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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The railway terminus of Greater Cokeworth was small and uninspiring. It consisted of a concrete island between the two railway tracks, a small under-cover enclave and a kiosk, from behind which a bored looking woman dispensed tickets to a queue of waiting commuters.

The passenger at the head of the queue was a young man. His dark hair was slightly longer than the fashions of the time, reaching well past his shoulders. His clothes also had a slight hint of the unorthodox (or perhaps it was merely shabbiness). The coat was too old-fashioned, and the soles of his shoes were peeling away from the uppers. He seemed to be having trouble paying for his train fare, for he stared at the pile of coins in his hand with a slight narrowing of the eyes that implied confusion.

If anyone of the other passengers had taken an interest, they might have wondered about the strange, scowling boy. But they didn't take an interest, and for that the young man was grateful. At sixteen, Severus Snape's one aim in life was to be left alone.

He'd only caught the Muggle train once before, and he found it as confusing now as he had then. The woman selling tickets gave him a suspicious look as he pushed the pile of coins towards her. Severus glared back, and accepted his ticket in resentful silence.

He waited for perhaps ten minutes before the train arrived, amongst the shuffling Muggle passengers. They were like cattle, he thought, content to be herded this way and that. He grinned at his joke, but had no-one to share it with.

The train was crowded, but Severus spied a free pair of seats and headed for them. He slipped into the seat quietly, so as not to disturb the Muggle on the opposite side of the Formica table. The man was hidden behind his newspaper, and showed no sign that he had noticed Severus sit down. Severus could just make out the green-brown cuff of his suit.

Severus hunched his shoulders and pulled out his book. It was an old textbook of his mother's that he'd found in the attic. It would take around forty-five minutes to get to London. After that, it would be around an hour's walk to the Leaky Cauldron... unless he caught the underground Muggle train. But Severus didn't know how those trains worked. Would he have enough money? He would have to talk to strangers, and ask Muggles for help. It was better if he walked, even if it took twice as long.

Severus was roused from his reverie by the man across from him, who gave a deep-felt sigh and let his newspaper fall with a rustle.

What followed was a very strange and awkward moment. It seemed to last a very long time, though in retrospect Severus knew that only a few seconds could have passed.

The man, for his part, gaped at him as though he had seen a ghost. He looked both terrified and dumbfounded. "What-" he said. "How-"

Severus, for his part, was realising why no-one else had sat here, on the otherwise crowded train. The left-hand side of the stranger's face appeared perfectly normal. The only slight peculiarity was the gold-rimmed monocle affixed to his eye. He had shaggy, greying hair, which clashed with his neatly trimmed auburn beard and sideburns.

But the rest of his face... On the right-hand side, the man's skin was shiny and crinkled, like a balloon. He had no eyebrow or eyelashes on that side, and his eye – his right eye – was milky-white, and stared blankly at nothing. A curse scar, thought Severus, stupidly, before remembering that the man was a Muggle.

Severus realised he'd been staring, and flicked his eyes downwards. Had he already looked too long?

The man was speaking now, and Severus twisted his book in his hands in awkward embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," the man said. "You startled me."

Severus didn't want to talk to him, so he mumbled something, and pretended to be reading. He let his hair fall forward, so it would hide his face. The only person whom he had ever liked talking to was no longer speaking to him, and he loathed idle conversation, especially with strangers. He rubbed his left forearm absent-mindedly. As the train clattered on through Essex, he sneaked glances at the man though the curtain of his hair. He had the strangest feeling that the man was sneaking glances back at him, though he never caught him at it. He resolved to leave the train quickly when he arrived in London, and hoped the man would get off before that.

The rest of the journey was largely uneventful, except for when a smiling, overweight Muggle woman came stomping down the aisle to check their tickets. The man across from him greeted her warmly, and offered her his ticket while engaging in the usual bantering small talk that Severus had never gotten the hang of. Severus could tell that the ticket inspector was disturbed by the man's deformity, and he despised her for it.

"And your son?" she asked, her bright manner unshaken. Severus realised she meant him.

"I'm not his son," he said, deeply insulted. He thrust her ticket at her, and her smile flickered and died.

Upon arrival at Liverpool Street Station, he did indeed leave the train as quickly as possible. Something about the whole experience had put his teeth on edge, and he wanted to put the train and the strange man behind him. He walked briskly through London, but try as he might, he couldn't shake his slight feeling of unease. The back of his neck was prickling, and he was glad when he finally arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, forty-five minutes later.

He changed into wizard's robes in the bathroom of the pub, and felt more comfortable for doing it. Though his robes were patched and battered, he liked that they hid his body so completely. He would have happily worn them all the time, except that he couldn't bear to endure the stares and whispers that would have surely dogged him from Cokeworth if he had left his home wearing a full set of wizard's robes.

With his shoulders hunched and his head low, he crossed the portal that separated Muggle and wizarding London.

Severus headed for Gringott's first. He had scavenged a ten pound note from his father's wallet, but he doubted that it would be sufficient for the supplies he needed. He could have possibly taken more, but his father might have noticed, and asked questions.

Since the departure of his mother, ten months previously, their small household had deteriorated alarmingly. He had spoken only a handful of words to his father over the summer, and was glad to be returning to school. He was already scraping the back of the cupboards to find something to eat, and that morning, several angry-looking red envelopes had been pushed through the letterbox.

He was thinking about that as he presented the note at the counter, pressing it flat. The goblin eyed him suspiciously. Severus glared back.

After examining the note against the light, the goblin presented him with a single galleon, and a handful of silver and bronze coins. He felt eyes on the back of his neck, and knew that he was being judged. His clothes were tattered and slightly damp, and his hair stuck together in greasy strands. He'd washed it only yesterday, but already it had returned to its usual oily state.

Severus walked quickly back past the brightly painted, cheerful shops of Diagon Alley. There was a crowd in the pre-school rush to get supplies, such that it was almost a relief to turn into the quieter streets of Knockturn. There were fewer people here, and everyone minded their own business.

He stopped first at the apothecary. It was essential that he replenish his stores, but he knew that he could find most of the ingredients for half price at this down-market shop. They were of the same quality as those sold in Diagon, if one was prepared to overlook their questionable origin.

Severus visited the bookshop next. It was one of his favourite places. The wrinkled squib who owned it always seemed supremely unconcerned by his grouchy manner, and secretly, Severus was grateful. The owner read through his book-list, before weaving his way through the stacks.

"I have the third edition. It'd be two decades out of date by now, mind you, but..." The old man's face creased into a smile. "The subject doesn't change that much, my boy."

Severus hoped that it was true. His books never properly matched the official syllabus, often leaving him scrambling to find the correct page for homework in his mismatched edition.

Despite this, Severus felt pride in his books. He felt that his worn, pre-studied copies were superior to the freshly-minted tomes his classmates would be reading from. Of course, that wouldn't stop Them noticing, and commenting on it, but that couldn't be helped.

After five minutes of haggling, he bought his entire book-list for eight sickles. The owner had thrown in a battered Muggle textbook as well, which was titled Trigonometry. He put it on the bottom of the pile, so no-one would see it as he walked back through the wizarding streets.

This had left no money for new robes. Severus thought about that as he trudged back to the main road. He hadn't grown much over the summer. Perhaps he could patch the ones he already had.

Severus was passing Borgin and Burkes when he became aware that someone was following him. He realised that he had felt his pursuer for some time, but had only now registered his presence on a conscious level. He didn't turn to look – that would have given the game away. Without altering his pace, he wandered casually over to one of the narrow alleys that branched off the main road. As soon as he was in the shadow of the alley, he broke into a run.

He didn't know why the man was following him, and had no interest hanging around to find out. Severus felt more confident in himself after what had happened last month, but he still wasn't keen on meeting a potential adversary in one of the dodgier streets of wizarding London. He wasn't even supposed to do magic. He pushed past a toothless, babbling old woman who tried to grab his coat, skidding around a corner and -

- ran straight into a trip jinx. He fell heavily, his books and potion ingredients skidding over the dirty cobbles. His wand slipped from his fingers, clattering away across the cold stone. He could hear laughter, and he scrambled for his wand, but it was dark and he couldn't see it. He looked up, instead, his heart beating fast.

There were four men gathered lazily around the back door of a shop. One was sitting on the stoop, and the rest were leaning against the wall. They appeared to be drinking from a single steaming flask. The largest picked up something from the ground.

"Looking for this?"

Severus reached for his wand, and the man held it out of his reach. "Nu-uh. What might you be doing down here, sonny-jim?"

He flushed. They were teasing him, but they probably wouldn't hurt him. Probably.

"I took a wrong turn," he said. "Can I please have my wand back?"

They all laughed again. "Sit with us," said the smaller one. He was missing both his front teeth. "Have a drink."

Severus felt completely out of his element. Their manner reminded him of Black and Potter, teasing him. He didn't understand the game they were playing, or what he was expected to do.

One of them picked up the Muggle textbook. It had skidded out of his bag onto the filthy ground. "What's this?" Severus felt his heart skip a beat. This could get bad…

There was a cough from behind him. It was such a pointed, powerful cough that Severus immediately spun around to see who had made the noise, even though that put the other four enemies at his back.

It was the man from the train. Severus stared, open mouthed. He couldn't have been more surprised, but it was definitely the same man. That scar was too unique. He even wore the same battered, three piece suit, although it was rendered somewhat incongruous by the wand clutched firmly in his right hand.

Severus's head flicked from the man, back to four drinkers.

"My apologies, gentlemen. My young friend merely took a wrong turn." Severus saw the flick of a wand out of the corner of his eye, and his belongings flew back towards him. Severus caught the books and package under one arm, and his wand with the other. "Right. We'll be going." An iron grip encircled Severus's arm. He resisted for a moment, before letting the stranger drag him from the alley. He thought the drinkers would protest, but they merely leered at him in silence.

Severus felt betrayed by his body, which had begun to tremble. He felt unable to speak. His mind was filled with unpleasant adn frightening thoughts. He had a vague idea of what strange men did to teenage boys behind Knockturn Alley, and he clutched his wand tightly in his left hand, his heart beating fast. Could he make a run for it?

But the man made no attempt to touch him, aside from the hand on his arm. They walked quickly back to the main road, the newcomer frequently glancing over his shoulder. They took a slightly different path out of the back-streets, arriving back on Diagon, rather than Knockturn. They'd walked briskly, and in silence, but when Severus was out in the bright, open air, he finally found his voice again.

"Piss off, you creep," he said, struggling to get free. "Why were you following me."

The man's grip was implacable, and he actually shook Severus slightly as he spoke to him. "What were you doing down there."

Severus gave a particularly strong wrench, managing to free his arm at last. The nerve of him. He was tempted to run, but eyed the wand in the man's hand, and thought better of it. "What were you doing, following me?"

"I was concerned for your well-being. Rightly so, it seems."

"My well-being is none of your business. I wouldn't have ever gone that way if you weren't following me." His desire to shout was battling with his desire to remain inconspicuous in the busy street.

"If I see a sixteen-year-old wizard walking alone through the Knockturn Alley, I consider it my business."

"I'm seventeen," he lied. The stranger's tone had greatly nettled him, but there were other questions that needed answering. "What are… why are you wearing… Why would a wizard catch a Muggle train?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I'm-" underage, but he had realised his mistake. The man smirked at him. "It's none of your business. I can look after myself." With that, he turned his back on the man, striding back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Severus," the man called out from behind him. He turned.

The stranger was holding out his trigonometry text-book. The binding – already cracked and ageing – had split from the book completely. With a wave of his wand, the man reattached the cover.

Severus snatched it back from him. "Thanks for nothing," he spat. He was in such a hurry to leave that the obvious question did not occur to him until he was nearly at the Leaky Cauldron, but by that time, the man had disappeared into the crowd.

Chapter Text

Severus stood by the side of the road on the outskirts of Cokeworth, gnawing his thumbnail apprehensively. The dark clouds on the horizon looked ominous, and the pressing humidity did nothing to improve his anxiety.

The bus had been scheduled to arrive at eight forty-five, but nine o'clock had come and gone. It was nearly ten past now, and still there was no sign of the bus.

Severus had arrived at the Muggle train station nearly an hour ago. There had been a large, laminated sign posted to the padlocked gate.

It was exactly his sort of luck, he had thought, as he dragged his trunk back to the main road. Just as he had started to learn how to use the Muggle trains, they stopped working.

He looked at his watch again. It was fifteen past nine. He leaned out to peer apprehensively around the corner, and it was at that exact moment that a car squealed by, splattering his Muggle trousers in mud.

He had no idea what to do, and every minute that passed seemed to increase the feeling of dread in his stomach. What would happen if he missed the train? He would have to ask someone for help soon, if the bus didn't come.

Severus looked up at the sky, just in time for a fat drop of rain to land directly in his eye. He swore, and kicked his trunk where it lay heavily on the concrete curb. Just as he was about to despair entirely, there was the rumble of an engine and the crunch of gravel.

The Ford Cortina that had pulled up next to him was olive green and immaculately cared for. Severus recognised it at once, with a twist in his stomach that was both delight and dread.

"Severus!" boomed Major Evans, leaning over to the passenger window. "Hop in, son!"

He wasn't about to protest. It was already twenty past nine, and the rain was starting to fall more heavily now. He heaved his battered trunk into the boot of the car. It barely fit. He ran back to the rear door and squeezed into the vehicle with a feeling of relief. It was relief tinged with fear, of course, because he wasn't alone in the back seat.

Major Evans nodded to him, and put the car back into gear. Within moments, the bus stop, the muddy road, and Cokeworth itself was nothing more than an unpleasant memory in the rear-view mirror.

Major Evans was speaking in his usual ringing tones. "I was just driving by and I saw you waiting there, Severus. Why didn't you say that you needed a ride to the station? You know, Daisy and I are always happy to help you out with these things. It's no trouble at all!"

Severus opened his mouth to come up with some kind of excuse, before realising his input was not needed in the conversation. The Major continued to chatter on - about the state of the traffic, about the weather, about the Muggle prime-minister. He needed only the smallest of prompts from Severus to continue talking.

Severus thought that the Major – if he had been a wizard – would have definitely been in Gryffindor.

"Severus," he said, as they were stopped at a set of traffic lights, "Daisy and I are always happy to have you round for tea. Just pop by any old time."

It was at this point that the car's other passenger turned away from the window to narrow her eyes threateningly at Severus, clearly indicating that this was not an offer he should ever take up.

It was the first time Lily had acknowledged him in the entire journey. She was wearing her hair piled up on top of her head today, but a single corkscrew strand had escaped. It lay against her cheek, and Severus looked at that, rather than her eyes. He felt awkward and embarrassed, so he let his gaze fall to his hands, twisting in his lap. He felt a desperate need to fill the silence, so he spoke.

"Where is Mrs. Evans?" he asked.

The Major started. His voice, which had been loud and confident a moment before, shook very slightly. "She's uh... she's not well, I'm afraid."

Severus could feel Lily eyeing him with a look of absolute hatred. He wished he was on the bus to London, and didn't have to talk to anyone at all. He sunk down in his seat and pulled up the collar of his coat, glowering out over the fields as they hurtled through the Green Belt. He watched the droplets of rain clinging to the window forming into rivulets, which ran down across the glass and vanished.

Severus had spent a lot of time thinking, that summer. Over the last two weeks, he hadn't spoken to anyone, except for a few terse words to his father if they happened to collide in the narrow hall. He'd spent the time reading, instead, and constructing elaborate arguments with imagined adversaries.

Severus had thought about Lily a lot, as well, though he hadn't intended to. She had woven in and out of his dreams. He felt the flush creeping up his neck, and was glad that she wasn't looking at him as he remembered that dream.

The rest of the journey passed in silence. Severus began re-reading his copy of Advanced Potion Making. From the glances he sneaked at her from beneath his lashes, Lily seemed content to gaze out of the window.

The traffic in London was mercifully thin, and they arrived at King's Cross at ten-thirty. Lily leaned forward to kiss her father quickly on his cheek.

"You can just drop us here, Daddy."

Major Evans looked slightly hurt by this, but acquiesced.

Severus wrestled both their trunks from the back of the car, while Lily said goodbye to her father through the driver's window. She returned a moment later, and together they watched as the Ford Cortina rolled away into the London traffic.

Severus realised that he had forgotten to say thank-you, but by then the car was already out of sight. As soon as her father had disappeared, Lily grabbed her trunk.

"Stay away from me," she hissed, and turned her back on him. He waited a few minutes before following her.

Once through the barrier, he was instantly surrounded by vast swathes of chattering students. The anxiety that had twisted in Severus's stomach since he'd woken up that morning seemed to loosen. He was here. He'd made it.

He saw Lily, laughing with a group of friends, and turned in the opposite direction, dragging his trunk onto the crowded train with his head bowed.

The corridor was packed with people hugging and laughing after a summer apart. Severus shoved through them without apology, the copy of Advanced Potion Making still clutched in his slightly sweaty hand. At every carriage, he peered through the window, trying to see if there was anyone he could sit with.

He found his friends in the second last carriage on the train, and slid open the door with a sense of relief.

There were five boys in the compartment, and one girl. Mulciber nodded at him, curtly, and Severus took that as a cue to sit down

"Where is Lestrange?" he asked. He'd been looking forward to seeing the older boy.

"Prefects' carriage," said Wilkes, quietly.

Severus was going to ask why Wilkes wasn't there as well, but thought better of it. He would surely have his reasons. He flicked back to the chapter he had been reading. Golpalott's Third Law.

"Saw you getting out a car with that Mudblood, Snape," said Avery.

Severus pretended not to hear, but Avery scrunched up a piece of parchment and lobbed it at his head.

"I've washed my hands since then, if that's what you mean," he said, drily, without looking up.

The other boys roared with laughter at this, and Alecto gave a shriek of mirth. Severus smirked, although he felt the twinge of unease he always felt when he spoke ill of her. Still, it wasn't as though they were friends any-more. They'd both chosen their sides. What did it matter, what he said?

There was a jolt, and a distant scream of metal, and the train shuddered into life.

Wilkes and Mulciber were talking politics, rather more loudly than was necessary. Their conversation dominated the compartment, even though Severus was sure the others wouldn't get much out of it. Severus himself was interested, but preferred to listen to the conversation, rather than participate in it himself. He always seemed to say the wrong thing, and he was behind on the news, having not read the Prophet all summer.

Severus Snape understood how conversations worked, more or less. He was quite good at telling when people where lying, or trying to kiss up, or acting on some ulterior motive. It was just that he himself had never been able to get the hang of it. Perhaps it was that he tried consciously to do what others did without thinking. Either way, it was better if he just listened.

The conversation made him feel deeply contented, in a way he couldn't quite place. It was the guarded mentions of our mutual friend, and of an unnamed He. It gave Severus the feeling that this year – finally – he would be moving up in the world. It would be different this year. It had to be.

Wilkes and Mulciber were arguing now, over the results of a vampire's trial that had occurred the week before. Wilkes was usually quiet, but the topic seemed to have spiked his interest. The focus on current affairs made Severus uncomfortable. If someone asked his opinion, he would have to bluff his way through, lest he reveal the basic Muggle existence he had lived over the summer. He decided to get changed. The other boys and Alecto were all already wearing their uniforms, and he stood out like a sore thumb in his threadbare jeans and oversized shirt. No-one made any comment as he left the carriage with his robes slung over one shoulder.

Getting changed took longer than he had anticipated, as he attempted to patch the holes and frayed edges with some charms he'd memorised. Severus hoped that no-one would look too closely.

When he came back he found the carriage to be rather more crowded, as two of the seventh year girls had arrived. He also found that Avery had locked the door. He knew it had been Avery, because he laughed the hardest out of the boys left in the compartment as Severus tried to get back in. He tried to unlock it with a spell, and his friends all laughed harder.

Avery always did things like that, when the girls were around.

Severus rolled his eyes at them and turned back to walk back along the corridor. He walked back to the bathroom where he'd changed. Perhaps he could lock himself in and simply read in there for the duration of the journey. All the other compartments were bound to be full by this point, and no-one else would want him to sit with them.

He adjusted his gait to counter the rocking of the train. He went to the lavatory, but decided that it was unwise to stay there for the entire duration of the journey. There were only three lavatories on the train, and if he locked himself in, someone was bound to break down the door eventually. That would lead to a scene, and Severus wanted to avoid another scene at all costs.

He looked at his reflection in the spotted mirror as he washed his hands. His ugly, frowning face glared back at him. There was a pimple developing above his left eyebrow, and it seemed to throb painfully as soon as he looked at it. He rubbed at the bruise on his cheek, absent mindedly.

When he opened the door, he came face-to-face with Sirius Black.

"Snivellus!" said Black, cheerfully. "What an unpleasant surprise."

Severus let the bathroom door slide shut behind him, reaching for his wand. Potter and Pettigrew were just behind Black. Pettigrew was hopping from foot to foot with that stupid, nervous grin he got whenever trouble was brewing.

He glared at the three of them, fighting back a flush as he remembered their last confrontation.

Black leaned forward and sniffed loudly, his nose wrinkling.

"You stink, Snivellus," he said. "I mean, you literally stink. Have you washed at all over summer?"

Pettigrew giggled, shrilly, and Severus's flush deepened. He gripped his wand more tightly.

He could probably hex Black before the other two reacted, but what would he do then? There was nowhere to run, and there were three of them against one of him. He was thinking fast about what to do when the compartment door behind him banged open

"Leave him alone," said a voice.

It wasn't Lily who had come to his rescue this time. It was Regulus, Black's younger and (in Severus's opinion) greatly superior brother. Severus shifted aside to allow him some room in the corridor.

Regulus's wand was out, and he looked murderous.

"Little bro!" said Black, with feigned delight. Regulus's wand shot sparks.

"You're not my brother," he spat. "Piss off, will you. Go and make trouble somewhere else."

"But I love trouble!" exclaimed Sirius. He twirled his wand between his fingers. Black was lolling against the side of the train, like a lazy dog in the sun. In contrast, Regulus's back was arched and his teeth bared. Severus was about to throw a hex, when he heard a cough behind him. He recognised the noise at once, with a feeling that was like cold water being poured on his insides. He spun around, wand raised.

"You," he spat.

"Hello again, Severus. We seem to be establishing a habit of meeting on trains."

It was the man from Knockturn Alley.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"I work here," the man said. He was wearing wizard's robes, for a change, and seemed highly amused. He was leaning against the side of the corridor, observing the scene with his good eye slightly narrowed.

"On a train?" Severus asked, stupidly. His mind was blank.

The man gave him a sardonic look. "At Hogwarts," he said. Severus lowered his wand. Behind him, he could hear Potter's gang sniggering. The man had such a professorish manner that Snape wondered why he hadn't figured it out before.

He felt incredibly stupid. He'd already made an enemy of a professor, and the term hadn't even started.

"Professor Makepeace," said Potter, pushing past Severus to offer the professor his hand. "We met over the break, if you recall. At the Puddlemere United match."

The man took it. "Of course I do. That must make you," he inclined his head slightly, "Peter Pettigrew. Your reputation precedes you. But where is Remus?"

"He's in the prefect's carriage, sir."

"Hmm," he said. "A pity he isn't here to keep an eye on you. I must ask you to return to your compartment, and leave pent up masculine aggression on the Quidditch pitch where it belongs."

Potter ducked his head, chastened, and the Gryffindor boys trouped back down the hall. Black grabbed Pettigrew in a headlock as they walked, and the two boys scuffled together. Severus glared at their retreating backs. As usual, Black, Potter and Pettigrew escaped with a slap on the wrist, and it was he, Severus, who got the blame. He turned back to the scarred professor, prepared to receive what was sure to be a stern lecture.

"What was all that about?" asked the man. Severus thought that Potter had said his name, but he himself had already forgotten what it was.

He shrugged, aggressively. Regulus gave him a withering look, and turned to the new professor, his face a picture of pure-blood civility.

"My brother," he said, "loves to start trouble, Sir. He and his little gang are always picking fights with Slytherins."

"Is that so? I must watch out then."

"If you'll excuse me, sir, I think I also ran into you over break, though I didn't have a chance to formally introduce myself. I'm Regulus Black." Regulus proffered his hand.

"Name's Makepeace," said the man. "Professor Makepeace, to you." He took Regulus's hand and shook it firmly. "I'd love to stay and chat, but corridors aren't really the best place for conversations. Or turf wars, come to that."

"Understood, sir," said Regulus, smirking. Makepeace nodded to him, and pushed past them to continue his patrol of the corridor. Regulus walked the three paces back to his own compartment and pulled open the door. "Want to join us, Snape?"

Snape blinked, surprised. He opened his mouth – to say that he was already sitting with the other Slytherin boys – but then he shut it again. It wasn't as though they'd miss him. He watched Makepeace amble away down the rocking corridor, frowning slightly at his back.

He realised that Makepeace had met him, Potter and both Black brothers over the summer break. It wasn't that odd; they lived in a small community, and chance meetings were to be expected. Still, it was perhaps a shade unusual. Severus filed the fact away in his mind, to be considered later, and turned his attention to the situation in front of him.

"You're such a freak," said Regulus. He was standing in the open doorway. Severus swallowed, realising he had taken too long to reply. "You... oh, never mind. Come in."

It was as though even criticising Severus was too much effort for Regulus. He followed the younger boy through the doorway.

Regulus's compartment was quiet, despite how crowded it was. It was filled with other fifth years. Severus knew them all by sight, if not by name. One of them was the seeker for Gryffindor. Barry, his name was, Severus thought. Or Bertie.

He felt awkward. He wasn't that knowledgeable about the fifth years, but he knew that Regulus's gang were popular. He suspected that Regulus had invited him in to annoy his elder brother, and wondered vaguely if Avery had unlocked the door yet.

"What was all that about?" asked a blonde girl whom Severus didn't know. She had a smattering of freckles on her nose, and a blue ribbon in her hair.

"Just becoming acquainted with new staff members," said Regulus, lightly. He flicked his hair out of his eyes in a way that reminded Severus of his older brother. "What'd you think of him, Snape?"

Severus sat on a trunk propped upright on the floor. He was nervous, and so hunched his shoulders apprehensively.

"He's weird," he said. "I don't like him much."

Everyone in the carriage laughed. Severus started, worried that they were laughing at him. He didn't understand the dynamic of this group of friends, so he returned to his book, trying to make himself as small and unobtrusive as possible. After that, however, they seemed content to let him read, and the rest of the journey passed without incident. He listened to the conversation of the others – idle chatter about their summer holidays, filled with friends and parties and fun – and wondered what life would be like if he had been born like everyone else.

By the time the train began to slow into Hogsmeade station, Severus was growing very hungry indeed. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and even then it had only been toast and coffee. He found a space in a horseless carriage with some third years, and shut his eyes as they trundled up towards the castle.

It was only when he arrived in the Great Hall that he saw Rabastan Lestrange. The last time he'd seen Rabastan had been during the summer. He hadn't seen his face then, only his eyes, but Rabastan had clearly remembered him nevertheless, for he raised his hand in welcome. Severus felt a flush of pleasure. He strode to sit next to him.

"Good to see you again, Snape," he said. Severus smirked. "I heard Avery made trouble on the train."

Severus gave a shrug, to show how little it had meant to him. "Just a prank," he said. "It was funny."

Rabastan's pale eyes looked at him. Severus cleared his mind, in the way he had practiced over the summer.

"We must stick together, now," said Rabastan, enigmatically, and Severus had to fight his grin.

Regulus was seated on Snape's other side. "I heard the dog got kicked out of home over the summer," called someone. Both Regulus and Severus laughed.

"He kept mucking up the carpet," said Regulus. He leant back against the stone wall behind his with a relaxed coolness that Snape would never be able to accomplish

The doors opened, and the gaggle of first year students tottered in, led by McGonagall. Severus read his book during the Hat's new song, but decided to watch the Sorting itself. Around twelve new Slytherins joined their ranks: an unusually high number for a house as selective as his.

Dumbledore stood.

"I have much to say," he said, in ringing tones, "but now is not the right time."

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the headmaster sat back down. Suddenly, the plates in front of them were filled with food. Severus's eyes slid from the headmaster to Makepeace. The new professor's head was bowed, and his hands clasped neatly in front of him. His lips were moving silently. Perhaps it was a spell of some sort, Severus thought, for a moment later Makepeace began to eat. Severus followed his example.

His father had not, he knew, purposely starved him during the summer. However, in the last few weeks, he had been forced to open some questionable jars at the back of the cupboard in his search for food. Severus thought he would be able to cook quite well, if he'd been given the chance. The gas had been cut off a month ago, however, so his opportunities for experimentation had been limited. The Hogwarts' feast was a welcome change.

All in all, it was nice to be back. Despite his lack of popularity, and his own awkwardness, he thought that maybe this year he'd manage to carve a place for himself.

After clearing his third helping of desert, the plates were cleared, and Dumbledore rose to his feet. Severus frowned, ready for the usual inane babble about the state of the wizarding world. He wasn't disappointed, and was more focused on Bole's whispered conversation with Mulciber further up the table, about a werewolf attack over the summer.

Maybe Lupin's been running wild, he thought. He searched for Lupin at the Gryffindor table, and found his pale face, upturned to the headmaster.

"Finally," said Dumbledore, "I would like to welcome a new member of staff. Please give a traditional Hogwarts' welcome to Professor Henry Makepeace, who will of course be filling the Defence Against the Dark Arts post."

Makepeace stood, a little self-consciously, and raised his hand in welcome. There was a smattering of applause, though to Severus's surprise Regulus, and a few others scattered throughout the hall, applauded more loudly and enthusiastically than was normal.

Severus, on the other hand, did not clap, and glowered at Makepeace with all the disdain he could muster. The new professor caught his eye, and gave him a cheerful wave. Severus turned away in disgust.

"Not much of a looker, that one," said Bole. Snape stabbed the table with his fork.

"Met him over the summer," he muttered. "Total freak."

Bole laughed. "If you think he's a freak, Snape, there's got to be something wrong with him."

Severus ignored that comment, returning his focus to the textbook. He thought about it later, though, when he was showering. What had he done wrong, this time? The question stayed with him as he climbed into bed. He'd eaten too much, and his stomach squirmed. Severus lay looking up at the canopy of his bed for a long time, and fell asleep to confused dreams.

Chapter Text

Severus had planned to arrive at breakfast early the next morning, but he overslept. During the summer, he'd been sleeping all day and staying awake all night, and his body was protesting loudly to the change.

It was nearly a quarter to nine by the time he stumbled into the Great Hall, and he only just managed to catch Slughorn before the big man set off for his own lessons. Severus needed to clear his subjects in time for his first class, since he didn't yet know what his timetable would be.

"Ah, Severus," said the professor, jovially. "I was pleased with your results. I will of course be thrilled to have you back in my class with an 'O' Potions." He skimmed through the list Severus had handed him. "Let's see... Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures... it's a heavy NEWT load you're taking, my boy, mind you don't overwork yourself. Yes, this all seems in working order." He paused, a slight frown appearing on his pudgy forehead. "Except for the Defence Against the Dark Arts class..."

Severus gaped. "I got an O in my OWL," he said, angrily. "How can there possibly be a problem?"

Slughorn looked startled at his tone, and hurriedly rechecked his list. "No, no, you're on here. Your Defence class is at nine, though, and it's on the seventh floor. You'd best hurry!

Snape stuck a piece of toast between his teeth, grabbed his new timetable and left his seat at a half-run. He nearly collided with Wilkes in the door of the Entrance Hall.

"Where are you rushing off to then?" asked Wilkes. He seemed quietly amused at Severus's state of disarray.

"Defence," he said quickly, swallowing toast. "Aren't you coming?"

Wilkes looked confused. "No," he said. "Class is on Monday afternoon. What are you talking about?"

Severus didn't have time to argue. His timetable definitely said 9 o'clock on Thursday, and he would have to move quickly in order to get to the 7th floor on time.

It wasn't that he wanted to impress Makepeace, he thought, as he ran up the spiral staircase. The man was clearly insane. However, Defence was his best subject, and he wasn't going to not try just because his professor was a maniac. Besides, he didn't want to get detention for being late on his very first day.

