followed the crowd to the staircases. Once on the second floor, the three Gryffindors slipped away from the mass of rather frightened students. Hiding in the shadows, they sneaked around the corridor towards the familiar gargoyle.

"Phoenix," Harry declared. Unlike the other password, this was unchanged. The gargoyle started to move, and he hopped to the stairs, letting the spiral carry him up. His friends were following right behind him.

The Headmaster's chambers were almost full of people, most of the Order members who lived in Hogwarts or Hogsmeade were already there. Harry saw Dumbledore standing alone by the wall, a blank look on his face. Madam Pomfrey was talking to Hagrid, looking angry.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked quietly to the couch, sitting down without a word. They could all sense the undercurrent of grief and unleashed violence thrumming in the room.

"What is going on, Albus?" Professor Sprout was the only one with courage enough to ask the question.

Dumbledore turned to face his people. He seemed to ponder about the question for a moment, then he shook his head. "Poppy will explain." With that, he gestured at the slender woman.

"All right." Keeping her voice level only because of the seventh year students present, Pomfrey nodded. "Earlier this evening, Rosmerta and Xiomara flooed into the infirmary from the Three Broomsticks." She glanced at the tavern keeper, who was sitting by the fireplace with a large glass of something definitely alcoholic in hand. "Xiomara was badly injured. She and Minerva had been attacked by Death Eaters."

That drew loud gasps from most of the people in the room. Hermione looked around frantically, and then whispered to Ron. "Where is professor McGonagall? She's not here, is she?"

Ron glanced around as well and shook his head. She was nowhere in sight.

"Thanks to Fawkes, Xiomara will live." Gratitude in her eyes, Pomfrey looked at the phoenix that was sitting on a shelf next to the Headmaster. "She had been hexed, but also attacked physically and stabbed with a sharp object. Without Rosmerta, and Fawkes' tears, she would be dead now. She will recover fully, she regained consciousness right before I came to see you."

There was a silence full of dread and expectation. It was clear something bad would come next. A simple attack would not affect Dumbledore like this.

"However... She was able to tell me that the Death Eaters weren't apparently after her. They were concentrating on Minerva."

At that point, all the hair on Harry's neck seemed to prickle. He forced himself to breathe. This was not happening. Not like this, not now.

"Is she dead?" Horrified at the words that had slipped out of her mouth, Hermione stared at Madam Pomfrey. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear about it.

The mediwitch gazed at Madam Rosmerta. "Apparently not. At least there was no... body to be found when Rosmerta found Xiomara outside her tavern." Her voice was angry. "Xiomara's words seem to confirm it. The Death Eaters took her alive."

It was a relief, even though a small one.

"What can we do? We need to find her somehow." Ron's words were full of anger bordering on rage. No matter how stern McGonagall had always been, she was the Head of the Gryffindor House, and they'd do anything to get her back. "Do we know where they took her?"

It was a sign for everyone to start talking at the same time. Hagrid's voice boomed over the others. " 'e's right! We can't leave 'er to those bastards!" Realizing there were students present, he looked a bit sheepish. "I shouldn't've said that."

No one paid attention to his slip.

Harry listened to the suggestions and demands with a sinking feeling in his stomach. They were too scattered, the small group of people not enough to rescue anyone. Even if they knew where McGonagall was kept, they'd have to wait for days until everyone of the Order would arrive there.

Their secret -- or not so secret -- Order wouldn't be big enough to attack Voldemort's forces. They'd need the help of the Aurors, and that would be a problem. As long as Fudge was the Minister for Magic, he wouldn't let the Aurors join a fight like that. If the Death Eaters attacked Hogwarts, they would come. But not now. Not when they were needed.

His gaze meeting Dumbledore's, Harry realized the Headmaster knew all this. The look in the wise eyes was shattered, full of terrible pain.

"No."

The husky voice carried over all the noise as if boosted by the sonorus charm. The room silenced in a second, and everyone turned to look at Dumbledore.

"We have no way of finding out where they are keeping her." Still looking at Harry, Dumbledore repeated. "None. We can not fight now, not yet. Our order is too small for a full attack on Voldemort's forces."

A part of Harry had hoped the Headmaster would find some solution to this; maybe something Harry hadn't thought of. How horrible to realize he could not do everything after all.

Hagrid shook his head. "What if we sneak in, save 'er and sneak out?" It sounded like a simple plan.

"No. Even if we knew where she is, we can't risk that. For that kind of a mission to succeed, we would need to know the place where they are holding her as well as our own home. We'd encounter dozens of Death Eaters. Maybe even Voldemort himself. It simply is not possible."

Dumbledore's every word hit Harry hard. He knew he was right; no one was so valuable to their cause to justify such a desperate attack. Not McGonagall, not Dumbledore. Not even him.

"Albus! You can not be serious!" Professor Sprout's comment was echoed by her most trusted Hufflepuffs. "It's Minerva we're talking about!"

"Yes. I know. And believe me, there's nothing I wouldn't do to save her if I thought we had even a small chance of succeeding. But we can not risk these children for one person, or leave them alone to go on a rescue mission which will undoubtedly fail," Dumbledore said with a cold voice. "We will have to wait and see what Voldemort wants. Until then, it will be your duty to keep our students safe. The rumors are probably spreading already, and you may have to deal with fear and hysteria. No one should leave the castle alone. Everyone should either stay in the common rooms or gather in the Great Hall to make sure we're all safe. Curfew starts at nine."

Professor Flitwick nodded. It was a good plan. He would make sure his Ravenclaws were safe. The thought made him glance at the three Gryffindors sitting on the couch, looking pale. Poor children, so lost without Minerva.

"But..." Sprout swallowed the rest of the sentence as she saw the extremely rare glare on Dumbledore. She wanted to protest, but knew he was right.

They simply couldn't go after the Death Eaters now.

"If everyone's clear with the plan, you should all go back to your rooms." Firmly dismissing his Order, Dumbledore watched most of them head to the door. "Harry. Please stay for a moment."

Harry smiled faintly at Ron and Hermione. "I'll catch up with you in the common room."

Looking worried, his friends trailed the other teachers out of the room. Hagrid followed them, closing the door behind him and leaving the Headmaster and Harry alone in the chambers.

As the door closed behind the groundkeeper, Dumbledore's shoulders drooped slightly. He looked at Harry, and Harry was shocked of how old the Headmaster suddenly looked. The familiar twinkle of mischief had disappeared from his eyes. It was quite possible it would never return.

"I asked you to stay, because you need to hear this." His voice barely a whisper, Dumbledore still managed to call out, "Severus. Please join us."

Snape stepped from the shadows he'd been standing at, hidden from everyone. "Of course, Albus." He looked calm and composed, his arms crossed over his chest.

It was clear he'd practiced that look to perfection, hiding any and all true emotions behind it.

"You will probably be summoned soon." Albus didn't have to elaborate. They all knew what he was talking about. "When you are, I don't want you to take any risks. Do you understand? I forbid you to send any messages to anyone in the Order. I do not want any foolish attempts to rescue one person, because it will only result in deaths of many."

Harry looked from Snape to Dumbledore, wondering if he should say something. McGonagall was the Head of his House after all. Still, inside he knew that there was nothing to say. He would gladly risk his life to save her, but wouldn't risk anyone else's. It was probably the way the Headmaster felt as well.

"She's probably held at the Malfoy Mansion." Snape knew Lucius wouldn't let this opportunity pass him.

"I know. I also know Lucius has wards all over the place. We couldn't get close without being detected." Rational words. Intelligent words that cut like glass. "She would be dead before we ever reached her. No, Severus. We'll wait and see what they want."

The dismissal was clear, even though the Headmaster didn't exactly say it. Snape nodded. This was logical. "All right."

Dumbledore glanced at Harry. "Do you understand?"

He wanted to shake his head. Wanted to say that no, he did not understand any of this. Instead, he nodded slightly. "Yes, I do." He wasn't sure what Dumbledore meant; his own role in this, Snape's, or something else? He had no idea. But he did understand, all of them.

Didn't mean he liked it.

"Good." Once again looking like a weary old man, the Headmaster gestured at the fireplace. "You should floo over to your common room. Your friends are already there. They need you tonight."

Harry certainly didn't want to wander alone through the corridors right now. He walked to the fireplace, grabbing a fistful of floo powder. Before leaving, he glanced at Snape. He was glad to see real emotion shine in the dark eyes. Anger. Impotent rage. It mirrored his own feelings perfectly.

"Sometimes we must choose our battles, Potter."

That was painful, but true. Harry nodded again, not wanting to agree with this either, even though he knew he had to. Heart heavy, he tossed the powder down. "Gryffindor common room."

---

Part 5

The common room was full of scared people.

Ron and Hermione had arrived to find that most of their housemates were still up. Even the first years were gathered in the common room, huddled together on the couches. The older students tried to calm the younger down. Strangely, Neville was the one managing to soothe the most frightened ones.

Then again, he had always been a patient one. His calmness was reassuring.

Hermione was trying to answer everyone's questions at the same time. The rumors of McGonagall's disappearance had indeed spread like a forest fire. Since Dumbledore hadn't said anything about keeping it a secret, she affirmed the rumors.

Seeing tears in her fellow Gryffindors' eyes made her lower lip wobble but she didn't give in to the need to cry. The Head of their House was missing, and as the Head Girl, she would now make sure everyone was all right. It didn't matter none of the teachers expected her to. She felt it was her responsibility.

Ron on the other hand was seething with anger. He'd barely managed to hold his anger in the meeting, knowing his outburst would only make things worse. But now, his mind was filled with rage.

How the hell were they supposed to just sit here and wait, doing nothing? Maybe when Harry got back, they could think of a plan to help McGonagall out. Surely he would have an idea or two. They could use the Invisibility Cloak to get to her undetected or something.

Any plan was better than to just wait here.

By the time Harry stepped out of the fireplace, surprisingly soot -free, things had calmed down a bit. There were no more questions asked. Everyone was quiet.

Hermione pulled Harry to the side, closely followed by Ron. "So, what did Dumbledore have to say to you?"

"Nothing important." The lie was easy to utter. Harry had kept Snape's secret for almost three years already, and wasn't about to start telling it to people now. "Just something about Si..." Realizing someone might hear him, he coughed. "Snuffles."

It was a safe lie. The other members of the Order would be warned -- if indeed Dumbledore hadn't done that already -- and Sirius would undoubtedly hurry back to Hogwarts as soon as humanly possible.

"Oh. Okay." Hermione nodded. Maybe the people who'd fought in the first war against Voldemort would be able to think of something they hadn't.

Ron copied her gesture. "Yeah. But what about McGonagall? We have to do something about this."

"Like what? We don't even know where they're holding her." Always the voice of reason, Hermione dismissed Ron's anxious question. "We'll just have to do what Dumbledore said." They'd have a lot to do in the castle, mainly to make sure everyone was all right. She'd have to talk to Terry in the morning. As the Head Boy, he'd have similar duties as she did.

During moments like this, she was glad they had chosen a Ravenclaw as her partner. She loved her housemates dearly, but sometimes you just needed someone levelheaded in a crisis. Terry Boot was definitely that.

"Come on, Hermione! You can't mean that!" Face changing color rapidly, Ron hissed the words out. Damn it!

Harry grabbed his shoulder, squeezing hard. "Stop it. You won't help anyone if you have a coronary right here. I'm definitely not going to explain to your mother how I let you get killed over some bout of stupid heroism." The scathing words came as a surprise, reminding him of a certain professor of his.

"What?" Ron could only stare at his friend. He'd been certain Harry would agree with him.

"You heard Dumbledore. We can't win this. No matter what we do, we can not win." It was killing Harry to say that. What good was there to be seen as a all powerful hero when he couldn't save someone he honestly cared about?

Nothing, absolutely nothing.

Snape's words rang in his mind. Yes. This was a battle he couldn't fight, so he had to make sure Ron got that as well. He didn't want to see his friends die because of this.

Looking angry enough to either hit someone or burst into tears of rage, Ron gowled, "But if we knew where she is..."

"But we don't. We don't know where she is or how many people there are. Damn it, Ron. We don't know anything. And as long as we don't, we can't make any plans." Harry wished Snape hadn't speculated about the Malfoy Mansion. It would have been easier to say this if his words had been true. "You do something rash now, and you get us all killed."

Ron blanched, his hands squeezed into fists. He stared at his friend for a moment. Then he turned around and stormed up the stairs to the dormitory.

"Let him go." Placing his hand on Hermione's arm, Harry sighed, "He needs to be alone now." He knew Ron. He wouldn't react well to words at the moment.

Hermione nodded. "I know. You should talk to him when he calms down, though." She remembered the months of silence from a couple of years ago. The situation had resembled this, a misunderstanding really.

"I will."

Deciding to let Ron cool down, Harry stayed in the common room. He sat on one of the chairs, listening to Neville tell the youngsters stories of his grandmother. The descriptions of her attire always made him smile. It was peaceful to listen to those tales. They were interesting enough to keep him from thinking about anything.

Harry was torn by his need to stay with his fellow Gryffindors and his desire to go to find a place where he could be completely alone with his desperation. Alone with just his feelings and Snape. He knew he couldn't leave the room. If only the common room was empty, he might risk it, but not like this.

After almost an hour, he decided he'd better go to bed. Saying good night to Hermione, who was sitting on the floor, holding one of the first years next to her, he climbed up the stairs.

Ron, Seamus and Dean were all asleep in their beds. The soft moonlight filtered through the window, and Harry could see his roommates clearly, all curled in their beds. There was a torn book next to the wall, looking like it had been flung there in rage. He went to pick it up, sighing as he saw it was Ron's beloved Quidditch Through The Ages.

The very rare first edition he'd got for his friend for his birthday only a couple of weeks ago.

He'd ask professor Flitwick for a charm to mend it in the morning.

Harry went through his evening routines quickly. Then he cast one last look at Ron. There were wet tracks on his freckled cheeks, a silent proof of tears. It didn't surprise Harry. He was both afraid and angry enough to cry as well. Sighing, he climbed to his bed.

Things would probably not be better in the morning.

On the other side of the castle, the Hufflepuffs were all huddled in their own common room. No one feeling secure enough to sleep alone, they had all carried their beddings into their common room, sleeping on the floor or couches. On the most comfortable couch lay the Head of their House. The Hufflepuff prefect had asked professor Sprout to spend the night with them all.

It had been an unusual request, but this was an unusual situation. She'd agreed immediately, knowing her children needed her the most now.

Most were probably thinking it could have been her disappearing. This would soothe their minds.

All around her, youngsters were asleep. She lay awake, wondering if her friend was still alive.

Albus must be mad not to try to rescue Minerva. There had to be something they could do. Something that didn't mean risking dozens of lives in something that might be completely futile. The fact that she had no idea what that something was didn't really mean a thing.

Ravenclaws were all already in bed. There had been tears and talks of fear, especially when the rumors of professor McGonagall's disappearance had been confirmed by their Head of House. But the Ravenclaw rooms were quiet now.

They would reserve energy for tomorrow, when they would need their logic with them.

Down in the dungeons, there were no tears or fear. Some of the Slytherins were asleep, uninterested in the whole mess. Those of the pureblood ancestry were celebrating. The schemes their parents had so painstakingly conjured were finally working.

Pansy Parkinson was gloriously drunk, staring at Crabbe and Goyle who were arguing over a piece of chocolate. It was almost hypnothic to watch those two. Funny as hell as well. She giggled as the boys started to shove each other around.

Men! They were such kids. In five minutes, the piece of chocolate would be forgotten, and the two of them would be best friends again. It had been like that ever since their first year.

She giggled again, falling sideways on the couch. When she awoke there in the morning, she'd probably throw up on the carpet. Too late to worry about that now.

Draco Malfoy was down in the dormitory, enjoying the silence there. He couldn't exactly sleep, so he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling.

This was guilt; a gnawing feeling that whatever was happening now might have been prevented by one single sentence from him. His silence had sealed his destiny. He could have just as well asked for the Dark Mark be branded on his arm, a mask handed to him.

It was a strange emotion, one he'd rarely felt before. Unlike simpler feelings, this clung to him no matter what he tried to think of. Draco wondered if it would ever go away. With his luck, the guilt would only grow during the years, festering inside of him until he couldn't live with it anymore.

Maybe he would get lucky and be killed in the battles against Dumbledore and his people.

Deeper in the dungeons, Severus Snape was fast asleep, a vial of the Draught of the Living Death half empty on his nightstand. It was an old companion of his, helping him to sleep whenever the darkness of his own mind and his past were swallowing him. Getting into bed, he'd known this might very well be the last night for a long time he could sleep through. Since the summon hadn't come before midnight tonight, it would quite probably come tomorrow.

He'd have to be alert then.

Albus Dumbledore kept vigil over the castle, sitting in his favorite chair with Fawkes watching over him.

---

Part 6

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was subdued the next morning. By then, everyone had heard about professor McGonagall's disappearance. It drove away the disappointment about not being able to go to Hogsmeade from most of the students.

Even the Slytherins didn't really complain about it. The ones who might have, were suffering from headaches that morning and were in no condition to argue.

Draco was one of the few of the seventh year Slytherins who was able to sit through the whole breakfast without turning green. He ignored Blaise's worried looks and concentrated on eating.

He didn't want to look at anyone right now. Didn't want to see the fear and the worry on anyone's face. All the reddened eyes would just stare at him accusingly later when he tried to sleep again.

Finishing with the eggs and juice, he did cast a look at the Head Table. He couldn't help it. Ever since stepping into the Great Hall, he'd felt like someone was watching him. It wasn't hard to guess who.

Snape was sitting at his customary place, looking as cool and composed as ever. All the other teachers looked rumpled and tired. He'd obviously had a good night, had probably slept through all those hours Draco had laid awake thinking dark thoughts.

It was frightening. How could the man just sit there as if nothing had happened? Draco felt an odd surge of resentment.

How could Snape be so calm about this, when he was anything but? Why couldn't he be as serene? What did one have to do to stop feeling the guilt? Would the Dark Mark burn away his conscience as well?

He sat there, staring at Snape. A moment later the burning black gaze was turned on him.

Draco shivered at the look. His favorite professor was once again showing no emotion. There was no recognition in his eyes, no glee for a work well done. There was nothing.

Maybe that was all he had to look forward to. To be so cold inside he couldn't feel anything. Maybe it was a blessing. That way it would stop hurting.

After breakfast, many opted to stay in the Great Hall. Especially the Gryffindors, who seemed reluctant to go to their common room, needing something to distract them from the constant worrying. Some of the professors stayed there as well. Professor Sprout had left for an hour to tend to her plants, but had then returned and was once again surrounded by her Hufflepuffs.

Harry watched his friends study. Hermione was clearly hiding her anxiety by concentrating on the Charms text. Her gaze moved on the page fast, her knuckles almost white as she held the book tight. Ron on the other hand was sitting there, staring into distance. In front of him, Trimble's book of Dark Arts lay open on the introduction page.

It was painfully obvious he wasn't reading.

Trying to concentrate on his own book, Harry couldn't help thinking about this morning. He'd tried to talk to Ron, but his friend had refused to listen to him. It had brought back painful memories.

This was the thing he feared the most. By taking on the role people so eagerly offered him, he would have to start acting like a leader, would have to see the big picture.

He wanted nothing more than to grab his Firebolt and his dad's cloak and rush to save McGonagall, but it would be suicidal. Voldemort had been gathering his forces, and there were dozens of Death Eaters with him all the time. He'd never even get close to his professor. Someone would hex him the moment he apparated close to the Malfoy Mansion.

Ever since he had first faced death -- not his own death, but the death of a friend -- Harry had started to read more about war. It was a part of his work in the Order, to get to know about these things.

Dumbledore had given him a list of books he should read, his expression grave. They had both known the wizarding world would not allow Harry to be a teenager. Nor a child, really. If something happened to the Headmaster, everyone would turn to Harry.

The responsibility had been the subject of many of his rants down in the dungeon. The unfairness of the whole thing, his fears of being inadequate for the job.

Now he knew why Dumbledore had insisted he read those books. Because without knowledge of strategy and casualties of war, he would probably be out there right now, getting himself and his friends killed.

It was possible to rescue professor McGonagall. Of course it was. Almost nothing was impossible in a world full of magic. Death was the only barrier that remained uncrossed from the other side.

Simple. They needed all the seventh years to be trained as Aurors. Then, with other Aurors, they would make a plan to attack the mansion. At that point, a detailed outlay of the house would come in handy. Maybe they could hex it out of Draco Malfoy. Then they would have to move the troops without anyone on the other side noticing. When they were ready, Snape would go to see Malfoy the elder. With someone inside, the Order would make their move.

Even if that was possible, it would take months to plan. Casualties would be high. But McGonagall might be saved. If she still was alive.

Harry sighed at the thought. He really didn't want to think about her being dead. Or anyone else dying.

The sound made Ron raise his head, and for a moment, they stared at each other. Both could see pain and worry in the other's eyes.

Ron was the first to look down. He couldn't really talk to Harry right now. Didn't want to admit that maybe he was right, because if he was, everything was just plain wrong.

Suppressing another sigh, Harry turned his attention to the book in front of him. Ron would have to figure this one out on his own. It would be painful and would probably take a long time.

He wished he could leave the Great Hall and hide for a while, but lunch time was approaching. Maybe after they'd eaten he could slip away and follow the familiar way to the dungeons. Even for only a few minutes. He needed that, needed someone to understand him.

Since he couldn't do that, he would study.

Lunch time came with the rest of the students and teachers arriving in the Great Hall. They were all there. Snape was looking as collected as ever. Dumbledore on the other hand looked nothing like their Headmaster.

It was like he had faded away. Shifted into the world between this and the one belonging to the ghosts. He didn't eat, but sat there, looking like any Muggle half his age. Old. Weary.

Harry couldn't watch him, feeling the last of his appetite disappear. Hot anger surged through him, and he knew that right now he could well take Ron with him and rush to do something really stupid. The only thing stopping him was the thought of Dumbledore's face if he tried something and failed. His death would definitely not make anything better.

Stabbing at his food with his fork, he sat there, trying not to notice how his friends were treating their meals the same way.

Half way through the lunch, a loud sound rang through the Hall. Everyone turned to the Head Table to see what was going on, only to look away the next moment. Glaring, Snape reached to retrieve his fallen fork.

He planted the utensil on the table, then glanced at his left forearm briefly. His expression never wavered.

The summoning was strong, his Mark burning with intensity that scared Snape. He cast a sideway look at Dumbledore, who seemed more aware now. The Headmaster looked grim. There was a slight nod.

Not hurrying to finish, Snape drank his juice. He couldn't leave in the middle of the lunch. That would be sloppy, and all the already curious Slytherins would undoubtedly report of his peculiar behavior to their parents. He had to appear cool and detached, even facing the calls of his Master. He had to seem like the perfect spy. Ironically, he was that, even though not the way most thought.

Snape waited until he was certain his leaving could be explained by his usual abruptness. With one last glance around the room, he prepared to get up.

His gaze met a worried green one. Cursing silently, Snape tried to look away from Potter. Damn the boy. He was the only one daring to stare at him. The only one with a question in his eyes.

Harry had known what would happen the moment he saw Snape fidget on his seat. The movement had been minuscule, but to him it had been painfully obvious. Snape was being called to Voldemort. He realized this might be the end of something, as well as the beginning.

What if Snape never came back?

The thought froze him. This could very well be the beginning of an open war. What if this was the big thing everyone had been waiting for? Voldemort would gather all his troops. It would mean Snape was not going to come back, at least not for a long time.

Everything would turn into a chaos as battlelines were drawn. Fudge would have to stop hiding in his illusions. He'd have to send the Aurors into Hogwarts.

There would be no studying for the N.E.W.T.s or O.W.L.s. The only training would be for Defense Against Dark Arts and healing, so that those who would go against Voldemort would have a chance for survival.

All those plans they had spent hours conjuring up in the Order meetings would become a reality.

Harry knew that, had known this would happen for a long time. Now that the moment was at hand, he realized he wasn't ready. Doubted he ever would be.

Wasn't ready to lead his friends into a fight. Wasn't ready to take that last step into maturity and leave the illusion of safety behind.

Wasn't ready to watch Snape walk away.

What a strange feeling. Squirming with the uncomfortable notion that he was being truly selfish, Harry stared into Snape's black eyes. He saw anger and defeat. Also a hint of resignation. Snape was well aware of where he'd be going.

The feeling of pain almost floored Harry. He didn't care if he didn't have anyone to talk to right then. He'd never go to Snape again if that meant the man would stay safe.

He wished he could find words to tell this to Snape, that he could turn his half formed thoughts into coherent sentences.

There was no chance for any words now.

It would look suspicious if he rushed after the man. It was the one thing he couldn't do, for suspicion amongst the Death Eaters could be fatal. Besides, he couldn't really go and tell Snape he wanted to thank him for being there for him. For not being an intolerable git.

He really couldn't think of a proper term to use. Even if some thought that the enemy of their enemy was their friend, he was certain Snape would be appalled by such a word. It was not one Harry wanted to use either.

So he did not move. He simply sat there and stared at his professor. Tried to say all the things he was thinking with no words or expressions

Snape placed his napkin on the table, his gaze still locked with Harry's. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded his head slightly, as an acknowledgement. He was certain no one had seen the gesture but the one it was meant for. Then he got up.

Without a backward glance, he strode out of the Great Hall, using the side door.

"I wonder where he's going." Hermione's voice was puzzled as she watched Snape leave. She'd been keeping an eye on Dumbledore, worried about the old Headmaster, and had noticed the Potions master's weird behavior.

Harry schooled his expression immediately, aiming for nonchalance. "I have no idea." If only his words were true. He didn't want to know.

"He's probably in the middle of brewing some stupid potion."

It was the first thing Ron had said since the breakfast. Both his friends turned to him at the sound of his voice. He rarely sounded like his every word tasted of bile.

"I mean, that's what he does. Hides in the dungeons like a bloody vampire. Doesn't care what happens here." Ron barely left the rest unsaid. He was really mad, mad at everything. The Slytherins or the Head of the Slytherin House was always a good channel for all his anger.

This time, it didn't really work. "You..." Harry snapped his mouths shut. He couldn't say that Ron understood nothing, because he didn't. No one understood. The challenging look on his friend's face made him tingle with anger.

He reveled in the sensation, for anger was better than the melancholy that had filled him earlier. Anger was a strong feeling, one that could carry him on. It would burn inside of him, incinerating every sad thought.

The glare he threw at Ron was cold. Not an apologetic look like the ones that morning.

Hermione watched her friends exchange angry looks and then continue eating in the freezing silence. She had a sinking feeling. Whatever had just happened between those two, it had made things worse somehow. She had no idea how to make everything all right again. It was beyond even her knowledge.

She wished professor McGonagall were here.

---

Part 7

The Malfoy Mansion was a bleak and dismal place, built centuries ago during a time when opulence and pomp warred with good taste. It was painfully obvious which had won here. Long corridors and low ceilings in the levels closer to the ground. Huge ballrooms and dining halls in upper levels. Almost every surface possible was gilded. The glow of the torches multiplied by the warm gold.

Probably the only warm thing in the whole house. Unlike Hogwarts, that glowed with a warm welcome, the Malfoy Mansion almost oozed coldness and malevolence. Not a place one would visit gladly.

Snape's eyes were hurting. Still he kept staring straight ahead, following the path set out by the guttering torches.

He reached the end of the corridor, finally finding himself in a large hall. Even with his love for dungeons, he was happy to find himself out of the seemingly endless maze of the basement. There were too many painful memories here, too many dark secrets only a few men alive knew of.

Severus Snape wished he wasn't one of them.

It had been a long time since he'd last slept. He wasn't certain what time it was. Or what day. He remembered arriving at the Malfoy Mansion early on Saturday afternoon. After that, it was a blur.

All the Death Eaters had been there, shivering and cowering before their Master. The usual prostrating had been brief this time, at least for Snape. He'd been whisked away to the familiar laboratory, to test some samples. He didn't need to be told whose blood was in the small vial he'd been handed.

He'd been spared all the 'fun' the Death Eaters had been having. The sounds of laughter and screams of pain had wafted even down to the basement. Snape had ignored all sounds, concentrating on his work.

It had been a long evening, and an even longer night. He was testing the blood he'd been given against certain potions, seeking to find out if it was safe to use various truth potions on their prisoner. It had been a gruesome task to calculate exactly how much poisons the bloodstream could handle before the person died in agony.

Snape had worked diligently, pushing away everything but this duty. It was a necessity. His part in this senseless drama.

Hours had passed as he'd mixed his potions. He'd managed to sleep for two hours as the shrivelfig was soaking in the goat milk. Other than that, he'd been working constantly.

Now it was over. He had given his full report to Voldemort, and had blessedly been dismissed.

The worst part was still ahead, he feared.

Standing alone in the vast hall, Snape wondered where to go next. He wanted nothing but to find a bed and sleep for hours. The basement of the mansion was not designed for brewing potions, and the stagnant air had made his eyes water as he'd worked over the hot cauldrons.

Cleaning up sounded marvelous as well. Getting something to eat would be almost as good.

He wouldn't be able to listen to the needs of his aching body yet. He had a message to deliver. The sooner he found the owner of the house, the sooner he could rest.

Turned out he didn't need to go looking for the man. The sound of boots hitting cold stone came from one of the corridors, followed by a short silence.

"Well?"

Snape turned to see Lucius Malfoy standing there. He'd rarely seen the always so sophisticated man look so anxious. This time there was a valid reason for such an emotion. If what he heard was right, most of Lucius' future depended on this. "I tested the sample."

"I know that." Cold voice held only a hint of fear in it. Lucius' face contorted in annoyance. "What did it reveal?"

The most annoying part of the test had been the fact that Snape had been completely certain of the outcome. "She has taken the Ueraciter Tutis serum. I'm sorry, Lucius." He wasn't really.

Lucius didn't show his disappointment. His gaze icy, he asked, "Are you absolutely sure it would work."

"Yes." Of course Snape was sure. He'd made the potion himself. It had been a difficult one to make, even more difficult to hand to people he didn't completely detest.

But it was a good precaution.

He hadn't liked it when Dumbledore had asked him to brew the potion for him and a couple of other members of the Order. It was one of the nastiest potions he knew; one that would react badly if the person who'd ingested it was forced to drink Veritaserum. It would cause an instant and messy death.

To his knowledge, only five people alive had taken the potion. Four of them only recently; Albus, Minerva, Mundungus and Arabella. Most of the others didn't even know such a potion existed.

It was a big decision to make, to be willing to sacrifice oneself to protect the others. The serum wasn't fool proof. Some lie detecting charms would still work, but no one would be able to make a person under its influence spill every truth out.

An excellent protection for a spy who might one day be caught by those he spied upon.

Lucius let out a deep sigh at that. He'd known it was a gamble, but it still stung to lose. With his Master, it was quite probable that dignity wouldn't be the only thing he lost. This complicated things. "I see."

"Our Master is waiting for you." Deciding not to comment on their prisoner's condition, Snape winced as his stomach made a rather inappropriate sound. "While you're seeing him, might I be so bold as to..."

"Yes, yes." Waving impatiently at the corridors on the left, Lucius cut the sentence. "Victor will take you to the kitchen. I'm certain the house elves will get you something to eat."

Snape wasn't at all surprised to see Crabbe Sr. step out of the shadows. It was such a familiar sight, he rarely even thought about either generation of Malfoys without their silent companions. A shame really. He knew Vincent and Gregory were abysmal students, but was certain they wouldn't be quite that bad without years of conditioning.

Not paying any attention to his fellow Death Eater, Lucius brushed past Snape and strode to the corridor leading to the basement. He was followed by the huge form of the elder Goyle.

"The kitchen is this way," Crabbe mumbled. He guided Snape to the cavernous kitchen, not bothering to dodge the scurrying house elves. It was clear he didn't care if some of them got trampled under his big feet.

Snape bit his tongue to keep the scathing words unsaid. He knew where the kitchens were; it wasn't like this was his first visit to the mansion. He knew this was Lucius' way of showing him his superiority and mistrust.

It was a part of a foolish game they had been playing for years. The Malfoys had always been rich and powerful. The Snapes had not been elite, but they were purebloods, one of the older wizarding families. Their rivalry had always been subtle, Snapes usually showing allegiance to the more powerful House.

Lucius had always reveled in Snape's quiet withdrawal. Especially during the years of Voldemort's absence, it had amused him to pay visits to Hogwarts, shoving his position on the board of governors down the simple Potions master's throat. It was somewhat different now.

This whole scheme wasn't going on very well. It was clear whom Voldemort would blame. It certainly wasn't the simple Potions master who had only done his job, and done it well.

Snape didn't even try to hide the smile that curled up his upper lip.

The house elves at the mansion all looked scared, running around in eerie silence, bringing the two Death Eaters enough food to feed a small army. Snape was grateful of the fact. He was absolutely starving. It was good that Crabbe was about as loquacious as the house elves. He didn't want to hear idiotic stuttering right now.

About half an hour later, the door to the kitchen opened, and a slightly disheveled looking Goyle sneaked in. He looked relieved as the door slammed shut behind him, as if he was hiding from someone.

It wasn't all that difficult to guess from whom.

"What happened?" Lowering a small cake he'd been nibbling at, Crabbe looked up to his friend.

Goyle's gaze moved from him to Snape and then to the feast on the table. He stepped closer to the table, but then seemed to change his mind. "Our lord was not pleased with lord Malfoy."

The title made Snape raise an eyebrow. He chose not to say anything.

"He... He said some things to him. I didn't really... Um... Hear them, but he sounded angry." Goyle would rather die than admit that he didn't understand what had been said in front of a professor. Snape had always been brainy, and sometimes Goyle couldn't help feeling uncomfortable in his presence.

Crabbe nodded. It was familiar to him. Their lord seemed angry all the time now, but the anger wasn't often directed at lord Malfoy. It was a frightening thought.

"So he said something about going back to the house. Took lord Malfoy with him."

That made Snape look up, his expression blank. "He took Lucius with him?" Seeing the nod, he mused out loud, "I wonder what he wants me to do now."

Good thing he said that. Goyle had almost forgot. "Oh, he said you should help us interrogate the prisoner, even though he doubts she will talk. Then we should leave the body somewhere they'll find it. And you go home." He had to close his eyes to remember all details correctly.

Sometimes lord Voldemort's plans were so darn complicated. He was certain he'd remembered right this time.

Snape didn't let any of his emotions show on his face. Of course. He had anticipated this. It was surprising Voldemort himself hadn't stayed to witness the whole thing. Such spectacles were usually his greatest joy, and he took great pleasure in watching his Death Eaters torture others.

He wanted to refuse, wanted to walk away right now no matter how impossible a dream it was. He would not do anything to cause displeasure to the Dark Lord.

Suddenly he didn't have any of his appetite left. "All right. Perhaps you should show me where she's being held." Cool, clipped tones.

Goyle was busy stuffing a small cake into his mouth, and he took his time chewing and swallowing before he said, "Don't you need to rest first? You spent awfully long in the laboratory. I could show you to a guest room."

The only reply he got was a cold stare.

"Or I could show you where we're keeping her." It was clear now why Gregory was in awe of his professor. Snape certainly could look chilling.

Snape stood up slowly. His body ached all over, and he wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but even the thought of sleep was impossible now. He would only spend hours staring into darkness, wondering what was happening to Minerva while he rested.

Perfectly aware of the tastes of his fellow Death Eaters, he knew a cruciatus flung at her and then a merciful death would a bliss.

"Show me." He motioned at the door.

The journey through the corridors was long. Crabbe and Goyle both walked ahead, as they headed back towards the basement.

Snape tried to detach himself from what he was doing. He refused to think of anything beyond this moment, not lingering in the past either. His mind kept repeating his usual mantra. He was Severus Snape, the Potions master of Hogwarts. A former Death Eater, current spy. He owed his life to... He skipped that part over, jumping straight to; The Order must survive. He would do anything for the Order.

It didn't really help. With every step his feet grew heavier, more reluctant to walk towards the small room they were heading to. He could already hear laughter and screaming.

So much screaming.

"Here we are." Goyle looked delighted as they reached the door. It was a heavy wooden one, designed to keep people locked in. He didn't hesitate at all, but pushed the door open.

He and Crabbe walked straight in. Snape on the other hand stood by the door, closing it behind him. He tried to justify his hesitation by the need to get his eyes adjusted to the light, knowing it was a lie.

There were about half a dozen robed men standing in the room. Some had their masks on, others had opted to go without. After all, their Master wasn't present, and those damn things were extremely uncomfortable. A few turned to see who had entered, but as soon as they saw the silent trio, they turned their attention back to the woman lying on the floor.

Snape watched as Crabbe walked slowly towards their prisoner. He didn't even flinch as the man raised his wand and cast a very clumsy cruciatus.

A shrill scream filled the room, the agonized sound breaking a moment later as Minerva McGonagall convulsed on the floor, trying to escape the overwhelming pain. Her long grey hair was obscuring her face, her robes torn and filthy. It was quite obvious the Death Eaters had been having fun that night.

Crabbe lowered his wand. "I like the way she screams."

On the floor, McGonagall twitched a few times before lying still. She took deep breaths before lifting a shaking hand to brush her hair out of her face. Somehow she managed to cast a look of pure contempt on her tormentor.

The words made Snape want to punch Crabbe, but as always, he locked the emotion away. It was time for him to play his part. Walking slowly out of the shadows, he approached their prisoner. "It's definitely better than her endless yapping about her Gryffindors." His tone a low purr, oozing with malice.

"Severus?" Fighting to focus her gaze, McGonagall lifted her head, looking up at her colleague. "Severus?"

Snape hoped she was still in control of her emotions. "Good evening, Minerva. Imagine my surprise seeing you here." His mind was racing even as he uttered the lines.

There was only one exit from the room, no way to get past the Death Eaters. Minerva wouldn't be able to escape, even if she had a wand. She looked barely able to sit up. He knew there wouldn't be a cavalry coming any time soon. The Order wasn't ready for an open war against the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Lives would be lost for nothing.

Keeping that in mind, he crouched next to McGonagall, grabbing her hair and tilting her head back. He smiled at the long cut on her cheek, hearing Crabbe and Goyle snicker on the background. "You have something on your face." That made the other Death Eaters laugh as well.

McGonagall blinked. "But how..." It looked as if she realized something, for her expression changed from confused into enraged. "You traitor!"

"Depends on the point of view, really." Snape was grateful for her quick mind. Not that he'd ever tell her that. Not that he'd ever have a chance to tell her that. "You Gryffindors always see everything in black and white."

The Death Eaters laughed at that, a sound that seemed to echo in the small room forever.

It wasn't as if Snape didn't realize his own words proved the narrowmindedness of the Death Eaters -- especially the Slytherins -- as well. He was certain he was the only one to appreciate the irony.

McGonagall muttered something, her voice too quiet for anyone to hear. There was a steely look in her eyes, and Snape knew she wanted to tell him something, but couldn't with all the others listening. Tightening his hold on the grey mane of hair, he leaned down a bit.

"Tell Albus to continue the fight till you kill the bastard." It was whispered with determination.

As Snape lifted his head, he could see forgiveness in McGonagall's gaze. It made him swallow hard. Not an emotion people usually showed him. Only one person had ever really forgiven him; Albus Dumbledore.

Before her old colleague could say anything, McGonagall raised her head and spat on Snape. She managed a broken laughter, watching his face darken as spittle ran down his cheek. "Traitor!"

Some of the Death Eaters muttered something at that, surprised the old bag still had the strength to do that. It would have been quite amusing to test her resolve, to find her breaking point. They all knew that it would have been simply the matter of time until she cried and begged to be killed. Too bad they wouldn't be able to do that. Snape was already whipping his wand out, and by the look on his face, there was only one curse in his mind right now.

Snape's gaze was unreadable as he stared at McGonagall. He thought of how the two of them had always been natural enemies. The Head of Slytherin and the Head of Gryffindor. Minerva with her ridiculous interpretation of rules. Her incomprehensible trust and hope in people.

Her utter devotion in her job, her total loyalty towards Albus Dumbledore. His most trusted ally. It probably went far beyond that.

He remembered the way Albus had suddenly seemed to age before his eyes when they heard of her disappearance. Every person had their limits, and even though the death of Minerva McGonagall wouldn't kill the Headmaster, his eyes would lose their twinkle, and he'd start looking his true age.

The Order was more than just one man; it was the only thing standing between the wizarding world and Voldemort, the one thing keeping everyone safe. They needed all the information he could get, so he could not let the Death Eaters find out he was a spy. Couldn't risk hundreds of lives because of one. He had only one choice right now, one thing to do.

It would be mercy, not murder. He knew what would happen to Minerva if he simply left. She'd be tortured for countless of hours until she'd beg to be killed. There would be unimaginable pain and humiliation, and it wouldn't stop until there was nothing left of her mind.

Snape held his wand firmly. Two simple words. Determination behind them. That was all it would take. He knew it was the only way. She knew it as well, closing her eyes against the green sparks.

Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra...

He was glad she wasn't looking at him anymore. The clear intelligent gaze would only remind him of things he couldn't afford to think right now. Of the compassion Dumbledore had shown him as he'd crawled to Hogwarts years ago, seeking for some kind of a redemption. His fears and pain after realizing what he'd done, years of self loathing; those passed and those yet to come.

Pushing all thoughts away, he concentrated on the curse.

Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra...

Not the first time he used the Unforgivable. He remembered thinking about the killing curse long ago, before he had any blood on his hands. He'd always thought it was a rather easy way to die. Also an easy way to kill. What an idiot he'd been. There was nothing easy about staring your colleague in the face when you were about to kill her.

Wouldn't have been much easier if she'd been an enemy. As a Death Eater, he'd indeed been a failure. Killing wasn't something he'd ever enjoyed.

Avada Kedavra. Avada Kedavra...

It was now or never. The sneer he forced on his lips probably looked more like a grimace of pain, but it didn't matter. The twinkle in Albus Dumbledore's eyes didn't matter and neither did all the Gryffindors who would mourn McGonagall's death.

There would be nightmares, and days he spent walking around Hogwarts like a ghost. His empty quest for some kind of a redemption was going to damn his soul forever.

But there was nothing he could do to change what had to happen. His words to Harry had been a lie. A cruel joke fate was now playing on him. Sometimes, there was no choice.

Snape stood up slowly, his wand pointing at McGonagall's heart. Ignoring every excuse his mind was conjuring up, he ground out, "Avada..."

---

Part 8

Harry had never thought he'd come to hate any part of Hogwarts. The castle was the only real home he'd ever known, and there was no place there he absolutely loathed.

He didn't even hate the Chamber of Secrets. It gave him the creeps and was really disgusting, but he didn't have any feelings towards it as a place. As long as he didn't have to go there ever again, he was completely okay with its existence.

The Great Hall on the other hand was becoming a place he couldn't stand.

It had always been the heart of Hogwarts; a warm place where everyone was welcome. Now it had become a prison of sorts. A place from which Harry couldn't really escape.

Not that he really wanted to. He hated it still. Because no matter how hard he tried to, he couldn't stay away for long. Needed to be there in case something happened.

This was a rare moment of peace. Everyone else was in the Great Hall, and he had the dormitory all to himself.