As he took the stairs two at a time, Severus thought that it was unfortunate that - because he was in his first NEWT year - he was going to see a lot more of Black and Potter. The 6th and 7th year classes were no longer so rigidly divided by houses. Anyone who scraped an 'E' in the subject would be dumped in the advanced NEWT class, regardless of house. Last year, he'd only had to put up with the Gryffindors in Potions and Transfiguration. This year... well. He was sure Potter and Black at least would have done excellently in all their exams. Lupin and Pettigrew might be there as well, but he couldn't say for certain. Lupin was hard-working and studious, without Potter or Black's natural talents. Pettigrew was an idiot with no redeeming features what-so-ever, as far as Severus could see, but someone he always seemed to scrape through his exams with better marks than he deserved.

It wasn't even as though he could be happy that Lily was going to be there, too. She seemed to despise him so deeply. They'd been partners in Potions last term, and even then she'd been awkward around him. She'd been starting to pull away from him all year, coming up with excuses as to why she couldn't see him...

...And then he had said what he had said, and their sides had been set in stone ever since.

Severus was out of breath by the time he skidded to a halt next to a tapestry of trolls wearing tutus. He hadn't even been sure that there was a classroom on this level, but sure enough, a wooden door was there, opposite him. He checked his watch, cursed, and slunk inside. He was hungry, dishevelled, unwashed and late.

The seven-sided classroom was larger than any he had ever been in before, and a good deal stranger. For one thing, there were no desks or chairs for students to sit on. The floor was littered with large cushions and rugs. From the walls hung elaborate banners, one for each of the four houses. One of the walls was taken up with an enormous window, which, Snape noticed with some confusion, seemed to be looking out across the Quidditch pitch. He didn't think that such a view was possible from where he thought they were in the castle – but perhaps he was merely disoriented from the many turns he had taken. The other wall was fronted by a spiral staircase, which led up to a mezzanine level that Severus couldn't see from the door.

His eyes slid from that back to the class. They were all staring at him, and he became aware, with a sinking feeling, that he was the only Slytherin in the room.

"Severus," Makepeace called. "Nice of you to join us."

There was a nervous titter amongst the class, who were all sitting awkwardly on the softly matted floor. For a moment, Severus had the strangest impression that Makepeace had been waiting for him to arrive – but surely that was ridiculous. The professor turned back to the class, and the chatter subsided. His pepper-coloured hair had been tied back, though he clearly had tried to leave a lock hanging loose to cover the worst of the scarring. Severus sat down, as far as possible from Black and Potter, and glowered at them all. He caught Lily's eye for a second before she looked away.

Severus didn't like sitting on the floor. It made him feel like a small child. Makepeace gazed down at them all, imperiously, until the last rustle of conversation died away. When the he was assured of silence, he took a breath, and began.

"Right," the professor said, quietly, such that the class had to lean in slightly. "Before we get started, I wanted to talk about... well. As you know, the wizard known as 'Lord Voldemort'-" the class gave an audible gasp. Severus scowled harder, for at the sound of the name, his forearm had stung sharply. "-is currently at large in this country. Very soon, you will be leaving the cosy confines of this school, and will likely come face-to-face with the brutalities that he is inflicting upon our society. Perhaps you have already faced him, to some degree."

His good eye flicked over them. It was narrowed slightly, as if he could see whose lives had been touched by the Dark Lord. Severus resisted the urge to squirm in his seat, instead setting his face into an obstinate look of disdain.

Every other face in the classroom gazed up at Makepeace, their expressions rapt with excitement and apprehension. While they were watching the professor, Severus was watching them. He glimpsed Potter's face, gleaming with anticipation.

As he spoke, Makepeace strutted through the class.

"I know, since everyone in this class achieved an 'Exceeds Expectations' or higher in their OWLs, that you get the theory. I don't care about marking essays, and I don't have the time to either. I asked Professor Dumbledore that we be moved to this room, seeing as how this semester will be largely focused on the practical aspects of defensive magic." There was another ripple of excitement through the room. "My first priority this year is to keep you alive. You may be disappointed to learn that a lot of the strategies for staying alive might seem like cowardice to some. Personally, I believe that – at your age and skill level – the time to fight is only the time in which you can't run away."

There was a giggle at this. He saw Black laughing. Severus was sure Sirius Black had never run away from any fight, ever.

"This means that for a good deal of this semester, we will be focusing on defensive spells and enchantments, rather than the offensive ones." He paused, surveying the room. "I can see from some of your faces that you consider this to be a soft option. It isn't. By the end of this year, I expect you all to be adept in duelling, be able to cast a number of verbal and non-verbal spells that you will not have encountered before and be able to conjure a corporeal Patronus."

The last item on the list had gotten the class excited again. Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. There were other ways to fight Dementors.

"They key to survival is not merely learning the spells and enchantments, but applying them to the situations that will soon face you. I repeat, my first priority is to keep you alive." He clapped his hands together. "Anyone not dead by the end of the year automatically gets an O!" Everyone laughed again, but Severus didn't think it was funny.

"If any of you need to speak with me, for any reason, my office is located behind this room." He nodded to the staircase behind him. "Let's get started. The object of today's lesson is for me to assess what knowledge you have scraped together in the last five years of your formal schooling. I would like all of you to divide into pairs."

Severus felt a moment of anxiety at this. He would no longer have a go-to partner in Lily, and he could count on no-one in the class as a friend. Makepeace was explaining the rules of their duelling session – mainly that they weren't to use anything too deadly or otherwise harmful. "The aim," he called, "is to get your partner's wand."

Severus watched Black and Potter shoving their way to a spacious corner and felt his stomach churn. He spotted Stebbins on the other side of the room, and started to edge towards him. Severus had worked with him in the previous year on an Arithmancy assignment. Though his personal hygiene left much to be desired, he was - like most Ravenclaws - quiet and non-offensive in nature. But by the time he'd crossed half way, Stebbins had partnered with Mary McDonald.

Makepeace strolled through the room, correcting stances. Severus stood, awkward and partner-less, trying to look inconspicuous.

"Severus!" said Makepeace. He sounded genuinely delighted. "Shall we?"

Snape flushed, and nodded. This was what the rest of the year was going to be like, he was sure. Makepeace nodded his head slightly to indicate that he should start, and he hit the professor with a lazy stunner. Makepeace deflected it, and gave Severus a horrible wink.

He'd been determined not to try very hard, but as he began to go through his arsenal of simple, bland hexes and jinxes, he got the feeling the professor wasn't really paying attention to him. Makepeace's eye was flicking everywhere else in the room, watching the other pairs of students.

This annoyed Severus greatly. He'd already had a difficult morning, and this class wasn't helping matters. He considered the matter, and then drew the strongest binding hex he had from his personal repertoire, determined to catch Makepeace off his guard.

The professor deflected it while looking the other way. Severus was furious. The man didn't even act smug about it. He turned around. "I'm sorry, Severus," he said. "My mind was elsewhere. Would you like to try that again?"

Snape let swing with a volley of curses. He resisted using some of the darker spells he'd been studying over the break – he didn't want to give too much away. The professor deflected them all. It wasn't a shield charm. The professor seemed to be countering ever spell individually, with a variety of counter-curses.

Black and Potter had stopped duelling. They were laughing at him instead. Just when he was about to completely lose his temper, a hex - a minor stinging jinx – slipped past Makepeace's shields. Makepeace doubled up, swearing. Black and Potter stopped laughing. Potter went to help the professor up, while Black gave him a sour look. Makepeace waved Potter away, but Severus was left confused. He wasn't sure why that particular jinx had permeated Makepeace's defences. It hadn't been the strongest hex he had cast, or the most obscure.

"Well done, Severus. That was quite illuminating."

Severus was suddenly frightened he'd given too much away. The professor eyed the students that had gathered to watch. His thick, greying hair had come loose, and stuck up roughly at the back. "Right," he said. "Lupin with Snape. Pettigrew with Potter. Black, come with me."

There was a moment when Black did not look entirely pleased and being asked to duel with the professor, rather than Potter, but a second later he was grinning, acting the fool yet again. Black bowed ironically to Makepeace, and the Professor bowed back.

Severus had a good time fighting Lupin, not that he would ever admit it. He, Severus, had natural ability. Lupin had book learning, and a lot of it. A civilised werewolf, he thought, with amusement. Then, he remembered that night half a year ago, and what he had found at the end of the tunnel by the willow. Suddenly, a misfired hex tripped him, and he crashed heavily to the floor. His wand bounced from his hand. Lupin caught it. "Aha!" he said.

"That doesn't count," muttered Severus.

"Is that a Gryffindor sense of fair-play I hear coming from you, Snape?" asked Lupin, laughing. He threw Severus's wand back to him. Snape narrowed his eyes. It was just as well that at that moment, Makepeace called a halt to the duelling.

"This is promising," he said. "It's very promising. There are certain gaps in your knowledge... certain bad habits you've picked up..." He looked down at them. "We'll have to work on your technique. I think that should be the focus for the next few weeks before learning any new spells or enchantments."

He had the class wound round his little finger. Severus could see through his game, though.

They spent the rest of the lesson practising non-verbal spells. Severus had expected this, as it was a cornerstone of the NEWT curriculum. He'd studied the theory before term began, and mastered the technique quickly. After ten minutes of practice, he disarmed Lupin nonverbally.

He wished he hadn't. Makepeace called attention to it, and awarded twenty points to Slytherin. Severus wanted to sink through the floor. The end of the two-hour class couldn't come quickly enough, and when it did, Severus fled the classroom without looking back, hurrying to avoid the rush.

He had a half-hour break before Care of Magical Creatures. Lacking any of his usual Slytherin comrades, Severus had no-one to discuss the lecture with. There was no-one to whom he could speak about how he had found Makepeace's attitude pretentious; that his behaviour was entirely too Gryffindor in nature; that he spoke far too openly about topics that required discretion. Since he had no-one to discuss these thoughts with, Severus brooded on them silently.

He dawdled so much on the way down to the grounds that he exited the double doors behind Lupin and Lily, although they had left the previous class much later than him. Not wishing to be noticed, he trod quietly upon the grass.

"I thought that was brilliant," Lily said to Lupin. She was speaking animatedly, as she always did when excited. "He seems to really know his stuff. I think he must be an ex-Auror, to have that level of expertise." Her voice dropped, but Severus could still hear her quite clearly. "What do you think of this club? The DA?"

"We'll have to wait and see," replied Lupin. "It's definitely worth a look though. Sirius and James are going. It sounds like... you know. The real thing."

He saw Lily's head nod, her curls bouncing. Severus frowned. He knew all about the real thing, and it definitely didn't have anything to do with some stupid school club. His curiosity was piqued, however. What were they talking about? He was ten or so paces behind them, but their voices carried in the still morning air. "Did he invite anyone else, aside from you lot and me?"

"Not that I saw. It's exciting, isn't it?"

It was at this point that Lily was joined by some of her giggling Hufflepuff friends, and their talk turned to more light-hearted topics. Severus, however, was left wondering about the conversation into the next class. What was the professor up to?

The Care of Magical Creatures class was crammed full of Hufflepuffs. As a general rule, Severus looked down on Hufflepuffs, but he supposed that there were worse people to be in a class with. Even a year ago, he would have relished the opportunity to be in a class with Lily, away from her more moronic Gryffindor comrades, but it was all different now. The minute she saw that he was in the class, she turned her back on him.

He tried not to dwell on it. Kettleburn spent the lesson showing them his herd of griffins. Severus admired the great, proud creatures. He liked the way their soft feathers transitioned handsomely into lion's fur in their back haunches.

They were sort of a cross between a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor, he thought, as he held out a bucket of entrails to try and tempt the creature towards him. He wondered if there had ever been a cross between snake and lion.

The animal clacked its beak at him, disdainfully, and turned its head away.

The term had started on a Thursday, so before Severus knew it, it was already the weekend. He had a very full timetable, as Slughorn had noted. He was taking Defense, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. It wasn't that he wanted to be an overachiever, he just found a lot of things interesting, and hadn't been able to decide between them.

He slept late on Saturday, rising around noon and stumbling up to lunch. He had Ancient Runes homework to do, but aside from that, he had nothing on his schedule.

As he settled down to eat, there was a tap on his shoulder. It was Wilkes.

"Meeting tonight," he said, quietly. "6th year boys' dormitory. Nine o'clock."

Severus nodded. Once Wilkes had left, he allowed the grin to creep over his face. The excitement stayed with him all day, and he descended from the library later that evening with his heart fluttering in his breast.

They were sitting in a rough circle when he arrived. Even Alecto was there, and Severus felt awkward at the presence of a girl in his dormitory.

Once he had sat, Rosier locked the door with a silent charm. Severus cast muffliato, just in case.

Rabastan spoke, from the shadows. "Before we begin, I would like to discuss the most important part of this meeting. The Dark Lord understands that we can't immediately respond to summons while we are here at school. My brother has relayed that – if we are summoned – we should make efforts to respond as soon as possible, but not if that would give our position away or incite suspicion among the staff. Bearing that in mind, he will not call on us for the normal meetings."

Severus felt slightly disappointed at this. Despite his fear and apprehension, he'd enjoyed the meeting over the summer. He'd been looking forward to more of them. The mark on his arm prickled uncomfortably, but he ignored it.

"Moving onto more scholastic topics... We've become aware of an interesting division in the Defence Against the Darks Arts class." A few of them glanced at Severus, who flushed. "For some reason, all the Slytherin NEWT students in Defence... with the exception of you, Snape... have been cloistered in a separate class."

"It's bullshit," Avery burst in. "All we did was read the stupid textbook. That Makepeace is an idiot."

Severus frowned. It didn't sound at all like the class that he had sat in on Thursday.

Mulciber gave a gentle cough, and attention snapped back to him. Although he wasn't the eldest, Severus noticed how the seventh years had begun to defer to him – even Rabastan. He wished he had the same power.

"It doesn't matter about the poor quality of teaching in this shit-hole," said Mulciber. "We have other people to learn from now. I think the key point that Rabastan is making is that this new professor has singled out all of the Dark Lord's followers – with the exception of you, Snape."

There was an apprehensive silence. Severus felt a flush rising in his cheeks.

"The key point that we have to determine is whether or not this is intentional. It might just be the usual prejudice against Slytherins... or something else. If it is, the Dark Lord needs to be informed as soon as possible."

"What's the other class like, Snape?" asked Rosier.

He shrugged. "It's different," he said. "Full of the usual Gryffindor do-gooders. We did a bit of practical stuff, but really, you're not missing much."

He knew that this was a lie. The rational part of his mind – the part that spoke in Lily's voice – told him that the lesson had been of spectacular quality. However, he suppressed it, wanting to downplay his difference from the other boys.

"I wonder why he's singled you out," said Mulciber. He was looking at Snape, his eyes narrowed. Severus shifted, uncomfortably.

"I wouldn't be able to attend a class on Friday afternoons," he said. "I've got Ancient Runes."

He was often the only Slytherin in his NEWT subjects, the others having declined to join such 'soft options'. Perhaps the reason that he was in the other class was nothing more than a timetabling issue. That made the most sense, he thought. The exclusion of the rest of the boys could be explained – as Mulciber said – by the usual prejudice against Slytherins.

Mulciber grunted. "Either way, I suppose we can peg this Makepeace down as a Dumbledore supporter, then, and possibly a member of the Order of the Phoenix. You should keep an eye on him, Snape."

Severus was about to mention the club that Makepeace had started, but stopped suddenly. To mention that would be to implicate Lily. Instead, he nodded silently, indicating his acceptance of the task.

Mindful of his new mission, Severus planned to keep an ear out for gossip when school returned on Monday, but it was hardly necessary. The school was abuzz with discussion about the new professor.

Severus supposed it was understandable. He did make a striking figure, with the horrific scar across one side of his face. There was also a slight air of strangeness about him, though Severus couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was almost as though he'd met him before, a long time ago. Whatever it was inspired a great dislike within Severus.

Unfortunately, to Severus's great displeasure, these feelings were not shared by the rest of the school. On the contrary, it seemed that Defence Against the Dark Arts was fast becoming everyone's favourite subject - everyone, that was, except for the older Slytherins.

He was thinking about that on Thursday when he descended into the to the quiet calm of the dungeons for his first NEWT Potions lesson.

There were thirteen students in the class. Severus knew, as soon as he counted, that he would be left sitting alone, and he was right. He would have chosen to sit by himself anyway, he told himself. Other people would just provide distraction.

He repeated this mantra to himself, trying to ignore the way Lily so pointedly averted her eyes from him, and the snickering of Black and Potter. Severus focused on his copy of Advanced Potion Making instead, re-reading the notes he had made over the summer. An idea occurred to him, and he dipped his quill in the ink.

This Book, he wrote, carefully, is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince.

Severus smiled at the nickname he had come up with over the summer. For some reason, writing it down made him feel a lot better about the entire day.

Thursday morning came quicker than Severus would have liked. He had considered the matter, and had decided that confronting Makepeace directly would be the best way to figure out the mystery of the divided classes, though it wasn't his favoured course of action. Even if Mulciber hadn't given him the task of finding out more about the professor, he would have wanted to move. He felt distinctly uncomfortably in the classroom, and took the stairs up to the seventh floor corridor with a feeling of dread in his stomach.

Severus timed his arrival for five to nine – not early, and not late – and immediately tried to make himself inconspicuous amongst the Ravenclaw sixth-years. Severus felt their unease at his presence, but the fear and loathing directed at him was an equal price to pay for the protection the group offered. Around them, the classroom began to fill. At exactly nine o'clock, Makepeace descended from the spiral staircase. Severus supposed the steps must have lead to his private quarters.

"Hi," he said, and at once the excited buzz that had steadily been growing louder was silenced. "You all did really well last week. However, there are some tactics I want to focus on. Well, it's not really a tactic... more like a set of principles."

Makepeace went on to explain about some abstract concept about the importance of balance and stance in casting defensive magic. It had a strange, foreign sounding name that Severus didn't catch, though he thought it sounded Chinese. Either way, the whole thing sounded very wishy-washy, and he quickly tuned out from Makepeace's explanation. Lily had worn her hair down today, and the morning light caught the curls around her face in a way that made his heart beat rather fast.

The class was divided into pairs again, but today they were limited only to disarming charms. Severus wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be demonstrating. He disarmed his partner almost immediately, but Makepeace did not call attention to him as he had the previous week. Severus felt rather put out by this. Instead, the professor focussed on Potter, praising his stance and balance.

Severus decided that anything that Potter could do intuitively was not worth learning.

By the end of the lesson, he was bored, bruised and entirely frustrated. Nevertheless, he knew he had to hang back after class. He waited in the corner while the rest of the class left in dribs and drabs. Finally, the classroom was empty, except for him and Makepeace. Severus sat on a cushion in his corner, waiting for the man to acknowledge him.

Makepeace didn't speak. He seemed to be completely focused on tidying the classroom, and removing errant burn-marks from the walls. After a few minutes of this, Severus decided he couldn't sit there forever. He coughed, pointedly.

Makepeace looked up in his irritating, faux-suprised way. "Severus," he said happily. "You're still here. Great! I meant to ask you last week, but you ran off before I got the chance. I'm having a get-together on Friday – just to go-over what we've done, and approach some spells which are too advanced for-"

Severus felt a hot sweep of anger in his belly. He was so incensed that he didn't wait for the professor to finish. "I don't care if you've turned the sixth-year class into your own private recruiting ground for Albus Dumbledore," he said, angrily, "but just so you know, I'm not one of his goody-two-shoes followers."

Makepeace stared at him, his mouth slightly open. The look pulled at the scar tissue on his face. He looked shocked by the strength of Severus's reaction, and he realised too late that he had shouted the words. He flushed, and it was a moment before Makepeace spoke. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

"Severus," he said, delicately. "I'm sorry to have offended you. My class – none of my classes – are recruiting grounds for the Order of the Phoenix. It's just a chance for advanced students to practice their skills."

The bald-facedness of the lie made Severus angrier.

"If that's the case, why have you dumped all the Slytherins in another class? I know for a fact that Mulciber got at least an E in his Defence OWL. What would your hero Dumbledore think of that? Not a very egalitarian attitude."

The curse – or whatever it had been – that had ravaged his face mutilated all expressions. It was because of this that Severus avoided looking him in the eyes at all costs. He looked at the desk instead, focusing his rage on a single knot in the woodwork.

"Ah," said Makepeace. "Hmm. Would you like to join the other Slytherins in the senior remedial class? "

"Remedial," he spat. " Just because I don't blindly follow this anti-dark-arts rubbish-"

Makepeace rubbed his forehead in a tired sort of way. "Severus, remind me what the name of my class is. It's true I don't just follow O.W.L. results. I look for certain... other qualities."

"And what 'other qualities' might those be?"

"Not being evil," Makepeace said, simply. Severus blinked. "I have discussed this matter with the Headmaster, and he has reluctantly agreed with me. While I do not think it is fair to divide the younger students thusly, by the time a witch or wizard has come of age – or is about to do so – I believe that it is plain on what side of the divide they have fallen."

Tread carefully, said a voice inside Severus's mind. "So, what, you get into sixth year and you're beyond redemption?"

"No-one is ever beyond redemption," said Makepeace, quietly. "I refuse to teach certain students because I know that they will misuse what they learn. Within a year or two..." he trailed off. "Within a year or two, they will be using those skills to murder, torture and rape.

Severus found his voice again, unable hold back the thing that had been roiling within him. "Unlike Black and Potter," he spat. "They'd just use what they learn to rescuekneazle kittens."

He was sure Makepeace would leap to their defence, given the way he had fawned over Potter in the previous lesson, but the teacher merely looked at him for a long moment.

"I want you to come to the class in spite of people like them. I know how they treat you. If there is ever any manner in which I can assist you, you need only ask."

Severus scowled. "I don't need your help," he muttered. "I can handle it myself."

Makepeace seemed to be thinking. "Look, if you really don't want to be part of my advanced class, and refuse on principle to pursue the remedial class, then I suppose I'll have to find something else to do with you."

"I'll just drop it," he said. "Seeing as it's so much trouble for you." He scuffed his foot on the bare boards.

"You will not," said Makepeace. He paused. "I was wondering... My Monday evenings are free. If you want, I can schedule your lesson then. We can go over anything that interests you."

"My lesson?" Severus asked, blankly.

"The marks you received on your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL were the highest in the last thirty-four years. It would be my honour to tutor you privately in the subject, if you so wish."

Severus stared at him.

"I wouldn't have to come to this class?" he asked. "Just the one in the evening?"

The left side of Makepeace's mouth quirked upwards in what could almost be called a smile. "If that's what you'd like." After Snape didn't reply for several moments, Makepeace's smile widened. "Think about it," he said. "I'll be waiting here, either way."

Chapter Text

Defensive Strategies

Severus considered the proposition over the next few days.

He had to think about it between his NEWT course load, which – to his surprise – required nearly all of his attention. As well as taking an unusually large amount of courses, the subject matter itself was more difficult than ever before. It was only the second week, and already he had four essays to write and a particularly complex potion to research.

Severus knew he was more intelligent than everyone in the year. He often felt that his teachers overlooked him, in favour of fawning over charismatic characters like Potter and Black. Still, he found the work challenging. It was good, in a way, because it left less time in the evenings for his mind to wander to... other things.

For this reason, Severus found that he was spending most evenings of the new semester squirrelled away in the library. There was a corner of which he was particularly fond. He was hidden from view by the shelves around him. Last year, these had been the hours he'd spent with Lily. Long after she had drifted away from him in other social contexts, their study sessions had remained. They'd stopped after he'd said the thing that he'd said, and now the hours of study seemed lonely and dull without her.

As he sat, scratching out calculations for Arithmancy, he pondered upon whether he liked seeing her in classes or not. Almost out of habit, his heart rose when he saw her in class; but of course, any positive feelings he might have had were dashed instantly as soon as she averted her eyes from where he sat, or scowled at him with disdain.

He shifted in his seat, and flipped open his mother's potions book. Frowning slightly, he dipped his quill in ink, and wrote in an empty border:

M's Tutoring

Pros:

Might learn new things

Less time with Them (and Her)

Con:

M is mentally unbalanced and I dislike him

He smirked slightly at his concise assessment of the situation. There was the other reason, as well, though he did not dare to write it down. Spending more time with Makepeace would help him achieve the task that had been set for him. That, in turn, could lead to... well.

He didn't trust the new Defence teacher. The man assumed an air of familiarity that made him uncomfortable. He was always acting like he was everyone's friend. That behaviour was far too... Gryffindor-ish, in Severus's opinion. His ideas about good and evil were infantile. There was something in his manner that inspired a deep dislike and distrust in Severus, too, though he couldn't say what it was. Despite the advantages of reporting useful information to Rabastan, Severus couldn't help but feel that it would best to stay as far away from the new professor as possible.

And yet...

And yet, the whole business had awoken a flutter in his stomach. It was a wish buried so deep that he could barely acknowledge it. The idea that somebody noticed him. That he was special. He thought he'd found it that summer, when he'd sworn allegiance to the Dark Lord, but that had been more of the same, in the end.

It couldn't hurt. Just once, to find out if it was any good.

"Evening, Snivellus."

Severus snapped the book shut with lightning quickness. Black was leering at him from across the table.

"What do you want?" he spat.

"Temper temper," said Black, flopping into the chair opposite him. Casually, he reached out a hand to the book that Severus had slammed shut. Without hesitation, Snape slammed his drawing compass down point-first, inches from Black's hand. The instrument quivered slightly on the table-top, and Black withdrew his hand.

"What do you want?" repeated Severus, through gritted teeth.

"I just came over to say hi," said Black, grinning to show his very white, very straight teeth. "What-cha working on over here?" He leaned, theatrically attempting to read Severus's work upside-down.

Instead of replying, Severus stared at him in complete silence. Black met his gaze, and after a long moment, his grin faltered.

Severus had spent long nights over the summer reading about Legilimency, and he figured today was as good a day as any to put the theory into practice. He narrowed his eyes slightly, focussing on Black's pupils. There was a flash of something, so brief and vivid that he had no real concept of what it had been. He saw Black's eyes widen slightly, with something like fear.

"Whatever," he said, hurrying to get to his feet. "You're such a freak, Snape."

He knew that Black would be back later, with reinforcements. He would have to find somewhere else to hide from now on.

It was with mixed feelings that he began the long climb to the seventh-floor corridor on Monday evening. The day had been a long one, and more than anything he wanted to curl up by the fire and sleep.

Severus paused for a moment in front of the large, oak door. He took a deep breath, and knocked. The latch clicked, and he pushed his way inside.

"Well, Severus? Have you made a decision?"

Makepeace's lopsided face was leering at him from over the banister.

Severus looked up at the professor, somewhat sourly. "I'm not sure," he said, truthfully, as Makepeace trotted down the staircase. He paused, and then asked the question that had been bothering him. "What do you want?"

"Peace amongst wizard kind," said Makepeace, promptly. Severus stared at him until he looked abashed. "On the more local level, I'd like to help you."

"I don't need any help. I don't need your pity." He cast his eyes downwards, at the softly matted floor.

"I don't pity you. I just think you would do better outside of the regular class." The professor paused, seeming to consider the matter. "And I'd like your help."

"My help?" asked Severus, surprised. He was so surprised, he forgot to be sullen. "Whatever for?"

Makepeace shrugged. "I've found it's always good to collect different perspectives. I don't really know anyone outside of class. Do you mind giving me the run-down on who everyone is?"

Snape shrugged. "I don't know anybody," he muttered.

"I don't think that's true. I think you're an outsider, like me. I'd like your point of view."

Severus hesitated, but for some reason, the idea was pleasing to him. There were around fifty students in his year, although he knew only a quarter well. The Slytherin group often ran smaller than the others, and Severus prided the selectiveness and élite nature of his house. There were only eight Slytherin sixth-years, in contrast to ten Gryffindors, thirteen Ravenclaws and around twenty Hufflepuffs. Unbeknownst to his classmates, Severus observed them from the sidelines.

"I don't know how much I could tell you," he said, uncertainly.

Makepeace cocked his head to one side. "Who are the key players?"

Severus bit his lip. "Well, there's Black and Potter, for a start. They've got a little gang of four, you met them on the train."

"What are they like?"

Severus snorted. "One's a coward. One's a freak of nature. One's a blood traitor, and the other one is the most arrogant git you'd ever have the misfortune to meet. I'll let you figure out which one's which."

Makepeace smiled at this, as though it confirmed something which he had already known. Severus found this encouraging, so he continued.

"So, that's the Gryffindor boys. What about-"

"There's the Ravenclaws," said Severus, speaking quickly to hide his nervousness. "There's new boy in Ravenclwa, he arrived last year. They say he's from China, but I don't know much about him." He remembered watching him being sorted the previous year: A towering elm tree amongst new saplings. "I think our year is dominated by the Slytherins and Gryffindors, though." He knew that it was slightly conceited, but it was true.

"What makes you say that?"

He shrugged. "Everyone follows Potter and Black. The people who don't... they fall in with our group: Mulciber's group. There's no middle ground, and most of the Hufflepuffs are on Potter's side. The Ravenclaws..." he shrugged. "I'd say fifty-fifty."

"And the girls?"

His heart beat slightly faster.

"Don't know so much about them. Narcissa's popular. She's in seventh-year, though."

"Do they fall into the same divide, though? Who leads the Gryffindor faction?"

They were nearly there, now.

"Evans..." he said, and stopped. He sounded like Potter: calling her by her last name, to imply that she was of less importance to him then she really was. He corrected himself. "Lily. She'll probably be Head Girl next year."

"I thought she might be important," he said. "But the social order of teenagers is quite indecipherable to me, I'm afraid. I appreciate your help."

Severus wanted to say that the social order of teenagers was also indecipherable to him. It was a witty sort of thing, that Makepeace would surely have laughed at. He wanted to talk about Lily more, too. How every year she was top of Charms, and usually drew with him for the top spot in Potions. How she was the most popular girl in their year, and how every teacher liked her.

By the time all this had run through his head, however, the moment where either comment would have been appropriate or amusing had passed. He wished, not for the first time in his life, to be somebody different.

Makepeace was watching him, with his strange, lopsided gaze. The flickering lamplight glinted off his monocle.

"Why are you so interested, anyway?" he asked suddenly, somewhat aggressively. Makepeace, who by now seemed to have become accustomed to Severus's abrupt changes in temper, shrugged.

"I just am. Besides, it's useful to me as a teacher, to know these things." Makepeace thrummed his fingers on the desk. "Anyway, about your lesson..." Severus snorted. Makepeace squinted at him. "Is something funny?"

Severus shrugged. "I don't think you have anything to teach me, Sir," he said. He had tried to say the words in a cool, disdainful way, but Makepeace merely laughed. He got out his wand, and twirled it between his fingers.

"We should settle this with a duel," said the professor, solemnly.

"What?" said Severus.

"Er... We should have a duel. If you win, I'll stop bothering you, and if I win, you have to attend either the advanced class, or a private tutorial with me on Mondays. And you have to admit that I have something to teach you. "

Severus stared at him, mouth slightly open.

"Unforgivables are off-limit, as is anything that will cause immediate death. Loser is the first one to cry 'uncle'."

He found his voice. "I'll get expelled if I gravely injure a teacher." This was the least of his objections, but it was the one that was simplest to voice.

Makepeace grinned with what Severus considered dangerous overconfidence. It pulled the scar on his face in a most unattractive way. "That won't be a problem, I assure you." He offered his hand. "Do you agree to my terms?"

Severus took it, and shook once. "Sure," he said. He took a step back, and shrugged. "When do we start-"

The hex hit him full in the chest.

Severus had never seen anyone move so fast. The professor seemed to know what he was thinking. He was hiding temporarily behind a desk, trying to catch his breath. His cheek was burning from a hex he had barely dodged. He heard Makepeace yell, and rolled out from behind the desk as it shattered.

Severus threw the jinx that had caught Makepeace the last time they had duelled, but the spell merely bounced off him. Furious, he screamed the first spell that came to mind.

"Sectumsepra!"

But Makepeace wasn't where he had been a second before, and the spell merely carved a deep slash in the wall. Severus felt something catch behind him, and suddenly he was upside-down, fighting a terrible nausea that threatened to overpower him.

"SAY UNCLE!" Makepeace bellowed.

"Uncle," he muttered, so quietly that he was sure Makepeace couldn't have heard. However, the levitation spell suddenly loosened its grip on him, and Severus fell to the heavily padded floor with a thump.

He lay face down for a long minute. Finally, he raised his head. There was the sound of rhythmic, singular applause.

"That was very encouraging," Makepeace said. He offered Severus his hand, and pulled him to his feet.

Every muscle in his entire body hurt. His chin was bleeding from when he'd fallen. It was all he could do to crawl into an armchair that hadn't been there a moment before.