"What's with the sad face?" Voice gentle, Sirius sat next to his godson. He'd arrived with Remus late last evening, and had spent the night as Snuffles in the seventh year dormitory. He still wasn't aware of everything that was happening here, but could sense a huge amount of tension. Even in his human form.

Harry looked up and tried to smile a little. He wondered what Sirius would say if he told him the truth; that he wasn't only worried about professor McGonagall, but about Snape as well. That he hated staying in the dormitory no matter how awful it was to sit at the table in the Great Hall, trying not to watch the door all the time.

"Just thinking... About stuff." It was easier to shrug the question off and let his godfather draw his own conclusions than to explain. "Nothing serious."

Sirius nodded, letting the white lie slip by. He knew what Harry must feel like now. After all, it was the way every single Gryffindor was feeling, him and Remus included.

They had all hated the Head of their House at some point. Also loved her. Respected her a lot, no matter what they called the old bat. Having her in Voldemort's clutches was making everyone mad.

Only Dumbledore's quiet words about protecting Harry had kept Sirius from rushing into danger.

It had been a frustrating day. Harry had spent most of it in the Great Hall, fidgeting. There had been an awful silence between him and Ron, both glaring at each other from time to time. He hated the way things were turning out. Nothing was clear right now, not even if the kidnapping of McGonagall had truly been the first act of the open war everyone had been waiting for.

Harry leaned against Sirius, wishing he had someone to talk to. Being held close was a very good substitute though. Especially now that he could be openly sad, and didn't have to think about worrying anyone.

Sadness wasn't the only emotion churning inside of him. He was also scared. This might well be the time he had to be strong. The dawn of the battles. And he felt lost.

Apparently that was common these days. Even Dumbledore seemed almost unaware of his surroundings as he sat in his usual place in the middle of the Head Table, careful not to look at the empty place on his right.

Harry didn't know what to do. If things didn't change, hysteria would spread throughout the school like a fire. People would need someone to guide them. He certainly didn't want to be the one to guide anyone. Not now.

The only problem was that people would undoubtedly look to him for guidance.

He decided not to think about that and leaned closer to Sirius. The warm embrace felt so good.

There was a soft knock on the door and a moment later Remus Lupin peeked into the room. He smiled at the sight that greeted him, ignoring the way the huge black dog growled at him. "Sorry about that." He sneaked inside and closed the door behind him. "I just came from Dumbledore. He said we should go to his quarters after dinner. Another meeting."

"Oh." Easing away the scowl, Sirius sat back on the bed next to Harry. "He wants us all there? Openly?"

People had looked stunned at the return of professor Lupin. His presence had not been explained. Neither had been the black dog accompanying him everywhere.

Remus nodded slightly. "I believe he thinks it's time for us to show ourselves. We can't afford to wait for Severus to come back before making our plans."

He gained another scowl at the use of that name, but fortunately Sirius didn't say anything.

"So it's after dinner then?" Harry was proud of the way his voice stayed firm. How on earth was he supposed to suffer through yet another meal in the Great Hall? It would be torture; trying not to stare at Dumbledore or Ron or the door all the time.

"Yes," Remus said.

Harry nodded at that. He felt Sirius lean against him again and was glad of the support.

He'd left the Great Hall a little after lunch. It had been hard, but staying would have been impossible. The crowd had started to make him nuts, not to mention the depressive mood at the Gryffindor table.

No one had said anything as he'd wandered through the halls, walking slowly towards the Gryffindor tower. For a moment, he'd thought about hiding in the dungeons, but even thinking about going there to sit outside the empty rooms made him feel sick.

It was no good hiding down there if he had to do it alone.

Harry had tried to work on his assignments once he'd reached the dormitory, but somehow he simply couldn't concentrate on anything important. He'd thought of writing a paper for the next day's Divinations class -- if there would indeed be any classes held on Monday -- but had decided against it.

Writing about doom and destruction would be wallowing. He couldn't afford any of that right now.

Academics didn't really matter. If anything, he could always tell Trelawney that Snuffles had eaten his homework. The Divinations professor had been suitably impressed seeing the dog, muttering something about a Grim. She would undoubtedly see any action by him as an omen.

The thought brought a genuine smile to Harry's lips. He'd been happy to see Sirius. His godfather had sneaked into his rooms before he'd started to think really gloomy thoughts, and had managed to keep him entertained for hours. Nothing major; they had played some cards and Sirius had talked about his life with Remus, trying to gloss over certain details Harry already suspected.

It had been peaceful, even though neither of them was famous for being patient. Both ached to do something.

Harry had been glad for the distraction. Without Sirius here, he would have been a nervous wreck. This way, he would probably be able to stay relatively calm during the dinner. He didn't know about the Order meeting.

He would have to wait and see.

The hallways were deserted as Harry and Remus walked towards the Great Hall. Snuffles padded behind them, his tail between his legs. The atmosphere in the whole school was oppressing even with no one at sight. Everyone was probably already at dinner.

Most of the students were literally living in the huge room, comforted by the crowd. It was probably safe to say the students had never studied as hard as they had for the past two days. Some played wizard's chess; most just sat there, reading a text book.

Remus and Snuffles stayed at the other end of the room with some other Order members. None of them wanted to sit at the Head Table.

With a parting glance, Harry walked to his usual place at the Gryffindor table. He smiled wanly at the big pile of books next to Hermione's chair. She had probably read them all. At least once. He tried to meet Ron's gaze, but his friend kept staring at his empty plate.

It was probably for the best. Harry was too tired to fight anyway. He hadn't slept well, strange dreams flinching him up every few hours. In the end, he'd spent the rest of the night sitting by the window.

Hoping his scar wouldn't start to burn.

Food appeared, and the sound of utensils clinking against porceline filled the room. Eating was a simple pleasure, keeping the body happy even as the mind was full of fear.

Hermione looked up from her plate, her gaze moving first to Ron, then to Harry. "Did you hear there'll be a meeting later on today?"

"Yeah." A simple word after which Ron continued eating.

"Yes, Remus told me," Harry said. He was glad Hermione had asked. The silence was getting on his nerves. "Dumbledore asked him and Snuffles there as well."

That made Hermione shiver. It meant things were getting serious, for she had never seen those two attend to a meeting before. "Good. I mean, we should be prepared for anything." A safe, rather neutral way to say they were screwed.

"I guess that's the plan." Harry's words were calm and quiet as well, not reflecting any of his inner turmoil. He cut through a piece of fish and shoved it into his mouth, the chewing a good way to hide the fact that he had nothing more to say.

All three of them ate in silence.

Harry was the first to lower his fork. He wasn't hungry anyway. Everything tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He should know; the taste had woken him up many times in the past, when Dudley had jumped on the stairs, sending sawdust flying down on his face from the ceiling of the small cupboard.

People around him were busy eating. He could see the vacant look on Neville as he shoved more food into his mouth. The same expression was on many other Gryffindors.

That thought made him glance at the Slytherin table. Most of the looks there were bored. A certain few even seemingly jubilant. He didn't look at the most annoying person there. Didn't want to chance losing his temper over the infuriating smirk that would certainly be on Malfoy's face.

Out of habit, Harry turned his attention to the Head Table. The vacant seat at the end of it was a painful reminder of his life being thrown upside down again. Just as he'd found some peace, it had been yanked away. It seemed to be the story of his life, this disappointment as bitter as all the rest of them.

Something had changed. He could almost sense it in the air. Shivering slightly, he looked at Dumbledore, meeting his clear blue gaze.

The Headmaster was sitting straight. There was pain and anger in his eyes, replacing the awful vacancy. He nodded slightly at Harry.

Harry nodded right back. He felt a strange mixture of pain and relief. This meant he wouldn't have to take responsibility for everything. Dumbledore was pushing his personal feelings away, concentrating on keeping his people safe.

After a long moment, he turned his attention back to his plate. Yes. He was finished here. No matter how difficult it would be, he would follow the others to yet another meeting, would listen to whatever plans were conjured.

Because the truth was, he had no other choice.

On the other side of the table, Ron tried very hard to look like he wasn't watching Harry.

He'd spent the whole day in the Great Hall, trying to study, trying not to think about professor McGonagall. Evading Hermione's questions about what was going on with him and Harry.

Mostly because he didn't know the answer to that. He'd been infuriated by the cold way Harry had shrugged off the whole kidnapping as if it didn't mean anything. What good was it to have a secret Order if they were just going to sit back and watch one of them die?

He didn't know why Harry would react like that. Of course he didn't, because his best friend in the whole world didn't really talk to him. Not about the important things. Ron wasn't a complete moron; he knew there were things going on with Harry he didn't know anything about. It had taken him some time to figure it out, but now that he did, it was too obvious to ignore anymore.

Keeping his head down, he drank the last of his hot chocolate. The house elves had been right in including it on the menu tonight. Chocolate was always soothing, no matter the form.

Ron wondered if he should have a word with Harry after all. Maybe ask him for an explanation. There could well be a reason for all this. Something that would make everything all right again.

He would talk to him after the Order meeting.

Seeing most of the students were finishing their meal, Dumbledore sat up straighter, his gaze sweeping over the vast room. It was time he spoke to his people. Tomorrow would see the beginning of a new week, and they would have to deal with classes. Both Transfigurations and Potions classes would be postponed, but otherwise, life in Hogwarts had to continue.

"May I have your attention for a moment, please?" Dumbledore felt everyone look at him. "Tomorrow morning, classes will..." That was as far as he ever got with the sentence.

The enormous door leading to the main hallway banged open. A cool breeze wafting from the outer hallway made the candles flicker, and for a moment, the whole Hall was filled with ominous shadows.

A frightened silence settled over the room.

Even though the students knew there were wards around Hogwarts, there was no one who didn't feel a stab of terror right that moment. Were the Death Eaters attacking? At least it looked like someone was approaching.

"Oh my good God!" To everyone's astonishment, it was uttered by the DADA professor. She was the only person capable of speech. Everyone else simply stared.

Taking slow, pained steps, Severus Snape walked into the Great Hall. He was a shocking sight; his hair wet, glued against his head, robes torn and muddy. There were bloody scrapes on his face, the red blood a clear contrast against the chalk white skin.

He was carrying something in his arms, a limp form of a human being.

Dumbledore rose slowly to his feet. His gaze was locked on the slowly approaching man, as if he was afraid he would disappear if he let him out of his sight. "Severus..."

"You... should... probably..." Snape took one more step, swaying on his feet. He shuddered, his step faltering.

Everyone just stared as he slowly sank to his knees, the limp form in his arms firmly pressed against his chest.

The silence in the room was shattering. It was almost as if people were frozen in place. No one dared to approach the Potions master. Finally Dumbledore stepped away from the table and walked towards Snape.

He realized his hands were shaking, and did nothing to hide his shock. Not even for the sake of the students. The body lying in Snape's arms was so familiar, so heartbreakingly still. He didn't want to go close enough to confirm his terrible suspicion, but he had to.

Snape raised his head, focusing his dark gaze on the Headmaster. Struggling to get the words out, he said, "Call... for Poppy. She's barely... alive."

The words made Dumbledore halt for just a second. Then he rushed towards Snape, yelling, "Get Poppy here. Now!" The last few steps were a blur, and then he was kneeling beside the tattered figures, his hand going to brush against the mop of grey hair covering the head resting on Snape's shoulder. "Minerva..."

"Dear Merlin!" Neville's gasp echoed in the room. "It's professor McGonagall!"

It seemed to be the permission everybody needed to start talking again. Gryffindors rushed up, encircling their professors, needing to see McGonagall. Most of them were crying and smiling at the same time. At least now there was hope, no matter how faint.

Ron and Seamus had to climb over the table to reach the others, but neither seemed to care. Especially Ron didn't seem to notice anything around him. His whole attention was tuned to the scene before them.

"She's alive! Did you hear that? She's alive!" Hermione kept tugging at Harry's sleeve as she sniffed the words out. She couldn't believe this was true. After all the fear, the Head of their House was alive!

Harry patted her shoulder, smiling brightly. Yes. She was indeed alive. And Snape was back. Everything was all right again.

Madam Pomfrey appeared from the side door, hurrying through the crowd, making shooing noises as the most stunned Gryffindors didn't seem to understand to move out of her way quickly enough.

With Dumbledore's assistance, she managed to ease McGonagall on the floor. Ignoring everything else, she went to work, knowing they could still lose her.

As the mediwitch worked, the Headmaster turned to look at Snape, who was slumped on the floor. His wounds looked even worse this close up. Bringing Minerva back had not been easy.

Snape raised his gaze up from the floor again, as he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He looked into Dumbledore's eyes, swaying a little as he saw the brightness shining there.

"Oh Severus. You foolish boy. You foolish, foolish boy!" Voice thick with emotion, Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder, unable to do anything else right now.

"We need to get her to the infirmary." Madam Pomfrey's voice cut through the commotion. She stood up, replacing her wand and a couple of small vials into the small bag she carried. Glancing at the other teachers, she gestured at Hagrid to come closer. "Floating her will disrupt the stabilizing charm. Would you please carry her?"

Silent tears running down his cheeks only to disappear into his beard, Hagrid nodded a few times before bending down to lift McGonagall from the floor.

"Somebody get him to the infirmary as well!" Pointing at Snape, Madam Pomfrey hurried to follow the half-giant out of the Great Hall. Most of the professors rushed after them.

An eerie silence fell in the vast room.

Harry turned to look at the Slytherin table. Every one of the Slytherins were still sitting there, looking completely poleaxed. Draco Malfoy seemed to be saying something over and over again, but there was no sound whatsoever coming from his mouth. All his housemates seemed as stunned.

None of them got up to see how Snape was doing. They all just sat and stared.

"Come on, Severus." Smiling a little, Dumbledore nudged the Potions master gently. "You heard Poppy. You should get up now."

Snape took a deep breath and then nodded.

The motion seemed to break a spell. Some of the students left the Slytherin table, walking towards the Head of their House. Blaise Zabini seemed to be the first one to react.

Seeing Dumbledore move to help Snape up, Harry stepped forward as well. He could help. Snape looked so weak he'd probably fall on his face if he didn't have someone to lean on.

"I... can manage... just fine." It was amazing how cool the words were, when Snape's voice was so weak. Declining the Headmaster's offered help, he slowly climbed to his feet. He noticed Harry standing close by, and his black eyes burned with a very clear message.

Realizing Snape did definitely not want his help, Harry stood back and watched in silence as Snape walked out of the room. It looked painful, the slow measured steps the man took. He didn't allow any of the pain show on his face, his expression a cold mask.

"I believe it's best if you all went to your Houses now." Dumbledore turned to address the students before he reached for the door. "Prefects, would you please?" The polite tones just barely softened the command.

There was a rush of movement, people hurrying to obey.

"Are you coming?" Something made Hermione ask that. She'd seen the expression on her friend's face, and knew it was quite probable that he'd disappear for the night again.

Harry shook his head, not even bothering to hide his intentions. "No. Don't worry about me. I'll be all right." With that, he headed towards the side door.

No one really paid any attention to him. People were smiling and laughing, happy to be on their way to their common rooms. The teachers and the prefects herded the crowd towards the staircases, urging even the petrified Slytherins to leave the Great Hall.

Slipping out of the side door through which Snape and Dumbledore had disappeared a moment ago, Harry inhaled deeply. He knew there was an idiotic smile on his lips, but didn't care.

He knew his friends would want to know why he'd left, not to mention Sirius. His godfather would probably be frantic, searching for him in the Gryffindor tower, sniffing around for his scent. All the explanations could wait. He needed to do this now.

It was strange. He couldn't explain any of this to himself so that it made sense. Had no idea why he felt he had to be here, trailing the annoying Potions master. The man who would definitely not want his company right now. Still, here he was.

He wasn't surprised to see Snape leaning against the wall only a few steps away from the door. It was clear he was at the end of his rope. The Headmaster was standing at his side.

"Would it have hurt you to show your humanity in front of the children this once?" Dumbledore sounded sad. He saw Harry approach, and smiled gently. "Harry. Help me get this stubborn man into the infirmary before he collapses."

Harry was glad to comply, slipping close to Snape, and wrapping his arm around his waist. On the other side of the man, Dumbledore was copying his movements.

"I do not... need the assistance... of the greatest... nuisance of the... wizarding world," Snape ground out from between his teeth.

"Nevertheless, I will help you." Twinkle in his eyes, Dumbledore started their way across the corridors. "And I believe Harry won't mind this either."

Deciding it was extremely wise not to comment on that, Harry simply grinned at the Headmaster. Without any further delay, they headed towards the infirmary.

---

Part 9

"Get out."

The words, even though said with calm and quiet voice, silenced everyone in the infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey nodded at the silence. "That's better. Now if you insist on arguing and yelling, be so kind as to do it somewhere else. This is a hospital, and we have sick people here."

Most of the people gathered in the infirmary managed to actually look embarrassed. With a parting glance at professor McGonagall who was still unconscious, they started to file out, dodging the black dog sitting in the doorway.

Professor Dumbledore remained where he stood, refusing to budge. "We will meet tomorrow," he said to anyone who was listening, knowing the Order would get the message. They needed to know about the things that had just happened, but this was not the time for a meeting. Everyone was tired and relieved, and probably needed a good night's sleep before anything else happened.

It was also a moment for him to be completely selfish. He'd managed to stay calm during the terrible hours of waiting, refusing to think about his old friend. Now that she was lying here, pale as a ghost, he wanted a few hours for just himself. Didn't want to be forced away from Minerva's sickbed.

Madam Pomfrey had examined her earlier and announced she would live. She'd sent an owl to St. Mungo's for consultation, but was confident in her skills in treating her patient.

Soon, there were only five people left in the infirmary. Madam Hooch and McGonagall were both sleeping. Snape on the other hand was wide awake, glaring angrily at Poppy, who was measuring potions for him to drink.

"I am perfectly capable of taking the appropriate potions myself." Grimacing with distaste, he took the offered spoon anyway and swallowed the syrupy concoction.

Poppy glared right back. "Don't be ridiculous, Severus. You should stay in bed for at least two days. Preferably here in the infirmary, so I can monitor you."

That sounded about as much fun as a shopping expedition in the Muggle world. Snape wondered if Poppy really imagined he would stay. "No. If you must fuss over me, go ahead and do it quickly so I can leave."

With a suffering sigh, Poppy went to get some bandages. The man was truly infuriating!

Dumbledore turned his attention from Minerva for a moment, taking in the pained look on Snape's face. It didn't seem to be completely due to physical discomfort. "What happened, Severus?"

"Would you mind waiting until I get some sleep before I tell you all the sordid details?" Only an ounce of his usual sarcasm in his voice, Snape sighed. "I have something to do before I can rest, and I..." He couldn't find the proper words for this. The familiar feeling of helplessness washed over him, and he hated it. Hated it just like he had all those years ago when he'd first bared whatever was left of his soul before this man.

Gaze full of warmth, Dumbledore nodded. Right this moment, he couldn't refuse Severus anything. He would give him whatever he wanted. "All right. We will talk about this tomorrow."

After Poppy had finished bandaging Snape' arm, she grudgingly allowed him to leave. She knew the only way to keep him in her infirmary was to knock him unconscious. That went against her oath, so she settled for muttering unflattering things about stubborn men as he slowly walked out.

Snape let out a deep breath as he stepped out to the corridor. He hated spending time at the infirmary. Hated all the fussing and being at the center of attention.

Maybe he should have followed the last bit of reason he had, then, a small voice chided inside his head. He snorted at that. Yes. Maybe he should have. It was so easy to think of that now, when it was all over.

"Um... Professor? I mean, Snape?"

The hesitant voice made Snape roll his eyes. Perfect! Just the person he least wanted to see right now. Not counting Voldemort and his cohorts, of course. "Go away, Potter." Not even bothering to look at the boy, he started walking down the corridor towards the dungeons.

Harry hurried after him. He'd stayed outside the infirmary, knowing he needed to see the man alone. It had taken him some time to convince Sirius and Remus to leave him alone here, but eventually the two men had left. Not before Sirius managed to get him to promise to tell him what was going on with him the next day.

A promise he might have to keep.

It wasn't difficult to keep up with Snape. He was clearly exhausted, the potions Madam Pomfrey had given him were not really helping him with that. Harry knew better than to try to assist him, standing still as he stumbled a few times on his way downstairs.

Snape was ready to hex the boy by the time he reached the dungeon level. "Do you not understand simple speech? Go away. Go back to your friends and have a party. Go to bed and sleep. Go to that mutt of a godfather of yours. Do whatever you want, as long as you do it somewhere else!" He couldn't even get all his ire and sarcasm into the words, a fact that infuriated him even more.

"Sorry, Snape. The Headmaster's orders." The lie was easy to say. Harry was certain that Dumbledore would approve.

Cursing the meddlesome coot, Snape turned around and tried to ignore Harry. He had more important things to think of now. The night had been a dismal failure, and it was not over yet.

He walked past the Potions classroom, not heading towards the corridor that held his private chambers. Instead, he went to the Slytherin rooms. His students would be awake still, probably all wondering what was going on. They'd have to continue wondering. He was not going to justify his actions to a group of Death Eater children. At least not now.

There was a message he had to deliver. One that was not a pleasant one. Not to him, and not to the one he was taking it to.

Harry didn't say anything as Snape stopped outside the Slytherin common room. He simply leaned against the wall. If his professor thought he was going to leave, he didn't really know him. The poisonous glare Snape was once again throwing at him suggested that he did.

"I would appreciate it if you weren't here when I return." With that, Snape muttered the password, and watched the wall reveal the doorway. He did not look back as he stepped into the common room.

The lights were low in the Slytherin rooms, casting shadows on the cavernous walls. Most of the older Slytherins were lounging in the deep green couches and chairs, clearly waiting for something to happen.

Snape stood silently at the doorway, looking at his students. He could see shock and puzzlement on many. Even anger. It was not unexpected. He'd seen the children of the Death Eaters in the Malfoy Mansion that Yuletide and knew that most of the students he'd helped to raise would take up the masks the following summer.

It would be painful. A failure. Especially since now he would be forced to fight against them. He'd thought he might be able to spy on them, to seek for weaknesses that might lead them to betray the Dark Lord. One more opportunity he had thrown away in a moment of utter madness.

His students were now staring at him, stunned by his appearance. That reminded Snape he was still wearing his torn robes. It didn't really matter. His looks were the least of his problems.

"Many of you will receive owls from your parents tomorrow morning." Voice cold and clear, Snape focused his gaze on Draco Malfoy. He knew Lucius. There would be others as well. "I would like to remind you, that while you're under this roof, you will not get away with any illegal activity. No matter whose commands you follow."

Comprehension dawned on some young faces, followed by utter horror.

Snape nodded curtly. "Obeying the Dark Lord is only one option. Being a Slytherin does not mean you have to join him."

There were whispers now. Stunned words of disbelief. Pansy Parkinson was leaning against Millicent Bulstrode as if she was feeling faint.

Draco Malfoy on the other hand was simply staring at Snape.

"Go to bed everyone." Snape made a small gesture towards the dormitories, barely hiding his disgust. His words wouldn't matter; most of these children were already lost.

The reaction ingrained into them years ago, the Slytherins obeyed the Head of their House without comments.

"Mr. Goyle. Stay. You too, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Malfoy." Once again not a request, but a command.

The three Slytherins remained standing by the hearth as the others disappeared into the dormitories. All feeling stunned. It was a rather usual emotion for Vince and Greg, but this felt different. Ominous.

Draco watched Snape stand there, his mind completely blank. This couldn't be happening. His father's letter had clearly stated they were going to kill McGonagall. If this was some kind of a ruse to lull Dumbledore into trusting a known 'former Death Eater', it didn't really make any sense. Neither did Snape's words.

It had sounded almost as if the professor had warned them all against acting the way their parents and the Dark Lord wanted, but that was ridiculous. Snape knew as well as they did, that no one could resist lord Voldemort. He was one of the loyal ones. Why would he want anyone to resist?

His scrutiny didn't really tell him anything. Snape looked as cold as usual, his dark gaze focused on the three of them.

When the door leading to the dormitories banged shut, Snape stepped to the center of the room, turning to look at Goyle. He stood there for a long moment, his face revealing nothing.

Goyle was starting to shake. It didn't matter the professor was the Head of his House. He was always terrified when that glare was set on him.

"Mr. Goyle. Gregory." Snape's voice was softer now. There was no sign of malice or anger. No sign of any emotion.

The lack of the usual clipped tones and sarcasm made Goyle tremble even more. Next to him, Crabbe was fidgeting as well. They didn't react to Snape in the Potions class. There, he never focused solely on them. Official Slytherin business and those horrendous hours they had to suffer through every Friday were different.

Ignoring the overwhelming urge to flee from the room, Snape looked at his student. The expression was so familiar; the boy was almost a mirror image of his father with the same blank look on his face. He crammed the nausea down; there was no point in thinking about that now. Better just go on with his duty.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but earlier today, your father passed away."

There was a silence in the room. Goyle's eyes were huge as he looked at the Head of his House. He did not understand. What was Snape talking about? He must have misunderstood the words and their meaning. He had heard wrong. Glancing helplessly at Draco, he asked, "What?"

Draco couldn't say anything, his mouth horribly dry.

"Gregory." Seeing the boy return his gaze to him, Snape said softly. "Your father is dead."

The simple words seemed to register. Goyle blanched. Next to him, Crabbe let out a whimpering sound. World seemed to crash down silently, muffling everything around him.

"How? How did he die?" Goyle's voice broke at the last word. Die. Died. Passed away. His father was dead. His hands were starting to shake.

Snape was quiet for a moment, the only words coming to his mind were the horrible truth. I killed him. I pointed my wand at him and dropped him with Avada Kedavra as he was about to kill Minerva. I killed your father, Gregory.

"He was amongst the people who took professor McGonagall. He was killed during the.... rescue mission." What a simple way to describe the blur of motion and the madness. The desperate fight raging in the small chamber. "I truly am sorry."

The uncharacteristically kind words seemed to hit Goyle. With a soft sob, he sat down on the couch and started to cry. Crabbe was by his side immediately, patting his shoulder awkwardly.

No. Snape had never been a good Death Eater. He did not feel any glee at the moment. No satisfaction of having his enemy dead.

His enemy? A simple man he'd known since his early teens. A man whose only son was his student, a member of his House. His responsibility.

"Take this." Snape took a small vial from under his robes and handed it to Malfoy. He knew he could trust on the boy with this. "It's Draught of the Living Death. He will probably need it later."

Draco nodded woodenly, accepting the offered vial.

Snape knew his presence would not be wanted anymore. This was the one occasion he couldn't fulfill his duty as the Head of his House. He could not offer the boy any consolation. There was no way he could have Goyle and his friends at the infirmary either. It would put McGonagall's life back in danger.

He would have to contact the only other Slytherin staff member and ask her to come and look after Goyle. Juno was used to spending nights awake, watching her precious stars. "I will send professor Sinistra to you." The words were still aimed at Malfoy, the pale boy probably the only one in the room capable of thought at the moment.

"Thank you, sir."

Since there was nothing more he could say or do, Snape turned around and walked out of the Slytherin common room.

He stumbled a little as he stepped into the corridor, leaning against the wall for support. Unable to remember when he'd last rested, Snape wanted nothing more than to crawl into his own rooms and sleep.

"Snape?"

Somehow he managed to find the strength to look up and glare at that. Maybe he would simply turn Potter into something unpleasant and then crawl into his rooms. Ignoring the boy, he straightened his back, and started walking again. Fortunately the way to his own door wasn't all that far.

With a simple touch on the snake -figure, Snape opened his door. He walked in, realizing only as the door closed a moment later that he wasn't alone. "I don't remember inviting you in, Potter."

"No." Shrugging, Harry walked to his usual chair, sitting down. "You didn't."

The casual attitude made Snape grit his teeth. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Now leave before I'm tempted to reduce them even more." For once, the annoying brat should listen.

Harry looked at the man, his gaze serious. He didn't know what had happened during the hours he'd been gone, but he had a hunch that it was all bad. People would be concentrating on professor McGonagall now, leaving Snape to slither back here. It didn't matter it was probably just what he wanted, it didn't feel right to leave him alone right now.

"I'm not going to leave. Even if you..." He swallowed the rest of the sentence. Better not risk Snape really taking every single House point off. "I feel I should stay."

"How lovely. Now get out!"

The Gryffindor stubborness was definitely not a myth. "No. You know as well as I do that we are..." Harry hesitated, trying to find a proper term. Nothing appropriate really came to his mind.

Snape glared at Harry. "You think we're... What? Friends?" The last word dripped with sarcasm. "If that's what you think, you truly are out of your mind."

"Don't be such a git." Not letting the barb get to him, Harry shook his head. "And no. I don't think we're friends. But we are both members of the Order of the Phoenix. That means something to me. So unless you want to bodily throw me out, I'm staying."

That earned him an even fiercer glare. "If that is what it takes..." It was clearly an empty threat. In his present condition Snape might just be able to throw out a Flobberworm, but not a full grown wizard.

Realizing this was not getting them anywhere, Harry dropped his gaze. "Please, Snape. I need to stay here." His voice was pleading.

"Oh for Merlin's sake..." Muttering a few words from under his breath, Snape surrendered. He had given the boy his permission to stay here whenever he needed it. "Fine. Just stay out of my way."

With that, he staggered to the bathroom.

It was a good thing he didn't see the smile on Harry's face. The expression would have probably driven him to do something extreme.

Snape kept his gaze away from the mirror as he stripped out of his dirty robes. He'd refused to take them off at the hospital wing, allowing Poppy to treat only the most urgent wounds on him. The robes pooled into a heap on the floor, but for once he didn't really care about the mess.

Even though he was dead on his feet, he needed a shower. He also needed a drink, but with the brat in his living room, there was no chance for that. So he had to settle with a shower.

Careful not to get the bandage on his left arm wet, he stood under the hot spray, hearing nothing but the rush of water and his own heartbeat.

Washing the grime and sweat away felt wonderful. Snape had to pry his eyes open again after rinsing his hair. He felt ready to drop any second now, but he had to get clean before going to bed. He stepped out of the shower stall, yawning so hard his jaws ached.

There was a long sleeved night robe hanging from the towel rack, and after towelling himself dry, Snape pulled the robe on.

His mind was half asleep already. He managed to walk out of the bathroom but the rest was a blur. He remembered there was something he had to do, but he couldn't manage more than another yawn, followed by some incoherent words. He'd simply come to the end of the line, his brains shutting down. Somehow he ended up in bed, covers drawn over him, just the way he preferred. He didn't really care how he'd got there. Nothing really mattered as he drifted asleep.

Harry was careful not to breathe too hard as he silently sneaked away from Snape's bedroom.

He'd stayed out of the man's way, but when it had become apparent Snape was about to collapse on the floor a moment after he emerged from the bathroom, he'd hopped up and helped him to the bedroom. It was better than letting him sleep on the floor.

Snape had been so exhausted he didn't even really notice Harry, which was a good thing. He would definitely not be grateful for any kind of assistance right now. Muttering something about needing to get professor Sinistra to take care of his Slytherins, Snape had allowed himself to be led to bed.

Walking back to the living room, Harry took a deep breath. This whole situation was freaking him out. Somehow things were changing again. Desperation had turned into fierce joy at the sight of McGonagall alive. And seeing Snape.

The comment the man had flung at him earlier was ringing in his head. No, the two of them were definitely not friends. But they were something.

Harry walked to the fireplace, trying not to think about it now. He needed to contact Dumbledore about Snape's wish. The Headmaster would get to professor Sinistra. Then he could go to his chair and get some sleep.

He'd spend the night here, like he had so many times before. Trying to sleep, trying not to worry about anything. Keeping the memory of Snape curling in bed as he pulled the covers over him somewhere at the back of his mind.

---

Part 10

The scent of blood was all around them.

Snape tried to keep his gaze away from the still figures on the floor. Tried not to listen to the groans of those who were still alive. He concentrated on the woman in front of him.

What madness had caused this? What had made him destroy everything he'd worked for?

He tried not to think about that right now either. Thought wasn't important, movement was. If he didn't hurry, his body would soon lie on the floor as well.

"Oh, Merlin... Severus what on earth did you just do?" The voice quivered with weakness.

Snape ignored the question. He hauled Minerva McGonagall up from the floor, making sure she was still holding onto the wand he'd tossed at her. "We have to move. Now." Only one way out of here. Out of the mansion.

The journey through the basement was a nightmare. Minerva had spent what was left of her strength during the short fight, and soon Snape had to carry her instead of dragging her. His arm was burning, not the Mark, but the cut next to it. He'd been surprised to be stabbed by Crabbe.

Definitely not as surprised as the Death Eaters had been when he'd turned his wand on them.

Snape kept hurrying through the corridors. He had no idea how many people there were at the house. Some of them might be after them already. He doubted any of those present in the small chamber were able to chase them. Most would spend days in bed recovering.

Some would never do anything ever again. Like Graham Goyle.

Not a good thought. Snape couldn't afford to think about the consequences of his idiocy right now. He had to move faster, to get out of here before...

Turning around the corner, he stumbled against a familiar figure. He slumped down in shock as the red eyes bore into him, a wand already raising. Voldemort hissed the curse, and green sparks ingulfed Snape, burning away everything.

Snape jolted awake, sitting up. He made no sound as the nightmare vanished, leaving him alone in his bedchamber.

"Lumos." Rubbing his face, he looked around him. He had a feeling it wasn't exactly morning. The thought made him blink, and he had to think for a moment to figure out what day it was.

Realizing it was probably Monday, he slipped out of the bed. He had no memory of how he'd got there. His last real recollection was hot water washing him clean. It was amazing he'd managed to crawl here after everything that had happened.

The nightmare still fresh in his mind, he went to get dressed. It really was a wonder he and Minerva had managed to escape with their lives. Wincing as his arm was caught in his sleeve, he glared at the bandage so conveniently covering his Dark Mark.

Alive, but not unharmed.

"Morning."

Snape froze in the doorway. Remembering his uninvited houseguest, he glared at Harry, and then stormed to the bathroom. He certainly wasn't in the mood for idle pleasentries right now. He was going to take another shower, even though he didn't really need one.

A twinge in his left arm made him flinch as he dried himself. After a moment of hesitation, he unwrapped the bandage. His arm looked both better and worse now. He swallowed hard, and then opened the cupboard, reaching for a small jar of deep green salve he'd never really thought he'd need.

Finishing his morning routines, he stared at his reflection for a moment before returning to the living room. He looked tired. No surprise there. Even with hours of sleep, he was still feeling exhausted.

It didn't matter.

He was not going to spend the whole day in bed like some invalid. That thought held firmly in mind, he pushed the door open.

"I hope you don't mind. I ordered some breakfast. er... Lunch. Dobby was so happy to hear you brought McGonagall back, he kind of overreacted." Smiling sheepishly, Harry gestured at the huge amount of food on the table.

The only reply he got was a grunt.

Sitting down, Snape poured himself some tea. He did not want to think about what he'd done with Minerva. The whole thing was making him boiling mad. Mad at himself.

Harry realized Snape was not going to say anything, so he went on, "I talked to Dumbledore earlier. He said we're having a meeting after lunch. So when we finish eating, we should probably go to his rooms. If you're up to it, I mean."

He decided it was probably the best he didn't repeat the Headmaster's words about Snape being too stubborn to let his body heal.

That made Snape grimace. The food didn't seem all that appealing anymore.

"I also... Called him last night and told him to send professor Sinistra to the Slytherin common room." Harry wasn't sure he'd done the right thing. When he'd guided Snape towards his bedroom, the man had seemed adamant about that. Had wanted someone to stay with his seventh years.

"Juno? Why would you... oh. I see." If he'd forgotten to make the call himself, he had indeed been drained yesterday. "Good."

They ate in silence. It was a familiar scene; both had got over the awkwardness weeks earlier. Snape still thought eating breakfast alone was preferable to this, but Harry's presence didn't really bother him. He was used to him by now.

Harry was content with just being here. He'd slept well on his chair. It was rather comfortable when it was enlarged. Knowing Snape was sleeping in the next room had made his sleep peaceful.

It was a bit disturbing. He had hated the nasty Potions master from his first Potions class. Hating Snape had been something he never had to think about, it was a constant force in his life, like his utter dislike of his cousin, or the wistful feeling he got every time he thought of his parents.

He wondered what had changed it. Why wasn't he burning with hatred anymore when he was in Snape's company? Could a few months really change his preceptions of him so completely?

That first night he'd come to the dungeons, he hadn't really been certain about anything. He was still wondering about the darkness of his thoughts back then, knowing they surpassed usual fear and pain and anger but didn't plunge him into real depression.

Not that he was an expert, but even he knew that one didn't snap out of depression by talking to someone like Snape.

Yet even when his mind had been a whirlwind of chaos, he'd trusted Snape with his fears. Because the man never coddled him or told him what he wanted to hear. If anything, Snape was always honest with him.

Harry was stunned by the thought; that word had never crossed his mind before. But Snape really was honest; never told him lies about life. Sure, his view was sarcastic and evil, but it was probably the best way he had to go through all the nasty things life threw at him. Or deal with the nasty things he'd done.

It wasn't easy to label Snape anymore. He was so many things, some of which contradicted the others, but one thing was for certain.

Harry realized he rather liked the man.

Hiding a smile, he concentrated on his breakfast. He could just imagine Snape's expression if he told him that. The glare would be annoyed as hell.

Almost like the one on his face right now. It was strange, really. There wasn't any reason for Snape to glare.

It reminded Harry he hadn't said anything about McGonagall yet. Not about the relieved look on Dumbledore's face that morning when he'd announced she was already conscious. Not about how grateful he was to Snape for what he had done.

"About yesterday..." He wondered how to phrase it.

The dark gaze was raised from the tea cup to meet his. "What about yesterday?" There was irritation in Snape's voice, as always when he was disturbed while he was busy thinking of something.

Harry looked hesitant. Then he barged head on with it. "Thank you."

"For what?" Snape asked. Then he shook his head in anger. "Don't you dare to thank me for that!" How predictable that he would not see his act as it was.

"You brought the Head of my House back from a certain death. You're damn right I'm going to thank you for that! And so will every other Gryffindor." No matter how much they all hated Snape, they would still be grateful.

Placing his cup on the table, Snape got to his feet. He would not listen to this stupidity.

"Because of you, she's still alive." Harry said calmly. He could well guess what had happened during the long hours she'd been gone, but didn't want to concentrate on that. He was simply grateful she wasn't dead.

Snape looked down at him, wondering if he would ever understand. "And others are not. And even more people will not be alive, because we have lost our only chance of getting to know the Dark Lord's plans."

"I know people died. I figured it out. There was no way you could have just taken her and left." The cuts and bruises had made it obvious that Snape had been fighting for his life. Harry knew the Death Eaters, knew that sometimes only death would stop them.

A slight nod acknowledged his words.

Harry wasn't finished yet. "But you don't know about what will come. None of us do. So we don't have a spy anymore. We'll just have to deal with it. Life isn't fair, you know."

Snape didn't know whether to be pleased or annoyed by the way his own words were now thrown back at him. At least Harry had got his point.

No, life most certainly wasn't fair. Not for anyone. It was ironic; after all these years of being seen as a villain, he would now be considered as one of their champions. And only because he could not stand the idea of telling Albus of Minerva's death. Couldn't face the man afterwards, with her blood on his hands. That one moment of weakness would probably be seen as heroism.

It was ridiculous.

"I am no hero." He mumbled it to himself.

Harry smiled at that. This was something he could relate to. "Neither am I. We can't change the way people think about us, though. You will probably have other annoying Gryffindors thank you before the day ends."

"What an appalling thought." Snape shuddered. Still, he relaxed slightly and sat down to finish his breakfast.

After the house elves had cleaned the dishes away, Harry went to use the loo. He grimaced at his reflection as he washed his hands. Damn, he looked like he'd spent the night on someone's couch. Which, in a way, was true.

There was nothing he could do about it now. Dumbledore had said to come to the meeting after lunch, and they were already late.

Resigned to looking like a scarecrow once again, he walked back to the living room. Since Snape seemed almost ready to leave, he simply walked to the door. "We should be going."

Lowering the small vial he'd just emptied, Snape nodded. He knew Poppy would probably nag at him, but he really did feel all right now. Didn't want to postpone this lunacy. He was ready.

A memory of something assaulted Snape, and he turned to stare at Harry. "Mr. Potter. Did you call me a git last night?" There was honest bafflement in his voice. No one had dared to call him that to his face in years. If memory served, the last person who had, was currently blushing in front of him.

"Um... I think I might have. Sort of. Or not. Maybe." Harry wondered how many points that would lose. Probably more than they had.

"I would suggest you not to go around calling your teachers names. That is not very productive." With a glare, Snape brushed past Harry.

It took Harry a few seconds to realize the matter was closed. Then he grinned and rushed after Snape.

There were few people walking through the corridors. Snape was glad of it. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now, or to explain why he was accompanied by Potter. He probably should have used the floo, but for some reason he'd simply followed the boy's lead. It was well known that Harry Potter did not like flooing.

Snape wondered if he should have reduced Gryffindor House points after all, simply due to the fact that Harry was a nuisance.

He shrugged mentally. Walking was not that bad. There was no need for secrecy anymore. His own actions yesterday had already declared him to be anything but a docile Death Eater. All his Slytherins had to know the truth by now.

It would have been interesting to be present at breakfast to see how many owls were sent to his students. It had probably rained feathers in the Great Hall.

The voyage to the second floor wasn't long, but as they reached the gargoyle, Snape was trying to hide a grimace. His back ached, muscles still sore from yesterday. All the smaller cuts and bruises were also happily reminding him of their existance.

"You go ahead. I'll follow you in a minute." Snape most definitely didn't want to appear in his first non-secret Order meeting with Harry Potter.

Apparently the boy understood him perfectly. With a crooked grin, Harry said out the password, and then climbed the stairs up to Dumbledore's offices.

After a small moment, Snape followed him.

He could hear people babbling, and his expression hardened. This was not right. Not his place. There would be lots of people here, both teachers and students, none of whom should know he was a part of this. Of course hoping for any sort of secrecy now was futile. He had kicked himself out of that broom closet quite thoroughly when he'd carried Minerva across the Great Hall.

Walking through the doorway, the first thing he could see were Albus Dumbledore's clear blue eyes. There was the familiar twinkle dancing in the wise gaze, and for that moment, Snape couldn't really regret what he had done.

What a disgustingly soft thought.

An eerie silence had fallen over the room as Snape stepped in. People were staring at him, most of the students with their mouths actually open. Madam Pomfrey cast a nasty look at him, knowing he should still be in bed.

Not paying any attention to the stares, Snape walked across the room to his usual place by the wall. No one had claimed the chair, most probably due to its scruffy looks and the distance from the windows.

He liked to sit in the shadows, being able to observe everyone and stay shielded from most of the stares at the same time.

Harry was able to slip into his usual place on the couch, grinning at Snuffles. He really did love his godfather, and was always comforted by the way his arm usually ended up around his shoulders in a half hug. Or, like now, the great dog lay his head on his shoulder.

"Good. Now that we are all here." Gesturing around the room, Dumbledore said, "I'm sure you can all see some unfamiliar faces here." That was aimed at the ones still gaping.