Makepeace took the other chair that had appeared, flopping down with a casual grace.

"Er..." he said. "Right. Your reflexes are strong. Very quick. They need to be quicker. You're very unfit, which doesn't help." Makepeace paused, examining him intently. "Never get angry. Never think about what you are doing. It has to be beneath thinking. It has to be your own nature. You need to work on your defensive strategies."

Severus said nothing, marinading in his own humiliation. He registered Makepeace's advice, but part of his mind was on something else entirely.

"This room," he said, slowly, "is always changing."

"Yes," said Makepeace, smiling. "It's a delightful piece of magic. I was sorry it was lost when... It is a useful piece of magic."

"It works to your advantage?"

"I use the powers of the room to my advantage. You must learn to do the same, of any environment you find yourself in." The professor proffered a poultice to him. Severus sniffed it, and then pressed it to his chin. It had been soaked in Murtlap Essence, and provided immediate relief to his throbbing chin. Something else had occurred to him.

"In our first class," he said. "You let me hex you, didn't you."

Makepeace shrugged. "I thought it was only fair to give you a chance. The others were laughing at you."

He felt a hot flush of anger and shame. "Don't patronise me," he said. "I can deal with them."

Makepeace inclined his head slightly, perhaps in apology.

"I noticed you re-used the jinx," though, said the professor. "Very smart of you."

Severus scowled. "Can I go?" he asked. Makepeace looked a little crestfallen.

"Of course," he said, after a moment's hesitation. "I'll see you next week then. Unless..."

"I gave my word," said Severus. He stood up, and his body protested loudly. "Next Monday, same time." As he limped to the door, he thought with dread about the long climb down to the Slytherin Dungeons. If only he didn't have to walk the whole way...

But to his shock, when the door opened, it did not lead to the airy, seventh-floor corridor, but to a dark, stony passageway that Severus knew was only two minutes walk from the common room. He spun around. The window still showed a view of the grounds, which was completely impossible given the altitude of the corridor. It made his head spin.

"As I was saying," Makepeace said, smiling, "use the powers of the room to your advantage. Goodnight, Severus."

The excitement of the new term had blended quickly into the mundanely of everyday life. His life seemed to have become a Sisyphean cycle of classes, homework and revision. The cuts and bruises from Makepeace's 'lesson' took several days to heal. Severus was unsure of why he did not heal them immediately with magic. His face ached, as well, for a new pimple had sprung up on his cheek. It sat there, red and stubborn, like a beacon.

He did not attend Makepeace's Thursday morning class, or the later training session, despite an itching desire to try again. He saw enough of the Gryffindor idiots in all his other NEWT classes. Besides, he wanted time to think about things, and time to compose his strategy.

He hadn't bought Makepeace excuse that he was just interested in the layout of the sixth year. Surely that level of interest was not normal. It gave credence to the theory that Makepeace really was up to something... subtly trying to determine who could be recruited to his stupid cause. He would have to be careful.

On Thursday evening, he cornered Rabastan in the common room. He explained, briefly, what he had found out, and what he suspected. Rabastan seemed pleased with his work, and positively delighted that he would have more time alone with Makepeace to glean information.

"You'll have to gain his trust, Snape," said Lestrange, and Severus nodded

Chapter Text

By the Monday following, Severus felt as though he had finally managed to fall back into the routine of regular classes. He stumbled down to breakfast well before eight o'clock, in time to snag a piece of bacon before it was all gone. He picked up the Prophet, rubbing his face blearily.

Werewolf Pack Threatens Village, he read. He flipped the page. Ministry considers harsher restrictions. Severus's eyes flicked downwards. Minister for Magic, Milicent Bagnold (73), spoke yesterday with reporters about the importance of staying calm in the face of new evidence that...

The cramped print swam before his eyes, and he yawned so widely that his jaw cracked. He had neglected to complete his practical Charms homework for the lesson that afternoon. Flitwick would notice, he was sure. Severus had never had an aptitude for Charms. In previous years, he had had Lily to help him. Now, Severus sat with Mulciber during Charms, as Avery had flunked his OWL and Wilkes wasn't interested in the subject. It was not an ideal arrangement.

He hunched his shoulders as he walked to class, and kept his eyes down. He would have to see Makepeace this evening, he thought gloomily. On top of everything else!

He arrived to class before Mulciber, and tried desperately not to catch anyone's eye as the other students filed in. He slumped into his chair, dropping his wand and books onto the desk in front of him, and closed his eyes.

"Morning," said a sly voice by his ear, and Severus instantly went for his wand.

It wasn't there.

Potter came from around the desk. Severus's wand was in his hand, and he twirled it absently. Snape could feel Black's presence behind him. He knew that there was no point diving at Potter. They'd done this to him before. They had magic, and he didn't. It wouldn't even be a fight. He cursed himself for leaving his wand unattended – he couldn't ever let his guard down, not even for a moment.

Severus couldn't think of a way out of his predicament, so he stared stonily ahead. Pettigrew darted forwards and grabbed his charms textbook. As he did, the cover slipped from the binding, which caused Potter, Black and Pettigrew to roar with laugh. Severus felt a muscle in his jaw began to twitch. His heart was beating very fast.

"Sad, really," said Black, from behind him. "As well as being ugly and stupid, you're also poor, Snape. It doesn't seem fair."

Severus heard someone laugh. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lily looking in the opposite direction in a determined sort of way. He stood up. Potter laughed, and he felt Black tense behind him.

"Morning, Snape."

Relief that Severus would never acknowledge flooded through him. Mulciber had entered the classroom, and was eying them all with a look of disdain. Potter and Black shared a quick glance. Potter let go of Snape's wand, and it clattered noisily onto the desk. Severus grabbed it at once. Pettigrew was slow on the uptake, but after Potter nudged him, he too let go of the torn remains of Snape's text-book. Almost casually, the three drifted back to their seats.

Snape collapsed into his chair. His heart was racing. Mulciber gave him a patronising look. "Keep your wand on you next time, Snape," was all he said.

After the confrontation, Flitwick's lecture went mostly over his head. Severus knew that he would have to revise it later, on top of all his other homework, but he couldn't bring himself to focus. Most of his attention was on stopping himself from shaking. Severus watched a spider daintily make its way across the desk. It had long legs and a small, dark body. Like me, thought Severus, except that he never managed to walk with as much dignity.

"Therefore," said Flitwick, loudly, "today's lesson will focus on the more theoretical aspects of-"

Mulciber was doing something to the spider. Severus thought he knew what it was. The spider pranced along the end of the desk, its walk suddenly changed. The trick of it was that Mulciber wasn't moving a muscle. His hand rested lightly on his wand, and his eyes followed the movement of the spider, but aside from that, he gave no outward indication that he had any relation to it. It made Severus uncomfortable, but he didn't feel able to do anything.

The spider ran across the floor. It crawled across Mary McDonald's shoe and then raced up her leg.

The class was suddenly split by a shriek as she leapt from her seat, brushing her legs and screaming. Flitwick – who had been in the middle of explaining certain aspects of wandless magic – tumbled over backwards in alarm.

Harriet and Viola – Slytherin girls Severus had little to do with - shrieked in delighted mirth.

McDonald was so upset that she was unable to continue in the class, so Lily escorted her to the hospital wing. She gave Severus a filthy look on her way out, although it hadn't been his doing. He would have tried to explain that to her, if she hadn't looked so angry. That was the problem with Lily, these days. She never had time to listen to his side of the story.

The whole affair left him greatly rankled, and he spent the rest of the day in a dark temper. He trudged up to Makepeace's lesson with brooding resentment in his heart. When he opened the door, he came face to face with Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Mr. Snape," said Dumbledore. "I was just leaving." He smiled. Severus blinked, and nodded at him. His mouth felt very dry, as the headmaster's presence always put him on edge. He waited until the old man had disappeared down the corridor, and shut the door firmly behind him.

"Hi," called Makepeace. He was on the mezzanine floor above the classroom, but made to descend as Severus entered.

"What was he doing here?"

"The headmaster and I were discussing current affairs."

Snape knew he should pursue the matter further. This was exactly the sort of information Mulciber had asked him to uncover! He'd had a long day, however, and didn't remotely feel like it. "So," he said, resentfully. "Sir. What am I supposed to do this evening?"

"Well, I thought we'd work on your footwork. It's... not good. And you don't need to call me Sir."

"Right," he said. "Professor. Where shall we start?"

In the end, the lesson turned out to be something of a wash. Severus had expected something more exciting after the duel last week – would have relished in the opportunity to let off steam. However, there was no spell-casting at all. He didn't even have a wand. Makepeace had given him a wooden stick to 'practice' with. They spent the hour circling on another.

"Think with your feet," the professor kept repeating. "And stand up straight."

He'd never done anything so stupid in his life, and he felt even more irritable and snappish at the end of the hour than he had at the beginning.

"You seem distracted," said Makepeace, as Severus was leaving. Snape glowered at him. "Goodnight!" the professor called loudly after him.

Severus was distracted, it was true, but it wasn't Makepeace's business to comment on it. His mind was on Lily when he left the room. They'd caught each other's gaze briefly during dinner. She'd looked away at once... but why had she been looking at him in the first place? He wondered if he should have acted differently during Charms... but he'd been so angry about Potter and Black that...

Severus rounded the corner, and nearly ran into her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. She was clutching a textbook to her chest. Of course, he thought, this passage was near to the Gryffindor common room. Evidently, the room had decided against depositing him on a lower floor this evening.

"Free country, isn't it?" he spat back at her. He had no interest in explaining his lessons with Makepeace to anyone. Ignoring the shocked and irritated look on her face, he pushed past her, wanting to return quickly to the dungeons.

Severus's life seemed to be falling into some sort of routine, albeit a strange one. School-work and extra study kept him comfortably busy. Makepeace's lessons - though they often seemed boring and irrelevant - provided some small point of interest for his otherwise dull schedule. On Fridays, he passed on any skerricks of information he'd managed to glean about his professor - a meeting with Dumbledore, or thea mention of a ministry colleague - to Mulciber.

Perhaps it was because of these new activities, but the semester felt different to all his previous ones at Hogwarts. There was a change in the air. The atmosphere inside the castle seemed different this year; darker, and more oppressive, somehow. It was as though the forces that worked outside of Hogwarts - the Ministry, the Dark Lord and the Order of the Phoenix – were physically pressing up against the ancient stone walls that surrounded them.

Severus couldn't afford to take the Daily Prophet every day, but there was usually a copy lying around. Severus couldn't really believe that these things –exciting, dangerous things – were going on outside Hogwarts.

Potter and Black were different too. Severus had gathered from Regulus that there had been some sort of confrontation over the summer, the result of which was that his elder brother had been expelled from their house, and asked not to return. Black had been living with Potter over the summer, and a result they seemed more synchronised than ever. Their harassment of him had also seemed more frequent, but maybe he was imagining that.

Then there was the club that Makepeace had founded...

The club's official name was the Defence Association. That was what Professor Makepeace called it, anyway. Sometimes, however, when Severus was in the corridors or in the library, he overheard those select students who had been chosen to attend – Black and Potter prominent amongst them – calling it something different. It was a stupid nickname, made up by children who didn't understand the severity of their actions, but still, the name persisted, whispered behind hands, written on notes passed between them in class.

Dumbledore's Army.

It made him fume. As if they knew anything about the real world outside of Hogwarts. He scratched at his arm, absent-mindedly. The brand itched oddly at times, though he was sure it wasn't an official summons.

Perhaps the atmosphere came from within him. His sixth-year was also dominated by a profounder sense of loneliness than he had ever felt before in his life. He'd been alone as a child, of course, but it had been different back then. He'd been too young to consider his own position. He was alone, but he didn't know what it was to have friends and so did not miss them. That'd changed after he'd met Lily. No matter how bad anything had been since then, he'd had her. She'd been there for him, always, but not anymore.

A change to his routine came in the first week of October, in the form of a note. It wasn't delivered by owl, but arrived via paper-aeroplane on Sunday morning.

Severus.

Meet me at the greenhouses at 2pm. We're going for a walk

HJM

He groaned. He had other work to do, of course, but he wasn't sure if he was allowed to ignore the note or not. At 2pm, he trooped down to the greenhouses, where, sure enough, Makepeace was waiting, the bright sunlight glinting off his monocle.

"Does this replace my Monday lesson?" Severus asked, before saying hello.

"Yes, I suppose. I thought it'd be fun."

"Fun," said Severus, voice dripping with sarcasm. Makepeace gave him an awful smile, and set off at a brisk trot.

His legs were so long that Severus almost had to run to keep up. He was slightly out of breath by the time they reached the shadow of the forest. Severus stared at Makepeace in consternation.

"I'm not going in there," he said. Makepeace pulled a face.

"Come on," he said. "It'll be fun."

Severus thought the two of them had a very different idea of 'fun'. He relented though. He was intrigued, and his curiosity overrode his fear. They set off. It was pleasant at first. The sun-dappled path was cool, and the forest was alive with sounds. He could hear the birds singing, and the flittering of insects and small animals in the undergrowth. If Severus stuck a little close to Makepeace's shadow than was necessary, well... no-one could blame him.

The path became narrower, and stopped entirely when they came to a burbling stream.

"What now?" asked Severus in a whisper, although he wasn't sure why he was whispering. In answer, Makepeace sat down and began unlacing his boots. Severus followed his lead, as Makepeace stepped barefoot into the stream. Severus could feel winter coming in the water. He'd tied his laces together and hung his boots around his neck, and they knocked against his chest as he walked. He had to stoop low in places to make it through the thick undergrowth.

The rocks were very slippery. He'd cut his foot, grazed his knee after falling and been hit in the face by two separate branches by the time they finally arrived in a dappled clearing. Severus wiggled his toes in the wet mud, delighting at the feeling. He climbed out, straightening up fully for the first time in ages.

"It's peaceful," he said. It was. He wondered if he would have the courage to come here alone. Makepeace beckoned, silently, and Severus followed him. The clearing widened out to reveal a crumbling stone circle. Severus was about to open his mouth, to ask if this was the end of their journey, when he felt the magic.

It came up through his feet, still bare on the soft moss. It reverberated in his bones, up his spine, out through the tips of his fingers. A moment later, the sensation had passed.

"What is it?" he asked, in a whisper.

"Old," said Makpeace, simply.

He went to examine one of the stones. There were runes upon them, but none that he recognised. He began to copy them into his notebook anyway. Perhaps he'd be able to translate them later. Curious, he followed the circle. It led to a low, crumbling retaining wall.

"It's the foundations of Hogwarts," Makepeace said.

"What?"

"The school itself is a living thing, of sorts. It grows, and moves. It has a mind of its own, and evolves following its own whims."

Severus digested this. It contradicted with a lot of what he'd read. Then again, so did a lot of what Makepeace said to him.

"What about the Chamber of Secrets?" he asked.

"You believe in that story, then?"

"Yes," Severus said, somewhat defiantly.

"Good. The Chamber too has moved and evolved since its creation. For one thing, they didn't have indoor plumbing in Salazar Slytherin's day."

This was such an odd comment to make that Severus looked up. He came face-to-face with centaur's drawn arrow-point.

While they'd been talking, the centaurs had surrounded them. There must have been twenty in total. All had bows, and all looked angry. Their hooves hadn't made a sound upon the moss.

"Ah," said Makepeace. He took a step towards Severus. There was an undercurrent to his voice that Severus had never heard before. Was it fear?

"You shouldn't have come here," said a huge, raven-haired centaur. "You are unnatural. An abomination. This is a sacred place."

The circle hissed.

"I am sorry," said Makepeace. He looked up, as though he were trying to see the sun through the thick branches of the trees. He took a hold of Severus's arm with extreme firmness. Severus tried to shrug him off, but Makepeace's grip was implacable. "I will be going. We will be going. Sorry."

Severus wasn't entirely sure what happened next. He had a sudden feeling of weightlessness, which coincided with the sensation that he'd left his stomach behind. A branch whipped across his face, slicing his cheek open. And then...

They were in the open air above the forest, and rising fast. Makepeace's wand was pointed downwards, and Severus realised he must have propelled them from the earth with some kind of charm.

If he had not been too busy feeling queasy, and gripping Makepeace's arm for dear life, he would have enjoyed the view as the world unrolled beneath them. Hogwarts sat on the hill, like a little toy castle. The trees they'd left behind were no larger than twigs. And still, they climbed.

Severus shut his eyes, and, at that moment, they reached the apex of the great arc, and began to fall.

"What now?" screamed Severus, as the wind tried to rip his words away. The ground was approaching with alarming speed. In answer, Makepeace flicked his wand. Severus felt suddenly weightless. He looked for Makepeace, but the man had completely disappeared. Dazed, Snape drifted back to earth like a crow's feather. His descent took several minutes.

He landed on the grass near the lake, so lightly that it hardly bent beneath him. There was an outbreak of giggling. A group of Hufflepuff girls were laughing at him. Furious, he turned his back on them. The wind buffeted him on the way back to school, and he felt that with every step he would blow away.

The weightlessness charm Makepeace had cast upon him had not been lifted upon his return to the ground. No counter-curse he tried would end its effects. It took all his strength to push open a door, and the slightest gust of wind would push him flat on his face. Fuming, Severus went to the seventh floor, but Makepeace wasn't in his office. The door to his classroom had disappeared entirely. Severus slumped, defeated.

He spent an excruciating hour searching for his professor. He couldn't bear to think what would happen if Black or Potter came across him in this state. Giggles and stares followed him wherever he went.

He found Makepeace in the Owlery, in the end. The man looked slightly windswept. "Severus," he said, with his usual tone. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Take it off," he growled. "Take it off, now."

Makepeace looked completely confused, and then, to Severus's extreme annoyance, started laughing.

"It's not funny!" he yelled. Makepeace flicked his wand, and Severus collapsed under the sudden force of gravity, restored at last. It was this final indignity that burst the damn inside him. He could feel his face twitching.

"Who the hell do you think you are!"

Makepeace stopped laughing. He blinked, lopsidedly. "Severus, I-"

"No," he said. "I'm done. You can forget about it." He turned to go, but Makepeace caught him buy the arm. "Let go!"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you in danger, I-"

The fact that Makepeace thought that it had been about the danger made Severus even angrier. He wanted to scream at the man, but he couldn't think what to say first.

"I'm sick of this. I hate your stupid lessons. I don't want anything to do with you."

With an almighty tug, he wrenched his arm free of Makepeace's grip. He took off down the Owlery steps, leaving his professor standing alone.

Chapter Text

Severus awoke very suddenly on the Monday morning following his confrontation with Makepeace. He sat up, blinking, and glanced around the dark dormitory. The other boys were still sleeping, except Mulciber, who was missing entirely. It must be early, he thought. Quietly, he padded into the adjoining bathroom. Severus washed his face under the cold tap, scowling at his reflection. His pimples seemed to have gotten worse since the previous day.

On a whim, Severus decided to explore the castle. The pre-dawn stillness was comforting to him after the turbulent weekend. The school was peacefully asleep, with no-one to acknowledge his passing. He climbed to the top of the old Defence Against the Dark Arts tower. It was empty, now that Makepeace had chosen the other room for his classes. His footsteps echoed in the narrow stairwell. By the time he reached the top of the tower, there was just enough light to see the outline of the grounds, though everything was still in shades of grey. The air was bitingly cold, and he blew on his hands to warm them. Slowly, colour seeped into the landscape as the sun rose. Severus stood there for some time, appreciating the view. Some small bird of prey – possibly a kestrel, though he wasn't sure – flew past him with a screech.

Distantly, he heard the bell sound for seven o'clock. Yawning, he decided to get to breakfast early for once. As he walked down the deserted third floor corridor, he heard a gentle click. He stopped, and then spun around.

"Who's there?" he called. He gripped his wand defensively.

"It's just Snape," a voice hissed. A statue he'd just passed – a stone witch with a hump and an eye patch – creaked, and from behind it emerged Mulciber and Rabastan Lestrange. Both boys looked tired, but also immensely pleased with themselves.

"Where have you been?" asked Severus, guardedly.

"Don't ask stupid questions," grunted Mulciber, but Lestrange winked at him. Severus hesitated.

"Were you out all night?" he asked. Lestrange put his finger to his lips, and then made a beckoning motion with his hand. Snape took it to mean he should walk down to breakfast with them.

Severus spent the next few days in a contemplative silence. What was he supposed to do now? Would Slughorn make him take some other class to make up for the one that he had missed? Would Lestrange question the lack of new information coming from him? As the week dragged on, however, Severus came to the depressing realisation that nobody noticed – or cared – what his timetable looked like or which subjects he took.

Their year was also due to start apparition lessons. The next Saturday morning, he and the other 6th years trooped down to the lawn by the Quidditch pitch to practice. Severus wasn't sure how he was going to come up with the five galleon fee for the test next year. He hoped some windfall would come along before April.

Aside from this small point of interest, the term continued bleakly on, at a snail's pace. Over the next three weeks, Severus did his best to avoid everybody and talk to no-one. He spent even more time in the library, reading as much as possible. He revised Occlumency further, practising the techniques laid out in The Secrets of the Mind.

On a cold evening near the end of October, Severus found himself once again alone in the library on a Monday evening. The library was practically deserted, for which he was glad. Severus angrily crossed out a paragraph in his Charms essay. He stood up and stretched.

If I hadn't had that fight with Makepeace, I'd be in our lesson right now. Severus shook his head angrily, as though the thought was an irritating fly. Hardly acknowledging what he was doing, he wandered over the genealogy section. Severus ran his finger over the spines of the books, stopping at Nature's Nobility. He pulled the hefty tome from the shelf, and found a more secluded corner to study it in.

Glancing quickly over his shoulder to make double sure no-one was watching, he cracked the book open at the index, his finger tracing down the list of names. MacDougal, Macmillan, Malfoy... Makepeace. Severus noted the page number, and flicked back through the book.

The Makepeace clan were a pure-blood family, descended from an offshoot of the Peverell family. The name has been extinct in the male line since 1427.

Severus frowned at this unhelpful summary. On the opposite page was an illustration of the Makepeace family tree, showing how it linked to the different wizarding families. He traced his finger up the branches. It had to be a false name, then. Or - he could just be Muggleborn. Surely there were Muggles by that name - there were so many of them. Perhaps the professor was half-blood, like Severus himself. Curious, Severus flicked through the book until he found the section on Prince.

His own genealogy was nothing much to be proud of. The Princes had never been a very prestigious family to begin with, their blood constantly being diluted by Muggle marriages. Still, seeing his mother's name linked with so many powerful wizarding families made him feel deeply contented. For a moment, he felt a powerful sense of connectedness with his history and heritage. He smiled, and shut the book.

From between the shelves, he heard a tinkling laugh. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Cautiously, he stood up, and stalked over to the shelf the book had come from. From between a gap in the shelves, he saw Lily. She was sitting with Lupin, but, as he watched, the werewolf got up. "I'll see if I can find a reference for it," said Lupin, brightly, before disappearing into the stacks.

Severus shut his eyes, and lent his head against the oaken bookshelf. He counted to ten in his head, took a deep breath, and stepped out from behind the shelf.

"Excuse me," he said quietly. Lily started, looking up from her Charms homework with a frown. Severus found his voice with difficulty. "Is there... Is there a book that tells you all the Muggle names in England?"

"Why would you be interested in that?" she asked coldly. Severus blushed, and shrugged. He was acutely aware of how stupid and ugly he looked, standing there in his patchwork robes.

"I was just wondering," he said. He had to fight to keep his voice civil. He didn't want to end up shouting at her again. His hands twisted the parchment he was holding.

Lily's expression softened. "Like a telephone directory?" she asked.

Severus shrugged. "I don't know what that is," he said, lamely.

"It's a list of names, with people's phone numbers attached."

"Where do you get one from?"

She shrugged. "Muggles get them delivered. The Muggle library usually has a store of them as well. But... usually they're just for a single town or city."

He nodded. "Thanks," he said. The smallest smile graced her lips.

"Who are you trying to find?" Lily looked curious, and not nearly as defensive as she had at the beginning of the conversation. She was wearing her hair down this evening, and it cascaded in ripples around her shoulders.

Severus opened his mouth, but no excuse came to him. He shrugged again. "Just wondering," he muttered.

For a stupid second, he thought that they were friends again. She would ask him to sit down, and he would help her with her Defence homework. She would revise his Charms essay, and together, they could work through the difficult potion Slughorn had assigned the class the previous week.

Lupin returned from around the shelf, carrying a pile of parchment. He stopped dead when he saw Snape, and the moment of fleeting insanity passed as quickly as it had come. Severus left without another word.

A few days after this awkward meeting, Severus was heading up to the Halloween feast with Avery and Mucliber. Quite suddenly, his left arm began to prickle and burn. He stopped dead, grasping his forearm tightly.

Severus knew at once that this was that call. He couldn't say how he knew, never having felt the sensation before, but he knew with absolute certainty that he had to go the Dark Lord at once. Excitement and apprehension battled within his belly. The feeling only increased when he realised Avery and Mulciber, walking several paces ahead of him, appeared not to have felt the call.

"Hey," he called, weakly. They turned.

"What?" asked Mulciber, looking annoyed. Severus opened his mouth but nothing came out. Mulciber snorted, and the two other boys turned their backs on him. His Dark Mark throbbed more strongly.

Severus knew what he needed to do. No-one asked where he was going as he turned against the tide of students and raced for the Western staircase. It wasn't used by students often, owing to the narrowness of the spiral, but Severus knew that it would be empty tonight. His footsteps echoed strangely in the empty tower, and he was slightly out of breath by the time he reached the secret exit at its base. He slipped into the dark grounds, unnoticed by anyone.

As he ran across the damp grass, he glanced up at the moon nervously. It was only half full. It wouldn't do to encounter Lupin tonight, of all nights.

The swaying branches of the Whomping Willow were silhouetted darkly against the sky. Severus whispered a quick charm to depress the knot on the trunk, and the branches froze in place. He glanced a final time over his shoulder, before slipping as quietly as he could into the tunnel. He lit his wand, and bowed his head slightly as he paced quickly along the passage. The tunnel was somewhat cramped, and his head occasionally brushed the rocky ceiling. Severus jogged along the tunnel, trying not to think about what had happened last time he had come this way.

I must be outside the grounds by now, he thought, just as his arm gave a particularly painful throb.

Though Severus had only had three apparition lessons, he had picked up the theory quickly, and was confident that he could do it now. The mark felt like it was physically pulling him to where he needed to be. He gripped it tightly, and spun on the spot. There was a moment of blinding compression, and Severus landed awkwardly at the gates of Malfoy Manor.

He took a deep breath to steady himself. The night air was cold on his face. He could hardly believe that this was happening. The iron gates opened at his trembling touch. Severus strode through the grounds, trying to keep his feelings of anxiety at bay. What if he had done something wrong and the Dark Lord was angry with him? And it was strange, wasn't it, that he alone should be summoned?

Uncertainly, he raised his hand to knock upon the front door, but before he could do so, it was opened by Lucius.

Was it normal for Malfoy to open his own front door? he thought.

"Severus," said the man. "It's a pleasure to see you."

Snape at once felt awkward, in his ill-fitting school robes. Lucius, however, gave no sign that he had noticed. "I came as quickly as I could," said Severus. "I had to leave school grounds to disapparate. He isn't... I haven't kept him waiting, have I?"

Lucius put a hand firmly on his shoulder. "You've done very well. No-one saw you leave?"

"No. No-one." Snape swallowed. His heart was racing, and his legs felt strangely wobbly.

"Very good. Follow me." Severus did, and Lucius lead him quickly down darkly panelled corridor. There was no time to admire the grandeur as he had over the summer. Their footsteps were muffled by the soft carpet. They stopped in front of a particularly grand door. Lucius gestured for Severus to open it.

"Aren't you coming in?"

"No," said Malfoy. He patted Snape's shoulder. "You'll be fine. Go on." He was pushed into the drawing-room, and the door shut behind him with a click.

The Dark Lord's chair was facing the fire. Severus could see one of his spindly, pale hands resting on the arm of the chair. His breath caught in his throat.

"My Lord?" he asked. His voice caught in his throat.

"Severus. It is good to see you again."

He stood, fighting to remain calm, though he felt like he had been hit with a jelly legs jinx.

"I apologise, My Lord, for the delay in my arrival. I had to leave the school grounds to disapparate here."

The hand waved airily. "It is of no matter. I have been perfectly comfortable, and I understand the importance of your schooling. In fact, it is that particular topic for which I have brought you here tonight. How is the new term treating you?"

"Very well sir," he said, not at all sure where the conversation was heading. "I have begun a number of my NEWT subjects and-"

"Including Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Yes, Lord." Severus waited.

"We have become aware of the appointment of a certain... wizard... to the Defence Against the Dark Arts post. Rabastan tells me that you have developed something of a bond with the man."

Severus coughed. "He claims to have recognised my skill in the Dark Arts, and wished to tutor me privately. I believe..." he trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"Yes?"

"I believe that he wishes to recruit me for the Order of the Phoenix."

"He is not aware of your status in our order?"

"No, my Lord."

"And the other lessons he gives to the children? What of them?"

Severus smiled. "Above OWL level, he has segmented the class into two. I think he fears some of the older students may... misuse what he teaches them."

He heard the Dark Lord laugh. "And what does he teach them?"

"I do not attend the regular class, my Lord. I... objected to it."

There was a pause. "Severus," said the Dark Lord. "It is a youthful disposition to act wildly on our emotions and objections. The better way – the Slytherin way – is to act respectfully towards others, and take the things that they offer us, even if we object to their principles."

Severus wondered what Lord Voldemort would do if he told him that he had stormed out of the private tutorial as well. He was very glad that he'd been practising Occlumency, and so could conceal his thoughts from even the Dark Lord.

He decided to pretend that the argument with Makepeace had never happened. Severus was sure he could seek out the man and beg to return to the class, no matter how embarrassing that would be. It would be better than disappointing the Dark Lord, anyway. Makepeace was bound to let him back in. He liked to see the best in people, and would love to think that Severus regretted his harsh words.

"I could," he began, tremulously, "re-enroll in the regular NEWT class, my lord, but I suspect that it would mean the end of my private sessions with the professor. If you would like me to gather information on Makepeace, the private session is surely the ideal place to do that. However, I think you should also know that he has started a private club, known as the Defence Association. It is my belief that he is using the club as a recruiting ground for the Order of the Phoenix."

"Is it possible for you to gain access to this club? Perhaps, to compile a list of names of the students that attend?"

Severus felt as though cold water had been poured on his insides. Lily was part of the club. Would he be putting her in danger, if he gave the Dark Lord her name?

"I already know the names of several members," he said, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Sirius Black is one of them."

"Ah, the blood traitor," said Voldemort. "Can you find out more?"

"Possibly," said Severus. His heart was beating fast. "It would appear suspicious if I was too eager to join the society. It's filled to the brim with the usual Gryffindor types. If my lord would grant me a few weeks – perhaps even until next year – I could gain access without arousing suspicion. "

"That would be excellent, Severus. There is no rush, and a true spy must act subtly and patiently." Severus felt a flush of pleasure at the word spy. "In the mean time, I would ask that you continue to observe the professor. Find out who he is and where he comes from. Find out his motives."

Severus smiled. This would be easy. Makepeace was practically bubbling over with stupid anecdotes. It would be easy to collect a sample of them for their side to digest. He hesitated, however.

"May I ask a question, my Lord?"

"Yes."

"Why the interest in Professor Makepeace?"

"Rookwood has brought me some interesting information, regarding his origins. It seems he appeared in the Department of Mysteries under unusual circumstances." The Dark Lord's hand beckoned him, and Severus hurried forwards, tripping on his own feet. Lord Voldemort turned his pale, gaunt face towards Severus's own, and ran a long, pale finger down his cheek"Continue you current role within his organisation. Gather what information you can, about his origins and his purpose here, and about his alliances. Do this thing, and you will be justly rewarded."

Severus understood himself dismissed. Keeping his mind carefully blank, he left the room.

Lucius explained that he would be returning via the floo network, to Honeydukes.

"The owner is... sympathetic... to our cause," he had said. "Best not to apparate again before you have your license. I'll be in contact with you soon." Severus hardly had time to protest this before he was pushed into the flames.

The owner of Honeydukes – a small, nervous man – ushered Severus down into the cellar, before opening a hidden trap door. Snape hardly remembered the walk back to school. The passage opened under the statue of the one-eyed witch he had seen Mulciber and Lestrange emerging from a few weeks ago. Although he had felt exhausted on the long walk home, when he fell into bed he could not sleep, but lay for hours, looking up at the mouldy canopy of his four-poster.

He had lied to the Dark Lord - a terrible offence. Still, how could he have explained to Lord Voldemort that he was no longer speaking to Makepeace because the professor had dragged him into a forest filled with blood-hungry centaurs and then charmed him to float away?

It had been right to lie, Severus decided. He would just have to turn the lie into a truth later.

Chapter Text

Severus had an excuse ready if anyone asked about his disappearance, but no one did. No-one seemed to care what he did or where he went. The day after Halloween, his classes passed in a haze of confused emotions. Frequently throughout the day, he'd suddenly remember what had happened, and it was though his insides had been doused with icy water. At lunch, he ate nothing, as his stomach was squirming too much. How was he supposed to explain to Makepeace that he wanted to re-enrol in the lesson? What was going to happen to him if the professor refused him?

Despite his fears, Severus knew that there was no point putting it off. After his afternoon classes had finished, but before dinner, he began the long climb up the seven flights of stairs to Makepeace's room. In his mind, he went over and over what he should say to the professor. When he finally arrived in the corridor with the tapestry of dancing trolls, it was only to discover that the door to Makepeace's rooms had vanished. Severus gnawed his lip, and wondered about what to do. It wasn't that unusual for rooms and passages in Hogwarts to move around unexpectedly, but it still disrupted his plans. He decided to wait, though his nervousness grew with every minute that passed. Pulling out his potions book, he lent against the wall, trying to look casual. Barely ten minutes had passed before Severus heard laughter echoing down the corridor. Makepeace was walking with Potter. Both had broomsticks over their shoulders, and their robes were muddy and damp.

"Oh," said Potter, as soon as he saw Severus. Severus wasn't sure how it was possible to put so much disdain into a single syllable. He hunched his shoulders further. Clenching his fists, and doing his best to ignore Potter, Severus turned to his professor.

"Can I speak with you?" he asked. Potter smirked. Makepeace frowned slightly.

"Of course," he said. "James, I'll see you on Thursday?" Potter hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain. Makepeace gave the smallest jerk of his head, and Potter left, glancing over his shoulder as he rounded the corner. "Good luck with the game on Saturday!" Makepeace called after him. Severus had to fight his groan. It was the opening match of the season on Saturday, and he would probably have to go. Severus wanted to sink through the floor.

"Where's your office?" asked Severus, awkwardly. Makepeace was pacing back and forward with his eyes closed.

"Where it normally is," he said. Severus turned, and the door had materialised out of nowhere. Makepeace gestured for him to go in, and Severus did. "You wanted to speak to me?" he asked, following him into the room.

There was no point waiting. "I wanted to apologise," said Severus, looking at his shoes. He felt embarrassed, but as the silence stretched, he felt compelled to look up. Makepeace was leaning against the door, squinting at Severus as though he were studying him.

"We argued three weeks ago. What's changed?"

Shrugging, Severus glanced around the room. The window was looking towards the mountains today. "I suppose I've had time to think about it. I'd like to be tutored by you again."

"Hmm," said Makepeace. This was proving harder than Severus had anticipated. He'd thought that Makepeace would immediately accept him back. Squinting through his good eye, Makepeace looked him up and down. "Why don't we go upstairs? We can have a chat."

This was the absolute last thing Severus wanted, but he felt that it would be unwise to disagree at this point. He clenched his hands in his pockets. Remember the mission, he told himself, and nodded.

The second floor of the room contained a number of battered armchairs and a strange assortment of items. The table and desks were scattered with books, newspapers and magical instruments. Strangely, there was also what Severus recognised as a Muggle television. Lily had had one like it in her sitting room. Makepeace flopped casually into a chair, and propped his chin on thumb and forefinger. Feeling extremely awkward, Severus sat down. His back was ramrod straight. The moment Severus opened his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by a high-pitched whistle. Makepeace stretched and picked the pocket Sneakoscope of the table. He twisted it, and it went silent at once. Severus blushed to the roots of his hair.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

Severus shook his head. He began to jiggle his leg nervously. Makepeace was smirking at him.

"So. You'd like to be tutored by me again. I have better things to do with my time, you know."

Severus looked down at his hands. It took all his self-control to speak. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Frankly, I don't see why I should bother, Severus. You're bratty, arrogant and rude. You obviously think you have nothing to learn from me, so I'd rather not waste both our time."

"I'm not..." Severus's mouth was very dry. "I don't think you're-" He breathed deeply. The criticism stung, but it also felt more genuine than anything Makepeace had said to him before. "When you first offered to teach me, I thought I'd be learning advanced curses and obscure magic. The sort of enchantments that you would not show the regular class. The...stuff you were teaching me..."

Makepeace leaned forward. "Severus. You already know more advanced curses and obscure magic than the rest of the sixth years combined. Invented some as well, I don't doubt. I've been trying to teach you skills you'd never pick up in a book – stuff it's taken me decades to learn."

Severus snorted. "All that footwork and chi and posture? "When is it going to come in handy?"

"Anybody can memorise a bunch of spells and throw them at somebody," said Makepeace. "You're not anybody."

The compliment – coming in the midst of so much criticism – fortified Severus for what he needed to say next.

"You act so bloody superior all the time!" he burst out. "It's annoying. And you laugh at me, all the time. I can't help it that I don't know all these stupid facts that you store. But you act like I'm an idiot, and I'm not." He glared at Makepeace, trying to think of a sharp way to end his speech. "Just don't... don't laugh at me, all right?" he finished, lamely. Severus had been laughed at all his life, and he was tired of it.

Makepeace lifted his hand. "I promise that I will never laugh at you. Unless you want me to."

"You're doing it again," he said, frustrated. "You're always mocking me."

"I'm not," said Makpeace, affronted. "This is just the way I am. Just like you're always a grouchy git. It's our nature."

"I'm not grouchy," muttered Severus.

Makepeace looked as though he were about to laugh, and then caught himself just in time. Severus frowned. He supposed he was angry a lot of the time, but that was because a lot of people made him angry. He'd never been grouchy with Lily. How could he have been? He suddenly missed her so terribly that it felt like a physical ache in his chest. He wanted to run to Gryffindor tower and beg for her forgiveness... But he'd already done that, and she'd refused him. They'd chosen their sides for all time now, and there was no going back.

"Can I please be tutored by you again?" he said, returning his gaze to his shoes. "I'm sorry I said those things."

Makepeace hesitated, and then smiled. "Of course you can," said his professor, and Severus felt relief flood through him. "Next Monday? Or we can have a lesson this evening if you'd like."

Snape thought he may as well see Makepeace sooner rather than later. That way, he could have a letter ready for Lucius by the end of the week. No-one needed to know that he'd dropped out of the classes at all!

"Today, I guess," he said. He suddenly realised that he would have to troupe all the way back down to dinner and then up here again. Even if the room did open on the bottom floor, as it sometimes did, he would still have to walk all the way back to return to it. He was glad he wasn't a Gryffindor. They had to make this walk every day.

"Tell you what," said Makepeace, as though he had read Severus's mind. "Why don't I call for supper up here? It'll save you walking down all those stairs again. Are you hungry?"

Severus realised that he was hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since dinner the previous night. Besides, he did want to avoid the stairs. Perhaps, having dinner with a professor wasn't so strange if they were tutoring you. Slughorn had invited him to dinner once or twice before it had become painfully obvious that he was never going to amount to anything.

More importantly, speaking with Makepeace would give him some practice in his new duties.

"Yes," said Severus

"Pansy," said Makepeace, and for a bizarre moment Severus thought the professor was speaking to him. A moment later, however, a wizened old house-elf appeared with a crack.

"Mister Professor is wanting some dinner?" she asked, in a creaky voice. "For two?"

"Yes please," said Makepeace. "Severus, what do you feel like?"

Severus couldn't think of anything, so he shrugged.

"Right," said Makepeace. "Two serves of shepherd's pie, two serves of treacle tart and one flagon of pumpkin juice. Thank-you, Pansy."

The house-elf gave a delighted curtsy, and vanished.

"Why do you speak to them like that?" asked Severus. He hadn't had much experience with house-elves, but this was certainly not the way Lucius treated his.

Makepeace frowned, slightly. "They are sentient creatures."

"Barely. They're completely moronic."

"Intelligence comes in many forms. Anyway, it doesn't matter. They can still suffer, and they do."

"The sheep that made the pie suffered," said Severus. "You'd hardly say please and thank you to that."

"Hmm. Perhaps I should have ordered Ratatouille instead. I can still change it, if you'd like."

Severus shrugged. "I don't care about the sheep or the house elf, that's all."

"I know that Hagrid tends to the school's flock with great compassion."

"I said, I don't care about the sheep."

Makepeace stretched out. "If there's one very important lesson I've learned in life, Severus, it's never to underestimate or under-appreciate house-elves. When you get down to it, sheep can be pretty dastardly little buggers too."

Snape scowled. "Why do the centaurs not like you?" he asked, wanting to change the subject.

"I think they explained it pretty well. You'll understand in time."

This was the sort of enigmatic answer he'd become to expect from the professor. There was no point pressing the matter. Instead, the conversation continued on to more interesting subjects. By the time the shepherd's pie arrived, they were talking about magic. In particular, they discussed Dark Magic. Makepeace seemed genuinely interested in Severus's opinions on the subject.

"I just don't see the difference between the two 'brands' of magic," he said, buttering a slice of bread. "It's far too simplistic to say that all these spells are bad and evil, and all thesespells are good and pure. Who makes that distinction?"

"A good question!" said Makepeace. "And I see your point. Even the simplest mundane charm can be used for evil reasons. When I was working as an Auror, I once worked on a case where someone had used the scourgify charm on the inside of someone else's stomach. I don't know if you've ever seen what soap does to the human digestive tract but-"

Severus pulled a face, and put down the piece of bread he was about to take a bite out of.

"And yet, that charm is not considered Dark. So, why make the distinction?" Makepeace paused, as though waiting for an answer.

"I asked you the question, sir," Severus said. He wanted to ask about Makepeace's time as an Auror, but he also was enjoying the conversation.

"Right. I thought you might have come up with an answer by now. Why do you think people divide the spells into two groups?"

"People like to categorise things," said Severus, a hint of disdain in his voice. "It's easy to say things are bad and evil, just if they don't conform to their world-view."

"Hmm, perhaps." Makepeace looked thoughtful.

"What do you think, Sir?"

"I don't know if I believe in the distinction between light and dark magic any-more. I believe there are powerful spells in our world. If used incorrectly, they can cause terrible damage. And there are selfish spells: magic so inherently self centred that it should never be cast by anyone."

"Like Horcruxes," said Severus. He wanted to impress Makepeace with his knowledge. The effect it had on his professor was quite unpredictable, however. The man stood up, suddenly, looking at Severus with fear in his face. He leaned forward, and gripped his shoulders.

"Where did you hear that word?" he asked. The tone of their conversation, which had been light and humorous a moment before, had been replaced with a terrible urgency. Severus looked down, to avoid looking at the man's disfigured face too closely. "Where, Severus."

"I read about it in the library," he muttered.

"No you didn't. Where."

Severus looked up, unwillingly. Makepeace's right eye stared into nothingness, as always. His left eye was narrowed behind its monocle in deep concern.

"I read about it in one of my mother's books," he said, calmly. "She has a number of books on dark subjects, which she inherited from her own mother."

Makpeace sank bank into his chair, looking greatly relieved. "What ever you do," he said, "Don't mention that to anyone else. Not at Hogwarts, or outside it, do you understand me?"

Severus frowned. "Why not?"

Makepeace gave a heavy sigh. "There are people who would... hurt you, if they knew you knew about... those things. It's not a good idea to go blabbing about them. Do you promise that you won't mention it to anyone?

"All right," he said, shrugging Makepeace's hand off his shoulder. "I promise won't." He took a small bite of treacle tart, and then set the rest aside. "Shouldn't we be getting on with my lesson?" It was nearly eight.

"Oh," said Makepeace. "I thought this was the lesson."

Snape blinked. "Ri-ight," he said. He got to his feet, picking up his bag. "Can I go then?"

"Sure," said Makepeace. "And Severus?"

Severus turned, about to descend the staircase.

"Thank-you for coming to speak with me. I don't feel like you would have done it a few weeks ago. Next week we can... we can focus on something you want to learn more, if you like."

And that was that. He left the room with a heavy heart. His first step towards being a spy was complete, but he didn't feel very happy about it. Still, he'd done what the Dark Lord had asked. He was heading up in the world.

Chapter Text

The mission he had been given by the Dark Lord occupied much of Severus's thoughts over the next few days. He thought frequently about what he would put in his letter to Lucius, and about the best strategy for extracting more information from Makepeace. He was so preoccupied that he had difficulty paying attention in lessons, which in turn lead to -

"Snape!" snapped McGonagall. Severus started, glancing around the Transfiguration classroom in a mild panic. He had no idea what McGonagall had been saying. He stared at her, mouth slightly open.

"As I was saying, Mr Snape, would you be able to tell the class what negative side effects can occur from the epulaenium conjuration?"

The classroom was silent. Everyone was staring at him. He felt his face begin to redden. "I-"

"-haven't been paying attention, as is blatantly obvious. Next week, I expect a 10 inch essay on this subject from you." Severus heard Potter snigger. McGonagall rounded on him.

"Mr Potter, since you find this subject so amusing, would you be able to elaborate on this charm for Mr Snape?"

Potter grinned. "Well, Professor. The epulaenium spell conjures food. Under Golpalott's Third Law, however, the conjuring of real food out of nothing is impossible. Therefore, while this spell might appear to conjure food, the food itself is nutritionally worthless. If you ate it for long enough, you'd starve."

Snape wanted to punch him. McGonagall straightened her glasses. "Very well. It seems that you at least have been paying attention, despite appearances." The class laughed, and Potter grinned. Wilkes, sitting next to Snape, snorted. Severus wasn't sure if it was out of amusement or derision.

The week was so hectic – between his regular NEWT course load, and additional homework heaped on due to his own absent-mindedness – that Severus didn't even have time to begin writing his letter to Lucius until the weekend.

They had decided that the reduced security of a written report was worth the risk, considering the difficulty that Severus would face in trying to leave school grounds. He couldn't apparate legally, and the Honeyduke's connection was not to be used carelessly.

In his letter, Severus included all the details he could remember about the lesson he had had since meeting the Dark Lord. He concluded with a comment relating to his own after-hours research.

It is my guess that the professor is at most half-blood, or acting under a false name. Though his suname has been present in wizarding history, it has been extinct for centuries. He also shows a level of familiarity with Muggle culture and technology that I would not expect from a pureblood.

He reread his letter quickly. Severus was pleased with the flow of his writing and his summation of events. He'd included everything he'd learned about the professor so far.

Except...

Quill poised, Severus suddenly remembered Makepeace's strange comment during their last meeting.

There are people who would... hurt you, if they knew you knew about Horcruxes. Do you promise that you won't mention it to anyone?

A drop of ink oozed from the end of his quill onto the parchment, leaving a black splodge on the page. Severus bit his lip. Should he mention...? His hand hovered above the parchment for a long moment, before he made his decisions. With a flourish, he signed his name and charmed the ink to dry. He could always mention the Horcruxes later, if it seemed prudent.

Severus had actually prepared two rolls of parchment. One was the true report, and the other was a rather dull letter to Malfoy, listing his school marks and asking for advice on his future career decisions. Severus scrambled the report on Makepeace with a complicated piece of cryptomancy he had learned the previous year. Then, very carefully, he merged the fake letter with the true one, so only the mundane text was visible. He included a piece of Lucius's hair in this spell. Only when Malfoy touched the parchment would the true meaning become apparent.

It was not foolproof, and could be broken by a suitably skilled wizard. However, even the contents of the concealed letter were not too damning. It was merely a report on the content of his lessons with Makepeace. No one could condemn him for that, surely?

He pondered this as he climbed up to the Owlery. The rustling sounds of the birds in the rafters reached his ears long before he arrived at the top of the tower. The tower was open on all sides, and the wind cut through the cheap fabric of Severus's robes like a knife through butter. Before Severus had even held out his arm, a hawk had fluttered down. It was a handsome animal, with sharp black eyes and mottled plumage. He tied the letter to its leg, and the bird nipped him on the ear, before flying through the open window. Shivering, Severus watched it fly away until it was only a distance black speck in the sky.

He hadn't expected a reply for a week or more, but on Monday morning, the hawk reappeared at the breakfast table. It swooped down to him at the table, and held out its leg. Severus quickly unrolled the parchment attached there. Fingers shaking, he stuffed the letter in his bag. Better not open it here, with all these people watching. Instead, he scratched the bird under its chin.

"That was fast," he said, appreciatively. Lucius must have replied to his letter as soon as he received it, which was surely a good sign. Even so, the bird had flown to Wiltshire and back in little more than a day.

Severus felt a prickle on the back of his neck, and glanced up at the staff table, but Makepeace wasn't there. Shoulders hunched, and trying to look casual, he strolled from the hall, ducking into the first unlocked classroom he could find. Heart racing, he tore open the scroll.

Dear Severus,

I was delighted to receive your letter. Of course I remember you from our time at Hogwarts. Considering your excellent marks, I would be delighted to offer some introductions for you at a later time. Please reply by return owl the dates which are convenient for you.

Yours Sincerely,

Lucius Malfoy.

Severus bit his lip. He was unsure whether the words in the fake letter held any meaning, and he felt too sheepish to ask. Was Lucius actually going to introduce him to potential employers, or was it all just a cover for the true message? He traced his finger down the letter. A jolt went up his right arm, and it was as though Lucius Malfoy was speaking directly into his ear.

Severus, our mutual friend is thrilled with your work, and requests that you continue in the same vein. While details like this may seem mundane to the uniformed, it is often information about our enemies that gives us the greatest advantage in our cause.

A slow grin crept over his face. Their mutual friend was thrilled with his work?

The word enemies echoed inside his mind as he walked up to his lesson later that day. He didn't think of Makepeace as an enemy, not really. That was stupid, though. Of course he was an enemy. You didn't spy on your friends.

"Severus!" said Makepeace, as though it was both a surprise and a delight to see him here, at the same time as he arrived every week. "How are you? Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No," he said. There was an enormous birdcage by the professor's feet, within which a large and proud rooster strutted. Severus stared at it.

"What is that?" he asked.

"It's a chicken!" said Makepeace, brightly. "Or, a rooster, more accurately."

"I can see that, Professor," he said, coldly. "What is it doing here?"

"Hagrid lent it to me."

"May I ask what you are planning to do with it?"

"You can ask," said Makepeace, enigmatically, and left it at that. The rooster gave a small squawk.

"Where were you this morning?"

"I've been away, on business."

"What kind of business?"

"Stake out."

"Staking out what?"

Makepeace smiled and shrugged. "You'll find out later. Anyway, I had to get back today. I have an appointment with Professor Dumbledore. Speaking of people being missing, I didn't see you at the match on Saturday."

Severus shrugged. He hadn't felt like watching Potter zoom around like a particularly irritating blue-bottle, and the deserted castle had provided good cover for working on his report.

"Well, you missed a fantastic catch on Regulus's part. I was very impressed. "

"Slytherin still lost."

Makepeace shrugged, and smiled. "Quidditch is a game of points. I was captain during my time at school. Sometimes, you could win every game and still lose the cup. I could only catch the Snitch after-"

Severus yawned, widely and pointedly. Makepeace laughed. "Alright, I take a hint. What did you want to learn today?"

He shrugged. "Something a little more practical than the theoretical... groundwork... you've been focusing on so far."

"Hmm. I've said it before. You know a lot already. You probably know more dark curses than me"

"But you know far more about defensive jinxes than I do. I'd never seen some of the shield charms you used in our first lesson."

Makepeace laughed. "I've been trying to teach you magic like that, Severus. As you very well know, you can't simply wave your wand and say a few magic words... the curses you'll be facing soon will be too powerful for that. You have to know the theory... channel your own internal energy. Also, I must admit I'm worried that if I teach you something too spectacular, you're going to use it to hex Potter the first opportunity you get."

Severus grinned, and then hastily rearranged his features into something more apathetic. "Obviously, all magic has a theoretical and spiritual aspect. However, I've never before heard of any of the moronic techniques you've been subjecting me to."

"Maybe that's why you've also never seen my counter-curses before."

Severus opened his mouth to throw back a snappy retort, and then closed it again. His professor had a point. For once. "Hmmph."

"Anyway, if you're interested in the practical..." Makepeace pulled out a tarnished pocket watch from a pocket in his robes. "Give me the best shield charm you've got."

Severus nearly laughed. His shield charms were his speciality – very strong, and capable of repelling a whole number of hexes and jinxes. Indeed, the shield charm he cast was so strong it caused a slight ripple in the air. Makepeace flicked a curse at him, and it rebounded in a shower of sparks. Severus grinned. He could feel his heart beginning to beat faster, but the charm held. Makepeace threw another curse, glancing down at the pocket watch as he did so. The second spell rebounded as well, although Severus's arm was beginning to shake with the effort of upholding the spell for over a minute. After the sixth curse Makepeace tried, Severus could feel a vein beginning to pulse in his forehead. A drop of sweat gathered at the end of his nose. With a flourish, Makepeace picked up a paperweight that had been lying on the desk and threw it at Severus. The charm shattered with a sound like breaking glass. Severus collapsed to the floor, his legs too weak to hold him. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, and he rolled onto his back, gasping for air.

"Endurance," said Makepeace, his head appearing upside-down in Severus's field of vision. "It seems to be something of an issue. Four minutes and fifteen seconds. Next week I expect it to be ten minutes." He nudged Severus with his boot. "Get up."

"I can't," he gasped.

"Rubbish. Get up, or I'll hex you."

Severus crawled to the desk, and used it to pull himself into a standing position. His legs were trembling, and his palms were slippery with sweat.

"Right," said Makepeace. "Now, try hexing me."

Severus had to lean against the desk as he raised his wand. "Titubo," he said. It was a hex he'd learned in second year, but he was too exhausted to even think about casting it non-verbally.

Makepeace legs gave a small tremble, but he remained standing. He sighed. "It's a start. Would you like some water?"

Severus nodded. Makepeace conjured a glass and filled it, holding it out to him. The water was the sweetest thing Severus had ever tasted. His breathing was slower now, and after finishing the glass, he stood up unaided.

"I noticed you cast the shield charm non-verbally."

"Silent charms have always come easy for me, Professor."

"Somehow I don't find that surprising." Severus squinted at him, unsure if he was being made fun of. Makepeace gave a little smile, the deformed side of his face pulling it down at the corner. "Anyway, you've tried something practical and boring. Do you want to learn something cool?"

"Cool?"

"You know, something cool. Groovy. Whatever you kids say these days."

"Groovy," said Severus. He saturated the word with as much disdain as he could muster.

"I thought, if you felt up to it, I could teach you how to cast a Patronus," he said.

"What?" asked Severus. Makepeace smiled.

"You know the spell I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Of course," said Severus. "It's just..."

"What?"

"Do you think I'd be able to?"

"Of course," said Makepeace. "I have absolute confidence in you."

The statement was so sincere – so completely devoid of mockery or irony – that Severus looked up. Makepeace caught his eye, and the good side of his face quirked up in his awkward, half-smile.

"Right," said Makepeace, clapping his hands together. "Best stand up straight, Severus." Snape hunched. "Hold your wand firmly, and repeat the enchantment 'Expecto Patronum'."

Snape did so, feeling awkward. "Expecto Patronum," he said, his voice catching.

Nothing whatsoever happened. There was a silence. He glared at Makepeace in resentful silence.

"Right," said Makepeace. He seemed to be enjoying himself. "Of course, that didn't do anything. You mind needs to be more focused. Do you know the theory behind Patronuses? The purpose of them?"

Severus shut his eyes, thinking back to his textbook. "Yes, Professor," he said. "They're to protect against certain dark creatures... Dementors and Lethifolds."

"Correct. They have another use as well, which I'll show you later. Anyway, a Patronus is composed of your own positive emotions and feelings, which form a shield between you and the dark creature. Naturally, to create this shield, you have to focus your own positive feelings."

Severus pulled a face. The spell sounded very difficult, particularly in his current exhausted state. Besides, his happiest memories were his, and he certainly didn't want to dilute them by sending them out into a spell. He also didn't feel very positive at the moment. Very few cheerful things had happened lately, and even those that had had been tainted with some misfortune. Severus realised Makepeace was watching him through his monocle.

"I don't think I can," he said, quietly.

"Rubbish! You're not even trying."

"I can't think of anything."

"Not anything?" Makepeace's forehead crinkled. "What about Christmas?"

"My family doesn't celebrate Christmas," said Severus. He scowled. Makepeace blinked, confused, and then apprehension rippled over his face.

"Sorry," he said. "Of course. What about a girl?"

"What?" Severus asked.

"You know. A girl. There are tonnes of them around here, I'm sure you've noticed. There isn't one in particular who's caught your-"

"No," he said, too quickly. He could feel himself blushing. Makepeace couldn't possibly know about her, could he?

"Not a boy, then?"

"No," he said, mortified. "That's disgusting." Makepeace frowned, very slightly. Sensing his professor's disapproval, Severus hurried to change the subject. "What do you think of?" he asked. "What's your happy memory?" Makepeace gave a little smile, but didn't say anything. Curious, Severus looked at him more closely. The professor caught his eye, and Severus – surprised at his own daring – looked deeper, trying to probe inside Makepeace's mind. Suddenly-

he was balanced carefully on a broomstick toes just brushing the grass a girl was clutching him tightly and shrieking with laughter red hair blowing in the breeze and together they slid off the broom in a heap into the soft grass

There was a crack, and a terrible pain in the right side of Severus's head. Makepeace had slapped him, hard.

"Don't do that," he said.

"You can't hit me!" said Severus, indignant. Makepeace hit him again, and Severus raised his hands above his head. "I was just-"

"No. Don't."

Severus blinked up at him. He realised he was sitting on the floor. Makepeace was standing over him, looking murderous.

"Sorry," he whispered.

Makepeace pulled back. He face crinkled with anger, and then, after a moment, seemed to smooth over. He breathed deeply. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit you. You're right." He collapsed backwards onto and arm-chair, rubbing his face with his hand. "Jesus, Severus, don't do that."

Snape hung his head. "I was just... practicing."

"For what?"

No excuse came to him. He could feel himself trembling. "Who was that, Professor?" he whispered.

"It was my daughter."

"What's her name?"

Makepeace scowled. "None of your business," he snapped. He took off his monocle and began polishing it with his robe. His shoulders slumped.

"You know, Professor," he said. "I can show you how to close your mind, if you want. I know how."

Makepeace laughed. It was a strange laugh: very short, but full of joy. A moment later, however, the professor caught the look on Severus's face, and looked mortified. "No," he said. "No, I'm sorry, I-"

"I was just offering," said Severus. He was stung by the professor's reaction.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't laughing at you. It's just... the way you said that, reminded me of something that somebody said, a long time ago. I am grateful, but better wizards than you have tried and failed to teach me Occlumency. It's just not in my nature. I've had to learn other ways to protect my mind."

Severus shrugged. "Obviously they're not working."

"They work well enough." Makepeace rubbed the scarred side of his face. "I don't mind talking about it, really. Sorry that I snapped. You startled me, that's all."

"No," said Severus. "You're right. It's not business. I was wrong. I apologise."

Makepeace gazed at him. His expression made Severus feel quite odd. It was full of a sad, quiet, compassion. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite figure out what.

"Her name was Lily," Makepeace said, softly. "Like your friend. I'll tell you about her some time, if you want.

"She's not my friend," he muttered. Not any more. Severus looked down at his hands, awkwardly.

Makepeace straightened up, and offered Severus his hand. "Anyway, I think that's enough for this evening. I'm sure you've learned a lot."

Severus nodded, mutely. He had learned a lot. That was true.

Though he had left Makepeace's lesson feeling exhausted, Severus couldn't sleep. The other boys came into the dormitory one by one and quickly went silent, but Severus lay awake for what seemed like hours, staring up at the ceiling. When he lit his wand to look at the clock on Wilkes' bedside table, he saw that it was half past two in the morning.

Very quietly, so as not to disturb the other boys, he slipped out of bed. The stone floor was cold beneath his feet, so he pulled on his socks.

Severus felt called to leave the dormitory, though he couldn't say why. He slipped on a coat over his pyjamas and padded from the room. He was so restless that he walked all the way back up to the door on the seventh-floor corridor. If someone had asked him, he couldn't have said why, though a small part of his mind wanted to seek out Makepeace, and ask him more about the girl – his daughter – who lived so close to his heart. When he came to the professor's door. Severus saw a sliver of light underneath it. With only a moment's hesitation, he pushed the it open.

The room was lit, but his footsteps echoed creepily in the room, and he felt distinctly uneasy. He quickly realised why. An entire wall of the room – where the Slytherin banner usually rested - had disappeared. In its place stretched a darkened corridor, which dripped ominously. Two pairs of muddy footprints led from it, up the wooden stairs to Makepeace's office. Severus' foot was already on the seventh step when Albus Dumbledore's head poked out over the balcony.

"Mr Snape," he said, genially, as though he often encountered students out of bed in the middle of the night. "Good to see you."

Dumbledore's phoenix was sitting on his shoulder. It cawed softly as he took another step up the staircase. Bizarrely, Makepeace was holding the rooster under one arm. It clucked.

Both teachers were covered in mud, slime, and what looked like blood, but despite this, the pair looked extremely pleased with themselves. Severus noticed that they were wearing Wellington boots under their robes.

He craned to see what was on the table, for both Makepeace and Dumbledore were examining an object on the desk. But he was still too low on the stairs to see properly. He took another step.

"What's going on?" he asked. There was definitely something lying on the table behind them - something that glittered. He pushed forwards to see-

"May I ask you to wait outside until we are done here?" asked Makepeace. He, too, seemed unperturbed by Severus's presence. "I promise it won't take long."

Severus shrugged, and turned to leave the room. He didn't recall his walk back to the dungeons, and when he awoke the next morning, he remembered the whole exchange only as a dream.

He was exhausted on Tuesday, which did not improve McGonagall's opinion of him. Nevertheless, he had managed to complete the essay she had requested, and he handed it in with a feeling of relief. Despite the other homework he had to complete, Severus had a different task in mind when he visited the library that evening. The Hogwarts' library stored hundred of Quidditch annuals and yearbooks from previous decades. Severus selected a number of volumes from the appropriate years, piling them on top of each other to carry to a deserted corner.

He began to form a list, taking careful note of captains who had simultaneously played seeker. He focused on Gryffindor players, though he knew that that was not a certainty. After several hours of study, he had compiled a list of nine names.

John Longbottom (1903-1905)

Simon Prewett (1927)

Nigel Hawthorne (1930)

Billius Prewett (1934-1938)

Ernest Blackfoot (1938)

Caesar Sanford (1957-1960)

Castor Hemmingway (1952-1955)

Robert Smith (1961-1962)

Ernest Orson (1912)

He'd started his search with the most likely ages. Severus guessed Makepeace to be in his fifties, meaning he would have attended Hogwarts almost forty years ago. He followed the course of three Gryffindor seekers from the 1930's. One had had a mildly successful career playing for England, before an injury had forced him into early retirement. He was working for the Department of Magical Games and Sports, now. Severus traced Blackfoot's name until he found his obituary, dated ten years previously. He didn't put it past Makepeace to fake his own death, but the obituary had also contained a photograph. Blackfoot was blonde and freckled. Nigel Hawthorne was also impossibility. He owned a chain of apothecaries now. Severus remembered seeing his name and likeness on pre-packaged potion ingredients.

Dejected, Severus rolled up the list and stuffed it into his racksuck. He pulled out a book at random. It fell open on a page upon which was printed a photograph of a handsome youth with intelligent, dark eyes

Tom Marvolo Riddle, the caption read. Head Boy, Recipient for the Award for Special Services to the School.

Severus's fingers traced across the boy's face. Something stirred in his memory. He rubbed at his eyes, which itched with tiredness. The bright lights of the library swam in front of him. Surely it wouldn't hurt if he laid his head down for a moment, just to rest his eyes...

He awoke with a start. Bright sunlight was streaming directly into his eyes. The page was stuck to his cheek with drool. His head was pounding. He staggered upright. Confused and disoriented, he piled the books up and stumbled down to breakfast.