"And some old familiar ones." Professor Sprout wasn't sure if she was angry or not at seeing Mundungus and Arabella here. After all, she'd known those two for years. Not very well, she assessed as she watched both squirm under her gaze.

"You can say that again!" There was awe in Ron's surprisingly loud whisper. He couldn't help glancing at Snape, even though he returned his gaze back to Harry a moment later.

Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, yes. I believe it's time for me to introduce some of our Order who have been forced to work behind the scenes."

The rather pompous words made Snape sneer. Concentrating on this show was better than worrying about what would undoubtedly follow the introductions.

"Arabella Figg and Mundungus Fletcher have been with the Order ever since the First War." Dumbledore smiled at the two who waved at everyone.

There were murmured greetings. Professor Sprout was still glaring.

"And of course you all know Remus Lupin, who was a teacher here four years ago."

This time the greetings were more enthusiastic. Ron and Hermione grinned at the werewolf, glad that he was also a part of this. They'd had their suspicions, but because of Sirius' safety, neither had asked about it out loud.

Dumbledore looked at the black dog sitting on the couch. It almost looked like the dog was laughing inside. "You are shedding all over my couch, Sirius. Please turn back into your real form."

Lolling his tongue out for a moment, the dog just sat there. Then it seemed to blur, turning into a grinning man. "You always did have a flare for dramatics, didn't you Albus?"

"Dear Merlin, it's Sirius Black!" One of the Ravenclaws jumped up in panic. He looked like he wanted to run out of the room. Unfortunately the couch on which Sirius was currently lounging was between him and the door.

There were similar reactions all around the room. People all talking at the same time, staring at the man with wide eyes.

Harry could feel Sirius tense at that. He leaned closer to his godfather, offering silent support for a second before calling out, "He is a member of this Order and my godfather. Stop panicking, people."

It worked. Even though he was seen as their moral leader, especially by the younger people, Harry rarely spoke out in the meetings. Now that he did, everyone stopped babbling and listened.

"Harry is right. Sirius is indeed one of us. Furthermore, he is also innocent of all the things he was charged with sixteen years ago." Dumbledore's voice was firm.

That made even the frightened Ravenclaw sit down.

Madam Rosmerta was staring at Sirius with a stunned expression. "I remember you. You used to come to the back alley every night. I even fed you sometimes." She'd known there was something familiar about the dog the moment she laid her eyes on him.

"Yes." A faint blush appeared on Sirius' face at that.

Seeing one of the most feared men in all the wizarding world fluster at a friendly comment brought smiles to the faces of most of the adults.

"Sirius can tell us his tale later." Dumbledore was certain he would, too. He'd always been outrageous with his stories. Even worse than Fred and George Weasley put together. "We have more urgent business right now."

There was a quiet murmur of agreement, emphasized by nods.

"We have one more member we have never spoken of in the meetings before. Professor Severus Snape."

Harry couldn't help smiling a little at the dumbfounded expressions. Everyone was looking at the shadowy corner, meeting a cold stare in return.

"But he's a..." It was one of the former Hufflepuffs who worked at the Ministry, training to become an Auror. She couldn't help remembering all the agonizing Potions classes, where the fear for the professor's sarcasm and cutting remarks had felt palpable in the air. "Well, you know. One of them!"

More quiet murmurs. Severus Snape's past was public record, after all. A record known to everyone in the wizarding world.

"You can say it, Miss. Midgen." There was a sneer on Snape's face, and he sounded like he had just spotted an error in her answer in class. "I believe the proper term is 'a Death Eater'. A former one, actually."

Midgen shrank back, shivers going down her spine.

Before anyone else could make a comment, Dumbledore interfered. "Yes. Severus is indeed a former Death Eater. He has also served as a spy amongst Voldemort's cohorts." This time, he did not offer any other explanations, like with Sirius.

No one said anything to that.

After a moment of silence, Ron cleared his throat. "Why didn't you tell us?" The words were aimed at the Headmaster, but he looked at Harry, hurt in his eyes.

He'd spent most of the night talking with Hermione, both coming to the same conclusion. Snape was not what he appeared to be, and whatever he was, Harry knew about it. Hermione might have shrugged the issue of trust off with her cold logic -- which might have been a front to cover her true feelings, he didn't know -- but Ron was definitely disturbed by it.

"It was my decision, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said. "I apologize, but Severus' status as a spy has been too important to risk. You should know how big a chance there is for any one of us to fall into the hands of Voldemort's people." That was said with a pointed glance.

Ron didn't say anything at that. Yeah, he did know. The memory of what had almost happened to Bill during the summer before their sixth year was still a fodder for nightmares.

Meeting Ron's hesitant looks with a half-smile, Harry wondered if their awkward silence would get worse after this. He hoped not.

"Now, I'm sure we all want to know just exactly what happened yesterday." Voice growing harder, Dumbledore looked at Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy has informed me that Minerva will indeed be all right, but she has been seriously hurt. Mostly by the cruciatus curse, but she has also been... mistreated otherwise."

The icy look in his eyes made everyone swallow. It was no wonder Voldemort did not dare to openly attack this castle with Dumbledore protecting it.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips together so that they blended into one thin line. She didn't say anything, simply nodded.

Turning to look at Snape, Dumbledore added, "Severus, would you please tell us all what happened?" It wasn't exactly a request one could refuse, especially since the look in the Headmaster's eyes was still full of barely veiled anger.

With short, precise sentences, Snape described what had happened at the Malfoy Mansion. The events followed the course of his nightmare, but telling about them didn't make him relive it again. The ending was different as well, for in reality, no one had caught them. He had managed to carry Minerva out of the ghastly house, and then continued on his way towards Hogwarts.

There were soft gasps coming from the teachers, and even some students, when he told them about the few Death Eaters that had perished during the fight. All comments were curbed by a rather stern glare from behind the half-moon glasses. Dumbledore was not going to permit any interruptions.

Snape kept staring into distance as he admitted that one of the casualties had indeed been the father of one of his Slytherins. Expression devoid of any emotions, he recounted the moment Goyle Sr. had fallen, the Death Eater's wand dropping right next to Minerva.

He wondered if it was still somewhere in her robes. She had been quick to grab it, using it to help him in the desperate fight, sending binding spells all around. Apparently she wasn't going to use the Unforgivables.

Unlike he had.

When he finished his story, the only sounds that could be heard were soft sniffles. Professor Sprout was staring at Snape with her mouth open.

She had never thought him capable of something like that. Looking at her own Hufflepuffs, she wondered if she could have done the same as he had. Wondered if she could have endured years of double life and then thrown it all away because of one person. Severus didn't even like Minerva.

Hermione was smiling beatifically at Snape, even though her face was still trailed with tears. It didn't really matter that the man was an evil and vindictive teacher. He had saved her favorite professor, and that was enough for her.

Her sentiments were clearly shared by most of the people in the room. All the younger people were in awe. Arabella Figg seemed to be lost in thought. Professor Flitwick was quite obviously in shock.

The reactions all around the room were exactly what Snape had anticipated. Or feared, actually. He could see the students all smile at him, the expressions really alien. He was used to feared looks or barely disguised anger and rebellion. Now there was no trace of them. Even Black wasn't scowling at him.

It was disturbing. He could see how misguided idiots would come to interrupt his peace and quiet with inane babbling. As if he was somehow a different person now.

He suffered through Harry's presence in his rooms out of necessity. At least the boy had a good sense not to bother him with small talk and other ridiculous things so important in the so called polite society. He was not a complete nuisance, a fact that had surprised Snape. Now there would undoubtedly be others trying to get his attention. Invading his privacy.

"We should all try to consider how this affects the students." As if reading his mind, Dumbledore's voice sliced the silence. "There will probably be some outbursts of emotion during the next few days. Not only from well wishers, but also from those whose parents have now been thwarted by Severus' actions."

No one bothered to mention the fact that the ones most disturbed would be his own students.

Snape nodded curtly. "We should also be prepared for the Death Eaters to retaliate. This whole thing was orchestrated by the Dark Lord's most powerful supporter, and he is not known for his patience."

"You mean Malfoy is going to do something rash?" Spelling it out loud, Sirius raised an eyebrow. There was still no malice in his gaze. If anything, he looked a bit bemused.

After all he'd said to Remus about needing to see the Head of their House alive again, he couldn't really be hostile towards the greasy git now could he?

"Yes, Black, that's what I mean." Snape's glare was once again poisonous.

The implications of the words were serious. The Order would have to make plans for the rest of the school year. Death Eater attacks would be more probable than ever and that meant they had to contact every ally they had in the Ministry. There would be no more visits to Hogsmeade. More DADA classes for everyone; even the younger children would have to be able to defend themselves.

It was the beginning of an open war, they all knew it. A war that would not end with a peace treaty, as most Muggle wars did. No negotiations would be made, because none of the terms Voldemort could offer would be acceptable.

Except his total and unconditional surrender, of course.

"All right, everyone. We have work to do." The familiar words from Dumbledore were a sign to start talking.

Leaning towards those closest to them, the members of the Order started bouncing ideas. It didn't matter if they were ridiculous or not. They might work anyway.

Snape watched the bustle, feeling suddenly exhausted again. The potion he'd taken was clearly wearing off. His whole body ached, and he longed to be in his dungeons again, all alone in the blessed silence.

He cast a look at Dumbledore, and saw an understanding nod. Good. He knew he had to get used to being a part of this larger organization, but not now. Not until he'd had some rest. In his present condition, he was no good to anyone.

It was best to leave now, before he was completely beat, and would have to be helped to his rooms. Madam Pomfrey was already casting suspicious looks at him. If Poppy so much as nagged him right now, he would probably have to resist an urge to hex her and every other well meaning idiot.

The thought made him turn to look at Harry. The boy was listening to something his godfather was saying. As if feeling the dark gaze on him, he lifted a hand to scratch his neck, and then looked over his shoulder.

His gaze met Snape's. For a moment he just sat there, his expression unreadable. Then the look in his eyes softened a little, a very familiar looking twinkle glistening there.

Snape rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. Only Potter could be impudent with a simple look.

Not paying any attention to the curious glances his swift exit gained him, Snape walked to the door. He would definitely not get out of his rooms until the next day's classes, and if anyone dared to approach the dungeon, they would be really sorry.

---

Part 11

The seventh year dormitory was never really quiet at night.

There were sounds of bedsheets rustling, people tossing and turning. Neville usually spoke softly in his sleep during the early hours of the new day. Then he would also fall into breathing evenly.

Ron lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep, no matter how tired he felt.

It was actually weird, since the day had been long. There had been no classes. No studying. Only wandering around the castle during the morning, trying to figure out where everyone was. No, where Harry was. He'd been accompanied by Hermione and Snuffles, but even with the dog's good sense of smell, they hadn't been able to locate him.

Maybe they hadn't looked in the right place. Ron didn't know. But he sure as hell had been stunned to see Harry walk into Dumbledore's office two seconds ahead of Snape.

He sighed.

Damn the Slytherins. He was beginning to think they were all going out of their mind. First with all the silence during lunch, most Slytherins looking like they hadn't slept all night. Malfoy keeping his gaze at the door as if he was waiting for something. Goyle looking like he was sleepwalking.

Of course now he knew the explanation for that. It made his stomach clench. He'd never liked the ape-like boy, but still... He'd lost his dad.

Ron didn't even want to imagine how he'd feel if something happened to his own dad.

Things got definitely worse after lunch, when the Order met. There had been some faces he hadn't seen before. Seeing Lupin and Sirius there had been great. He'd always known they had something to do with the Order even though they never attended the meetings.

Having Snape walk in there had been a shock. Apocalyptic, even. Like Trelawney making sense, or Hagrid managing to bake edible cookies.

Snape was definitely not a good guy. He was a nasty old Potions master. A greasy git, whose only joy in life was to make his life miserable. A stupid, pig headed creep. With no redeeming qualities. None whatsoever. He was a bastard.

Except that he had done something no one else had even tried. And Dumbledore had said he had been on their side for years.

And for some unimaginable reason, Harry seemed all right with that.

It had hurt. Even more than when he'd thought Harry was really going for the fame and glory and the money at the Triwizard tournament. There were things his best friend in the whole world had been keeping secrets from him, and he had no idea how to react to that except with a gut feeling of pain and anger.

Shame.

That was the worst feeling. Because all the things he could now see were huge. Enormous. Harry knowing stuff, hiding them from him and Hermione. Probably for a reason, because he was told to. Keeping it all inside for who knew how many years.

He had never seen it. Had never thought about it, had shrugged off the way Harry would sometimes get really quiet. He'd even ignored all the disappearances lately.

What if Harry had been doing stuff on his own? Gone on missions alone, without anyone to back him up.

Ron slammed his fist against his mattress. Damn it! He just didn't know. Didn't know how to ask Harry about any of this. He felt like an idiot trying to make things right now that he'd been banged on the head with some heavy truths.

It was like he was saying he didn't trust Harry. Like his word wasn't enough.

"Could you please brood a little quieter." A soft voice came from the bed next to his. "Some of us are actually trying to sleep here."

Jolting up, Ron stared at the figure sitting on the edge of the other bed. "Um... Sorry, Harry." The words caused him to grin involuntarily. It was just like old times.

To his utter amazement, Harry smiled back.

They sat there staring at each other for a moment. Both uncertain what to say next. Then Harry got to his feet, and padded softly to Ron's bed. "Move over." Gesturing to his friend to make way, he sat down next to him.

Ron scrambled to the other side of the bed. It was a familiar thing from years past. Ever since they'd started really noticing girls, they had sometimes spent hours like this, lying on a bed, babbling. Mostly about girls. Quidditch. Very rarely about school.

As an echo of those nights, Harry muttered softly a silencing charm, muffling their words so that none of the other boys could hear them. Then he lay down, his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

"So... I was thinking maybe groveling. Or at least begging. For forgiveness, you know. Something with style." Hiding his fear behind flippant words, Ron kept his gaze on the ceiling as well, not wanting to see how his best friend would react to what was essentially an apology.

Harry was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I was actually thinking along the same lines."

"Huh?"

"If I should apologize. For everything." For being himself. For being forced to act like an adult and shield his friends from all the ugly truths.

Rolling on his side, Ron gawked at Harry. "Are you serious?" He could see the rueful smile on his friend's face. "You're serious."

A nod. Yes, Harry really was serious. It didn't matter that Ron had reacted badly to his harsh words. It didn't really matter that he'd had to keep secrets. He just didn't want things to get any worse. Needed his friend now.

"I'm being serious too. I was an arse." Ron smiled at that. He could do honest. "So are we cool?"

"Yeah. We're cool." Smile widening, Harry nodded. He should have known Ron would be eager to grasp the offered truce. He was feeling relieved too.

Ron wasn't at all surprised by the fuzzy feeling sweeping over him. He'd been so damn angry at first, when no one had seemed to understand him. Then he'd been scared as hell, certain everything was ruined now.

There were still things he was worried about. Things that he was angry about. He had no doubt that he would yell at Harry when they discussed Order things, especially if he tried to sprout some of that cynical stuff again. The important thing was that they were talking now. No more silence.

"So... You wanna talk about it?" He didn't know how to specify what he meant by 'it'. Order business. McGonagall. Snape. Anything and everything Harry might want to tell him was just fine.

Harry wanted to. Not about everything, but maybe the smaller issues. But it was too early for that. "Nah. Maybe later." If they both survived the war, he'd buy Ron a drink at the Three Broomsticks or at the Leaky Cauldron, and they'd talk. He would tell about all the decisions he'd had to make during the years. Things Ron had never heard of. But not now.

This was the time to enjoy the silence and the friendship they had.

"Okay." Not wanting to push, Ron nodded. It was enough to just be here and not think about all the nasty stuff that had been going on in their lives for so long.

After a moment of silence, Harry asked, "You mind if I stay here?" It wasn't usually something he had to ask. There had been so many nights during which he'd simply fallen asleep next to his friend.

"No. You can stay." A yawn blurred Ron's answer. He was feeling warm and relaxed now. Sleepy. Having Harry right there was like being home again with his brothers, and he never minded the company.

"Thanks."

It was good to be talking with Ron again. Harry smiled. Even though with Ron, it was usually not talking. Just hanging around. Being comfortable with the non talking, playing chess or reading Quidditch magazines.

Friendship. Somehow reminding him of Sirius. They shared the same kind of relationship, even if it had some aspects that took it beyond simple friendship. That made Harry's smile widen. What a foolish idea. He and Ron had passed 'simple' years ago. He was as much family as Sirius was.

Harry was quite comfortable with the concept now, but it hadn't always been like that. Family had been a dream. A fantasy only heightened by the nonexistant warmth between him and his relatives.

Now there was Sirius; his godfather who loved him. With him came also Remus Lupin, for those two were inseparable. Harry didn't mind at all. He liked his former professor.

He'd thought a lot about the future lately. At the end of the school year, he had a choice to make. Dumbledore had hinted he could stay at Hogwarts, maybe in some official capacity. Teaching or coaching Quidditch. Or he could stay in Hogsmeade, preparing Order forces for the war.

Sirius had asked him to come live with him and Remus. That had been a pleasurable shock. It had proven Harry that he did indeed have a place to go. People who cared about him.

Ron would no doubt slug him if he heard his thoughts. A sideways glance told Harry that his friend was already dozing off. Good. He needed the sleep. They had classes tomorrow; the dreaded doubles, both in Divinations and Potions.

It wasn't like he didn't count the Weasleys as family. He loved Mrs. Weasley very much, but she had enough work with her own children. Knowing he was selfish as hell, Harry had to admit that he liked the fact that he didn't have to share Sirius with seven other kids. Eight if you counted Percy's wife.

Harry was glad he had options. He was tempted to go to live with his godfather, though he knew it would probably be wiser to stay close to Hogwarts. The Order needed him, and he needed the security his old school could provide. It would be important to him to be able to visit Dumbledore often. The wizarding world might depend on him in the battles, but he knew it was Dumbledore who guided the Order.

It meant he would have to come back here every week. Maybe even more often. To meetings with the Order.

In the relative silence of the dormitory, Harry admitted to himself he would probably come back here for another reason as well. How amazing that a couple of months had changed his mind like this. Snape's words were still echoing in his mind. No, they weren't really what could be called friends.

He knew it was far more complicated than that. But there was no use to label it. Not really. Because it didn't matter what he called it. It didn't change anything.

Life was strange. He'd never thought he'd come to understand Snape the way he did now. Or like him. Even respect him. A couple of years ago he would have laughed at such insane thoughts. Now they were making sense.

Frightening.

In Dumbledore's office, Harry had seen how uncomfortable Snape had been with all the attention. He knew that he was a very private man, but it had still surprised him a bit. Because of that, he'd stayed away from the dungeons that day. Had given Snape all the privacy he needed.

He was sure it had been the right choice, even though he wondered how Snape was faring. The stubborn man was probably not resting. Working with his potions again. Immersing himself in his work like he always seemed to do when he didn't want to think about something.

Like killing people.

Harry closed his eyes, shifting his position a little. He couldn't even begin to know how hard it had been for Snape to kill someone like that. Someone's father. Goyle's father. Remembering the flicker of pain he'd seen in the man's eyes before it had been replaced by anger outside the Slytherin common room, he wondered how Snape had managed to have the strength to go and tell Goyle about what had happened.

It was so like Snape. Duty was so obviously important to him. Why else would he suffer through Harry's ramblings? Harry smiled at that. Certainly not from the goodness of his heart.

Even thought there was that too. Maybe not goodness but definitely not just darkness. He wasn't as nasty as Harry had always thought. Wasn't the ogre people most often saw.

Snape was... Snape. Harry wondered why the name didn't make him raw and angry anymore. Probably because he saw beyond professor Snape, into the man. The human part of someone who had never seemed to be at all humane. It was strange, that he couldn't really hate the man, even in the Potions classroom.

Had to be because he liked Snape.

It was weird to think about Snape as a person. Not a whatever-nasty-he-could-think-Potions-master, but as a regular guy. Or as regular as someone like Snape got.

Even with the short temper and the obvious pleasure he took in terrifying whomever he labeled as an idiot, Snape had always seemed larger than life somehow. That had changed. He was just a man.

Harry was comfortable with that. Yep. He could still remember how Snape had trembled as he'd helped Dumbledore guide him to the infirmary. How he'd sagged against him later in his dungeons. How the man had curled on his bed, like any other person, and sighed when he'd pulled the blanket over his body.

Hearing Ron start to snore quietly, he shook his head. Here he was, lying in bed with Ron, thinking about Snape in bed. This was definitely too weird, even for him.

Since Ron's bed was awfully soft, and the few steps to his own bed seemed suddenly too hard to take, Harry squirmed to get a better position, and then dozed off.

He dreamed of Quidditch, soaring after the Snitch on his Firebolt as the sun shone brightly from above.

---

Part 12

Hermione's reaction the next morning was quite predictable.

Seeing Ron and Harry come down the stairs together, talking and laughing made her grin broadly. "I was wondering how long it would take for you two to come to your senses."

And that was it.

She did reserve the right to make snide comments later on if she felt like it though. It made Ron look a bit worried. He knew exactly how devious she could be, and was sure she'd say something if she felt he deserved it.

Divinations that morning was strange. The near-tragedy of these past few days was apparently enough for professor Trelawney. She didn't make any morbid remarks about anybody's mortality. Actually, she seemed unnaturally cheery.

A fact that was far scarier than any predictions of doom.

When the class ended, the seventh year Gryffindors padded to the Great Hall for lunch. Harry didn't really have much of an appetite after spending hours breathing in the scent of incense. The fumes usually made him drowsy, and even the thought of eating was enough to make him nauseous.

Skipping lunch was never a good idea. Even more so on a day when you had double Potions right after lunch.