It was shepherd's pie. Severus stared at it, uncomprehending, before he realised. He'd must have slept, not only through the whole night, but also most of the next day. He looked up at the large clock at the end of the hall. It was nearly half past twelve.

The Great Hall was buzzing with noise and laughter. Mulciber appeared beside him and punched him in the shoulder. "Nice hair," he said.

"What?" Severus asked. Nothing seemed to make sense. He looked at his reflection in a spoon, and groaned. Leaving his lunch, he left the Great Hall as quickly as he could, breaking into a run to find a bathroom. He locked the door behind him, surveying the damage in the large, spotted mirror.

A long streak of his hair had been dyed red and gold. Severus stared at his reflection in horror, lifting the strand in his fingers. Potter or Black must have done it while he was sleeping. Furious, Severus tried charming it back, but the stripes wouldn't budge.

"Finite incantatem?" he tried, without much conviction. Nothing happened. Severus buried his face in his hands, leaning against the sinks.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. He reached into his bag and pulled out the small knife he used for chopping potions ingredients. He hooked the knife at the base of the streak, and sawed through the hair in a quick motion. It left an uneven tuft, but a tuft was better than what had been there before.

He had Herbology in the afternoon, which he somehow muddled through, despite his disorientation. Skipping dinner, he returned straight to the Syltherin dungeons. He fell into bed, and was asleep within moments.

One unquestionable advantage of Makepeace's tutoring was that he could sleep late on Thursdays. Severus did this with great pleasure, only rising for Care of Magical Creatures at half past ten, feeling somewhat normal again. It had rained during the night, and the sky above the grounds was still grey and tempestuous. The dirt path leading to Care of Magical Creatures had turned to mud, so Severus walked next to it on the slippery grass.

Quite by accident, he ended up only a few paces behind Lily, who was heading towards same class. He didn't speak to her, but noted the absence of Lupin. Had the full moon occurred recently?

Her hair was braided into a long plait, which swung slightly with each step. He was about to overtake her when she slipped on the wet ground. Instinctively, Severus caught her elbow. The two of them stumbled, but he managed to right both of them before they hit the mud.

Lily turned. The word thankyou was already on her lips when she saw that it was him. "Oh," she said.

"Be careful," was all he said to her, eager to avoid any further interaction.

He spent the weekend furiously revising the lessons he had missed during the week, as well as practising his shield charms three times a day. Heavy storms contained most of the students to the castle, so he remained in the dormitory rather than risking the crowded library.

By the time Monday evening rolled around, he had almost forgotten about the awkward encounter he and the professor had had during the previous lesson. Luckily, Makepeace seemed to have forgotten about it as well, or was at least pretending to. He smiled when he saw Severus. Next to him there was a wooden Ottoman that rattled ominously. Severus eyed it. The fire had been lit, and it filled the room with a warm glow that was in pleasing contrast to the stormy view from the window.

"Evening," said Makepeace. "How are you."

"Tired," said Severus, honestly.

"Do you want to give Patronuses another crack?"

Severus was going to say no, but changed his mind. "Yes," he said. The rain had reminded him of something. "I've been practising shield charms as well, though."

"I'm sure. When you're ready."

Severus relaxed. He focused on his memory. It was from when he had been very small. He was ill in bed with the flu. His mother had sat on the end of his bed, singing to him and stroking his hair. Her hands had felt very cool and soothing on his fevered brow. He'd stayed in bed all day reading books and listening to the rain.

"Expecto Patronum," he said.

The faintest silver vapour appeared. It flowed forwards to form a barrier between him and Makepeace. Concentrating as hard as he could, Severus managed to hold it for nearly thirty seconds before it disintegrated.

Makepeace clapped his hands, looking delighted. "A fantastic start," he said. "Right. Do you want to try with a Dementor?"

"What?"

"I thought it might help you. Needs must when the devil drives, and all that."

Severus eyed the rattling box. "There's not a Dementor in there, surely."

"No, it's just a Boggart. Professor McGonagall caught it the other day."

"Why on Earth would I use my Patronus on a Boggart?"

"You're going to use it on my Boggart, which has always taken the shape of a Dementor. If I stand close enough to it, you should be able to feel some of the effects of it. Maybe it will help to jump-start a defensive reaction in you."

Truthfully, Severus felt nervous. Even a faux Dementor was something to be reckoned with. However, he was not going to show weakness in front of Makepeace, so instead of protesting, he gripped his wand tightly and nodded.

Makepeace grinned, and threw open the box.

The creature that emerged wasn't a Dementor.

A girl stood between them. She wore Muggle clothes. They were of a good quality, and the girl would have looked very pretty - except that both the clothes and the girl who wore them were soaking wet. Her hair hung in two damp bunches on either side of her head. When dry, Severus guessed that it would have been red. There was darker red, too, just above her forehead. A trickle ran down to her eyebrow. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out but water. Helpless, speechless, she reached out her hands to Makepeace in a silent plea.

Instinctively, knowing that something was terribly, terribly wrong, Severus threw himself between Makepeace and the apparition. She was already changing into the girl he feared more than any other, but before the monster could complete its terrible transformation, he laughed in her face. It was a cruel, mocking laugh, and it cost him dearly, but it did the trick. The Boggart vanished with a crack. He held his wand up threateningly, but there was nothing left but empty air. Only then did he turn to his stricken professor.

Makepeace had crumpled. He leaned against the desk, as though all strength had failed him. Severus reached out a hand, and touched his shoulder, gently.

"Professor," he said. "It was just a Boggart. It wasn't real."

Makepeace said nothing. His good eye looked past Severus, at the place where the girl had vanished. His mouth was slightly open. He shook his head.

"You should go," he whispered, and Snape didn't need telling twice. He ran from the room, and didn't stop running until he reached the Slytherin dungeons.

Chapter Text

The library study hall was crowded on Tuesday evening. The atmosphere was warm and cheery, particularly in contrast to the pounding rain that lashed the stained glass windows. They had fogged over, which increased the feeling of snug comfort. The distant and tinny sound of Muggle pop music wafted over to their table, making Wilkes scowl.

Normally, on an evening like tonight, the other Slytherin boys would have snuck out to Hogsmeade, or would be drinking smuggled Firewhiskey in some deserted corner of the castle. However, tonight, the sixth-year boys, along with Severus, were huddled together in a shadowy corner of the hall. Severus had elected to help Mulciber with some of his remedial Potions homework, a kindness he was now thoroughly regretting. Though dastardly clever, Mulciber was a terrible student, and Severus had his own work to be getting on with.

"You cannot add the aconite before the moonstone," he said, rubbing his forehead. "It would completely negate the effect that the potion attempts to achieve."

"I don't get this stuff, Snape. Why does the order matter?"

Severus avoided giving voice to the sharp remark that was on the tip of his tongue, and instead crossed out the offending paragraph in Mulciber's essay. He leant back on his chair, his eyes scanning the room as the ink dried. The library was crowded with students. Through a crack in the shelves, he caught a glimpse of a young Ravenclaw girl, her hair wet from a bath. She was laughing with her friends, but for some reason, the sight of her damp hair bunched around her face him feel ill. He let his eyes return to the parchment to Mulciber's uninspiring prose. Severus was busy correcting yet another erroneous paragraph when he heard Avery whistle between his teeth.

Severus looked up, and it felt like someone had grabbed his heart. She had just passed them, her arms laden with books.

"Hey gorgeous," Mulciber called. He pulled a lewd face at her. Lily didn't even acknowledge him, continuing to walk to the returns section as if she hadn't heard anything. Severus knew better. He felt an unpleasant swooping feeling in his stomach.

"Posh little Mudblood slut," said Mulciber, dismissively. "You know what I'd like to do to her?"

Severus prayed she wasn't still in earshot. Why had she come past them, anyway? Trying to act casually, he pushed his books back into his satchel, hoping to escape the conversation unnoticed.

He had no such luck.

"Did I hurt your feelings?" called Mulciber, mockery evident in his tone. Severus didn't say anything. "Don't you know what men do to women? You're not a queer, are you? I had my suspicions."

The other boys laughed. Severus stood up, kicking his chair back, face still blank. Mulciber grinned, and spread his hands expansively.

"Don't be like that, Snape. I was joking. I need help with this assignment!" He lowered his voice, and grabbed Severus by the sleeve, his breath hot in Severus's ear. "We'll take you out sometime; find you a nice Muggle girl to practice on, if that's your type."

Severus wrenched his arm away, and Mulciber stopped laughing. So did the other boys. He could feel their eyes on him as he left the hall.

The following morning dawned as cold and bleak as the one that preceded it. The sixth year boys' dormitory was quiet when Severus awoke. He lay with his eyes shut for several minutes, hoping – not for the first time - that when he opened them, he would be somewhere different. The other boys had gone down to breakfast without him. He wouldn't have minded, but they could have woken him up. As it was, there was no time for breakfast. He had to run to Herbology. His book bag slapped heavily against his legs. Overnight, the sodden ground had frozen solid. In his haste, he slipped on the icy cobblestones, twisting his knee. Limping, he pushed open the door to Greenhouse Three.

"Good morning," said the dumpy Herbology professor, the chill in her voice matching the morning's weather. The class turned to look at him. He took an uncertain step forwards. The other Slytherins were already crowded together on single a table. There was no space left for him.

"Mr. Snape, kindly take a seat," said Sprout, her tone sharper. Severus fidgeted in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

A lanky Ravenclaw boy shifted slightly on his bench, so that there was room beside him. Weak-kneed with relief, Severus collapsed next to him, hanging his hair forward to hide his face. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck. Why hadn't the others saved him a seat?

"Severus, yes?" asked the other boy, quietly, when Sprout had finished her opening lecture.

He spoke in a quiet, clipped voice, as though he chose every word very carefully. It reminded Severus of the way his father spoke.

"Yes," said Snape, uncertainly. The blush crept back into his cheeks. He wasn't used to talking to new people.

"I am Chang Tsai."

"Sigh?"

"Tsai," repeated the boy. "Just call me Chang. Everybody does."

Severus nodded. He wanted to thank the boy for offering him a seat, but he couldn't think of the right words without sounding stupid, so he said nothing.

They were supposed to be re-potting miniature willows- regrown from cuttings of the larger tree in the grounds. The pale, wriggling roots made Severus think unpleasantly of dead fingers. His unwillingness to grasp them firmly meant that a thin branch escaped his grip and whacked him across the face when he wasn't looking. The blow didn't have much force, but the surprise of it knocked him off the slice of the bench he had perched on, colliding with the Slytherin table behind him.

"Do pay attention, Snape!" said Sprout. Luckily, the greenhouse was so crowded that no-one except she and the Slytherin boys noticed his fall. He peered at her out of the eye that hadn't begun to swell. Avery took one look at him and burst out laughing.

"You look like your favourite teacher," he said, smirking. Severus glared, and cast a charm to reverse the swelling and numb the pain. He blinked a few times, and checked his reflection in the back of a silver spade. There was a slight redness on the left side of his face, but aside from that, his face looked as normal as it ever did.

"Pity he can't fix your eyes too," said Avery, and laughed again. Severus realised he was speaking to Chang. The other boy looked at his long brown fingers resting on the table, and said nothing at all.

Even a positive person would have difficulty finding a good thing to say about the remainder of the week, and Severus was not by any means a positive person. During his lessons, and after hours, Severus often found himself looking out a window, or merely staring into space, absorbing nothing of what was going on around him. His mind kept drifting back to the girl that had appeared out of the Ottoman.

Potter and Black took advantage of his distracted state to torment him more than usual. On Friday morning, he couldn't get his Wiggenweld Draught to thicken, which earned him an uncharacteristic rebuke from Slughorn. Severus put it down to the distraction that had dogged him all term, until he realised Black had been levitating eel hearts into his potion while his back was turned.

"Severus, may I speak with you?" called Slughorn, at the end of the lesson. Suppressing a groan, Severus hung his head and waited for the classroom to empty. Black cast him a contemptuous glance as he passed, which Severus did his best to ignore.

"Something wrong, Severus?" asked Slughorn. "You know, your marks haven't quite been up to snuff this year."

"Sorry, Sir," he muttered. He let his hair fall to cover his face, painfully aware of the shortened tuft near the front. He wanted to explain what he had been trying to do with the potion - there were some possible therapeutic aspects of the draught that he thought were hitherto unexplored, particularly if combined with the transformative effects of Polyjuice. Even a year ago, he would have thrilled in explaining this to Slughorn. Now, however, the words didn't seem to come. Instead, he shrugged mutely. What was the matter with him?

"You know, I'm having a gathering on Saturday night, if you would like to-"

"No," said Severus, so quickly that it was rude. He blushed, and tried to remedy the situation. "I, er... have another engagement." This was completely untrue, but he couldn't bear to spend a second in Potter's company that could be better spent alone.

"In that case, perhaps it would be better if you spent a little more time studying instead of whatever other... engagements... are occupying your time."

Severus nodded, digging his nails into his palm. After that, he couldn't face his afternoon classes, and went back to the dormitory to sulk.

The elves had lit a fire in the grate. Severus sat cross-legged on the bed and pulled out a sheaf of parchment.

Dear Lucius, he began. He scowled, and Vanished the scrawl. To Lucius Malfoy, he wrote. Upon my most recent encounter with Professor Makepeace, I discovered –

His quill hovered above the page. He looked at what he had written for a long time, before laying down his quill and scrunching the parchment into a ball. He tossed it into the fire, which consumed it with a satisfying flare and crackle.

Severus stood up. Glancing over at Avery's bedside clock, Severus saw that it was nearly two thirty. There was a bit of space in the dormitory. He wasn't wearing his shoes, and could feel the cold flagstones beneath his feet. Wriggling his toes and straightening his back, he held out his wand.

"Protego," he said.

He hadn't shouted the spell, nor cast it nonverbally. He said it in his normal speaking voice. Unlike the previous time he had tried it, he didn't try and make the charm as strong as possible. It left the faintest ripple in the air, visible to him only because he knew it was there.

Severus held the spell until ten minutes past three.

He slept very late on Saturday, and stumbled to the common room when it was already well past noon. A fresh crop of pimples had sprung up on his cheeks, and his hair was somehow both greasy and unruly, sticking up in all directions. The common room was about half full, but there was no sign of the other sixth-years. He found a quiet corner and pulled out his writing materials.

Almost immediately, as though he had sensed that Severus had wanted to get some productive work done, Regulus Black appeared at his shoulder.

"Afternoon, Snape," he said.

Snape frowned. Although his mind was buzzing, the parchment in front of him was blank. No matter how long he stared at it, no words came to him.

"What do you want?" he asked, tearing his eyes away.

Black smiled broadly. This made him look a lot like his older brother, which did not improve Severus's mood. "Cheerful, aren't you, Snape." Severus didn't dignify that with a response. "I need a favour."

"I don't do favours," said Severus. He turned back to his empty parchment.

"Right, then I need to hire you." Regulus smiled again as Severus turned back to him. "I need to write my essay on Polyjuice potion. It has to be ready by Monday at eleven. And it needs to be graded Acceptable."

"I can get you an Outstanding with ease."

"No!" said Regulus, at once. "It needs to be Acceptable. Any higher will be suspicious."

"How much?" Snape said. Regulus winked at him.

"I thought six Sickles was fair."

"No."

"A Galleon? If it gets an A, I'll hire you for the rest of the semester. "

Seveurs hesitated and then held out his hand. "Payment up front. Also, it needs to be in your handwriting. Slughorn knows mine too well."

Regulus pulled out a battered quill. "Use this. I've charmed it to write in my handwriting."

Severus sighed. "Black, with the amount of effort you squander on not doing your homework you could-"

"I know. Who are you, my mother?"

"You will, of course, eventually need to study for the exam."

"I'll just cram. I only need to pass. Slughorn likes me, he'll accept me into NEWT classes no problem. "

Mutely, Severus accepted both quill and coin. As soon as Regulus had left, he dipped the charmed quill in ink, and began to write.

If only his letter to Lucius would come as easy as forged Potions assignments did.

By the time Regulus's essay was finished, Severus's body was filled with nervous energy. He rolled the parchment and stuffed it into his bag. For once, he didn't feel like staying underground. The weight of the castle rested heavily on his shoulders, and he felt a sudden urge to go upwards.

The castle was very busy, as students were unwilling to venture out into the frost-gripped grounds. Severus walked unacknowledged through the crowded hallways, hardly thinking about where he was going. Strange thoughts and images chased themselves through his mind – the stiffness in Lily's posture as Mulciber had called to her, Potter and Black laughing at him in Potions, the Boggart disguised as a helpless girl-

Severus stopped. Without really thinking, his legs had carried him to the seventh floor corridor. He stood in the empty corridor, unsure of what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Makepeace...

Or was it?

After the strange events of the previous lesson, Severus had avoided all contact with the professor. At mealtimes, he kept his eyes firmly on his food for fear that Makepeace would catch his eye. He didn't want to think about the horrible apparition that had appeared to both of them. Severus could make an educated guess about who she was – or had been – but he felt that it would be quite impudent to ask about her. The professor had been furious the last time Severus had asked about his family... but that might have just been because Severus had forced himself, uninvited, into Makepeace's most personal memories.

Would the professor be just as angry if Severus had just asked? He had said something to that effect, hadn't he? I don't mind talking about it, really, he had said.

The distant sound of voices and laughed echoed down the corridor, startling him from his reverie. The imminent arrival of curious Gryffindors helped Severus make up his mind, and he entered Makepeace's classroom without knocking, as was his habit. The room seemed deserted, but as the door swung shut behind him, Severus heard a rustling on the mezzanine level above him. He sniffed. The air held the distinct smell of cigarette smoke, though it was faint.

"Professor?" he called, uncertainly.

"Come on up," Makepeace's voice called back. Hesitantly, Severus climbed the stairs.

He was worried Makepeace would ask why he was there, or what he wanted, but the professor seemed unfazed by his sudden arrival. He was sitting on the sofa, feet propped confidently on the table on front of him. A plate of toast was balanced on his knees and a large and steaming pot of tea sat next to his unlaced boots.

"Good afternoon," said Severus, stiffly. He felt suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. His eyes scanned the room, noting the many trinkets and trying to find anything of interest –

"Is that the Sorting Hat?" he asked. Makepeace nodded, his mouth full of toast and jam. "What's it doing here?"

Swallowing, the professor dabbed a corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. "I've been borrowing it."

This was the usual enigmatic answer he'd come to expect from the professor. Knowing that he was unlikely to get more information out of him, Severus moved to a slightly different tack. "Which House were you in?" He tried to sound casual, as if the question was of no great importance, though it sounded forced to his own ears. The answer would help his afterhours "research" immensely.

"You're a smart boy, Severus, I'm sure you can figure it out."

"Gryffindor," he said, at once, and Makepeace smiled. The professor opened the sugar bowl, and heaped several large spoonfuls of sugar into his tea. Severus pulled a face, but Makepeace, unperturbed, stirred his tea three times before replying.
"The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I asked to be put in Gryffindor. We had an argument about it actually."

Severus's breath caught. The situation Makepeace had described was exactly what had happened to him when he'd first come to Hogwarts – though in reverse, of course. It was so similar, in fact, that Severus wondered if somehow Makepeace had known that. Was this confession just another one of his tricks?

"Why?" he asked.

"Mmm?"

"Why did you ask to be put in Gryffindor?"

"Oh. Childish naiveté really. Though luckily it turned out to be just the place for me. Do you want some toast?"

Severus looked at the remaining toast. The bread was thickly cut and slathered in butter and jam. He realised he hadn't eaten all day, but for some reason, the sight of the food made him nauseous. He shook his head. Makepeace grabbed another piece and swallowed it in two bites.

Severus realised that he didn't have to ask about the girl. They could go on as before, their lessons comprised of an awkward mix of antagonistic and friendly banter. He could show Makepeace the shield charm he'd been practicing, and Makepeace would be suitably impressed and show him an interesting charm in return. They never had to mention the Boggart again.

But Severus wanted to know. He needed to know. Not so he could write a letter to Lucius, either. Something told him that it was important.

Severus sat down gingerly, twisting his hands in his lap. Makepeace left his teacup and walked to look over the balustrade. From the mezzanine, they could just see out the magnificent window onto the grounds. Delicate spirals of steam escaped from the cooling tea.

"Sir?" he asked. Makepeace didn't respond, but Severus knew he was listening. His heart fluttered with nervousness, but nevertheless, he plunged forward with what he suddenly realised he had come here to ask.

"What happened to Lily?" he asked.

"I've no idea. She's probably eating dinner in the Great Hall."

Severus shut his eyes. "I mean the other Lily. Your daughter. What happened to her?"

Makepeace didn't reply at first. He continued staring out over the grounds. Severus could only see half his face; the half that had been mutilated by a scar.

When Severus had almost given up hope of him replying, his professor spoke.

"She was murdered," he said.

For a few seconds, there was silence, except for the blood pounding in Severus's eardrums. "I'm sorry," he said. He couldn't think of anything else to say. He regretted his decision to come here, and to pry into things that didn't concern him. Makepeace was right. It wasn't his business. He stood up, ready to leave.

"Wait," said Makepeace. Severus froze.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I shouldn't have- It's not my- I'm sorry."

Makepeace ran his hands across his face, and through his untidy, greying hair.

"I may as well tell you the whole of it, if you're so intent on hearing the story."

He said it with such tiredness that Severus wanted to protest even more. "It's alright," he said. "If you don't want to tell me-"

Makepeace turned to him at last. "It's fine," he said. "It'll do you good." He took a deep breath, as though steeling himself. Severus balled his fists in the pockets of his robe. Was there anything he hated more than this sort of interaction? Why did he force himself into these stupid situations?

"I used to worry about my children," said Makepeace. "All the time. I worried about my boys, of course, but I worried about Lily the most. I used to lie awake at night, waiting for her to come home. One night, she didn't."

Severus didn't feel able to look at Makepeace's face, so he looked at his hands instead. No one had ever shared anything this personal with him, and he found it intensely embarrassing.

In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, he thought.

"Who did it?" he asked.

"A boy she met at school."

"Why?"

Makepeace looked at him, as though he were weighing Severus up. "Probably because he was in love with her, and she didn't feel the same way. Or maybe she did, I don't know. We never really found out what happened that night. Sometimes I wonder... he could have hidden her body with magic. Transfigured it into a bone and buried it. But he didn't. He threw her into the canal, like she was a piece of rubbish. It was the Muggle police who found her, not my people."

The professor's voice was steady, like a deep ocean that concealed a mighty tidal wave. Slowly, Severus looked up from his hands, into Makepeace's face.

"Why would he hurt her, if he loved her?"

Makepeace shrugged.

"Did you catch him?"

For the first time in their conversation, Makepeace smiled. It was not a nice smile.

"Yes," he said. "Yes, I caught him."

"I'm sorry," he said. The words hung between them. Severus wasn't sure if he was apologising for the event, or for his asking about it. "I'll... I'll go."

Makepeace opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped before the words were formed. He nodded silently instead.

When he left the room, Severus realised that he was still on the seventh floor. The room sometimes deposited him outside of his own dormitory, but only if he was concentrating particularly hard. He didn't feel like re-entering the room, just in order to save himself a walk. Severus felt like there was a part of him that would gladly never see or speak to Makepeace ever again.

Like always, though, there was another voice in Severus's mind though. It was soft and sweet and filled with compassion. Go back, it whispered. Go back and tell him it wasn't his fault.

Severus rested his hand gently against the cold stone of the castle wall. He traced his thumb over the old indentations in the masonry. Stupid, he thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His shoulders slumped, he began the long walk back down the eight flights of stairs to the Slytherin common room.

Of course, of course, he had to run into the last person on earth that he wanted to see as he descended the narrowest of the spiral staircases. There was hardly room for them to pass abreast, and as soon as he saw her, he had the absurd notion of sprinting as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Her arms were filled with books and parchments. Severus saw her face flush with anger, and then feigned indifference, but then she looked at him more closely, and both expressions melted away into a much softer emotion.

"Are you alright?" she asked. Her voice was as soft as the candlelight.

That was the worst thing. She had every right to be angry with him and not to speak to him, after what had happened on Tuesday – after everything he'd said and done to her - but she had seen that he was unhappy, so she stopped to ask how he was. That was just the sort of person she was.

"Yes," he said. He paused. "No."

"Oh." She scuffed her foot, awkwardly, shifting the books in her arms. "Did you find them?"

"Find who?" Severus asked.

"In the phone book? The person you were looking for?"

"No," he said, heavily, "I didn't find him."

Lily looked at him, eyes full of sadness. She looked very tired and worried, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Are you-" he began, and then stopped. He was going to ask whether she was alright, but he thought that – if she wasn't – the last person she would want to talk about it with was him. "Goodnight. Sorry."

The walk back to his dormitory gave him ample opportunity to marinate in his own worthlessness, as well as ponder the new information from Makepeace.

He didn't think Makepeace was lying. As his Legilimency developed, Severus had gained a knack for detecting falsehoods, and he thought that Makepeace was telling the truth. But then, the murder of a young and beautiful witch, would have surely made the Daily Prophet, and he recalled nothing of the like that summer, or in any of the years previously. Unless the Ministry had hushed it up for some reason. Or unless Makepeace was also an Occlumens.

The possible solutions chased each other around his mind. No answer solved every question. Makepeace could be using Occlumency, but Severus didn't think he was an Occlumens. He could be lying, but it was a strange thing to lie about. The Ministry could have covered it up...

He thought the most likely thing was that Makepeace had changed some details, to prevent Severus looking up the case, and finding out more. But why would he do that? Unless he suspected that Severus was on his tail.

He grinned, overcome with a sudden idea. He could put all of this in his letter to Lucius.

Severus realised what he'd just thought, and suddenly felt so disgusted with himself that he had to shut himself in the first unlocked room he could find. The emotion flooded over him, and as if unable to control his limbs, he punched his thigh, as hard as he could. It caused an ache in his leg, but it somehow wasn't enough. He did it again. He scratched at his arms, scratched at the Mark burned deep into his forearm. And that wasn't enough either, so he bit his hand until he tasted blood, and screamed into it.

Later that night, when he stumbled into the dormitory and fell into an uneasy sleep, he dreamt about a girl floating face upwards in the black water. Her hair was long and red, and it flowed around her like smoke. When she opened her eyes to look at him, he saw that her eyes were green.

Chapter Text

All the world will be your enemy, Prince of a Thousand enemies. And when they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you.

December had arrived with indecent haste. It seemed to Severus that the term had only begun, yet already powdery snow dusted the grounds. The whole castle smelled like crushed pine needles and gingerbread. They had never celebrated Christmas in his home, as a child - he hadn't realised that it'd been unusual, until he met Lily. He'd nearly laughed at the shocked expression on her face. She had invited him to hers, once or twice, but he'd found the atmosphere cloying and stuffy. Now, some years later, he felt the same about Hogwarts. Despite the size of the castle, the walls seemed to always be pressing in on him, and the air was uncomfortably humid.

He'd been spending an unusual amount of time in the library, even for him. Potter had never failed to mention this when the subject had come up – which was completely absurd, as Lupin spent just as much time there as Severus did. Books provided companionship to him before he'd made real friends – well, a friend – and this year he'd returned to them with renewed loneliness.

His after-hours reading took a different vein than in previous years, however.

The library had a large collection of old Prophets. He knew a little of the art of Bibliomancy, and this magic helped him immensely in his search. He scratched out the key phrases he was looking for on a scrap of parchment, glancing around to make sure no-one was looking.

lily makepeace murder girl student dead

He laid his wand on the parchment and shut his eyes. He heard a great rustling of papers, and when he opened his eyes, the articles had rearranged themselves. He looked at the article at the top.

Girl, 15, Found Dead in School Bathroom.

That couldn't be right, though. That incident had occurred nearly twenty years ago, and Makepeace was too young to have a full-grown daughter by that time. He leafed through the rest of the articles. They grew less and less relevant the deeper into the pile he ventured, until he eventually gave up in disgust. He carefully wiped the parchment the keywords were written on. He didn't want anyone to know what he'd been looking at.

Severus gnawed his lip. Nothing fitted the details he had been given. He supposed he could look into the foreign newspapers as well. He could manage the German ones easily, and he might – with effort and the aid of a dictionary – be able to decipher the French ones as well. Then there was Canada, the United States, South Africa, Australia...

The thought occurred to him the Makepeace's daughter might have been a Muggle. Hogwarts' library didn't collect Muggle newspapers. He shut his eyes. This was getting complicated.

Two hours later, and Severus had discovered nothing except that there were a lot of murdered girls in the world. There was nothing – nothing – that fit the details of the story he'd been given by Makepeace.

He knew he had to write his letter to Lucius, even though he'd discovered very little. He wrote one per fortnight, as he had been instructed. He even wrote about the girl – the other Lily, as he'd taken to calling her – even though afterwards he felt sick with himself. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't as though he cared.

Severus frequently assured himself that he didn't care. He would often wake up in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat from confused nightmares, stomach tight with tension, and comfort himself with the thought that he did not care about Makepeace, or his daughter, or anything. The fact that his mind drifted so frequently to the girl – her dirty face, her lost and confused eyes –was only because she was clearly important to the professor, and that in turn was important to the mission he and he alone had been given.

He didn't care.

Lucius's replies took longer now, and sometimes they were missing entirely. He hadn't received a reply to his last letter, sent nearly ten days ago. But then again, Lucius was probably busy with his own important business.

He got a sick, squirming feeling in his stomach when he thought about his daily existence. Some mornings, he just wanted to stay in bed, in the safe, snug confines of the Slytherin quarters. Even in the Slytherin dungeon, however, Severus found himself at a loose end. The others were avoiding him, and he didn't understand why. Something had happened a few weeks ago, and they'd given him the cold shoulder ever since. He was beginning to tire of Avery and Mulciber's company. He didn't mind Wilkes so much, as the boy kept himself to himself, but wasn't particularly close with the other two. Severus thought what had happened over the summer might have brought the three closer together, but he had been mistaken. When Avery and Mulciber ran out of other people to torment, they would often turn on Wilkes.

Visiting the professor on Monday evenings was becoming the highlight of his week, not that Severus would ever tell Makepeace that. He hardly even admitted it to himself. Perhaps it was only a highlight because the rest of school had reached an all-time low.

(No, that wasn't entirely true. The all-time low had definitely been when Potter had flipped him upside-down in-front of everyone, the day after the exam. His fists involuntarily clenched in his pockets, just thinking about it.)

The professor insisted on teaching him a variety of obscure little charms and spells, some of which seemed completely irrelevant to Defense – not to mention, Severus hated Charms. The spells he learned in class often seemed completely useless. While a small part of his mind acknowledged that a lot of charms Makepeace was teaching him had some practical use, he still despised the light, airy spell work most charms required.

"Do it more softly," said the professor the following Monday, after Severus had performed a summoning charm so powerful that the cushion he'd summoned had flown right past him and burst on impact. The air was filled with white goose feathers. They mimicked the delicate snowflakes drifting down outside the dark window.

Severus could have cried with frustration. There was no middle ground. Either the spells worked, or they didn't. Magic wasn't soft – if anything was soft, it was the professor.

The professor seemed to sense his frustration with the lesson, and – almost lightheartedly – suggested a duel. Severus jumped at the offer. Though he, yet again, ended up on the floor, covered in minor cuts, burns, bruises, and completely out of breath, Makepeace was smiling at him. Severus had managed to kick him in the kneecap while the professor was trying to hex him, which was apparently cause for celebration (once Makepeace had stopped swearing).

"You really should come to the Friday class, Severus," said Makepeace. "It's more of the same, really, and a lot more practical stuff than what we focus on here."

"Join Dumbledore's Army? No thanks." His lungs were burning, and there was a stitch in his side.

Makepeace stiffened, slightly. "I don't call it that," he said.

"Then you're the only one."

"Hmm," Makepeace said. He pointed his wand at his injured knee, and his patella clicked back into place with a sickening pop. "Fu- Damn."

Severus winced, but was intrigued. "What's that charm?" he asked.

"Episkey," grunted Makepeace, swinging his leg experimentally "If you're going to use it on any human injuries, practice on some broken twigs first, otherwise you'll accidentally dissolve your bones."

"Can that happen?"

"Yes," said Makepeace. "Good as new! Nearly. Anyway, good going with that kick."

"So you've said."

"I'm impressed. Always use every resource at your advantage, Severus. But you're still unfit, you know. You need to do more exercise."

At this comment, Severus tried to control his ragged breathing, with difficulty. "I'm fine," he said.