Harry nibbled his lunch, listening absentmindedly as Ron and Seamus argued about the Cannons. The Quidditch World Cup would be held in Bolivia this year, and apparently one of Ron's favorite Cannons would be joining the English national team. It was a perfect venue for some teasing and Seamus embraced it wholeheartedly. Comments about the English team being inferior to the Irish team were once again making the redhead look like a beet all over.

Staying clear of the argument, Harry concentrated on the mood in the vast room. People seemed to be doing fine, with a few exceptions. The Slytherins looked strange. Some of them were wearing expressions of anticipation, most merely glaring and brooding.

Eyes squinting with suspicion, Harry glanced at Malfoy. He looked too calm, too peaceful. Probably scheming something as always.

Some Gryffindors were acting strangely as well. On the other side of the table, second years were trying to hide reddened eyes and wobbly lower lips by concentrating on their lunch. Alarmed by such odd behavior, Harry made a mental note to talk to Hermione about it, so that she could investigate. Then he remembered the second years had just had Potions class before lunch. No wonder they were all shaken.

He wasn't exactly looking forward to the classes this afternoon. Not because he hated Potions -- which he kind of did -- but because of the utter humiliation that was waiting for his classmates. He'd seen Lavender and Parvati whisper and cast suspiciously soft glances at Snape during the breakfast. They'd had the Daily Prophet open in front of them. He never read the paper anymore, but he could guess from experience what the main article had been about. Dean and Seamus weren't making choking noises whenever the double class was mentioned. The only one acting like he always did was Neville.

Nothing would probably convince him Snape wasn't a total monster.

After finishing breakfast, Harry took his time collecting his books and cauldron. Dragging his feet along, he followed Ron and Hermione, feeling the drumroll of upcoming doom with every step he took.

"You look like you're going toward your execution." Glancing back over his shoulder, Ron grinned at his friend. "What's the matter Harry? You afraid that you're gonna lose us more points?" With the last words the grin faded, replaced by a worried look.

Harry shook his head. "No. But I'm afraid someone else will."

"But it's Snape we're talking about." Hermione had stopped as well. "Isn't he a good guy now?" It was still a weird notion after all these years, but she couldn't deny the facts. Dumbledore had said it himself. Snape was one of them.

"No. Snape is definitely not a good guy." At least not in this context. Harry wasn't sure about the rest of time. "I mean, he's okay, and definitely not one of Voldemort's people, but he's..."

Ron caught on with it. "You mean he's not been hiding behind the mask of an utter bastard? Like Parvati and Lavender think. They say it's all been a sham. That he's really a sweet man, who's been playing a nasty Potions master all these years."

A snort of laughter escaped Harry. Sometimes his housemates couldn't really see what was right in front of them. "Nope. Snape is exactly the guy we know. Sarcastic and evil." He wasn't going to add all the nicer stuff here. It wasn't like Ron or Hermione would ever see that side of the man anyway.

"Oh good grief!" Ron was starting to look really worried now. "He's going to kill us all."

Harry nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. "I'd say we'll definitely be on the minus side when this day is over. Not even winning all the Quidditch matches will help us now with the House Cup." Not that there was any danger of that. With the studying and angsting over life, he hadn't been practicing as hard as he should have.

They walked to the dungeons feeling really anxious.

All the Slytherins were already inside the classroom. They were a subdued lot, sitting quietly at their usual places. No one looked up as the Gryffindor trio walked in.

It was easy to guess why. The smell of roses was overwhelming in the closed space. Harry stared with his mouth open at Snape's desk that was literally covered with the long stemmed flowers. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. This was idiotic.

"Don't just stand there! Take your seats!" Parvati hissed. "We want the dear man to be surprised when he comes in, and he can't bloody well be surprised with you three standing there like that!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, and then simply went to their places. None of them wanted to be standing in the way when Snape finally arrived. They might be brave and corageous, but not suicidal.

They had barely made it to their seats as the door banged open again.

Robes billowing behind him, Severus Snape stepped into his beloved classroom. He looked as annoyed as ever, gaze burning as he walked straight towards his desk, not pausing to see if the door swung shut behind him. The motion with which he entered the room was honed into perfection, succeeding every time.

Even the Slytherins looked up to gauge his reactions to the off place decoration on his desk. The expressions on the students varied from disgusted and scared to blithely happy.

A few steps from his desk, Snape twirled around, his gaze going immediately to the Gryffindors sitting on the left side of the room. He didn't even bother looking at Harry, knowing the boy wasn't stupid enough to do something like this. Instead, he fixed his attention on the two blushing girls in the back row.

The expressions greeting him made Snape want to groan. Was idiocy a requirement for the Gryffindor House? How many times would he have to go through this before these children learned he didn't give a damn?

Suppressing the urge to growl out something nasty, he continued to his desk. These idiots weren't even worth his ire.

Snape didn't say anything. He simply grabbed the roses and tossed them into the wastebasket. As the flowers came so obviously from a magical greenhouse, they weren't even worth cutting into potion ingredients.

"But sir..." From the tone of Lavender's voice, it was obvious she was shocked by the professor's actions. She stood up and stared at the man, her mouth still working. No sound came out.

Gaze completely empty, Snape sneered. "Ten points from Gryffindor for unspeakable stupidity. You know I don't tolerate any outbursts in my class."

"But... We just wanted to..." Lower lip wobbling, Lavender tried to explain that they just wanted to thank him for what he'd done for McGonagall. All the things she and Parvati had talked with some of the sixth years had disappeared from her head.

"Twenty points. Now sit down." Snape's voice wasn't even raised.

It was like a dé-jà vu, reminding everyone of the first year. There had been no real commotion in the Potions class since then.

People around Snape learned things really quickly; not necessarily about the potions he taught, but the way to survive the class. To obey and be quiet.

Keeping his head bowed down, Harry hoped the others would not continue trying to treat Snape like a person. He wasn't, not in the classroom. Harry knew Snape didn't want anyone to think of him as a human being and did everything to discourage such illusions.

Lavender seemed to realize she was way out of line, and she sat in her seat silently. Under the table, Parvati grabbed her hand for support. She'd been convinced that their professor was really not as bad as he let everyone think, and it was quite a disappointment to see him act like he always did.

"Now, if you're all done with childish displays of cretinism, you may select partners and then work on the muting potion you 'll find on page 378." Not bothering to stay and watch everyone rush to obey, Snape walked to the blackboard to scribble additional notes there.

"Hermione. Would you?" Before anyone could say anything, Harry was already pushing Ron aside and stood there next to her.

Sighing, Ron stepped next to Neville. "That means we'll have to work extra hard at trying not to blow up anything." He smiled while saying that, even though they both knew he wasn't exactly joking.

The look in Hermione's eyes was inquisitive. Unfortunately, Snape chose that moment to turn to glare at the class, so she decided not to say anything. She simply selected the ingredients needed while Harry stood by the cauldron looking like he was lost in thoughts.

As everyone started working, Harry kept his head down, casting sideways glances at the Slytherins. He'd seen the resentful looks some of them were aiming at their professor.

He didn't really believe anyone would be stupid enough to actually attack Snape, but didn't want to risk it. Even Crabbe and Goyle who would be the ones capable of such total lack of judgement seemed to be busying themselves with the potion.

The look on Goyle's face wasn't full of anger. He seemed completely lost.

Harry let Hermione do all the real work, chopping ingredients for her. It was strange. He couldn't concentrate on the assignment. Before the class, he hadn't really thought of worrying because of the Slytherins.

Now, however, he couldn't help thinking about the way some looked at Snape. About the hatred shining in Pansy Parkinson's gaze. About the completely blank expression on Draco Malfoy's face which was clearly a mask used to hide everything.

It was enough to make Harry's skin crawl. So instead of working on the potion, he kept his gaze on the Slytherins, his hand never far from his wand.

The Potions class seemed to last forever. Fortunately the potion was a complex one, occupying everyone for the duration of the whole class. Snape made his usual comments about Neville's incompetence, his glare making Ron shiver as well. Gryffindor lost ten points because of the pinkish slime those two managed to produce. Then ten more because Dean couldn't stop staring at their professor.

At that point no one felt like Snape should be cuddled and hugged and thanked for being such a nice man anymore.

Lavender was the first person to rush out of the classroom when they were finally finished. She was followed by the Slytherins. None of them looked like they wanted to stay in the Potions classroom for a second longer than they had to.

"Let's get something to eat." Hand on Neville's shoulder, Ron muttered the words out loud enough for Harry and Hermione to hear.

Harry nodded absentmindedly. He was hungry, but going to the Great Hall wasn't all that appealing. He wished he could skip dinner and stay in the dungeons.

Staying behind would be noticed, though, and he didn't want to make things any worse than they already were. Snape would probably want to make his presence known in the Great Hall as well, sitting there next to the other teachers, looking like everything was perfectly fine in the world.

During dinner, everyone at the Gryffindor table was talking about Snape. Hermione listened to everything, nodding sagely as the second years reported about their class that morning. Apparently it hadn't gone as well as theirs had. Snape had actually snarled. Made some of the girls -- and a few boys, even though they flat out denied it when asked -- cry. Reduced fifty House points from Gryffindor.

Neville looked a bit relieved at that. After all, it was more than they had managed to lose.

It was generally agreed that no one should try to do anything nice for their Potions master again. None of the efforts were appreciated anyway, so why bother?

Harry smiled at that, hiding the expression behind his spoon. At least his friends had got the message rather easily, and no one was hurt. Except for Lavender, and even with her, it was her feelings, nothing worse.

Everything was going to be all right.

There were vacant seats at the Head Table, both McGonagall and Hooch still staying in the infirmary. Dumbledore was looking his normal self again, talking with the DADA professor while eating, casting knowing looks around the room every once in a while.

Not paying any attention to the Slytherins, Harry finished with his dinner. He looked at Ron as he collected his stuff, wondering what to say to him. Their relationship was still a bit shaky after all the lies of omission he'd been forced to tell.

Ron caught the look and smiled. "See you later then." He was burning with curiosity, but knew asking wouldn't really help. He could deal with this.

Feeling really proud of the way he was treating the situation, he turned back to Seamus, determined not to let him mock the Cannons again.

Harry walked out of the Great Hall, not even bothering to go and take his bag to the dormitory. Better to carry his books with him. At least that way he had a good excuse to visit Snape again.

It wasn't like he needed to go to the dungeons again. But he was a bit worried.

So he headed downstairs.

At the end of the stairs his path was blocked. A big black dog was sitting there, looking like he was waiting for something. He looked intimidating, the glint in his eyes almost menacing.

"Hi Snuffles." Harry managed a casual tone. He was actually amazed he'd been able to postpone the talk this long. "Are you sitting here in hopes of getting your ears scratched by some nice Slytherin, or are you waiting for me?"

A row of yellow teeth were revealed as the dog growled, his lip curling up as a warning.

Sobering up, Harry nodded. "All right. I think we should go to the dormitory for this." He cast a longing look at the dark corridor opening in front of him, and then turned around, going up the stairs. The dog padded right behind him.

There were a few Gryffindors in the common room. They didn't really pay attention to the familiar sight of Harry being followed by professor Lupin's dog. A couple of first years tried to call for Snuffles to be scratched, but he ignored them completely.

"Okay. Here we are." Harry walked to his bed, slipping his bag on the floor, and then sat down.

Snuffles tilted his head, listening for a moment. Satisfied that no one was approaching, he blurred into Sirius again. Instead of looking angry like Harry had assumed, he looked worried. Even a bit hesitant.

He walked to the bed as well, sitting down next to Harry. Both sat in silence for a moment.

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?"

It was a familiar question. Harry smiled and nodded. "Never better."

"Good. Good to hear." There was a brief pause as Sirius obviously wondered what to say next. "Just wondered. Because with all the things that have happened lately I wouldn't be surprised if you were upset."

"Not upset, really. Just annoyed. I really wish this was all over." Harry's gaze was serious. He'd been afraid of the future for so long, but now he just wanted it to be over. Didn't want any more killing.

"So... I talked with Ron earlier, and he said you haven't been around lately. You've been seeing Snape then." Voice a bit too casual, Sirius glanced at his godson. "I mean... You were there yesterday, weren't you? At his place."

Harry wondered why that sounded so strange. As if he was doing something insane. "Yes." He steeled himself against the sermon.

There was none. Sirius looked down at his hands. "Order business?" Now his tone was hopeful.

"Yeah. I needed to talk to him about something... And since he used to be... well, you know, he knows stuff. That I needed to hear. You know?" Harry wasn't sure he got the point of his words either. He didn't want to explain this to Sirius.

Because the truth would be painful, for both of them, and it would open doors neither wanted to be opened. Would reveal things that were best to be left alone. Harry didn't want to burden Sirius with his dark thoughts any more than Sirius wanted to talk about his own pain and suffering.

Sirius pondered about Harry's words for a moment. Then he asked, "Are you sure you can trust him?"

"Yes." The answer came too quickly, and Harry flinched at the way he sounded. It was the truth, but he didn't mean to make it sound like it was something he had spent hours thinking of.

"All right."

They sat there in silence. It was painfully obvious this conversation wasn't over yet. Harry fidgeted as the silence seemed to weigh on him. This was worse than the reaction he'd feared. His godfather usually ranted and raved when angry.

"You... You know you can tell me everything. Right?" Sirius wondered if that was true. "If you ever need to talk about something. You know you can come to me. Or Remus. We're here for you."

Harry nodded, not looking up. He did know that. Knew Sirius would never send him away, would always be there for him. That was why he couldn't tell him about everything; because the man wouldn't shield himself from things that would hurt. He'd take all Harry's pain and try to make things better when nothing ever could.

Maybe if he hadn't spent over a decade losing himself in the darkness, if he was not hiding from the world himself; then Harry could have gone to him. Would have gone to him.

"Harry?"

Looking up, he met Sirius' gaze with a real smile on his face. "I know it, Sirius. I really do." It was funny, but just the fact that he did know that made him feel better. Sirius' concern and love were unconditional. Something that was rare in his world.

Sirius felt relieved to see the smile. His arm went around Harry's shoulder again in a familiar move. As familiar as the way Harry leaned into his half embrace. "You thought I'd be angry because you're..." Realizing that phrase made it sound like his godson was doing something incredibly stupid, he said instead, "Working with Snape."

Even though it wasn't a real question, Harry nodded. "It's pretty obvious what you think of him." After all, he'd never kept his thoughts about this matter secret.

"Yep. I think he's an annoying, vindictive man. He was like that as a boy and I don't think he's changed. At all. He's also nasty, evil, and yes, I know it has nothing to do with his mind, but he's also a disgusting greasy git." Now there was real emotion in Sirius' voice. No, it was definitely not a secret that he didn't like Snape.

Harry didn't interrupt him. None of the things he said was actually wrong. But they weren't all Snape was. He knew he'd never have Sirius or anyone else see what he saw, mainly because no one else would want to see it.

"Still, he did save old Naggy's life." Realizing he'd let the age old nickname slip out, Sirius grinned. "I mean our dear professor McGonagall of course."

It felt good to laugh again. Harry wiped off tears of laughter as he collapsed against his godfather. "I never heard that one before." Ron would love that, though it was best not to mention it to Hermione.

Sirius decided he would tell his godson every single joke about the professors if it made him laugh like that again. It didn't matter Remus would probably kill him when he got to the raunchier ones. Seeing Harry laugh was worth anything.

"That was bad, Sirius." Harry smiled against the man's shoulder. "But I love you anyway."

Funny how easy it had become to say it like that. Casually. As if Sirius wasn't the first living person ever to hear the words from Harry's mouth.

"I love you too, Harry." A bit raspier than he'd intended, but Sirius didn't really mind his voice.

They sat there in silence until sounds of footsteps forced Snuffles to emerge again. Harry could see a question in the dog's eyes, and decided to follow him downstairs to look for Remus Lupin. He didn't want to lose this moment, feeling peaceful and at ease with his godfather.

He could go to the dungeons tomorrow. It wasn't like Snape was going to disappear anywhere.

---

Part 13

Snape was feeling cranky that morning.

Had to be because of the annoying scene at breakfast. There had been an incredible number of owls flying over the tables, bringing letters to the brats with the Gryffindor ghost looping around them, making joyous sounds.

That nearly headless nuisance had always seemed too cheery for a ghost. Still, Snape could understand the reason for such behavior. After all, all the living Gryffindors looked like they might want to join him in his unearthly dance over the tables.

All because of the slim form appearing from the side door and walking slowly to her place next to the Headmaster at the Head Table.

Minerva had looked her usual cool self again. It was a relief. Maybe Snape could now push the images of the ravaged woman away from his mind and try to forget the desperate flight through the corridors of the Malfoy Mansion.

It was apparent his colleague hadn't forgotten any of it. The annoying woman had stopped by his side and smiled at him, briefly touching his arm before gathering her robes tighter around her and moving on, careful not to touch anyone else.

At least she had the sense not to try to hug him. Shuddering at the thought, Snape walked to the corridor leading to his private rooms.

He was relieved he had the morning off. There were no classes scheduled before lunch, and even after the midday meal it would be double Potions for third year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Nothing he couldn't handle in his sleep.

Hurried footsteps from behind him brought Snape out of his thoughts. A shiver going down his spine, he spun around with his wand in hand, coming face to face with a heavily breathing Harry Potter. The boy had the gall to smile at him. "Potter. I see you still haven't grown a survival instinct." Shoving his wand back under his robes, he turned around and continued towards his rooms.

"Sorry." Harry's voice indicated he wasn't really. "Just didn't think I should stand here in the dungeons and yell your name."

Snape didn't say anything, but agreed with the boy. The last thing he needed right now was to have his Slytherins to know he was having Harry Potter in his rooms.

Not that it could really make things any worse. His children were already angry and confused. He understood them perfectly. After all, he had turned their world upside down.

Stepping through the familiar doorway, Harry said, "Hagrid gave us the morning off. The Jarveys are sick, and he didn't think we should be crowding them." He walked towards his chair, deciding against it at the last moment and went to sit on the couch instead. "So we have an assignment to write an essay about the attempt the American wizards made to transport Jarveys across the Atlantic in 1950's."

"One of the most idiotic attempts they ever made." Snape couldn't help commenting on that. Only the Americans would first exterminate a whole race of magical beings and then decide to transport a new breed from across the sea.

Harry nodded, pulling his quill from his bag. "Yes." He sat back with his left ankle raised to rest on his right thigh to give his parchment some support. "It is." With that, he started scribbling.

The look Snape threw at him was a curious one. Instead of asking anything, Snape walked to his desk, looking grimly at the stack of essays lying there.

With luck, he'd manage to grade them during the morning. He wasn't counting on luck, though. After years of teaching, he'd come to the conclusion that either most people were idiots, or Potions was the most difficult subject in the whole world. Since there were as many great Potions masters as there were excellent Charms masters, he had to go with the former. Not that it surprised him, really.

Grabbing his quill, he started reading the essays.

The small room was filled with the sound of two quills scratching on parchment. After his initial comments on the matter, Harry browsed through his Care of Magical Creatures book, looking for references. Hagrid never gave impossible assignments -- unlike someone he could mention -- and it was relatively easy to find information on the Jarvey Transport mess.

Snape couldn't help muttering darkly as he wrote comments on the parchments. He could understand how the long spring term could make first and second years a bit restless, thusly impairing their learning. But the older children really should know better than to write pointless drivel on their essays.

It was disappointing to see that some of the seventh years hadn't obviously started studying for the N.E.W.T.s yet. How on earth were they going to pass the final exams if they couldn't even tell the difference of Manticore juice and Polyjuice?

At least he was certain some of the students were doing what they were supposed to. His Slytherins were too scared to come to his class unprepared. Some of the Ravenclaws were actually up to their House motto. There were even a few Gryffindors who seemed to be preparing themselves for the exams.

Hermione Granger was always reading, sometimes sounding like a walking textbook. Even though she didn't seem to be as totally -- annoyingly -- bookish as she used to, she was still by far the most intelligent student Snape had had in years. Harry was also studying. He knew that for a fact. The boy had spent many hours in the dungeons doing homework and reading.

It seemed that he was not as agitated as he used to be. Snape was glad about it, because it meant there wasn't anything wrong with the boy. He wasn't a real mediwizard. All the things he'd done or said were due to his own experiences with fear and pain.

That was the whole point. The reason why Harry had come to him in the first place.

He wasn't ranting anymore. Actually the rants hadn't lasted for long. After a couple of weeks, he'd stopped pouring out his gloomy thoughts and had talked about things rationally.

Not hiding the pain, but processing it. Discussing things that didn't always deal with Voldemort and the upcoming war.

Snape looked up at the boy, laying the quill down next to the bottle of red ink. Harry had been quieter lately. He wasn't babbling anymore. Last time he'd been in the dungeons, he hadn't really talked about anything special, simply spent time there.

It had to mean something.

"Potter." When the boy looked up from his parchment, Snape asked, "How are you doing?" The familiar line that had started most of their discussions.

Harry smiled. "Fine. This isn't all that difficult." He'd managed to cover most of the events in less than an hour.

The words made Snape roll his eyes. "How nice. I'm always pleased to hear about your academic aspirations." Amazing how the acrebic tones didn't even make Harry flinch. "Is there a reason you don't want to answer my question?"

"No." There was no way Harry would admit he enjoyed the verbal sparring with his professor. "And I'm doing just fine. I really am." He smiled at that. He wasn't lying, even though he could have said that he was a bit worried about Sirius. There was nothing new in that; he was always worried about him when he went on a mission. It was a wonder no one had caught Sirius yet, considering how Pettigrew must have told Voldemort about his Animagus form.

It was probably because of the man holding the leash. Or the fact that instead of being a ragged and starved -looking cur, Snuffles was actually well groomed these days.

Grunting, Snape turned his attention back to the parchment in front of him. He knew he could read Harry's words by now, separating lies from the truth. This sounded real.