"You should go jogging," suggested Makepeace. Severus stared at him.

"Jogging."

"You know. Running."

"Why?" said Severus.

"Practice. One day you might have to run for real."

The thought of what Potter or Black would say if they saw him jogging didn't bear thinking about. Severus ignored the comment, and instead ran his fingers through his hair, which had become tangled in the duel. "No thanks," he said, trying to sound disdainful. He stood up. "I'd best be going, professor."

Was it just his imagination, or did Makepeace look slightly disappointed? A second later, the professor's expression was determinedly neutral again. "Okay. But I'm going to be away next week, I'm sorry. We'll have to reschedule your lesson. Come by on Tuesday, we'll figure something out."

"Where are you going?" asked Severus.

The professor smiled at him. "Just out and about. Goodnight, Severus."

As always, he half feared, half hoped that he'd catch Lily returning from the library. That wish made him dawdle a little longer than he should have. The seventh floor was undeniably Gryffindor territory. He should have known better.

"Oi, Snivellus!"

Severus rounded the corner just as the cry reached his ears. As soon as he was sure he was out of their line of sight, he began to run, desperately looking for cover. For lack of anything better to do, he dived behind a suit of armour. He pressed himself back against the wall, feeling incredibly stupid. They were going to catch him anyway, and now he was going to look like a coward as well. He heard running footsteps approaching.

"Where'd he go?" whispered Pettigrew. Severus gripped his wand tightly in his sweaty palm.

"He can't have gone far," said Black. He sounded close. Severus breathed deeply, and prepared to strike.

"What are you four doing out of bed?" wheezed a different, and much older voice.

"Free country, isn't it?" said Black's voice, at the same time that Potter said, "It's still before curfew, Mr. Filch."

"I don't care about that. I can tell you four are up to no good, as usual. Get back to your dormitory."

Severus held his breath. A long second passed.

"Right," said Potter, in a mock theatrical voice. "You heard the man. Back to our dormitory we go."

The hallway filled with derisive laughter, and Severus heard their footsteps retreating.

"You can come out now," said Filch.

Severus' heart sank. He trudged out from behind the statue, shoulders slumped.

"Little shits," muttered Filch, glaring at the corner which Potter and his gang had disappeared round. Severus stared at the caretaker for a moment, and then couldn't help but grin. He reached down to pat Ursa, who curled against his outstretched hand, purring deeply.

"Thanks," he said. Filch shrugged, as if it had been nothing. He peered down at Severus, his watery eyes narrowed.

"You alright, boy?"

Severus gave a shrug. Filch's watering eyes surveyed him. The man gave a grunt – Severus wasn't sure if it was disdain or approval - and shuffled off to continue his rounds.

The rest of the week passed in a blur. As had been his pattern that semester, he spent lessons watching the clock, yet during his free time he was at a loose end. He felt restless, like there was somewhere he wanted to go, or needed to be, yet he couldn't think what the place was.

On Saturday evening, Severus was curled by the fire in the common room, surrounded by half-finished essays. He wasn't doing the work, however. Instead, he had pulled a small twig from the pile of firewood. Gripping the twig firmly, he broke it in two. "Episkey," he said. To his delight, the broken twig restitched itself. He snapped it again, trying the charm nonverbally this time.

A noise made him look up. Mulciber, Avery, and Rabastan Lestrange, along with a handful of the other older boys, were standing in the common room. It was clear from their dress and demeanour that they were about to leave.

"Where are you going?" he asked. The boys glanced at each other, and laughed. "What?"

"Nothing, Snape," said Mulciber, grinning. "We're not doing anything."

It was clearly a lie, but Severus didn't know how to respond. They still hadn't returned by the time Severus went to bed at half-past two in the morning, and he assumed they were drinking in Hogsmeade again.

He slept until one in the afternoon. The older Slytherins were still absent from the table, but he thought little of it. Lunch was more casual on Sunday, and students often ate at different times. Not really thinking about what he was doing, he picked up a copy of the Weekend Prophet.

Sixteen Muggles Killed in Magical Raid.

Severus stared at the page. There was a black and white photograph accompanying the article. Thought it was a wizarding photograph, the people in the picture weren't moving. They were lying still on the ground, dark shapes against white snow. One of the figures was very small.

Some instinct caused him to look up, suddenly. Mulciber had seated himself across from him. His grin was positively sharklike.

"Maybe, Snape," he said, white teeth glinting, "if you spent less time reading books and writing letters, even you could be of some use in this movement."

Severus looked at him. He couldn't think of anything to say. Mulciber's grin widened.

He stood up. Beneath him, his legs felt weak, but he couldn't let anyone see that. Mulciber said something to Avery, and they both laughed. Severus couldn't think of anything to do but flee. The minute he was out of the hall, he broke into a run. He found a deserted bathroom, and locked the door behind him with the strongest spell he knew. He could taste the bile in his mouth, and as he gripped the cold porcelain sink, the nausea overwhelmed him and he threw up the remains of his lunch.

They were just Muggles, he thought, desperately. Just Muggles. Mulciber probably didn't even have anything to do with it.

Severus stared at his reflection in the dimly lit bathroom. His skin looked more sallow than ever, except for the parts that were spotted with acne, which were a deep, angry red. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, and his hair... well. The less said about his hair the better.

Severus knew that his outside appearance aligned with his personality - not only was he not good looking, he was actively repulsive. He sat on the cold floor, and leant his head back against the tiles on the wall. Something strange was happening to his fingers. They felt cold and numb, as though they belonged to another person. He looked at the half healed cut on his hand, made weeks before by his own teeth.

He wasn't sure for how long he sat there. When he ventured out, the corridors were deserted, and the windows dark. Perhaps they were all at dinner. He hurried through the silent halls, his shoulders hunched and his mouth set. He'd taken this path so many times this year it was almost instinct.

When Severus pushed open the door on the seventh floor, the rooms were dark. Severus lit his wand, and the light reflected off the walls.

"Hello?" he called. "Professor?"

The smart thing to do, Severus knew, would be to wait here until Makepeace returned from dinner. The smart thing to do.

Careful not to make a sound, he crept up the staircase, instinctively hunching his shoulders. He stood at the entrance to the darkened study, his heart fluttering. Glancing one final time over his shoulder, he scurried inside.

The table was scattered with papers. Strangely, there were many Muggle newspapers. Severus squinted at the unmoving print and static images. He rifled through them quickly, but nothing of interest jumped out at him.

He jiggled the silver handle, but it was locked. He stood very still, mind racing.

"Alohomora," he said experimentally, but it didn't work.

The door on the floor below opened with a bang. Severus suppressed a gasp with difficultly, spinning around in a panic. The sound of bickering voices echoed up to him as he teetered on the spot, frantically looking for a place to hide.

The sofa was slightly different from last time he had come into the room. It was higher, and had a curtain of fabric around the base, hiding the space beneath from view.

He dived to the ground, wriggling under the sofa as quickly as he could. He wasn't quite fast enough. The fringe of fabric was still fluttering as Makepeace's head appeared above the top step.

Luckily, it was turned to converse with the man behind him. Severus squinted through a slit in the fabric.

"I thought you, of all people, would understand the importance of a second chance."

"I do," said the headmaster, appearing behind him. Severus felt his blood run cold. "Certainly, every individual has the ability to redeem themselves. However, what will this second chance cost?"

Makepeace gave a derisive laugh, and Severus saw his muddy boots tramping past. "The greater good? Really?"

There was a pause. Severus thought there was some significance to the words unheard by him. "Yes," said the headmaster, coolly. Severus could hear Makepeace clattering around in a trunk on the other side of the room. It sounded as if he were throwing items out in search of something.

"He was the bravest man I ever met. And I've met a lot of brave men."

"The boy is not the man, and the man is not the boy."

"Not if you don't give him the opportunity."

Dumbledore was silent again. His shoes were as different to Makepeace's as it was possible to be – bright purple, curled at the tips, and made from soft velvet. "Perhaps not. However, either way, tomorrow night's... diversion... will sidetrack you from the central cause."

"It's not a diversion. He eats children. I'll have a shot at him."

"Both literally and figuratively it seems."

There was a silence. Makepeace must have found whatever was looking for in the trunk.

"I'm trying to fix it as best I can," said the professor, and Severus was shocked to hear the tremble in his voice. He sounded close to tears.

"I know. We all appreciate your efforts, very much."

"It's just... they're not like I expected them to be."

"Of course they aren't. It would be unfair to anticipate otherwise."

"At least with this I know it's the right thing to do."

"You don't know that. You're endangering yourself. Endangering yourself endangers the mission."

The professor made an impatient noise.

"This isn't a game," said Dumbledore, firmly. "While I must admit that you've known me for longer than I've known you, I must strongly advise against this. There may be unexpected consequences, and costs you aren't willing to pay."

There was a loud clatter. Severus felt a chill reach him. Makepeace had thrown open a window.

"Thank you for your advice, Headmaster. I'll be back late tomorrow evening."

There was a strange rustle, and then silence. Dumbledore's feet padded past Severus, across to the open window. Over the rustling of the wind, Severus heard the man give a sigh. There was a click, and the draft vanished.

Severus lay in the darkness for hours, his eyes wide, heart beating fast.

The day that followed was the worst he'd ever had at Hogwarts.

He awoke to a feeling of self-loathing. It was though he could physically feel the weight of the entire castle – perhaps a hundred thousand tonnes of rock – bearing down upon him. Not for the first time, he wondered if he could simply stay in bed all morning. What would happen if he just refused to move? Would Slughorn come and get him and force him to go to class?

He went down to breakfast though, in the end, as he always did. In retrospect it would have been better to stay in bed.

Before he could even get to the great hall, he was cornered by Slughorn. The portly man wasn't smiling. He looked rather menacing, actually, which was unusual. Severus felt his heart sink.

When they were both seated in Slughorn's office, Slughorn retrieved a roll of parchment from his desk.

"Would you like to explain this?" asked Slughorn, proffering it. It unrolled on its own, revealing an unpleasantly familiar essay.

"I don't know what there is to explain, Professor," said Severus, frowning as he read the familiar words. His heart began to beat faster. "It looks like a rather sub-par potions essay."

Slughorn gave a snort of laughter. "This essay is hardly sub-par. I would have given Regulus an Outstanding for it, if the boy had actually written the thing."

Severus stared at him. His mouth felt completely dry.

"I'm told he does marvellously in some subjects, and he does come from such an excellent family, but his aptitude for Potions is..." Slughorn paused, seemingly unable to find a diplomatic term. "It just won't do to have someone of your background ruining things for him."

"My background?" asked Severus, finding his voice at last.

"Oh, you know what I mean. Regulus comes from a strong family. He has prospects."

Severus's anger prevented him from speaking, which was possibly for the best.

"I'm afraid I have no choice but to issue you with a detention, Severus. You'd do better to focus your considerable brainpower on your own Potions homework."

His anger at the unfairness of the meeting followed him to Charms, which he was late for.

Mulciber's feet were up on the chair next to him, and his books covered one side of the desk. Severus waited for Mulciber to move his feet, but it became apparent that he wasn't going to. Fuming, he threw his bag down at an empty desk at the back.

It didn't help that Charms was her best subject. Flitwick was always calling attention to her spellwork. Severus looked at the delicate teapot he'd been given, and imagined smashing it against the ground. What would happen then? Everyone would turn and stare, and they'd snicker, and it'd become one of those Hogwarts stories that people told. Remember the time Snivellus went nuts and smashed all the china in Charms class.

Potter, Black and Pettigrew were whispering and sniggering. Every few minutes, one of them would glance at him, and laugh, at which point their whispering would intensify. Lupin was sitting to one side, looking unhappy. He wasn't participating in the conversation, but he still looked apprehensive.

All of this boded poorly for Severus, but he couldn't even find the energy to be nervous about it. He prodded at his teapot. His Disillusionment Charm had no effect at all. Instead, his wand tip burnt a small round hole in the tea cozy. When the bell rang forty minutes later, he slung his bag over his shoulder and left without looking at anybody.

The hallway was crowded, and seemed to be bubbling over with some kind of misplaced holiday cheer. December had only just begun, and the holidays were still two weeks away. Nevertheless, the students were more exuberant than ever.

Something made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He ducked just as the hex whistled past his ear. Instinctively, he spun around, and threw up the strongest shield charm he could muster.

Potter and Black stood before him. Black's arm was still raised from the hex he'd fired. They exchanged a quick glance. Evidently they hadn't expected him to dodge the initial spell. Severus felt a moment's pride in his reflexes, before focusing more strongly on his shield charm.

They hexed him together. Severus felt the force of the hexes as they reverberated off his shield charm. One exploded in a shower of sparks, the other ricocheting off at an angle, leaving a deep burn in the stone wall.

"You can't hide behind that forever, you coward," called Black, mockingly.

Indeed he couldn't, for Pettigrew had somehow gotten behind him. The smaller boy flicked a stinging hex at him. It was weak, but it did the trick. His concentration was broken, along with the shield charm. A second later, Black had tackled him. With the remains of the charm Severus threw them both backwards into the trophy cabinet, which cracked. Black let go of Severus with a wounded "Oomph!" Not wanting to waste a second, Severus leapt over a bench and flicked a Leg-Locker curse over his shoulder. From the indignant squeak he heard, he guessed it had caught Pettigrew.

"Two galleons on Snivellus!" called someone. The hallway echoed with braying laughter.

Severus desperately looked for a way to escape. Potter was behind him, and Black would be back on his feet again within seconds. Yet there was fifteen metres of clear hallway in front of him, before any sort of cover at all.

He ran. He knew Potter and Black were chasing him, laughing as they did. Pettigrew was hopping after him, giggling his stupid giggle. He just had to make it to the end of the corridor-

Potter flicked a Trip Jinx around his legs and he crashed heavily into the stone floor.

The corridor was ringing with laughter. Severus looked around, and saw that there wasn't a friend in sight. His ears filled with snickering – the cruel, raucous laughter of teenagers laughing at other teenagers. He scrambled for his wand, but Black ripped it from his fingers and cast it away. Severus tried to punch him, but Potter immobilised him. He lay on his side, completely frozen.

Black grinned down at him. There was something horrible in his expression.

Pettigrew had twisted his hand into Severus hair. He yanked it upwards, tying it quickly into a ponytail.

Severus felt his heart sink. Black had pulled out a pair of scissors - Severus saw the shiny glint of them, near his eye. It only took three quick snips, and then Pettigrew held up the ponytail triumphantly, as though it were some kind of trophy. The hallway of people cheered. But the indignity wasn't finished yet.

Black landed heavily on top of him. He had a bottle of Muggle shampoo in one hand, and he emptied the lot over Severus's head and shoulders.

Severus had never been so angry. He could hardly move, because of the Body-Bind curse, but he suddenly found that it had worn off enough for him to have some movement in his neck and shoulders.

He remembered what Makepeace had said, about making use of all resources. He lunged forwards and bit down, hard.

It was an hour later. They were sitting in the hospital wing. Black was having his ear re-attached by Madame Pomfrey.

Severus knew he looked terrible, even for him. His hair had been cut off at chin length, but chunks of it were shorter or much longer. He was soaking wet, covered in blood, and smelt faintly of lavender shampoo.

"What happened?" said McGonagall.

"He just went crazy!" said Pettigrew. "He's a psycho."

"I was just standing there, minding my own business, when suddenly-"

"-that freak," continued Potter, "jumped out at him and started biting."

They all turned to look at Lupin.

"Yes," he said. Severus hated him.

McGonagall straightened up.

"Gentlemen," she said. "Please do not insult my intelligence. It is clear to me that whatever Mr. Snape has done, it is not wholly a matter of unprovoked violence. Twenty five points from Gryffindor for each of you, and detention for all of you. Tonight."

"No!" Potter, Black and Pettigrew had all said this at the same time. They looked horrified, which was strange. Detention – and even losing a hundred points for their house – was nothing out of the ordinary for the four troublemakers. Lupin had gone slightly paler than usual.

McGonagall's nostrils flared. She opened her mouth, ready to begin yet another tirade, when Lupin's soft voice spoke up.

"I can't, Professor."

"You can't?" said McGonagall, in a dangerous tone. Severus's eyes slid to Lupin's worried face, and the Knut dropped.

"It's the full moon," said Severus, quietly. "He's got other engagements to keep."

Severus deeply enjoyed the instantaneous reaction this. Black plunged his wand arm into the pocket of his robes, and it was only Potter's equally quick reaction that stopped Severus being on the receiving end of yet another hex. Lupin turned even paler, looking as though he were going to throw up. Pettigrew's expression was nervous, but tinged with the excitement he always seemed to show whenever trouble was brewing.

To Severus's disgust, however, McGonagall's expression flickered from barely controlled rage into something much softer.

"Of course, Lupin. On Wednesday, then, for you. Now get out of my sight, all of you."

When they were finally gone, she turned to him.

"Mr. Snape," she said. "While I understand you did not initiate this particular brawl, biting off other students' body parts is not an appropriate form of defense. Do you understand me?"

The temporary triumph Severus had had from reminding Lupin that he knew his secret was gone. Snape wanted to sink through the floor.

"You should just try to stay out of their way if they give you so much trouble."

The anger within him was building again. It felt like a fire within his chest, burning at his lungs. He had the sudden, mad urge to do something – break a window, or smash one of the bedside cabinets, or something – but instead he nodded, mutely, his expression twisting.

McGonagall wouldn't fix his hair, either, and Severus didn't want to try and regrow it himself. He cut the last, long strand off with the pair of scissors. It looked terrible.

He went to Makepeace's office at lunch, but he wasn't there. The cavernous rooms were empty. The previous night's encounter had tempered his desire for snooping, so he left.

He knew he couldn't face his afternoon classes. Yet his next lesson was Transfiguration, and McGonagall was bound to miss him. He'd be in more trouble. She'd probably come and find him, and make him go.

He tried to reassure himself. It would be the holidays in a few weeks. He could escape to Cokeworth – to the smelly, dank house with no food and little heating; the house with mould in the bathroom and cracks in the windows; the house where his mother didn't live anymore.

He could talk to Makepeace. But who was Makepeace? The professor wasn't his friend. He was just someone Severus was spying on.

In the end, he didn't go to Transfiguration. He didn't do anything, really. The best place to hide during daylight hours was the astronomy tower, so he climbed the two hundred steps and curled up in an alcove just below the summit, his head resting on his knees.

The problem was, thought Severus, he could have dealt with any of it. He could have dealt with it, if it was just one thing.

He'd dealt with Potter and his gang every year since he'd started at Hogwarts. He knew he was better than them, and one day he'd show them that.

Avery and Mulciber had never really accepted him into their group either. He could have dealt with that – just being on the edges – but they wouldn't even give him that. He was locked out, now, mark or no mark.

And there was Lily, too, who hated him now. With good reason. How could he blame her? Even his own mother had deserted him.

All of this he could have carried on his shoulders, if it wasn't for Makepeace. Makepeace – whoever he was – trying so hard to be Severus'... what? His teacher? His friend?

I'd like to help you, he'd said.

"I don't need any help," said Severus, quietly. His voice echoed around the empty staircase.

The professor had tried to help him, which was more than anyone had ever done for him. And what had Severus done in return? Found out everything he could about the man, and then blabbed it to Lucius... who no doubt had passed it on to the Dark Lord.

The Dark Lord would use the information to hunt him down and kill him. That was all there was to it.

What had Severus got in return? Nothing. A few thank-you notes from Lucius, and complete exclusion from the other boys. He had thought rising through the ranks would have made him popular – like Rabastan, or Lucius himself when he was at Hogwarts. But the other boys seemed to despise him even more now. He was perennially unpopular. And, as Slughorn had been so quick to point out, he had no prospects.

It was very cold on top of the Astronomy tower. It would have been a perfect night for star-gazing, as there wasn't a cloud in sight. There was a soft wind, blowing on his face.

He tried to look out over the crenelated ramparts. Because they were so thick, he had to crawl out onto them in order to look straight down. He gripped the pitted stone tightly.

The problem was, he could have survived any of the problems on their own. He'd survived them all before. Just not together. Not like this.

There were so many stars at Hogwarts. In the Muggle town where he lived during the summer, between smog and light pollution, Severus could have counted the number of stars in the sky on his fingers and toes. Here, surrounded by dark mountains, the sky seemed to be nothing but stars. He could see the Milky Way behind the constellations.

His father knew about astronomy. There was cold science behind the stars. How could that be, if magic governed their movement?

He calculated that it would be around a seventy-meter drop to the stone courtyard below. He would be killed instantly upon impact. He wondered how long it would take him to fall, and what he would think on the way down.

He thought about turning around and going back to bed. But when he thought of the long walk back down the stairs... of what would face him tomorrow, and the next day, and the next... There were high walls all around him, closing in. And it wasn't like anyone would care.

Shakily, he got to his feet, not letting go of the buttress. The movement dislodged a shower of tiny stones and fragments. Severus watched them fall, counting six seconds before they hit the ground.

Could he follow them? Did he have the courage?

He looked up. It was a still night. There wasn't a ripple on the silver lake. He could see the mountains in the distance, and the tiny golden lights of Hogsmeade.

He got down, sinking to his knees on the stone floor. Snape took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, shivering in the starlight. It must have been an hour, before he heard the scuff of footsteps behind him. He hardly had time to turn before a firm hand clamped down upon his shoulder.

Chapter Text

The sudden touch made him jump so violently that he nearly took the shortest way down from the tower. It was only the professor's steely grip that prevented him from falling.

It was the professor, of course. It was always the professor.

Makepeace didn't say anything. He just gripped Severus tightly. The embrace was unexpected, and Severus didn't really know what to do. He stood awkwardly. Makepeace's long, woolen travelling coat was damp. On the shoulder, Severus could see a crystal of unmelted snow clinging to the fabric.

His own thoughts felt sluggish and unconnected within his head. Where had the professor come from? The trapdoor leading out onto the tower was shut still, and Severus knew he would have heard it open. The professor was speaking now, though Severus couldn't make out the words. There was a strange buzzing in his ears.

He didn't have the energy to resist, or offer any explanation. Makepeace stopped speaking, and Severus felt a soft tug on his shoulder. Very gently, Makepeace pulled him back down the narrow spiral staircase, and then down the fifty-six steps to Hogwarts' seventh floor.

The door to Makepeace's room was where it sometimes was. When they were inside, Makepeace gestured at the fire, which roared into life, and pushed Severus into a chair that hadn't been there a moment earlier. Severus realised that he was shaking with cold.

He felt a blanket being laid around his shoulders, and a mug of something warm being pushed into his hands.

Slowly, Severus looked up.

The professor's face was as ugly and scarred as ever. The lines of scar tissue were mirrored by lines of concern. In the firelight, something about his face gave Severus the strangest feeling. He'd seen that look before. Not on his mother's face - she'd never looked at him with that kind of empathy. It gave him an ache in his chest that he couldn't quite identify.

Makepeace kept on looking at him. Normally, the intensity of his lopsided gaze would have made Severus uncomfortable, but tonight he was beyond caring. He stared back, his mind blank, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.

"I'm sorry," said the Professor, softly. "It must be awful."

Severus nodded. It was awful. He couldn't even explain what it was, but he knew that it was awful.

"Did you hear what happened today?" he asked. His voice was hoarse; barely above a whisper.

"I just got back," said the Professor. "I haven't spoken to anybody." Tentatively, he reached out a hand and touched Severus's hacked-off hair. Severus was too exhausted to pull away. Makepeace looked back towards the fire.

"It's too..." Severus began, but he couldn't finish.

After a pause, the professor said: "Every day is a new day, Severus. We don't have to make the same choices as we did yesterday."

Severus shut his eyes, his lips pursing into a thin line. "You don't know anything about me."

"What don't I know?"

His fingers twitched. It took a lot of effort to keep his voice steady.

"You don't know," he hissed. "You don't know what I am. What I've done. You don't know anything about me."

Makepeace turned to him. The scars on his face were thrown into sharp relief by the fire. He looked a thousand years old.

"I do know, Severus."

"You don't," he said, and he was shouting now, feigned calm forgotten. "YOU DON'T KNOW."

"I know, Severus," the professor repeated. He hadn't raised his voice, but his gaze was like steel. Severus sat down, his legs suddenly giving way. "Hold out your arm."

Shaking, Severus proffered his right arm. Makepeace smiled, sadly.

"The other arm, Severus."

Severus shut his eyes. There was nothing left to do, no corner he could run to. He turned his face away, and held up his arm.

Makepeace grasped his arm, firmly. His hands were very soft and warm, although there were calluses on his thumbs that rasped against Severus's skin. Severus realised that it had been months since another person had touched him with any care. The professor took great care not to touch the darkened skin as he pulled back the fabric of his robe.

The world did not end. Makepeace did not recoil in fear or disgust. He simply uttered a small, sad sigh, before smoothing Severus's sleeve back to cover his Dark Mark.

Severus opened his eyes, but he couldn't look at Makepeace. Feeling like he was about to faint, he addressed his question to the window instead.

"How long have you known?"

"Since I met you," said Makepeace. "Or perhaps shortly before."

"How?"

"There are signs." The professor stood up, and walked to the window. Severus looked at the back of his head, at the untidy black hair that was flecked with grey. "Avery, Rosier, Mulciber and Wilkes, too. And Rabastan Lestrange. Alecto Carrow."

Severus nodded, mutely, even though it was treason; even though Makepeace couldn't even see him. He didn't think it had been a question, anyway.

"Am I expelled?" he asked.

Makepeace whipped around so fast that Severus jumped. "Of course not," he said, shocked. "What on earth would make you think that?" Severus couldn't speak. He'd run out of words. He stared at the professor, and the professor stared back. "Whatever you've done, or haven't done, we can sort it out together."

The man's voice was kind but firm. The room smelt of chalk and coffee and – very faintly – of cigarettes. Severus inhaled deeply through his nose... And suddenly, where there had been no words, there were now too many. The whole sorry story poured out of him.

It started with Lily. He talked about the day, by the lake, when he had called her... her that thing. He talked about Black and Potter, and the things they did. And then he talked about his summer – a long, lonely summer. The lowest point of a life filled with nothing but low points, until Lucius Malfoy had invited him to his manor.

He rubbed his arm through his sleeve as he talked about the ceremony. About the feeling of belonging, and the feeling of being accepted.

Severus kept on talking. He spoke about his return to school – the way Lily had looked at him, and how the other boys had locked him out of the compartment – and how Slughorn had said that he lacked prospects. He talked about his mother, and how she had left him; how she hadn't even sent a letter, or a note, in over a year.

Finally, he confessed to the crime that had been roiling within him all year.

"The Dark Lord asked me to spy on you. And I have been," he said. "I've been telling him everything."

Makepeace was silent. Severus didn't dare look up. He was afraid of what he might see.

A hand – a large, strong hand with weathered skin and short fingernails – gripped his shoulder. Despite its weight, it seemed to reverse its own gravity, relieving the terrible weight that he had carried there all term.

"Severus," said Makepeace. "You have told Voldemort nothing, nothing that I did not want him to know. You've caused no damage; you have hurt no-one. In fact, your preoccupation with this task has prevented Voldemort ordering you to do far worse things."

Every time the Dark Lord's name was uttered, Severus's arm twinged. "It's unforgivable what I've-"

"There's only one truly unforgivable crime," said Makepeace. "And you haven't done that yet. I've done things, Severus. I've made terrible, terrible choices that caused me to lose everyone and everything I've ever loved. I... I don't want you to - "

Severus began to weep. He couldn't help it. It had all been too much. Makepeace squeezed his shoulder tightly, and then let go. He walked away to look over the grounds. Severus was immensely grateful for this, and took the opportunity to wipe his eyes on his sleeve. His nose was running, and no sooner had he thought that he needed a tissue that he noticed a box of them upon the table.

"What can I do?" he asked.

"The right thing."

Severus failed to keep back a sob. "It's that easy, is it?" he spat. "'Sorry, my Lord, I've decided to go and work for Dumbledore now.' You're asking me to leave my only friends – desert all of them, and - "

"You have other friends."

Severus gave a derisive laugh. "If you're talking about her, you can forget it. She hates me."

"I was talking about me."

There was a silence.

"I appreciate the difficulty of your position," said Makepeace, softly. "Believe me, I do."

"You don't know them," he said. "You don't know what they're like."

"I don't. I've met similar men, though."

"Where does that leave me? What do I do?"

There was a pause. The professor seemed to be considering his question deeply. "I see three options. The first is that you try – as much as possible – to remain neutral. I'll help you as much as you can. You can remain a lower-level cog in Voldemort's order, turning away at whatever evil deeds he bids you do. You might do them inefficiently, appearing to be less skilled than you truly are. However, I warn you that there may come a time when you have to make a choice that goes in the face of what you truly believe in."

"What do I believe in?" he asked. He didn't really know, anymore.

"That's for you to figure out."

"What's the second option?"

"You help me," said Makepeace. Severus stared at him.

"What?" he said.

"As I've already said, many times, you are an exceptionally gifted young man. You're driven, intelligent; you have a wide knowledge of theory and an excellent grasp on practical application. I have a superficial knowledge of Voldemort's order. I'd like to find out more. It will greatly increase the speed at which Dumbledore and I can win the war, and reduce causalities on both sides."

"You think you can win, then? You think you can beat Him?"

The professor looked at him. "Yes," he said. "I do."

Because of his blinded eye, the professor always looked at him from a slight angle when he wanted to study him most directly. For the first time in a long time, Severus met his gaze without flinching.

"What's the third option?"

"The third option is the one you were considering on top of the tower."

Severus felt his breath catch in his throat. He felt as though he were going to vomit.

"I could go to the Dark Lord right now and tell him everything you told me!" he said, defiantly.

"You could," said Makepeace. "But you won't."

"How do you know?"

Makepeace smirked at him.

"He'd reward me," Severus said, mutinously. "If I went and told him that you knew, he'd reward me. If I side with you... and he finds out..." It didn't bear thinking about. "You can't offer me anything," said Severus. "You don't even care about me."

Makepeace looked offended. "I care about you. But your help will also be immensely useful. The two aren't mutually exclusive. I thought you'd know that, being a Slytherin. Stop fighting yourself, Severus, and think about what I've said."

Severus opened his mouth to retort back, sharply, but as Makepeace's words sank in he shut his mouth, and then his eyes.

There were three options. He could end it, with a swift jump or subtle potion. The option was tempting, but Severus suddenly knew he couldn't. It wasn't a matter of bravery or cowardice. He simply couldn't bear to leave this world, as dark and ugly as it was.

There was the second option; to continue on as before. It was intolerable, he knew. That day's events had proven that. Every day was like crawling through broken glass. He thought about tiny bodies in the white snow, and a girl with green eyes floating in a river.

And then there was Makepeace's proposal.

"I'm not a hero," he said, stubbornly.

"I don't need a hero," said Makepeace. "I need a Slytherin."

"If you knew anything about Slytherins, you'd know that we never do something for nothing."

"I'm not offering you nothing. I'm offering you the knowledge that you aren't aiding in the murder of innocent people. I'm offering you knowledge that you're not promoting the degradation of a race of people to second and third class citizens, or worse. I realise it's not very much, but it might help you sleep easier."

Severus's mouth twisted. "I... I couldn't help you, anyway."

"You could. Your Mark, you said you got it this summer?"

Severus nodded. He didn't know where this was heading.

"And the others got theirs then as well?"

He nodded again. "We were all summoned to the manor. They'd mentioned it before, but..."

"You and the others. Do you all leave the castle regularly for meetings?"

"No. Well, I don't. The others... I don't know. I know they were out on the night... on the night when... On Saturday."

Makepeace's face twisted. "It makes sense," he spat. "Conscript them young, when they don't understand the magnitude of the commitment, and then call in the debt when they're older."

The way Makepeace had phrased the story of his recruitment made him feel deeply uncomfortable. He thought it'd been a grown up decision. Something real and authentic and adult. Now, it seemed more like the opposite. "This still doesn't tell me how I can help you," said Severus.

Makepeace looked surprised, and then smiled. "Severus," he said, and then stopped. "Never mind. Okay, if you wanted to help me, you could tell me what you've discovered. It would help me understand how well I've..."

"Covered your tracks?" Severus asked. Makepeace gave him a horrible wink. "Well. Your name is extinct in the male line, and has been for centuries. You did not attend Hogwarts at any time in the last fifty years - "

Makepeace smiled, tiredly. "Surely, a false name is not such an odd thing, particularly in a time of war."