No need for him to push. If Harry didn't have anything to say, they didn't need to talk.

Snape blinked at the thought.

The parchment forgotten, he looked up again, eyes squinting. Why was Harry still here if he didn't have anything to talk about? This whole deal had been based on the boy's need to talk, his need to be with someone who wouldn't judge him because of desperate thoughts. If he was indeed feeling better, why was he still coming here?

One way to find out. Snape never shied from asking blunt questions, especially with someone like Potter.

"Why are you here?" Seeing the way Harry blinked at that, he sighed. "I mean today. Why are you here? Surely you could do that homework somewhere else."

It was a bit annoying how his voice didn't hold any of his usual sneer. He didn't sound like he actually minded the boy's presence, but was simply asking.

Harry had hoped Snape wouldn't notice his behavior, or at least mention it. He put the parchment aside, folding his arms over his chest. He really didn't want to be thrown out. "I like it here. It's peaceful." Compared to the common room at least.

"Yes. I know that." After all, peace and quiet were very important to Snape. He reveled in his solitude, choosing a simple, quiet life.

"I... Do you want me to leave? I mean if you do, I will." Feeling his heartbeat elevate, Harry hoped his voice didn't sound as desperate as he felt. He didn't want to leave.

Snape was quiet for a moment, giving the question the thought it deserved. The waves of relief he'd expected were not flooding over him. He wondered what had happened to the resentment he'd always felt towards the boy. The arrogant twerp who had come to Hogwarts to be praised and coddled.

"As long as you don't disturb me, you can stay. For now." Sounding like he didn't really care, Snape shrugged. He didn't mind Harry's presence here.

Harry bit the inside of his lip to prevent himself from smiling brightly. It would be the worst reaction to the sullen words, he was certain of that. "Thank you." Squirming a little, he tried to find a better position on the couch. The essay was finished. Maybe he should read something, like the Arithmancy text. He didn't think Snape would let him stay if he just sat there, not even pretending to be studying.

Concentrating on the grading, Snape went back to muttering dark things about the students. It was actually a good thing for Harry to see how the teachers worked; how much time and effort they wasted on trying to educate brainless children. By the time he was finished with the fourth year Hufflepuffs, his wrist was starting to ache. For once he would like to read an essay that was actually about the potion he'd taught, and not idiotic ramblings.

It made him glance at the clock hanging on the wall. He still had time to do some reading for the afternoon classes before it was lunch time.

Snape stacked the parchments again. Then he grabbed one of his text books and walked to the couch. He'd be spending the whole afternoon sitting on his hard chair behind the desk, or walking around the classroom. Glaring at Harry, he went to sit on the other end of the couch, enjoying the very comfortable seat.

He should probably have the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws work on the Shrinking Solution. Those third years were a bit slow on assuming knowledge, but maybe something that would be useful would motivate them. He knew well that most people used that particular potion instead of shrinking charms to make large things portable.

A hint or two about the possible Hogsmeade weekend in the far future would probably be enough motivation.

Browsing through the book, Snape started reading about the potion, the familiar words making him relax. He could probably brew the potion in his sleep, but since he had nothing better to do right now, he thought he might as well read.

Harry kept his head bowed down, trying very hard to look like he was reading the Arithmancy book. Instead of reading, he kept his gaze on Snape.

The unstable vectors weren't all that interesting, and his mind had started to wander after the first few paragraphs. He thought about last evening and Sirius' words. He wished the man would stay for a while, but knew he and Remus would probably be leaving in a day or two. The Death Eaters were still busy with smuggling dark creatures here, so they would continue the spying operation.

He would miss those two, especially Sirius. His godfather wasn't always the best with words, but he could do wonders with just one hug. It was a warm welcome, something akin to the feeling of home.

No one else could make him feel quite like that. Sirius didn't try to be a parent to him, but he somehow managed to convey protectiveness and care with his touch. Sometimes Harry wondered where he'd learned that. With Molly Weasley it was clearly because of spending over thirty years being a mother. Maybe with Sirius it was an instinct.

Stretching his left leg, Harry suddenly froze and looked up. He'd completely forgotten that Snape had come to sit next to him. Fortunately there was still space between his outstretched leg and Snape.

Harry couldn't really imagine resting his foot on Snape's lap. The man was definitely not a parenting figure who would take that in stride. It was quite probable such a gesture would get him a one way ticket out of the dungeons.

That was the last thing he wanted right now.

He couldn't help staring at Snape. It was strange how often his thoughts had turned to this man lately. He had no idea why. Was it because he'd spent so much time with him, depending on him? He doubted it. After all, he'd stopped doing the psycho routine a long time ago. Now he was staying with the man because he liked him.

Sirius would probably have a fit if he said something like that out loud in his presence. He'd seen him have trouble with the fact that he trusted Snape. Telling him that he didn't simply come to the dungeons to work with someone he trusted, but to spend time with someone he liked would really make Sirius' day.

Upsetting his godfather wasn't exactly something Harry wanted to do.

"What's so funny?"

Harry realized he'd been staring at Snape, lost in thought with a silly smile on his face. He shook his head slightly. "Nothing special." Snape had listened to him talk about Sirius earlier, but it was clear he didn't really enjoy the subject.

Seeing that Harry wasn't about to start talking about whatever he found amusing, Snape grunted and returned his attention to the book.

This easy way of accepting things was one of the reasons Harry liked it in here. Unlike in class, Snape never pushed him. Didn't ask questions he wasn't ready to answer.

It was a bit confusing, but Harry reasoned it was because Snape thought he would talk about things he needed to. Deciphering the sarcastic words had become quite easy. He was quite sure he got most of the things the man said right.

All his yearmates had been befuddled about their Potions master these past few days. None of them could see how someone taking such pleasure in terrorizing them in class could actually do anything good. Harry hadn't even tried to explain it to them. He was certain no one would ever understand Snape's motivations. He wasn't even certain he understood them himself, and he didn't exactly hate the man like most others did.

Here he was again. He realized this was actually bothering him; not hating Snape, seeing him as a person. Harry wondered why he was thinking this. Was this some kind of a reaction to his strange relationship with the man? Was this what he was supposed to feel?

Did this happen to everyone who depended on another person with dark thoughts? He didn't know.

But he knew someone who did.

Looking at the clock, and seeing there was time before they had to leave to lunch, Harry cleared his throat. "I've been meaning to ask you something."

Snape's dark gaze was turned to him immediately. "Yes?" He wasn't certain what the soft timbre in the boy's voice meant. It could be tiredness. At least the way he slumped on the couch, his feet dangerously close to Snape's clean robes, suggested he hadn't been sleeping well last night.

"You said you went through all of this... confusion. You know. Thinking all the bleak thoughts. And that Dumbledore helped you." Not a question. Groundwork for one.

"Yes." If Potter thought this would be a chance to share, he was dead wrong. Snape had no intention on dwelling in things past.

"Did you..." No. Not a good way to ask it. Harry thought for a moment and said instead, "How did you feel about him when you talked to him? When you'd told him all the things you had done or thought or whatever?"

The question made Snape wish he'd never encouraged Harry to talk. He was quiet for a long moment, wondering if he should lie or not. A lie would be so much easier to tell and for the boy to hear, but he deserved the truth. Probably because he had a feeling Potter might want justification for an emotion. "I was grateful." He paused for a moment. "And I hated him. Hated him more than anyone right then."

The lie slipped out instinctively. There had been someone he'd hated even more than Albus back then; himself. That was none of Potter's business.

"I rather thought you might have." Soft words that were almost inaudible.

Harry could well understand that. He doubted it would have been like that if he'd had to go to Dumbledore. More likely, he'd ended up feeling miserable about his own weakness. Snape was a proud man. Of course he would hate that situation, and anyone helping him.

It was probably more complicated than that, though. He'd seen how Snape did things for the Headmaster, how he seemed to hold the man in a high esteem no matter what he said of his way of treating the students. Called him manipulative, but still obeyed the hints the man dropped every now and then. For Albus Dumbledore rarely commanded. He didn't have to.

Snape was still looking at Harry, not trying to dodge his questioning gaze. "It is perfectly normal to hate someone. Even someone you respect." He hoped the boy would never repeat his words to Albus, cursing himself for even saying them out loud.

But he'd realized quite early that sometimes Harry needed to relate to something. Needed him to say a few curt words about how he had shared some of the negative thoughts, as if the fact that he wasn't alone with the emotions gave him the permission to feel them.

Foolish and naive, really, but then again most teenagers were.

"I know." Did he respect Snape? Harry knew that in some things he did, but it didn't come even close to the way the man obviously felt about Dumbledore. It wasn't like that; he didn't revere Snape. "But you know what? I don't hate you."

"Dear Merlin! That really does make me feel so much better. I am touched, Potter." Hiding any hint of genuine pleasure behind dripping sarcasm, Snape rolled his eyes. He never really knew what to expect from this exasperating young man. Honest declaration of not hating him was about the last thing.

Harry grinned. "I knew you would be." He knew it sounded a bit patronizing, but didn't really care.

A glare was all the answer he got.

Not that he'd really expected for anything more. He knew Snape, knew that sometimes you just had to look beyond the glares and sarcasm. To see even more sarcasm, and even darker glares. Snape was definitely not a nice man.

But Harry liked him anyway.

They spent the rest of the morning reading in silence. Harry had things to think about, and he was sure Snape didn't need to hear what he was contemplating. He did smile at him again when leaving for lunch; simply because he knew it would bring out another exasperated sigh.

Snape stayed in his rooms for a few minutes after Harry had left. He needed to compose himself before going to the Great Hall again. Not for the first time, he wished he could simply stay here. The whole world was turning upside down already, and he dreaded what could happen next.

Gryffindors were trying to be nice to him. His own Slytherins were either afraid of him -- well, nothing new there -- or hated him. Unlike Harry Potter, who didn't hate him. Omens of the approaching apocalypse, he was certain.

Gathering his books and the parchment rolls from the table, Snape walked to the Potions classroom to make sure everything was prepared for the classes before heading to lunch.

All his Slytherins were already eating. He felt people stare and met the stares with a cold gaze. It didn't matter what people thought of him. As long as they behaved in class, they could wish him dead for all he cared.

He was concerned about a couple of his students. Gregory Goyle wasn't talking. He just sat there, nibbling his food. His constant shadow seemed worried about him, trying to urge him to drink more of the juice. At least Crabbe could do something right. Instincts probably. He wasn't smart enough to actually think about the situation.

Unlike young Malfoy. Ignoring the hateful glares Parkinson was throwing at him, Snape glanced at the boy. He seemed to be preoccupied by a piece of parchment in front of him, not bothering to even pretend he was eating. It was more worrying than open displays of hatred.

The boy was so much like his father. Cunning and clever. He would not let things rest.

Snape hid his sigh, turning his attention to his food instead. Seeing young people make absolutely wrong choices was always painful. He would never get used to seeing his Slytherins follow the path that led to Voldemort.

Down at the Slytherin table, people were eating in silence. There was no sound of laughter, or even whispered plans.

Some of them simply wanted to eat and then get away from their housemates. The few Muggle-born students would go to the library to study. Even some purebloods would steer away from those who now held murder in their eyes.

None of the House of Salazar were ignorant. Even the stupidest children knew the reality behind the snake -emblems. They knew about You-Know-Who and his cohorts. Could guess where those with powerful parentage went on their holidays. Knew who was the unspoken leader of them all.

The leader, who wasn't talking right now. Wasn't paying any attention to the ones around him.

Draco was staring at the letter in front of him. It had arrived early that day, right when he'd been finishing his breakfast. He'd recognized the eagle owl as soon as it had swept in from the window. It wasn't as if he hadn't been anticipating a letter from his father. Actually, he was surprised it had taken him this long to send him instructions.

Instructions. The word almost brought a smile on his face. Commands was a better word to describe them. Insanity another.

His gaze focused on one phrase. Our lord demands this from us.... Our lord.

It reminded him of the screams he'd heard not long ago. He'd spent the Yuletide at home, back at Malfoy Mansion. It had been an eye opener, his future unfolding slowly in front of his eyes with his housemates there, all his friends and family gathered under the roof to celebrate... Not Muggle Christmas. Not even the older pagan Solstice. But one man.

One horribly disfigured snake of a man. The man all the masked Death Eaters worshipped. The one his father called Master. Whom he himself would one day call that as well, if things went as planned.

Since he and other Slytherins were still under age of consent, they'd been excluded from the main ceremonies. His birthday had still been almost a Solstice away and it was the only thing that had kept him from receiving the Dark Mark right there and then. He'd stayed awake that night, though. The night his father and some of the other Death Eaters had brought the Muggles to the courtyard.

Draco had watched from his window, as the masked figures had toyed with the hapless Muggles. They had been too far for him to really see anything, but he'd heard the screams.

A female voice repeating words over and over, starting with that phrase. Our lord. It was clearly aimed at someone more benign than the Dark Lord. For this one seemed to be up high, forgiving people and giving them things. The Dark Lord never forgot, never forgave. And all his favors came with an awful price to pay.

The words had still echoed inside his head even after her voice had been silenced. It had bothered Draco, and he'd tried to find the whole chant somewhere, looking into Muggle literature when he was certain no one could see him doing that. He'd figured out it was a prayer of some sort.

He'd never found the thing. One had come close, but instead of calling for 'our lord', that one was aimed at 'our father'. It had frozen Draco.

It had filled him with terrible fear.

Because it had made him wonder about his own father. About his real motives, his life. All his life, Draco had seen a proud man with a lot of power. Ever since the return of the Dark Lord, there had been almost nothing of that man left. The glory and the power had simply been a veneer. Inside, Lucius Malfoy was scared.

Now here was this letter. His father writing to him about what their lord -- his lord -- wanted of him. He didn't know about anything anymore, didn't even know if what his father said was true. His father. So wrong like his lord. So wrong in everything.

Draco closed his eyes, unable to look at the letter anymore. What his father wanted him to do was a suicide. To punish professor Snape, and when he was dead, to kill Dumbledore as well. As a grande finale, he was to kidnap Potter after that, as if he'd ever get that far. One try at Dumbledore's life, and he'd be hexed by hundreds of students. His father had to know that, yet he insisted he killed the Headmaster. Right after he dealt with Snape.

It made Draco ill.

His father loved his Master more than he loved his own son. Or feared him. He didn't know. All he did know was he never wanted to become a man like that. He wanted power, wanted to use his pureblood talents to gain a high position in the society. But he wanted to do it with his own name and his own face, not hiding behind a mask like a coward.

Opening his eyes again, he stared at the envelope. A coiled snake was pictured there, the symbol of Slytherin. It made Draco want to cry out in rage. It wasn't supposed to be the sign of all evil. It was supposed to be the sign of loyalty and cunning. Of ties that couldn't be severed.

He stared at the snake, his thoughts repeating inside his head.

There was a way. He had a way to save his hide. Probably even his soul, if he had one. He knew he had no other way out of the dismal mess his life had turned to be. His father had a hold on his life, as pureblood tradition stated. He would be helpless until his eighteenth birthday, and by then, he would either be dead, or standing by his father, wearing a similar mask and a tattoo on his arm.

Draco stared at the snake. The snake seemed to be staring back.

He was moving before he made the conscious decision to get up. Climbing from his seat, he stood there for a moment. The command in the letter had been clear. His father expected him to kill professor Snape and Albus Dumbledore this very day. His father was using him as a tool. His father knew he was sending his only son to his death.

For the glory and gratification of his lord, his Master; whatever the hell Lucius Malfoy wanted to call that sorry excuse of a wizard he groveled in front of. His. Not theirs.

Never Draco's.

Determination filling him, he slipped his hand inside his robes and grabbed his wand. With a fluid motion, he pulled it out. Then he started walking.

The Head Table was so close, he could well see the expressions on the teachers' faces. None of them were paying him attention. He looked from one familiar face to another, staring at professor Sinistra for a moment. He couldn't trust her, didn't know enough of her. So he turned his attention back to where it belonged.

Black hair, pale face. Professor Snape was talking to professor McGonagall, who looked like she really should still be in the hospital wing.

Draco kept his gaze on Snape. He didn't know what to make of the man. He'd known him to be the friend of his father for as long as he'd lived. Snape was a pureblood like him, from one of the old wizarding families, still honoring the traditions unlike the Weasleys who dallied with mudbloods. He was his teacher and the Head of his House. Always there for the Slytherins. Never treating them like filth simply because they'd been sorted to the House of Salazar.

He had also been a Death Eater. Even now, after his betrayal, the Dark Mark had to still be there on his arm. He had followed Draco's father on that path, but unlike Lucius, he'd not stayed on it.

Did that make him disloyal? It depended on the point of view. But to whom was Draco supposed to be loyal? To the Dark Lord? To Lucius Malfoy, the loving father who was sentencing his only son to death? To his own House? Draco didn't know.

He did, however, know that he and Severus Snape were more alike than neither could ever have imagined.

Some of the teachers saw the approaching Slytherin and silenced, staring at the boy. Draco ignored them, continuing on his way. He could hear students mutter his name, "Malfoy" uttered as if it was a curse. Maybe it was.

He didn't know anymore.

Snape seemed to sense that something was going on. He turned his attention from McGonagall, his gaze instinctively going to where the seventh year Gryffindors sat. Then it focused on Draco.

An eerie silence filled the Great Hall. There were those sitting at the Slytherin table who knew what was to come next. They'd received owls from their parents as well, informing them of the revenge the Malfoy family was bestowing on the traitor. Some of the teachers looked worried; Albus Dumbledore's face an unreadable mask.

Looking from the wand Draco was holding to the clear grey gaze, Snape asked, "What is it, Mr. Malfoy?" It was clear he sensed something wasn't right, but apparently he didn't do anything to protect himself.

Draco could hear clatter from behind him as he raised his wand. Footsteps approaching. He ignored that. "Professor Snape. You are the Head of the Slytherin House of which I am a member." Old words, a tradition not evoked for years.

He didn't know why, but it seemed appropriate.

"I am. What do you need of me?" Snape's words were spoken softly, but loud enough for most people to hear them.

He still had a choice. A way to balance the scale in favor of his father and his quest. He could get his name in history as the one making the greatest sacrifice for lord Voldemort. That would make witches and wizards around the world either praise or curse his name. Or he could leave everything he knew behind.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. His eyes blinked. Twice. His hand lowered his wand on the table in front of Snape slowly, as if air had suddenly become heavy. It made a surprisingly loud sound as it hit the white table cloth.

Behind him, the sound of footsteps stopped.

"The House of Malfoy is no longer able to take care of me. Will you grant me the shelter of the Slytherin House and take responsibility over me until I am of age and need a guardian no longer?" How amazing that Draco managed to get it out without choking.

Snape stared into his eyes, the dark depths almost burning. He could see fear and pain and realization of a betrayal far worse than his in the boy's eyes. It amazed him. Draco's eyes had always reminded him of Lucius, but there had never been such emotions in that cold gaze.

No one in the whole hall said a word. Everyone was too shocked to even move. Harry had got up as soon as he'd realized Malfoy was heading towards Snape, but even he just stood there, in the middle of the aisle, his wand in hand.

Waiting.

Strange, how one could look two different boys in the eyes and see his own past. Snape had to swallow as he contemplated Malfoy's words. This was even more painful than looking at Potter, for this could have been him. Should have been him. There was no way to undo the things he'd done, but he could do this, could make sure at least one of his Slytherins had a future.

If the boy was sincere. If he wasn't working under imperius. He wasn't an idiot. Not even the symbolic gesture of laying down his wand in front of him made Snape trust a Malfoy. He'd never make that mistake again. Keeping his gaze on the boy's, he put his hand on top of the wand.

"I will grant you shelter in the Slytherin House," Snape said quietly. "And offer you the protection of the Snape House as well, if you would have me as your legal guardian."

Relief flooded over Draco. His knees almost buckled as he nodded. Snape did understand, knew what he meant and had responded in the ages old words as only a pureblood could. "Yes. Please. Thank you, sir." It was over.

All the doubts and the self loathing was finally over. Of course his life could well be over soon as well, for he no longer had the protection of his father.

The next owls coming to his housemates would probably carry his death sentence, but he couldn't find the strength to care. For this glorious moment everything was all right. He was going to relish the feeling as long as he could.

Not knowing where to go, Draco stood there, staring at his professor. Even with the protection that had been offered, he couldn't simply walk back to the table and sit there with his housemates. It was ironic. He was more Slytherin than ever, but couldn't stay with the other Slytherins. He knew too much. As soon as his father heard of what he'd done, he'd see to it that he would not reveal anything to anyone who might use the information against the Dark Lord.

"Mr. Malfoy." Placing his utensils on the plate, Snape sighed. He was finished with his meal anyway. The peace he'd felt the whole morning was now gone. He suspected it would not return for some time. "You'd better come with me."

With that, he got up and headed towards the side door. Draco followed him meekly, refusing to pay any attention to the murmurs that had already begun.

Albus Dumbledore watched the two Slytherins walk out of the Great Hall, smiling mysteriously.

---

Part 14

The tension filling Harry was a familiar one. It had followed him these last few days, his constant companion.

He'd thought the weekend had been bad; worrying about the people he cared for, not being able to do anything to help had been pure hell. Paling every lonely night spent in the cupboard under the stairs.

Compared to the scare he'd had at dinner, those worries now felt insignificant.

"You think Malfoy was serious?" Panting the words out as he scrambled up the stairs in near run after his friends, Ron voiced the thought filling everyone's mind.

Hermione shrugged. She had no idea. "I really don't know. It seems like an obvious trap, but we must consider the reactions of the other Slytherins as well. They're not that good actors." The horror on Pansy's face hadn't been faked. She'd seemed completely shocked.

Harry didn't say anything, he just hurried up the stairs, heading towards the corridor where the familiar gargoyle was.