"I thought of that too. I've looked at the Quidditch photos every year from nineteen-hundred to nineteen-fifty, and you're not in any of them. I even tracked down all the male Gryffindor Seekers... none of them are you."

The professor started laughing. "Nineteen-hundred? You think I'm seventy-seven years old?

Severus scowled. "I wanted to be thorough."

"Well, you've succeeded. I could have lied about the Quidditch. Why assume I attended Hogwarts at all?"

"You know too much about the castle not to have been a student. And I don't think you were lying about the Quidditch. And if you were wearing a glamour now, you wouldn't have included that scar. Too distinctive." He hesitated, before plunging on with reckless abandon. "And I looked up your daughter. She never existed."

Makepeace stopped laughing. It was like someone turning off a light switch. "Have you figured it out yet?" he asked.

"No," said Severus. "But I will."

Makepeace smiled his awful smile.

After that, the professor decided – rather sensibly – that they should both have something to eat. Severus had no idea what time it was, but the sandwiches Makepeace summoned were just about the most delicious food he'd ever tasted. When was the last time he'd eaten?

"Excuse me if I'm being too personal," said Makepeace, slowly, after a long period of silence.

Severus snorted. "Like you ever care about being too personal," he said.

"Excuse me if I'm being too personal," Makepeace repeated, "but your friend. Lily."

Severus put down his sandwich and scowled. "Yes," he said. "That is personal. And she's not my friend. We were friends, and now we're not. So that's another thing I've screwed up; thanks very much for reminding me."

"I just thought you'd like to know..." Makepeace trailed off. "Never mind."

"What?" asked Severus, too quickly, hating both himself and the professor.

"It's just... she's always looking at you."

"She hates me."

"Maybe," said Makepeace. "But she's always looking at you."

Severus scowled at him, and then at the plate of sandwiches. He folded his arms and sank deeper into the armchair. He sat there in stony silence while Makepeace finished the rest of the sandwiches, seemingly unperturbed by Severus's cloudy demeanour.

"Do I go back to the dormitory after this?" asked Severus, when it became obvious that Makepeace wasn't going to say anything more.

Makepeace shook his head. "No. I'm taking you home."

"Home?"

The professor nodded. "I think it would be for the best. We should leave now, before the castle rises."

Home. The small, crooked house on a street full of small crooked houses, where his father drank and his mother wasn't. He didn't miss it, but Severus suddenly realised that it was where he wanted to go. Makepeace was right. He couldn't go back to the dormitory. He couldn't face another day of classes.

"Won't I be missed from lessons? My trunk and my books and..."

"I'll sort everything out. Don't worry."

It was nice having someone else to worry about things for you, Severus thought. The castle was dark and still, but Makepeace walked through the corridors with such confidence that Severus thought that he had lit his wand out of mere habit. Somehow, he knew that the professor could have walked these halls backwards and blindfolded, and still never miss a single step.

The grounds were colder than the castle. The sun was a few hours from rising, but Severus could feel it below the horizon. Another question occurred to him. "Are you going to tell my father?" asked Severus.

Makepeace was silent for a few moments, and all Severus could hear was the crunching of their feet in the snow.

"I have to tell him some parts, Severus. Not all of it, but some parts. I'm sorry."

Severus shrugged. He didn't want his father to know that he'd tried to jump off a roof, but what did it matter if he did?

The gates knew Makepeace by his touch, for they opened for him without the professor needing to utter a spell. They Disapparated together, just outside of the walls of the castle.

Once, when he had been smaller, his mother had taken him to Blackpool for the day. He had been paddling when a large wave had dunked him deep underwater. Breathless, he'd spun desperately in the cloudy water, unsure of which way was up and which way was down. Side-Along Apparition was a lot like that. He much preferred doing it on his own.

They appeared in Severus's back garden. He leaned over and vomited. Makepeace leapt out of the way.

"Sorry," he said, as Severus retched in the mud. "That can happen."

Severus glared, and stumbled to the back door. It wasn't locked. He crossed the threshold just as the kitchen clock struck six o'clock. His father stared at them from across the kitchen table, wide eyed and unshaven, already starting to rise from his chair.

"Hi, Da," said Severus. "I'm home early."

All other explanations could wait. He walked past his father, into the hall and up the narrow flight of stairs. His arms felt as heavy as lead. Severus collapsed onto his narrow wooden bed, which squeaked loudly. Downstairs, he could hear the rumble of conversation as Makepeace spoke to his father, but Severus didn't want to know what was being said.

Through a heavy fog, he heard footsteps on the stairs. His door creaked open, and a large weight settled on the bed near his feet.

"Please just let me sleep," he muttered, voice muffled by the pillow.

"I will," said Makepeace. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

Severus twisted his head to look at him.

"What's your real name?" he asked.

The professor looked down at him for a long minute. "Harry," he said, as though it cost him dearly. "My name is Harry."

"I meant your last name."

Makepeace – Harry – sighed. "You'll find out sooner or later, and wish you hadn't."

It was the ambiguous answer he'd come to expect from the professor. Severus knew by now that there was no point pressing the matter.

"Hey," he said. Makepeace stopped.

Severus wanted to say something to him, about his family. He wanted to say that maybe it wasn't too late for the professor to fix his own problems, too. That he should go and find the rest of his family – wherever they were – and try to make amends, because surely they couldn't hate him for what had happened. It wasn't his fault, after all.

"Thank you," he mumbled. "For..." He waved a hand vaguely.

"It's been a pleasure, Severus."

The door shut with a click.

Severus closed his eyes. He was just a pawn on a giant chessboard, being moved in a larger game entirely outside his understanding. But there was a tiny thrill there, too. He'd crossed the board, and been promoted. He could move in any way he wanted to, now. If only he knew where he wanted to go...

She's always looking at you.

Severus groaned and pulled the covers over his head. For the first time in a long time, he slept without dreams.

Chapter Text

Severus awoke very suddenly, to the sight of two very large, very green eyes staring intently into his own.

"Ah," he said. "AH!"

The creature above him jumped backwards, looking as alarmed as he felt. Severus sat up straight in the bed, yanking the sheets up to his chin.

"Who are you?" he yelled, scrabbling for his wand. "What are you doing in my room?"

It was, he realised, a house elf. It looked very strange, even for a house elf. For a start, it wore a large top hat that was prevented from falling down only by its enormous ears.

"Professor Makepeace has said that Dobby is to come here three times a day and give Mister Snape meals!"

Severus blinked. His eyes focused on the breakfast tray the elf was holding. It didn't feel like a dream. "I'm not hungry," he said, scrunching the counterpane up against his chest.

"Professor Makepeace said that Mister Snape would say this, and that Dobby should not leave until Mister Snape had eaten all of the food."

Severus glowered at the elf. "Fine," he said, sharply. He yanked the tray towards him, and began to eat. True to his word, the elf stayed until all of the food was gone. He took the empty tray, made a little bow, and vanished with a crack.

Severus stared at the place where the elf had vanished. He'd never had much to do with house elves before this. Were they all this annoying? Feeling grumpy, he pulled the covers back over his head and fell instantly back to sleep.

Severus spent the majority of the next few days sleeping. He woke up to eat, and to stagger down to the lavatory. The idea of a bath was too much, as was venturing outside, or speaking to his father.

On the fourth night after his return from school – unless it was the fifth, or the sixth - Severus awoke suddenly. It was dark. There was a weight on the end of his bed. Half asleep, his vision blurry, he thought that it was Makepeace, but then a car passed. In the reflected brightness of its headlights he saw his father's distinctive profile.

His father was speaking to him softly in German. Severus was only half awake, so the words slid in and out of his mind like fish in a stream. He pretended to be asleep, but within moments the pretence had become reality.

When he awoke the next morning, Severus felt unaccountably restless and alert. Cool, winter sunlight was streaming through his bedroom window. He sat up and stretched so much that his back cracked.

He felt very different from the days and weeks before, but he couldn't exactly say why. The magnitude of worry and stress was still there, but far away, as though it were in another room of a large house. Severus was so used to its presence that he instinctively began to reach out for it. Yet before he could fully contemplate the depths of doom that he was entrapped in, he stopped. Just don't think about it, he reasoned. Leave it, for now.

He breathed in deeply, and then wrinkled his nose. He was acutely aware that he hadn't washed for several days. His muscles ached, too. To his surprise, his school trunk was lying by his bed. Perhaps the elf had brought it, Severus thought, though he couldn't recall exactly. Struck with a sudden idea, he opened it and rifled through, before he found a small glass bottle.

The bathroom taps spat and rumbled when he turned them on, and the water was flecked with rust. Still, Severus was pleasantly surprised to find that the water soon became hot. He pulled out the phial from a pocket of his pyjamas and poured a dash of Murtlap essence into the bath. It made the water turn an even more unpleasant shade of ochre, but that wasn't important. As he eased his aching body into the hot water, he knew it had done the trick. Almost instantly, the pain in his joints and muscles seemed to dissipate. There was a purpling bruise on his knee. He watched it slowly lighten under the yellow water. Severus took a deep breath and ducked below the water. In his ears, he heard the beating of his own heart.

Severus did the best he could with a bar of ancient yellow soap. He even attempted to wash his hair, though he knew it would remain as coarse as ever, as well as being cut unevenly. When the water was merely tepid, he stood up out of the bath and pulled the plug. The pipes gurgled and sucked unpleasantly as it drained.

Severus scowled at his reflection in the age spotted mirror. His hair didn't really bear mentioning. It stuck up in every direction, and was slightly shorter on one side than the other. Some soap suds clung to a particularly long strand.

Behind the hair, his face scowled back at him.

He really was very little to look at, Severus thought. His teeth were crooked and yellow, and all jumbled up like a church graveyard. His skin was yellow, too; an unhealthy pallor brought on by spending too much time indoors. The ridge of his large nose was definitely off centre.

Severus had lost a lot of weight this year. He had always been slim, but now his body was practically skeletal. It frightened him a little. From beneath his bony shoulders, his collar bones and ribs jutted out with shadowy prominence.

All in all, he looked like nothing more than a hulking black hawk. A hawk with a bad haircut.

There was something different about his reflection, though, aside from the horrible haircut they'd given him. He squinted, and then realised what it was. The pimples that had dotted his cheeks for months had completely vanished. He patted his skin uncertainly. There was a slight roughness, but aside from that, his skin was unblemished. His eyes slid to the bottle of Murtlap on the counter. Well, that's something, he thought. One problem solved, only a million other ones to deal with.

He grabbed a damp, threadbare towel and returned to his bedroom. Someone had washed his Muggle clothes, and folded them neatly at the foot of his bed. Probably the same person – creature - who had left a silver Hogwarts breakfast tray piled high with toast, Severus thought, as he pulled on his jeans. Apparently he was now entrusted to eat food without supervision.

His jeans had been too small when he'd worn them in the summer. Now they only seemed slightly snug around his hips, rather than uncomfortably tight. His shirt was overlarge, and missing a button, but overall his Muggle clothes were far more discrete than what he'd worn as a child. He'd learned how to fit in better since then, and now he just looked slightly tatty, rather than actively peculiar. Or so he hoped.

Not really knowing what else to do, he went for a walk.

Severus didn't know what date it was, or even what time. Everything was grey. Winter had sapped all the light and colour from the trees. The canal gurgled, carrying its usual cargo of empty chip packets and plastic bottles.

His coat was cheap, and every few paces the wind would cut through it. At least it was better than being in Scotland. He turned up the collar, and trotted along the frozen road. The Muggle high street of Cokeworth was not a particularly inspiring sight. There was a barber. He touched his hair, self consciously, but felt too shy to go in... not that he had any money, anyway. Perhaps he could regrow his hair when he was back at school. He pulled his hat a little lower.

Out of boredom, he wandered into the smallest and grimiest of the shops on the street. Someone had spray painted something on the front, and no-one had bothered to clean it off. Severus took this as a sign that even he would not be unwelcome in such a place.

The shop was filled with dusty playing records. It was dingy, and the records were piled haphazardly on every available surface. Severus hunched his shoulders awkwardly, but no-one seemed to be paying him any attention. Two teenagers were engaged in eager conversation by the counter. Severus clenched his fists in his pockets, and began to dawdle down the narrow aisles. He stopped at a modern looking record player. NEW STOCK! read the handwritten sign.TRY ME! It was Muggle machinery, but the mechanism wasn't complex. His father had one like it. Hesitantly, Severus pulled the headphones over his newly shortened hair, dropped the needle, and pressed play.

What seemed like hours later – though he knew it had only been minutes – the song finished. He pulled of the headphones and opened his eyes.

"You like it?"

The spotty teenager he'd seen earlier was grinning at him from across the stacks. Severus stared at her, mouth slightly open.

She was the only person Severus had ever seen with worse clothes than himself. She wore such an odd assortment of items that Severus first thought was that she was a witch trying to dress as a Muggle. Her trousers were several sizes too small, yet the sleeves of her jacket hung down past her fingertips. She had dark, heavy eyebrows which clashed quite horribly with her hair. It looked as though she had tried to dye it blond, but had given up halfway through. She grinned at him sneakily, revealing crooked teeth held in place by Muggle orthodontics

"Do you like it?"

Recovering from his shock at the girl's appearance, Severus found an answer.

"It's excellent," he said. "Like nothing I've heard before."

The girl grinned at this pronouncement, clapping her hands together in excitement. "Brilliant. It's brand new, by the way"

"Do you have anything else like it?" he asked. He couldn't help it.

"No," she said. "They were just signed last week. But wait!" She turned around, riffling through a stack of records. "You'll probably like this." With dexterity that implied she did it frequently, she flicked off the old record and replaced it with a new one.

A little uncertainly, Severus pulled the earphones back on. The girl grinned and dropped the needle back.

The song started with a similar crash of guitar, but it seemed a little softer somehow.

"I liked the other one better," he said. "This is pretty good too, though."

The girl seemed to approve of this answer. "I'm Linda," she said.

"Severus," said Severus. Linda snorted.

"What kind of name is that?"

"It's my name," said Severus. Annoyed, he turned back to the records. Linda stuck her head in front of Severus's face.

"Oi," she said. "I was only joking." Seemingly wanting to make amends, she peered at him curiously. "I haven't seen you around much before. You from Milltown or something?"

Severus shrugged. "Spinner's end," he said. "Just round the corner. I've been away. Boarding school."

The girl snorted, with something like derision. "You a Tory then?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "No, of course not." He didn't know what a Tory was, but from the girl's tone, he was sure it was nothing good. This seemed the right answer, as Linda grinned and slapped him on the shoulder.

There was a pause in the conversation, as though whatever fuel had propelled them so far had run out. Severus wanted to sink through the floor. "I have to go," he said, and fled before she could say anything more. As he strode down the high street, Severus could feel his heard thumping in his chest, and his legs felt slightly weak. He wished people wouldn't talk to him like that. Couldn't they see that he was… well…

He went home after that. His books didn't talk back, and his room was comfortable and safe. When he sat at his desk, it was possible to rest his bare feet directly on the hot water pipe that ran across the wall. He read his Potions text book, from cover to cover. He made notes in it – scribbled some things Makepeace had mentioned about spell work and magic.

A girl at a Muggle store spoke to me today, he wrote. He looked at the words, and then crossed them out.

She probably was a Muggle, he thought, not a witch in disguise. And she'd spoken to him, made a joke, made fun of his name. Mulciber and Avery had gone out the other night and killed people. They'd gone out and killed them, and then they had laid their bodies down in the snow for the Aurors to find.

Were those Muggles like the girl at the store, he wondered. She'd seemed very… alive.

There hadn't even been a point to it. It'd just been for fun.

There was a loud crack. Severus didn't jump. He was used to it by now. He ate his dinner in silence, looking out into the dark street. When he'd finished, the plate vanished of their own accord. He stood, stretched, and began to look for his mother's book on Occlumency. He was going to need it, to do what Makepeace wanted him to do.

In his sleep, Severus dreamed that he was being chased by hundreds of mechanical birds, with wings that clattered and clacked. He awoke with a start, to a distant sound that was familiar, though he couldn't place it. Pulling on his trousers, Severus staggered out onto the landing, and peered through the study door.

His father was at his typewriter, battering away with something that seemed a cross between anger and passion. A cigarette dangled from his lips, and the entire room stank.

Severus hadn't seen his father write for five years. He stood in the doorway, feeling awkward. His father beamed when he saw him; another thing that hadn't happened for years. If ever.

Severus knew they would have to talk. He'd have to explain why he was home from school early, and other unpleasant father stood up, rather suddenly.

"For you," he said, and pushed something into Severus's hands. Severus looked down at the four, crisp twenty pound notes.

"I can't take this, Papa," he said. It was all he could think to say. He pushed it back.

"No," said his father, waving. His accent seemed thicker this morning, for some reason. "You do so well in school."

Severus resisted the urge to laugh. His marks the last term had been his worst ever. Still. They stood awkwardly in the small study for a moment, before Severus stuffed the money into his pocket, and fled before his father could change his mind. On his father's urging, he left their small, dank house to spend his undeserved gains. He tucked twenty pounds into his pocket, and stowed the rest safely in a drawer in his bedroom, helping himself to fresh toast while he was there. He wondered what Makepeace had said to his father that had encouraged such unprecedented generosity.

Really, the most important thing was a haircut. He loitered around the Muggle barbershop for a few minutes, before fleeing in terror. There was no way he could just go in and get his hair cut in a Muggle shop. People might talk to him, and ask him why his hair was so horrid to begin with. It was too awful to even think about.

It was strange, really. There was no shortage of things he desperately needed. New robes, new books… a new personality and a new face to match, Severus thought ruefully as he stomped up the road. But now that he actually had money in his hand, he didn't know what to buy.

He remembered the music. Even as he opened the door of the shop, he hoped the strange girl wasn't there. It would bemortifying to see her again.

"SE-VE-RUS!" called a loud, grating voice, the second he'd entered the shop. She pronounced every syllable, and Snape wasn't sure if he was being made fun of or not. Even though truthfully he wanted to sink through the floor, he smiled weakly and nodded.

"The records..." he said.

"Did you come back for them?" she said, grinning manically.

"How much are they?" asked Severus, mentally preparing to convert it to galleons.

"Three pounds for the single, and eighty pence for the single. Three fifty if you buy them together, though."

Severus considered it. He wasn't sure when he would get more money, but he did have eighty pounds. A truly stupendous amount of money, in any currency. He could afford it.

"All right," he said. He pulled out the twenty pound note. The girl grinned, opening the cash register with a practised flourish and counting out Severus's change. He was about to grab the records and run, when the girl spoke again. "If you like this kind of music, my friend Rick is having a party later. You'd fit right in."

Severus doubted that. He'd never fitted right in anywhere, ever, least of all amongst a group of Muggle teenagers. He opened his mouth to explain this to her.

"Where is it?" he asked.

"Norsey Road." She squinted, as though trying to remember the number. "Number 15? Bring a bottle."

"Yeah," he said. "Right."

He carried the LPs home very carefully. There was an old record player in the living room. Severus had never seen it used in his sixteen years of existence. Careful not to make much noise, he unplugged it from the wall and carried it upstairs to his bedroom. He blew the dust off the track, and balanced it on his desk.

As though the record was made of glass, he settled it carefully onto the spindle and dropped the needle. There were a few crackles and pops, and then the music started.

His father didn't seem to be at home, which was just as well. Severus lay back on his bed, looking at his water stained ceiling and letting the song carry him away. When it was finished, he listened to it again.

The girl – Linda - had invited him to a house. That was strange. Why had she done that? Of course, he couldn't go. It was probably some kind of joke, anyway. Anyway, he was a wizard. Wizards didn't just go to Muggle parties.

Yet at half past seven – after the elf had delivered his evening meal - Severus got up. Careful not to make a sound, he took the most inconspicuous looking bottle from his father's store, and quietly closed the front door behind him. His legs carried him to Norsey Road, and the rest of him followed along.

After everything that had happened, Severus reasoned, it was absurd to be frightened of a single, poorly dressed Muggle girl and her like. He was a wizard. He could go to a Muggle party if he wanted to. Not that he did want to, of course. He was just…

There was pounding music echoing down the lane. It should be the right house. Fighting his own lack of surety, Severus knocked.

A girl wrenched open the door. She had long, straggly brown hair and wore a bored expression. She was chewing gum.

"Uh," said Severus. "I was looking for-"

"Sev-er-us!" yelled a voice. Linda's face appeared over the girl's shoulder. She seemed happy to see him, which had never happened before. She grabbed Severus by the arm and pulled him into the living room.

"This is Severus," she said to the room at large. "He's cool."

Perhaps falser words had never been spoken. Severus squirmed under the attention. Unsure of what to do, he held out the half empty bottle that he had procured. This seemed to be the right thing to do. There was an appreciative cheer from the group, and the bottle was immediately snatched from his hands. Seconds later, a half full cup and been pushed back into his hands.

"Chug-a-lug," said someone, cheerfully. Severus threw back his head and took a generous sip. It burned as it went down, and he couldn't help but pull a face.

"Ugh," he said. He felt that it would be a good idea to sit down, so he flopped into an empty armchair. His stomach was roiling, and it took a moment for his mind to steady itself. He realised that he'd lost Linda, in that brief moment between coming into the room and sitting down. He took another sip of the drink, trying not to grimace. What on earth was he doing here? Everyone would be staring at him. They would know he wasn't really one of them. It was so obvious.

He glanced around surreptitiously, but no-one seemed to be paying him the slightest bit of attention. The Muggle teenagers around him were talking and laughing. Severus scowled, and took another sip of his drink. At least the music was decent, and he focused on that.

Like a ghost, he wandered from room to room, dropping into conversations and out of them. He didn't understand what anyone was talking about. He shared no point of reference with these people. Every politician, every actress, every subject that they studied at school, was as distant to him as the moon. Normally, he would have found it unbearable, but for some reason, tonight he didn't mind. He took another sip of his drink, and listened in on the conversations. It was like stories from another world.

Later, he found Linda in the garden. It wasn't much of a garden. There was a square of dead grass, surrounded by bare bushes. Someone had tried to start a bonfire in a brick pit, but it consisted mainly of smouldering chip packets and wet wood.

Linda was smoking, with a Muggle boy with a haircut even worse than his own. He hesitated in the doorway, but she waved at him and gestured for him to sit with them.

"This is Sev, Rick," she said, speaking to the boy. "He's cool."

"That's a lie," Severus said. He felt dizzy, but in a nice way. He leant his head on her shoulder. "Why did you invite me here. I don't know anyone."

She laughed, but didn't answer. The boy – Rick - grinned at him crookedly, and offered him a cigarette. "Spliff?"

Severus took it, holding it awkwardly in his fingers. The end was already lit. He had no idea what to do, and the other boy seemed to realise, because he laughed.

"Take a deep breath," Rick said. "Just hold it in your mouth for as long as you can."

Severus did. He could feel the smoke burning his lungs. He held it for as long as he could and then doubled over, coughing. Linda and the boy roared with laughter, but for some reason, it didn't bother him as it normally would. He handed the cigarette back, suppressing another cough.

"Linda says you're back early from school," said Rick, bluntly. "Why?"

"I tried to jump off a roof," he said, leaning back against the brick wall in the garden.

"Jesus." He squinted at him. "You alright now?"

He shrugged. "Sort of. No. Yes. Maybe."

"So..." said Linda.

"It's complicated," he said, cutting her off. He didn't want to go into the reasons behind his early departure. It was hard enough to explain it to a wizard, let alone a Muggle. She kept on staring at him, in the flickering light of the fire, so he felt the need to say something. "There were these other... students. They cut my hair," he said. He held out a strand.

"I like it," she said, grinning mischievously. "It's better than Rick's."

The boy – Rick – punched her arm playfully. There was an undercurrent of understanding and warmth between them, which made Severus himself feel quite small and alone.

He squatted down in front of what passed as a fire.

"What are you doing?" Linda asked, laughing. "There's no way you can get it to light without throwing petrol on it."

Severus broke of some dead branches from one of the bushes, and placed them carefully upon the embers. He grabbed a discarded page of newspaper and scrunched it into the pile, which continued to smoulder unsatisfactorily. Unperturbed, Severus breathed in deeply through his nose, and then out through his mouth. He thought about how his breath could warm his fingers on a cold day, and how hot his cheeks felt when he was embarrassed.

With a woomph, the fire ignited in a glorious amber spire. Linda squealed, and Rick applauded. "How did you do that?" he asked, sounding genuinely impressed.

Severus shrugged, and sat back down.

The party seemed to change after that. He enjoyed being outside. People came out to smoke, and by virtue of being outside already, and having mastered the fire, he felt that he had some kind of status. He lost Linda again at some point, but he didn't seem to mind. A small part of him wanted to follow her around like a duckling, but he knew that that was not the right thing to do. He talked to Rick instead, about music. The boy told him about bands Severus had never heard of, but he nodded along meekly and pretended to understand what was going on. He was surprised when he caught a glimpse of Rick's watch and realised that it was nearly midnight. Where had the time gone?

He got up to go to the lavatory, and on the way back, ran into Linda.

"Sev," she said. "I gotta go."

"Oh," he said.

She must have heard the note of disappointment in his voice, for she rallied a moment later. "Want to walk me home?"

Normally, he would have said no. If he'd said yes, it would have meant she would know that he'd enjoyed talking with her, and that was bad because...

"Yes," he said.

Her house was in the opposite direction to his own, but he didn't mind. He was surprised – secretly thrilled – at how easy it was to talk to her about his life. At school, everyone ignored him entirely when they weren't actively tormenting him. Makepeace talked to him, of course, but that was never really a conversation. It was more like a kind of battle, where both of them where always trying to get the upper hand.

This girl was easy to talk to. As her words flowed towards him, he felt like some reservoir within him was filling up. He hadn't known it had been there, and he hadn't known it had been so depleted.

So in the cold night they walked, and talked.

"So why'd your parents send you to boarding school?"

"My mother went there," he said. "It's kind of a ... family tradition."

"Plus they could get rid of you," she said.

It had been meant as a joke. Severus knew that. But the girl saw the look on his face and blanched. "No," she said. "I was joking, I didn't mean-"

He shrugged. "No," he said. "It's all right. You're probably right. I mean they never..." he trailed off. "My mother left. Last year. She and Papa always fought, ever since I was small. One day, it got really bad. They were screaming at each other, and then my father hit her. The next day she was gone."

"Shit," she said. "Did he do that a lot?"

"What?"

"Hit her?"

"No," he said. "Never. Just that one time. Like it's not like he's a great person, but he never… There was other stuff as well, though. They came from different backgrounds. Both sides of the family disapproved of marriage." That was his life. Conceived in shame, and a source of disappointment ever since.

"It's so... authentic."

"What?"

"It's so real."

Severus stared at her, mouth slightly open. To for store a ruder comment, he said the first thing that came to mind. "What about your parents?"

"Father runs a business. Mother's a housewife," she said, putting as much disdain into the word as Mulciber did when saying Mudblood. "When the revolution comes, they will be first against the wall." She made a pistol with her hand, and mimed firing it.

"What kind of revolution?"

"The revolution," she said. "God, Severus, what planet are you from?" Pausing, she scrabbled with the straps of her bag. "You should read this. It's what the future has to hold." She pushed a book into his hands. It was too dark to see the title, so he stowed it in his bag for later reading.

"Thank-you."

Linda shrugged. "Fuck, it's cold."

Severus shrugged of his threadbare coat and gave it to her. If he'd thought about it, he'd never have done it, but it seemed the most natural thing in the world. She gave a little giggle, which seemed most unlike her.

"You must be freezing," she said. She picked up a stick, and ran it carelessly along the iron fence beside them.

He should have been cold, but he wasn't. Something was keeping him warm. He was Severus Snape, creator of fire, and he'd made a girl laugh.

"What's your number?" she asked

"Number?"

"Phone number."

"Oh," he said. "We don't have a phone."

She laughed. "Cool."

Nothing Severus had ever done or said had been cool. He wanted to get back onto the topic of his problems, so he said, "Anyway, I hate the place. School. When I was little I thought it'd be… but it's shit."

"Why don't you pack it in, then?"

"What?"

"Just pack it in. Leave. You're sixteen. You can leave school if you want."

"I can't," he said. "Then they'd win." He paused. "Anyway, I can't leave. I sold my soul."

"To the devil?"

"Not the devil. His cousin, maybe. If I leave, he'll find me."

"What'd you sell it for?"

"Nothing," he said. "That's the crazy thing. I sold it for nothing, but I'll never get it back."

She looked at him, unsure if he was joking, and then laughed. "You are so cool."

Severus snorted. Falser words had never been spoken. "What do you do?" he asked.

"College," she said. "In Milltown. But just 'til the end of the year. Then I'm off."

"Where?"

She spread her hands out expansively, as if indicating the vastness of the world as a whole. "Everywhere. Anywhere I can afford. Starting with London, of course."

That was strange. To Severus, London seemed just as grey and unappealing as the rest of the Muggle world.

"Why?" he said. "What's special about it?"

She turned to him, face incredulous. "Because. The art. The people. There's nothing here. There's no magic."

Severus flinched, before realising her use of the phrase had been more metaphorical sense that Muggles sometimes used.

"Magic is all right," he said. "It comes with its own problems. Anyway, it's where you find it, isn't it."

They walked in silence for a little way, and then Linda said: "So, there's nothing about school you like?"

"I like Lily," he said. He realised he'd said it a second later, and his face flushed scarlet, but Linda didn't see. It was dark.

He'd expected her to laugh, or some crass comment, but Linda was silent.

"She was a friend of mine. Was. She hates me now."

"Why?"

"I… said some things I shouldn't." He paused, and then said angrily. "I apologised. I begged her to let it go, but she… she said I wouldn't hesitate to call someone else the thing that I called her, so she wouldn't forgive me."

His voice got fainter towards the end of the sentence. The words hung between them, and Severus suddenly felt a hot, red rush of shame from deep within his stomach. In the dark night, he realised with a sharp and terrible clarity what Lily had meant, and how stupid he had been.

"This wouldn't be Lily Evans, would it?"

Now it felt like someone had poured cold water on his insides. The tiny bubble he'd been occupying the last few days had been pierced by a tiny connection to the magical world.

"You know her?" he asked, trying not to sound as though he was falling into a panic.

"Nah, not really. Her family lives around here somewhere. She always struck me as an uppity sort of bitch, though. Goes to some posh school up north."

"With me," he said. "Yeah." Severus wanted to get off the subject. Some part of him felt good to blame Lily, and call her names, because it would absolve him of guilt. But he knew he couldn't do that. He was overwhelmingly aware of Linda's presence beside him, and he felt the urge to confess to more. It was better to stop talking about Lily, as well. "I can't talk to people, you know. Not people like me. I can't even open my mouth, because everything I have to say is just…"

"You think too much," she said. Severus couldn't see, but he was sure she was rolling her eyes. "Sometimes you just have to do things. See?" She gripped the stick she was holding more firmly, and smashed the headlight of a parked car that they were passing.

Severus nearly jumped out of his skin. The suddenness of the action – not to mention the noise of it.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her forwards. She laughed again.

"Who cares?" she said. "It's just stuff."

Severus glanced nervously over his shoulder as he dragged her away. The houses along the street were still dark. The shattered glass on the ground was illuminated by a distant street light.

"You might get caught," he said. He wanted to get away as quickly as possible.

"No," she said. "I won't. Look, we've already successfully fled the scene of the crime! Here, I'm going to do another one."

He caught both her wrists before she could move. "No," he said, angrily. "Don't."

She grinned up at him wickedly. Before he could move, she had stepped up on tiptoe and kissed him.

Severus was so shocked that he let go of her wrists.

"Why'd you do that?" he asked. He wasn't angry, just puzzled.

She scowled and turned away.

"I don't know what you want. I'm going back to Scotland in three weeks."

"Look," she said. "Exactly. Thinking too much." She wrapped his forehead with her knuckles.

The way she said it annoyed him so much that he grabbed stick from her hands and smashed the car window behind them. "Spontaneous enough?" he yelled.

The light of the house immediately next to them switched on. A window banged open.

"Hey," yelled someone. "You kids-"

"Shit," she said. "Run."

He bolted after her, her book bag slapping against his legs with every step. With each breath, it felt as though the night air was cutting into his lungs. She was faster than he was, and he was terrified of losing her in the dark.

Just when Severus thought he was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, she stopped. There was laughter in her eyes, and she pulled him into the shadows with a wicked grin.

"I think we're all right," she said.

"Why are you laughing?" he gasped.