The day had started out well, even with just the few hours of sleep he'd caught after Sirius had finished with his stories and ushered him to bed.

Thanks to Ron and Seamus' loud bickering, he'd been woken up even earlier than usual. Since he hadn't really felt sleepy, he'd joined his friends at breakfast. Feeling energized, he'd followed his friends to Hagrid's hut only to hear that the classes were cancelled.

With hours of relatively free time, he'd headed towards the dungeons.

It had been a good decision, and he'd enjoyed his stay with Snape as usual. Going to the dungeons to work on his homework had been the best option for the day; everyone was busy with studying so no one would really miss him. Even Ron had seemed to be immersed in his Arithmancy book.

Harry muttered out the password and then rode up the turning staircase with Ron and Hermione right behind him. Maybe he shouldn't have been so pleased with the way things were going with him and Snape. Seeing Malfoy walk to the man with his wand drawn had definitely felt like every other nasty surprise the universe had thrown at him.

Reminding him of the wonder of hearing he was a part of a world that had nothing to do with wearing torn clothes that didn't fit and being treated like dirt, followed by the explanations of Voldemort. Finding the one person who really loved him and wanted to take him to live with him only to have that yanked away a moment later as the full moon came from behind the clouds and Sirius' chances to have his name cleared disappeared.

Cramming the thoughts of unfairness somewhere to the back of his mind, Harry stepped into the Headmaster's office.

Most of the Order members who had stayed at the castle were already there. The three Gryffindors joined the small crowd around a chair on which Draco Malfoy was sitting facing Dumbledore.

Snape was standing at the boy's side, holding a small vial in his hands. His eyes were a mystery as he watched the scene before him.

The expressions on other Order members ranged from appalled to disgusted. Seeing Harry approach, Sirius gestured him to join him and Lupin by the wall, looking a bit pale.

"What did we miss?" Whispering the words, Harry leaned closer to his godfather. The commotion on the Great Hall had prevented them from following Dumbledore immediately after lunch.

"Snape gave the boy Veritaserum." Sirius kept his gaze on the Headmaster. "Then everyone started asking questions all at once, and the poor kid looked like his head was going to explode." In their haste, they had forgot how compelling the truth serum could be, forcing the wizard to give all his information at once.

A smile appeared on Ron's face at the thought. "I'm sorry I missed that." He grimaced at the anticipated jab to the ribs, and didn't even bother to look apologetic even though Hermione would expect that.

Harry ignored Ron's muttered words and kept his gaze on Malfoy. There was a blank look on his face as he answered Dumbledore's questions with slow, precise sentences.

"All right." Nodding, Dumbledore leaned forward a little. "Have you told us all you know about Voldemort's plan? All the details. Both those told to you and those you managed to overhear."

That certainly made Harry perk up. What had he missed? What had Malfoy told to the others? He wasn't completely certain he wanted to know.

Draco nodded. "I have told you everything I know about the plans." He paused for a moment and then added, "But I also suspect that Voldemort," the name came out without difficulty, "will use any means necessary to avenge this deception. Mine and professor Snape's. He will not lose his focus on the plan, but will definitely have someone come after us as well."

There were stunned exclamations at that. Sirius and Remus exchanged worried glances, but didn't say anything.

Snape didn't even flinch. He had expected nothing less.

"We must be prepared for anything. Filius, you should go back to the class. Keep an eye on the Slytherins and don't let them go wandering around the castle until the classes are finished. Esme, I believe it's time the rest of the seventh years are brought up to date on the situation. Everyone else, go back to whatever you were doing." His voice holding a dismissal, Dumbledore looked up.

There was steel behind that command, so no one dared to object being sent away. People were still murmuring about the revelation as they filed out of the room.

Speaking softly, Dumbledore added, "Sirius and Remus. Stay." He completely ignored the smirk that flashed on Sirius' face. Nodding at Minerva's questioning look, he turned his attention to the three youngsters standing by the wall. "Harry, you and your friends should stay as well."

Harry hadn't made any move towards the door. He felt Hermione and Ron inch a little closer to him, offering silent support. This was it. He'd finally know what was the great plan the Dark Lord would use to bring him down.

When the door slammed shut behind professor Sprout, leaving only the chosen few in the Headmaster's office, Harry and the others took seats. Snape was the only one remaining standing. He kept his gaze on the blond boy sitting next to him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Harry, before you arrived, Mr. Malfoy here explained to us all he knows about Voldemort's plans. It seems that we have been wrong all along." He paused to allow some shocked exclamations to echo in the room. Then he went on. "Apparently, he will not try to kill you at the end of the school year. Or attack Hogwarts."

Harry didn't know whether to be worried or relieved by that. At least the school would be safe now. On the other hand, the Headmaster's expression suggested something bad was still coming.

"Do you know about the ancient cycle of the year?" It was a discreet way to ask the boy if he'd actually been awake in the class the day professor Binns had explained the ages old concept. Seeing Harry nod, Dumbledore said, "Good. It seems Voldemort is holding certain dates important. Your birthday this year is one of those."

"When I'll be eighteen," Harry mused out loud. He didn't know there was a significance with that age. After all, he'd been told all about the two biggest things defining a young wizard's life. His sixteenth birthday that marked the end of his childhood and made him approachable by all the innumerable people who were enthusiastic about getting closer to him. Closer to the famous Harry Potter.

Ron had joked about the whole thing, calling him a lucky bugger.

He hadn't shared the view with his friend. It was hard enough to dodge the ones trying to get his autograph. It was twice that hard to dodge those wanting to get into his pants.

The other big day would be when he'd attend his Leaving Feast. A huge signpost in the life of a wizard or a witch. This was the day he was considered to become an adult.

"Yes. Some wizards still hold the day significant. Mostly the pureblood families." It was the first thing Snape said since he'd led Malfoy here. "Our traditions are about power and who wields it. Those under eighteen are seen to be under the rule of the Head of their family."

It was obvious where he was pointing at with that.

Dumbledore nodded. "It is Voldemort's plan to kill you the next day, when the summer starts to wane. When you're a man in the eyes of the tradition." This time he didn't pause to give anyone a chance to make comments. "I believe his initial plan was to make you do something rash and go looking for trouble by destroying people important to us. And to you personally. That way you would have put yourself to Voldemort's hands. After Minerva's death, the Death Eaters would have targeted Hagrid."

"Fuck!"

Everyone turned to look at Ron, who blushed under the scrutiny. He lowered his gaze to the floor, unable to meet McGonagall's stern glare as he muttered his apologies. "Um... Sorry about that."

Since it was more or less the sentiment everyone shared, no one cared to comment on his choice of words.

"Severus here ruined that plan, though." Hiding the smile that made his eyes twinkle, Dumbledore looked at the Potions master who refused to look back at him. "That brings us to young Mr. Malfoy."

Harry turned to look at the boy he'd spent years hating. "Did they give you some orders?" It was a nice yes or no question a person under the influence of the Veritaserum would find easy to answer. After a nod, he asked, "What were you supposed to do?"

"My father ordered me to kill professor Snape because of his treachery." Draco showed no signs of emotion as he spoke the words out. "Then I was supposed to kill the Headmaster. If possible, you were to be taken to my father's Master after that. Either by me or some of the other Death Eater children."

That brought a stunned silence to the room. Minerva McGonagall almost hissed with anger at that. She was still sore all over, only her stubbborness keeping her away from the infirmary. Somehow she could understand what had happened to her. She remembered the two familiarly gigantic forms grabbing her outside the Three Broomsticks, knowing well she saw the progeny of those Death Eaters at school every day.

It was different for the adults to wage war. It was insane, but at least most people were able to make their own decisions, even when those decisions were dismal. To force a child to do terrible things was different. It was disgusting.

She was certain the next time she came face to face with Lucius Malfoy, she would happily hex him with the deadliest of curses. Not only for what he had done to her, but for what that arrogant bastard was doing to his own child.

To other children as well.

Hermione frowned. "But they are still here. Crabbe and Goyle and all the others. What will happen next? I mean, you didn't do any of the things you were supposed to do."

"They will undoubtedly be told to kill me." Some of the familiar smirk was on Malfoy's face, as if he found the whole thing amusing. "Then they will do what I was ordered to do. Vince and Greg and Pansy and those black haired Ravenclaw twins and all the others who'll be following Voldemort will obey without hesitation."

"Why didn't you? Why didn't you just kill Snape and professor Dumbledore and then try to take me away?" Harry couldn't help asking that. He'd heard the crap Malfoy had sprouted from day one. Could still remember the exultant crows he made when they'd found the victims of the Basilisk. There were dozens of similar memories.

He didn't know what had brought Snape back from the darkness those years ago. He had theories, but nothing solid. Snape would never answer him if he asked, but Malfoy would. He would tell him everything now.

Resentment shone in Draco's eyes as he said, "Because I do not want to become Voldemort's slave, Potter. He is a madman and anyone who follows him is insane. I never want to become like that. Like my father."

That's noble, Ron thought with a sneer. He didn't say it out loud. Didn't want to be the object of another stern glare.

"He is telling the truth. The serum is still potent and I did brew it myself." Snape cast a brief look at the vial.

"Yes." With a slow nod, Dumbledore surveyed the young Slytherin sitting in front of him. He saw anger and pain and fear in the grey eyes, but none of the desperation. It was a blessing. At least with this one, there would be no years of self flagellation and remorse. "Thank you Mr. Malfoy."

Draco nodded, sitting still. He would wait for Snape to tell him what to do next.

"We seem to have a problem on our hands. Severus, I believe it's best if you and the boy go into hiding somewhere. We can not throw a large number of students out of the school, especially now, but we can't risk having you two here either." Dumbledore raised his hand to silence any objections. "Just for the rest of the school year. You know it's for the best."

"What about you? This isn't simply about Malfoy and I; they are targeting you and Potter as well."

The Headmaster sighed. "I can take care of myself. No one will be able to harm me inside Hogwarts." He would not explain it more. "But you are right about Harry. We will have to do something about him as well."

Hearing Dumbledore order Snape to leave had frozen Harry. It couldn't happen again! He'd just got over worrying about the man and now he was going to be sent away for who knew how long. It would make the rest of the school term unbearable.

He knew he probably shouldn't worry about Snape, but if the man went away to some unknown place with Death Eaters looking for him, he would spend hours worrying and wondering. He'd have nightmares about Voldemort torturing Snape, about the man dying. And he would miss him terribly. Miss all the times he'd spent in the dungeons talking to him, or just being with him.

Earlier, in the Great Hall, he'd really thought Snape's life had been in danger. He hadn't thought of throwing the good old expelliarmus at Malfoy's back. No. He'd been completely prepared to use whatever means necessary to stop the Slytherin from harming Snape.

It bothered him a little. Using the Unforgivables was not only illegal, it was also immoral. He had been forced to use them two years ago when a friend's life had been in danger, but even when he had actually said the two words he hated above all else, he hadn't experienced such anger as he'd felt today.

After a scare like that, watching Snape leave would be impossible.

Squeezing his hands to fists, he fidgeted in the chair. The truth was, he would miss Snape because he liked the man. There had to be a way to prevent this whole thing. Except he was really in danger, and would be safer away from Hogwarts. Staying would be idiotic, and whatever else Snape might be, that wasn't one of his traits.

Then it hit him. It was so simple it almost made him laugh. "I think I should probably go with them. Into hiding." He even managed to make it sound as if he wasn't all that enthusiastic about the whole thing.

"No way in hell!" The yell came from Ron and Sirius at the same time, both jumping to their feet and glaring at Harry.

"What an excellent suggestion." Ignoring the loud protests, Dumbledore nodded at Harry. He'd been confident the boy would figure it out himself. "I know just the place where you, Severus and Mr. Malfoy can stay." He was already thinking about the small cottage not far from here. Voldemort would never suspect the place; it was too close, too open. Not a real hiding place and as such perfect for the moment.

Sirius muttered dark words that made McGonagall glare again. Ron on the other hand was panicking. He couldn't let Harry go to some dismal dungeon all alone with two damn Slytherins!

He'd been in the dark for so long, never really knowing what was going on with his friend. It would be impossible to abandon Harry now that he probably needed him the most. "Then I'm going with him!" he challenged.

It was probably a good thing Draco was still under the influence of the truth potion. He was feeling a bit sluggish, and didn't get really annoyed by the words or the familiar tone.

"And so am I." Growling it out, Sirius stared at the Headmaster.

The whole scene was making Dumbledore sigh with exasperation. "All right. Everyone sit down." He waited for a moment. Then repeated it, sounding a little miffed. "Sirius. Sit!"

Since he was hardly ever angry, his command was obeyed immediately. Even Snape left his post by Malfoy's side and went to sit on the couch.

"Now, I want you all to listen. I agree with Harry, he has to leave as well. His life is not safe here anymore, and I can not risk all the students. If some of the children try to attack him, there will be a war inside these walls. I will not have that." It had been close a couple of times during the centuries, but no war had ever divided the students of Hogwarts before. Not until this Dark Lord who wasn't hesitating to use children to do his dirty work.

Harry wasn't letting himself feel relief yet.

Dumbledore turned to look at Ron. "I understand your concern for your friend, but are you sure you really want to leave Hogwarts? Your life will be in more danger out there than it is here, for I can not guarantee your complete safety." There was nowhere they'd ever be completely safe until Voldemort was defeated.

"I'm sure. Please, sir! You can't expect me to stay here when he's in danger." Ron didn't often beg; his pride didn't allow it. Now he was ready to do anything to be able to go. "I can make this decision. Weasleys are pureblood as well, and even though we don't give a rat's a.. um... we don't follow the stupid traditions, I am eighteen now, and can decide for myself."

"I don't think your mum would like you to do this." There was doubt in Harry's voice. He didn't know which would be safer, to go away with him or to stay here and face possible Death Eater attacks.

Ron shook his head vigorously. "It doesn't matter." He was damned if he was going to let his friend go through with this all alone.

After a moment of contemplation, Dumbledore nodded. "All right. You can go." He cast a look at Sirius. "You and Remus have a mission."

"But..." Sirius saw the slight shake of the Headmaster's head. "I have to..." He turned to Remus for support. The way his friend looked down made him want to break things.

Remus was quiet as he said, "Albus is right. We have work to do, and we can't just abandon it now. Harry will be safe with Severus." He looked at his old colleague, his amber eyes shining with some disguised emotion.

"I'd like to go as well." Hermione's soft voice drew everyone's attention to her. She hadn't said a word since the whole argument had started. Fingering the badge on her robe, she shrugged. "But I can't leave Hogwarts. Terry can't do the job alone, and people depend on me." She'd always taken her duty as the Head Girl seriously.

Her gaze was apologetic as it met with Harry's. Seeing the understanding in the green eyes made her feel slightly better. Yes. Harry knew all about duty.

Sirius bit his lip hard, his shoulders slumping. He absolutely hated this.

"So... Where will we go and how?" Harry didn't want there to be another silence. "Are we going to leave today?" He was pretty sure that the answer would be yes.

Dumbledore cast one last look at Sirius. "Yes. I believe it's best if no one knows where you'll be going. I will make a suggestion to you Severus, and then you can obliviate me if you think it's prudent." Of course it was probable the charm would not work on him. It was a nice gesture nevertheless. "You'll be staying there for the rest of the school term, so we'd better make it so that no one will be able to contact you, and that you won't be able to leave before the time's up."

That made Minerva, Snape and Remus Lupin raise eyebrows, the identical expressions on their faces almost comical. With those kinds of wards, the place used as a hideaway would be a complete secret, but it was extremely dangerous. What if one of them got sick or injured himself? What if someone did find them? There would be no way for them to go and get help.

"Do we need... Secret Keepers?"

Harry's question made Sirius flinch; reminding him of a similar moment almost twenty years ago. It had been the beginning of the end. He didn't want history to repeat itself.

"No." Dumbledore shook his head. This would be even more complicated. Also easier in a way. After all, there wasn't a small baby to be thought of. All four were grown wizards, they could take care of themselves. "No Secret Keepers."

There were sighs of relief all around the room. Snape didn't make a sound, but was glad anyway. He didn't know he trusted anyone outside this room -- and not everyone inside it either -- with his most rudimentary potions book not to mention his life.

"You should go and pack. Mr. Malfoy, I'll ask professor Sinistra to pack your things for you and bring your trunk here." Then the Headmaster would see to it that there was nothing dangerous in the trunk. Just as a precaution. "We'll meet back here in an hour."

Dumbledore's words sounded final.

Padding down the stairs, Harry kept his gaze on Sirius. He knew how his godfather had to feel right now, knew how big a thing keeping him safe was to him.

The whole thought of having Sirius anywhere near Snape for a long time was ridiculous. It was best this way. Dumbledore would do everything to have him, Ron, Malfoy and Snape safe. Sirius would have to be satisfied with that.

Knowing there was something he had to say, he touched Sirius' arm as they reached the hallway. He waited until the man turned to face him before saying quietly, "You do know that if we had performed the Fidelius, I would have asked for you to be our Secret Keeper." He saw the dark eyes widen with surprise. "I trust you, Sirius. You would have been the right choice."

Sirius let out a sob and hugged his godson tight. To have Harry say it like that washed some of the old pain away, leaving him shaking. "Thank you." He felt Harry hug him back just as tightly. Then, before he could really embarrass himself in front of the others -- especially Snape of all people -- he let go and let the familiar transformation wash over himself.

It was easier to keep intense and complex feelings at bay in the Animagus form. A dog did not know regret or doubts or old wounds that were still festering inside his mind. That simplicity helped now and Snuffles was able to pad towards the Gryffindor tower without falling apart.

"Try to be careful out here." Following the group of Gryffindors to the staircases, Snape looked at Harry, still amused by the idiocy he'd sprouted a moment ago. Well, if that made Black feel better and stop pestering everyone... "I know my Slytherins. They may be in shock now, but sooner or later they'll regroup and try something stupid. After all, they are all teenagers."

Harry nodded. "I'll be careful. You watch your back too." With that, he jumped on the stairs that were leaving the platform.

It didn't take the whole hour. The dormitory had been empty, everyone was in class. Both Ron and Harry had packed in silence, neither wanting to talk while Sirius and Remus were there, fussing with their belongings. Since they had no idea where they were going, they packed everything. It wasn't much. Harry didn't have a lot of stuff, only his clothes and books and a couple of mementoes. Ron had even less.

When the trunks were packed, they carried them back to the Headmaster's. Harry wasn't sure why they weren't flooing straight to the office until he saw one of the fourth year Hufflepuffs stare at them with her eyes wide open as she rode a staircase leading to the third floor. The whole school would probably hear about them leaving in less than an hour.

This way, everyone at Hogwarts would be safe. No need to start a war if the enemy wasn't even there.

It was probably what Dumbledore wanted with the very pompous farewells too. He and McGonagall escorted the small party outside, lingering in the hallway long enough to get the attention of anyone passing by. Then the doors were opened to show a small carriage waiting.

Snape and Remus loaded the trunks up to the carriage while Snuffles stood by Harry, obviously trying very hard not to whimper or bite anyone. Ron was trying not to stare at Draco Malfoy who was huddled in the corner of the carriage, looking slightly nauseous.

Everything felt miserable. Even the weather was dismal, the air cool and misty. It would probably rain again soon.

All in all, not a very good start for their journey.

"Don't do anything stupid!" Her voice trembling, Hermione hugged Ron. She knew her friend, especially when Malfoy was concerned.

Ron shook his head. "Of course not." He tried to make it sound light, to make this whole thing easier, but he didn't think it worked out all that well. For once, Hermione made no comments about that. She simply hugged him again, and went to hug Harry next.

Looking a bit sheepish, Ron handed professor McGonagall a small piece of parchment. "Would you please send this to my mum? I would contact her now, but... She'd just yell."

"Indeed." Accepting the letter, McGonagall couldn't help thinking how she'd feel to simply receive such a note. "I will floo into the Burrow later today, Mr. Weasley, if you have no objections."

It was clear from the relieved smile that Ron didn't have any objections to that.

Once the carriage was loaded, Ron and Harry joined Malfoy inside. Neither said anything to the Slytherin. Snape lingered with Dumbledore for a moment longer before nodding. He took the reins then and climbed on board as well.

Without words, Snape flexed the reins and the carriage started moving.

Feeling definitely more awkward here than in Mr. Weasley's new green Ford Anglia, Harry kept looking back at the castle. Ron was following his example, waving at the five people standing there.

It looked strange. McGonagall and Dumbledore standing by the door, almost hidden in shadows. The Headmaster was waving back. A few steps farther outside, Remus was looking at the departing carriage, his hand moving slowly down Snuffles' back offering comfort and support.

Hermione stood alone, her robes billowing around her in the wind. She seemed devastated, barely able to conceal her tears as her friends got farther and farther away.

Soon they'd be gone, and she'd go to the Arithmancy class and act like nothing was wrong.

Hopefully later on, she would manage to sneak back to the dormitory before dinner. If she was lucky, she'd get some time alone before someone needed her help.

Inside the carriage, Harry turned to sit properly, sighing as Ron joined him a moment later. "Is it just me, or does this seem really crazy?" Seeing the crooked smile, he added, "I mean, we're supposed to be in the Arithmancy class. Not here, going off on some kind of a deranged field trip." Remembering one of the art books his aunt had kept on the living room table occasionally in case she needed to impress an important guest, he added, "Life just became one huge Dali painting."

"What's a Dali?" Asking absentmindedly, Ron didn't really listen to the explanation. Some Muggle thing of course. There was something bothering him. Everything had happened too soon. Harry was right. They should be in class or studying for the N.E.W.T.s or...

"Oh bugger it!" He hid his face in his hands, moaning out as the small carriage disappeared into the mist. "I can't believe I did all that studying for nothing!"

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The end of book two.