"It was fun, wasn't it?"

"No." He collapsed against the wall, wheezing.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, which wasn't far. Linda lived at a large, sturdy brick house in a nice part of town. She looked up at him mischievously, from the yellow light of a street light. "See you round," she said. She paused, and then said quickly, "A bunch of us are skipping college on Friday, and going to a market up in Maidstone, if you want to come."

"Yeah," he said. "All right."

"Cool. Meet me at the bus-stop on the main road, at 11?" She winked at him, and disappeared into the neat garden. Severus watched her go, and then looked up at her house. It was large. The front garden was immaculate. Such a large and neat house, for such a small and grimy person. It must have meant that she dressed the way she did out of choice, and not necessity. Severus didn't know that you were allowed to do that.

It was only when she'd disappeared completely, and the last light in the house had been switched off that Severus realised that she still had his coast, and he was freezing.

He woke up late the next day. His head hurt, and his mouth tasted like cigarettes, and he was overwhelmed with a sense of self loathing. Why had he done those things? What madness had possessed him?

And he'd agreed to repeat the whole experience. Ugh.

He ate the tray of cold toast that had been left for him, and read the book she had given him.

It was fascinating: about a cold grey world filled with Muggles whose televisions spied on them. Severus didn't know much about televisions, but he knew they weren't supposed to watch you back.

Part of him wanted to see her again and talk about the book. Part of him wanted to crawl inside a dark hole and never speak to anyone again. Moodily, he stalked into the bathroom and glared at his reflection. He was too skinny, and his teeth were crooked, and his skin was the wrong colour for someone who was supposed to be alive. And his hair was just -

Suddenly, the dormant mark on his arm gave a spasm of pain. It was so sharp and unexpected that Severus grasped the sink to stop himself losing balance. He felt his head spinning. He'd forgotten. For a few hours he'd forgotten that this wasn't his world, and none of this mattered. He was a pawn in the game of powerful wizards, and he was probably going to end up dead in a few months, or in Azkaban, depending on who caught him first.

He was gripping the sink so tightly that the copper inlay was digging into his palms. Slowly, Severus loosened his grip and sank to the floor, leaning his head against the cold tiles. He could feel the panic rising, beating at the inside of his ribs as though it was a rabid wolf trying to escape a cage. Just when it seemed as though the roiling tide of panic was going to carry him away entirely, he heard a soft voice in his ear.

Just breathe.

He remembered his mother's book on Legilimency, and he remembered the technique it had described. Using what self will he had left, Severus focused on his ragged breathing, and as he did so it slowed. His thoughts slipped away, until there was nothing but the sensation of his breath, and the dripping of the tap.

What seemed like a long time later, Severus stood up. He stared at himself in the mirror. He couldn't fix his teeth, his skinny physique, his ugly skin or the fact that he'd entered into a blood pact with a monstrous dark wizard. That just left one thing, really, so later that day, he took a crumpled five pound note and walked to the Muggle barber. It was mortifying, but he left with his hair short and even and neat. He grinned nervously at his reflection in windows as he walked past.

He spent the rest of the day reading, until the elf arrived with his dinner. The elf bowed, but before he could leave, Severus was overcome with an irrational urge to speak.

"Um," he said. "Wait."

The elf beamed at him.

"Is Makepeace your master?" Severus asked. "Or are you a Hogwarts elf?"

"Dobby is a free elf," said the elf proudly, in his irritating, squeaky voice.

"Oh," said Severus, awkwardly. He'd never heard of that before. He wasn't even sure why he'd asked. The elf was annoying, certainly. It was his voice, mainly, and the way he talked about himself in third person. "Um, good for you?"

Dobby grinned, bowed and vanished.

Friday came sooner than Severus would have liked. He sniffed his clothes, gloomily. They smelled musty, and there was dirt on the knees of his jeans.

There was a crack. Dobby appeared as usual, holding a silver tray. Severus accepted it with a frown, pulling the bedclothes over himself. He took the croissant that was on the tray and tore off a strip.

"Mister Severus is sad?"

"No," he said instinctively. He blushed. "Maybe. All my clothes are dirty. Or full of holes."

His eyes slid to Dobby's attire, and he blushed further. The elf's assortment of clothes were as odd as ever.

"Would Mister Severus like Dobby to clean them?"

"Yeah," said Severus, voice dripping with sarcasm. "That'd be great. It's not like I have to leave in ten min-"

Dobby snapped his fingers, and an instant later, the clothes were laying in a neatly folded pile. Severus gaped. He pulled them towards himself and breathed in deeply. They smelt of lemon soap.

"How did you-"

"Magic, Mister Severus," said the elf, without a trace of irony.

"Thank-you," said Severus. Dobby beamed at him. He pulled on the jeans. Despite being clean, they were still too small, and he struggled to pull them over his hips. They were slightly warm, as though they'd been hanging in the sun. The shirt was ironed. Severus noticed that the buttons that had long ago fallen off it had been reattached. He continued to munch on the croissant one handed. Dobby watched him, eagle eyed, until Severus had swallowed the last crumb.

"Thank-you," he said again, offering him back the plate.

He checked his face in the mirror as he left. He looked... not terrible. For him, that was a great improvement.

He waited at the bus stop for nearly an hour. He felt the familiar dread building in his stomach. What was he doing. This was surely some kind of trick. She wasn't coming. She was probably off with the others somewhere right now, laughing at him. He grabbed his bag and turned to go.

"Severus!" yelled a voice.

He turned, his heart rising. Linda was running down the street, her oversized boots thudding into the pavement. She flung her arms around him, and he was shocked by the warmth of the gesture.

"Sorry!" she said "So sorry I'm late. Dad insisted on dropping me off at college, so then I had to sneak out and catch a bus back here, but then none came this far so I had to walk from Mill Road."

"Hi," he said.

"I was worried you'd left."

"No," he said. "I was running late too. It's no big deal."

She grinned crookedly at him. "Come on," she said, tugging at his arm. "The others will already be there. We should catch the bus. Nice haircut."

This was said all in one long breath. Before he could protest, she had linked her arm through his and was pulling him towards the road.

The day was – there was no other word for it – fun.

She wasn't really like anybody he'd met before. She didn't seem the least bit concerned as people stared at her. Quite the opposite, she seemed to relish in the attention. She glowered at people on the bus who looked at them. Severus wavered between being mortified and exhilarated.

The market was fun. It was inside an old industrial sort of building. Weak sunlight filtered down from skylights above, but the hall was mainly lit with electric light. There was a lot of junk, but it wasn't all rubbish. He bought a greatcoat and a pair of boots. Both were second hand, but they had a satisfying quality to them. The coat was warm, and since Linda hadn't seen to return his own coat, he purchased it gladly. He also bought an illustrated copy of the Songs of Innocence and Experience. Not because Lily loved William Blake, he assured himself. It had just caught his eye.

As they all road the bus back to Cokeworth, he tried not to dwell on the fact that Lily would be catching the Hogwarts Express back today. It wasn't like she'd be thinking about him, he reasoned. He tried to focus on the greasy burgers they ate for dinner in agrimy restaurant. When they were gently chivvied from there, they retreated to the park to drink, smoke and throw rocks into the canal. In the few days since the party, Severus had begun to rather appreciate cigarettes, and thoroughly enjoyed himself.

It was also acceptable, it seemed, to play on the playground equipment, as long as it was done with a curious, detached sort of way. He sat on the swing, and trailed his feet across the bitumen. It was strange really, how as children their magical abilities had been so unbridled. If he swung now, and jumped, he knew he would just crash heavily into the asphalt. In order to levitate he'd need a wand, and an incantation, and the right frame of mind. Yet as a child, they'd just done things. It had been so easy when he'd been a child.

He looked up, and froze.

Lily was walking across the park. He would know her silhouette anywhere. Her shoulders were hunched slightly, and she looked preoccupied. Any second now, she would look up and see him, and then the world would be over.

"Hi Lily," called Linda, coyly. Severus wished he could cast a Silenco charm on her. Lily might have walked right past them, but no. At the sound of her name, she looked up, and turned toward them, looking surprised, and a little cautious. Her eyes slid to him, and her expression turned incredulous. Indeed, she looked so utterly surprised that she didn't even have room to be disdainful.

"Severus."

"Hi," he said, awkwardly. She stared at him, open mouthed.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh," he said. She strode towards him, grabbed him roughly by the arm and began to drag him away. The group made indignant sounds, but Severus tried to signify it was fine. He trotted to keep up with Lily's angry pace.

When they were by the fence, just out of earshot of the teenagers on the play equipment, Lily repeated her question in an angry hiss. "What are you doing?"

"We're um… hanging out?"

"Why?"

"We're... friends?"

She gave a derisive snort. "I don't know what game you're playing, but bringing innocent Muggles into it isn't okay."

"I'm not playing a game," said Severus, stung by this. He was tempted to point out that his new friends were hardly innocent, but decided against it. Something annoyed him about the way she talked about them, as well. It was almost like they were a bunch of toddlers, bumping around into things and incapable of rational thought. He was thinking about how to phrase this when Lily spoke angrily.

"Well, I don't care what you do. I was coming to see if- I have more than enough going on, Severus!"

"Good," said Severus, annoyed. "I'm glad you've called me over here to tell me that you don't care what I do."

He saw tears in her eyes as she turned and stormed off. He wandered back to the group, feeling disheartened.

"Well, that looked like it went well!" said Rick, cheerfully. Linda snorted with laughter. "Fancy another drink?"

They invited him back to listen to music and drink more at someone's house, but Severus declined. He stomped home, feeling angry at everyone. It was only when he was lying on his bedspread, staring at his mouldy ceiling that he realised what should have been immediately obvious.

The only reason Lily would have been crossing that park would be to get to his house. She would have arrived home from the train only an hour or two before. And so it seemed, the first thing she'd done was to come and visit him. Severus pulled his pillow over his head and screamed into it as loudly as he could. He used a number of choice words he'd learned recently from Linda. He felt like smashing something, but he had few enough possessions as it was.

Despite him being a complete failure of the worst variety - despite him being a terrible friend and worse human being - she had still decided to come and visit his house, in the ugliest, dankest end of town. He'd left early from school, and she would have wanted to know why. He'd repaid her by embarrassing her in front of a bunch of Muggle delinquents.

The next morning, he found the courage to do the thing he had wanted to do all summer.

Lily's house looked much the same as it always had. She lived in a far nicer part of town than Severus, and her home was considerably slipped through the frosted garden, under the naked wisteria vine, to the back garden. He took a deep breath, and knocked on the kitchen door. He hoped no-one was home. He hoped Major Evans would answer the door, and tell him that Lily wasn't home. He even hoped that Petunia would appear, and tell him to go away.

But it was Lily that opened the door.

Aside from the previous night, he hadn't seen her up close for several weeks. He was shocked when he saw her now. She had always been willowy, but now her thinness looked unnatural, unhealthy. There was a drawn, pinched look about her, and her eyes were ringed by deep circles.

"Hi," he said, overcome with awkwardness. Please don't shut the door.

She looked at him, without saying anything. He twisted his cap in his hands.

"Look," he said, wretchedly. "I just came to say. I came to say that I'm... I'm sorry I called you that... that thing that I called you, last year."

She didn't speak.

"Not just because it's you, and I'm supposed to be your friend. I shouldn't have said it to anyone." Still, she was silent, so Severus plunged on with reckless abandon. "I think about it all the time," he said. "I wake up in the night and I feel ashamed about it. I've never been so ashamed of anything in my life. And I know you said, last year, that it wasn't enough to be sorry if I kept... kept being like I was, but I don't... I'm trying not to be friends with Mulciber and Avery anymore. I don't think I was ever their friend, really, but-" he was babbling now, so he stopped. "I'm trying," he finished, lamely.

Lily burst into tears.

Chapter Text

Severus stood, frozen. He was unwilling to touch her. He didn't know what she would do if he tried to hug her. He didn't know if he could hug her - his arms felt like they were glued to his sides. Hesitantly, after a long moment, he took her by the elbow and guided her into the kitchen.

The house smelled bad. His own house stank as well, of course, of cigarettes and stale food. But Lily's house smelt different. It smelt like something old and dead, poorly covered with the acrid smell of bleach and Muggle cleaning products. There were brown and brittle roses in a vase by the window, and it was unlike Lily’s mother not to replace wilting flowers.

It was a few minutes before Lily was able to speak. Severus waited, feeling cruel and awkward, his hand still resting on her arm. It wasn’t his place to pry into her life. He felt a terrible pain in his own heart, watching her. Every fibre of his being wanted to reach out and hold her, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t say it will be alright, either. It was clear to him that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

“It's Mum,” she said, quietly.

He sat there, as the words and tears spilled out of her. The scene reminded him of his own confessions to the professor, a few days earlier; only now the positions were reversed. Now, it was Severus’s turn to be silent.

There were a lot of words and phrases he didn't understand. They were Muggle words, for Muggle diseases. He'd never heard them before, and so didn't understand their significance. It was for this reason that Lily took him to the room at the front of the house – the room that, in happier times, had been a study.

Severus remembered a book that he'd found once, in the Muggle library, when he'd gotten curious about some of the things his father mentioned. The pictures had not moved, as wizarding pictures did, but the eyes of the Muggles in the photographs had stared out at him in a way even wizarding pictures had not. He remembered the jumble of white, bony limbs in the dark black earth, and worse, the faces of the people who were not yet dead, but so emaciated and hopeless that they looked little more than walking skeletons. He had wondered how the human body could survive such deprivation. Surely the heart would fail, and the bones crumble beneath the taut skin, long before the human body reached such a state.

The woman lying in the bed in the front room reminded him of the pictures in the book. Her face was little more than a skull, barely hidden beneath drawn yellow-tinged skin, and her hands lay like claws upon the bedspread. He had thought she was dead – that she must be dead – but over the steady beep of the machines came a horrible, rattling sound that must have been a breath.

Afterwards, he had to go sit outside in the frost by himself for a while, leaving Lily alone with the fat Muggle nurse and the living skeleton that had once been her mother.

After a while, Lily came to join him. They sat in the small garden, grey and still in the clutches of winter.

“How long?” he asked. “How long has she been sick?”

“A while,” said Lily. She wasn’t crying anymore. On the contrary, her voice sounded hollow and empty.

“You should have told me,” he said. But of course, she couldn't have told him, for he had himself broken their friendship. He remembered how pale and sad she’d looked all through this year, and felt an additional wave of shame. Hesitantly, he asked: “Is there anything that can be done?”

She looked at him. There was, suddenly, fire in her eyes. “Do you think -” she began in a hiss.

“I know,” he said, back-peddling furiously.

“If there was anything that I could do-”

He held up his hands, and she seemed to crumple. She started to cry again, and he felt like the he could do nothing right.

He hesitated for a moment, physically untensing his limbs, and then wrapped her in a hug. He wasn't quite sure if he was doing it right, but he remembered the way Makepeace had embraced him. It had helped him a great deal, to feel engulfed by another person. There was a moment when Lily tensed in response to his touch, but a moment later she relaxed her head onto his shoulder.

“She’s going to die,” she whispered into the wool of his new coat. “Very, very soon. Dad didn’t tell me how bad it was, or I would have come home earlier.” He could feel her delicate shoulder blades move as her breath hitched. She continued on. “Magic doesn't work. Not on this. I guess Tuney was right about it, in the end, you know? Did you know, it actually stops the Muggle medicine from working? I tried to get a Healer to come, from St. Mungo’s, but they said there was nothing they could do for a - ”

She looked up at him, straight into his eyes, and Severus knew that they were thinking the same thing. Seeming to suddenly remember that they were enemies, she extracted herself from his arms and shifted to the other side of the bench, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. There was a silence. Severus didn’t know what was going to happen next.

“I can’t even say goodbye,” she said. “I wish I could talk to her, I just wish I could see her again like…” She trailed off, and then turned on him. “So don’t pretend like you can come here and say sorry like that makes it all better,” she said. “How could I even respect myself if I was friends with you again? ”

“I know,” he said. “And I don't blame you if you don't. I just want you to know I'm sorry. It's hard being in Slytherin when - ”

“It's hard for me, being Muggleborn,” she said. “You can choose not to call me horrible things. I can't choose not to be Muggleborn. My parents don’t choose to be – to be – ”

“I'm trying though. Trying to be...different. Professor Makepeace has been helping me.”

She frowned, slightly. “You still see him?”

“I’ve been meeting him all term,” he said. “He’s been helping me with... things.” He flushed.

“He seems nice,” she said, absently. “Odd, but… nice.”

She stared out over the garden, and then turned to him. “You have changed, I think.” Her expression held a deep mix of compassion and kindness, and the intensity of her gaze was almost painful. He dropped his own gaze and focused on the pattern of her jumper. The way she had looked at him reminded him of something, too, something more recent, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. “I mean. You’re friends with those Muggles from town now, right? I couldn’t have imagined you doing something like that a few months ago.”

“I don’t really think of them as Muggles,” he said. “Just people.”

Suddenly, she was angry again. “They are Muggles though, Severus. And I’m Muggleborn. We’re not exceptions. We’re not special. We’re not any different to the people Voldemort’s been-“

As she said the name, the brand on his left arm flared. He started forward, grabbing her elbow. The suddenness of the movement frightened her, and she began to pull away.

“I know,” he said. “I do know, Lily. I understand now.” He hesitated, but he had to say it. It might be his last chance. “Being your friend has been the only thing that has ever made me feel good about myself. I threw it away for nothing. I am sorry. Really.”

She sighed a very long, deep sigh. He felt cold fingers touch his hand.

“I missed you,” she said. He smiled, although it wasn't really a happy occasion.

“I missed you too,” he said. He covered her smaller hands with his own, out of some protective impulse against the cold.

“They don't think like you do,” she said. “My other friends. Your perspective on things...”

He gripped her hands more tightly. “Me too,” he said. “I'm sorry I made you hate me.”

“I never hated you,” she said. “I was angry with you. I thought you hated me.”

He stared at her. “How could anyone hate you?” he asked, incredulously, involuntarily.

“Because of what I am.”

Now was the time to do it, he thought. He could pull up the sleeve, and show her what he'd done. He could cry. He could feel the tears, close to the surface. He could tell her how he regretted it, how much he regretted it, that he had regretted it since the moment the brand had touched his skin. That he worked for Makepeace, now. That he wouldn't rest until he'd hunted down Lord Voldemort himself and –

Severus knew that he couldn't. He couldn't bear to see the shock and revulsion on her face as she pulled away from him in disgust or the anger as she told him to leave and never come back.

And there were already so many troubles in her life. He couldn't bear to add another.

“Very well,” she said. “You get a second chance. Severus - ”

He looked up.

“There won’t be a third chance,” she said. “I mean that.”

They said goodbyes at the kitchen door, and Severus walked home through the cold, dark streets.

The next day, he set out to walk to Linda’s house. He had forgotten exactly where it was, but he knew roughly what area she lived in, and sure enough, suddenly he turned a corner and found himself on a familiar street.

The house seemed even larger and more imposing in daylight. Severus hovered at the gate, unsure of what to do, but he really did want to talk to Linda. He darted up the path and knocked at the door.

The door was flung open. Linda stood in her pyjamas, her hair rumpled. She looked annoyed, but her expression brightened when she saw him.

“Sev-er-us!” she said.

“Hi,” he said. He shifted from foot to foot. “I wondered if you wanted to go for a walk or something.

“A walk,” she said. She peered past him at the pattering rain. “Nah.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll um. I’ll go, then.”

She gave a bark of laughter and towed him inside. “You’re such a weirdo. Come and have some breakfast.”

It was at least three in the afternoon at that point, and already getting dark. Severus chose not to comment on this as he was pulled through the house. It was lushly decorated, with soft carpet under foot. The kitchen was another matter entirely.

Food was never in excess at Severus’s home. When he’d been small, his mother had often forgotten to do the shopping, and they hadn’t had a refrigerator. The last few weeks, he’d eaten what Dobby had brought him, but he doubted whether the kitchen had improved much since he’d scavenged there over the summer.

Linda’s kitchen was shiny, and filled with expensive looking Muggle machines. It was also filled with food. There were shiny red apples in a bowl on the polished counter. When she opened the refrigerator, he saw that it was stuffed with brightly packaged food and soft drink. She grabbed a bottle of milk, a colourful box of cereal and two china bowls, balancing them all awkwardly in her arms, and gestured with her head towards the stairs.

“It’s lucky Mother’s out,” she said. “You should just throw stuff at my window in future. That’s what Rick does.”

“Does he visit often?” he asked. She just laughed and this, and he frowned.

He hadn’t been in a girl’s bedroom for about six years, but even so, he doubted whether Linda’s room was an average girl’s bedroom. The walls were papered with music posters and cut-outs from magazines. It was also filthy, unlike the rest of the house, and smelled strongly of cigarette smoke.

Severus didn’t recognise any of the people in the pictures, though one of them did look a bit like a curly haired Sirius Black with a beard. He glared at the poster. Linda saw, and laughed.

“You don’t like Cat Stevens?” she asked.

“Um,” he said. She laughed again.

“Honestly, Severus. Is there anybody you have heard of?”

He shrugged, noncommittally. They spent the rest of the afternoon lying on the floor eating cereal and listening to records. Severus discovered that he did like Cat Stevens, but not as much as some of the other things he’d heard. It was easy to listen to, but he found himself longing for the roughness he’d heard in the other music. He told her this, and she agreed with enthusiasm.

“You should come with us to London tomorrow. Rick and his brother – well, we’re going to see a band you’d like. It’s going to be decent. You’d really get it.”

It really was easy to spend time with her, in a way unlike what he'd felt with anyone else he’d met. They talked about a lot of things – politics, war, art, music - and he didn’t feel the anxiety he felt when he spoke to Lily, or even to Makepeace. It was relieving, although talking with Linda was not without its own risks. She was always filled with a bubbling anger and intensity, and the wrong topic could quickly sent her into a furious rant.

“I don’t think you’d like a revolution,” he said, and one point. “Not really.”

“What would you know about it?”

Severus wondered. Maybe he was fighting a revolution of sorts, with Makepeace. Or maybe the revolution had been when he fought the Dark Lord. Whatever the case, neither endeavour had been enjoyable, nor at all what he had hoped would it be. Not that he could begin to explain either thing to Linda. In a way, it was a relief, that she would never understand.

Later, he heard the thumping of feet on the staircase, and a loud banging at Linda’s door. She scowled worse than ever, and turned up the volume on her stereo in a deliberate sort of way. The person outside the door banged upon it once more, and then Severus heard the heavy footsteps retreat.

“Father’s home from work,” she said.

Severus knew that if he’d behaved like that in his own house, his father would have smashed the door off its hinges and thrown the record player out the window. He chose not to comment on that, either.

“I hate them,” said Linda. She was staring at the door. “I wish they were dead, you know.”

“Do you?” he asked involuntarily. “Do you really?”

She looked at him, and her mouth opened slightly. He wanted to talk to her about Lily’s mother, but now he was here he didn’t really have the words. His thoughts turned to his own mother, who had left without a thought. He’d needed her, in the last few months, more than he’d needed her before in his life. She’d always come up short, though. She’d always spent more time with her books than –

He sat up, suddenly. “I have to go,” he said.

“Oh,” she said. “Okay.” She seemed a bit annoyed by his abruptness, but Severus had suddenly been seized by a wonderful idea. At her suggestion, he went via her window, rather than risk meeting her father on the landing. He landed awkwardly on his ankle after sliding the last few feet, but it hardly slowed him in his rush to get home.

As soon as he got home, he ran to his mother’s old study. It was covered in dust. He found the book he was looking for, and rifled through it. His heart began to beat faster as he read and re-read a single page, memorizing the potion and its ingredients. It was remarkably simple, compared to some of the potions he had made. He could even get the ingredients at the apothecary tomorrow. They’d cost only a few Sickles.

He could barely contain his excitement as he met Linda and Rick at the train the next day. Rick’s brother Simon was with them, and Severus nodded at him awkwardly. His plan bubbled at the back of his mind during the journey to London. The whole business of catching the train seemed a lot simpler than it had a few months ago, even when he had to transfer to the fast, underground trains which used to be so confusing.

They emerged from the Underground onto a bustling commercial street in central London. “I thought we could hang out at Brunswick Centre for a few hours,” said Rick, who appeared to be leading the group.

Linda walked beside Severus as they walked through Bloomsbury. Their fingers brushed, and he took her hand instinctively. She stiffened for a moment, and then her fingers entwined with his.

He didn’t know exactly how he felt about her. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss again, or if it had been some kind of fluke. But here, in this busy Muggle shopping district, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to reach out and hold her hand. Maybe Linda was right. Maybe he did think too much. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

Severus knew that the area they were in was near Charing Cross Road, but he wasn’t sure of their exact location. It was convenient, as later he could slip away to Diagon Alley and get the ingredients he needed. He didn’t think about the potential downsides of this until they were crossing a crowded pedestrian plaza, and he bumped into a boy a little taller than he was.

“Sorry,” said the youth, and as Severus turned he felt a sudden jolt of fear as he stared back at Sirius Black.

For a moment, Black’s face registered nothing but shock. Potter was a few paces ahead of him, but he’d stopped as well. They were both staring at Severus, their mouths open.

“Snivellus?” said Black. The familiar mixture of delight and derision rippled across his face.
“What are you doing here? Out on day release? Ran out of ears to eat at home?”

The bottom felt like it had dropped out of his stomach. His face was burning, but his hands felt strangely cold. Linda’s fingers were still entwined with his. He couldn’t think what to say or do.

Luckily, Linda had no such reservations. All the anger that bubbled within her was released in a tide of derisive fury. “Who the fuck are you?” she said. “Piss off.”

Black and Potter stared at Linda. Again, they both seemed temporarily dumfounded. Linda often had that effect on people.

“Jesus, Sniv, where did you find that?” said Potter, after a moment.

With a suddenness that surprised Severus, Rick started forwards and shoved Potter so hard he stumbled backwards. He grabbed the other boy by his shirtfront and smacked him hard in the face.

Instinctively, Black pulled his wand out. Everyone stared at him. Even Rick loosened his grip on Potter. Severus started to laugh.

“You’re going to do that, here?” he said. “Really?”

Potter put his hand on Black's shoulder. His lip was bleeding. “Come on,” he said, tugging at the taller boy's arm.

“Yeah that’s right, fuck off, you capitalist scum!” Linda yelled at their retreating backs. Severus wasn’t exactly sure how capitalism had come into it, but he appreciated the sentiment. The bustling crowd – some of which had stopped to watch the scuffle - had started moving again, though people were still giving them odd looks.

“Friends of yours?” asked Simon.

“And you guys wonder why I left school early,” he said, scowling. Inside, he felt an oddly warm glow that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.

“What was with the stick?” asked Rick. Severus just shrugged.

“You should have let me thump him, Severus. What a pair of cunts.”

The glow carried Severus through a lot of the afternoon. It was only later, when he was picking at a greasy pizza in a nearby restaurant, surrounded by talk and laughter, that doubts began to niggle at his mind. They were close to the wizarding part of London, and it wasn’t infeasible that witches and wizards would cross the border between worlds at this time of year. Had he put his friends in danger by being in Muggle London? Potter and Black were one thing. What if he’d run into Mulciber or Avery? Unlikely that they, of all people, would be in Muggle London, but after all, it wasn’t far from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. He felt sick again, but this time it was with shame.

He stood up to go, and the others looked at him. Linda’s eyebrows raised, and he pulled her away from the others.

“I have to go,” he said to her, quietly.

“Oh,” she said. She was clearly annoyed. “We’re supposed to be going to-“

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ll make it up… somehow. You said you were working tomorrow, at the shop, right? I’ll come by-“

“Forget it,” she said, tugging her arm out of his. “I’m going back.”

He didn’t want to incite her anger, so he let her go. Maybe he could make it up to her tomorrow. For now, he needed to visit Diagon Alley.

Severus had a plan, bubbling in his mind. He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, but he had to try.

The next day he walked to Lily’s house. The apothecary had wrapped the ingredients he’d purchased in waxed paper, and he carried this in his satchel, along with the book he’d found in his mother’s study.

He knocked on the door. It was pulled open, and Petunia’s angular face appeared.

“What are you doing here?” she asked derisively.

“I came to see Lily,” he said. He clenched his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to get in a fight with Petunia.

“Well, I doubt she wants to see you. Your kind and your stupid tricks haven’t fixed anything. That’s all your magic is. A stupid trick.”

“Petunia,” called a voice sharply. Lily appeared behind her sister, and Severus felt relief wash over him.

“Hi,” he mumbled. “Can I come in?”

“His kind have to be invited before they cross the threshold,” said Petunia. Lily glared, and her older sister flounced away up the stairs.

“Yes,” she said. “Please come in.”

He entered the hall. Lily seemed to be able to sense that something was on his mind, as she pulled him quickly into the kitchen and shut the door.

“Dad’s out,” she said. “What happening?”

“If you could have her back,” he said, quickly, “just for an hour, the way she used to be... would you?”

“What is – “ she began, and he held up a hand.

“Even if it was just an hour…Even if it was the last hour you ever got to spend with her?”

She looked ready to argue, or question him more, and then something changed in her expression. “Of course,” she said. She frowned. “What are you planning, Severus?”

“I might know something,” he said. “It won’t make her better,” he said, firmly. The pages had been clear about that. “It’ll just give you… some time.”

She stared at him. He pulled the book from his bag. The specific potion was earmarked, and she opened it, her eyes quickly flitting back and forward.

“This is Dark Magic,” she said. She closed the book with a snap and pushed it back to him. Severus felt his heart sink.

“It’s not,” he insisted.

“Look at the book it’s in, Severus.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he said. “There’s no such thing as Dark Magic. There’s magic that hurts people, and magic that helps them. There are some things you have to pay a terrible price to have. There’s magic that’s addictive, and magic that’s too powerful to control. But no magic is inherently dark.”

Lily stared at him, her mouth slightly open. “Says who?”

“The Professor told me that,” he said. “He would know, wouldn’t he?”

She looked at him, and her face was full of exhaustion and worry and fear. But in her eyes, he saw the faintest glimmer of hope, and then he knew he could convince her.

“Even if you’re right,” she said, “and it goes against everything I believe, Severus…. Even if you’re right, there’s still a price. You said there was a terrible price.”

“It’s not that terrible,” he said. He paused. “Anyway, I’ll pay it. You don’t have to worry about it.”

She stared at him. “I can’t ask you to-“

“It’s an hour,” he said. “That’s all I’m giving you. Just an hour.”

“I don’t understand,” she said. “You give up an hour? What happens to it?”

“We all lose hours, all the time. You know those minutes that slip away from you? In History of Magic. Waiting for a bus. Whatever. You’re good at Arithmancy. What’s sixty minutes, over a whole lifetime? That’s all I’ll be losing.”

Because he’d known her for a long time, and so well, he knew that she was using all her strength to suppress her excitement – to suppress her hope.

“We’ve tried potions before. They’ve done nothing but harm.”

“This is different,” he said. “The potions the healers used - most potions - rely on the innate magical ability of the drinker. This is different. The source of this potion will be from me. Whatever hours the drinker takes are borrowed from the brewer. I know this will work.”

It was true. He did know it would work. On practically everything else, his confidence in his abilities hovered at around zero. But Severus Snape knew potions.

“It’s not just up to me, though.”

“You could convince your father. He’d take it from you. Petunia…” he trailed off. She stared at him.

“It could work?” she asked.

“For an hour,” he said. “Just for an hour, it would make her like she was.”

The difficult part was explaining (and convincing) Lily’s sister and father. Severus stayed out of that, for the most part, though he heard Lily and Petunia shouting through the wall. Like a great deal of old magic, the potion was simple and elegant. It didn’t even require any spell work, which was lucky, Severus thought, as he methodically crushed beetle eyes into a powder with mortar and pestle.

Still, they needed time, and a steady flame. It was probably the first time in history that a potion had been brewed on a Muggle gas burner stove. It was only when it was dark outside that Severus remembered – too late – that he had another promise to keep.

“Lily,” he said. “I said I’d… I said I’d meet someone. Can you watch it? Just for half an hour or so?”

She looked at him, surprised. “Who?”

“Just a friend,” he said, quickly. “I said I’d see her.”

She smiled. It was just a tiny upturning of a corner of her mouth. “Of course. I don’t have to do anything, do I?”

“Just let it simmer. I’ll be back, as soon as I can.”

He ran through the quiet streets of Cokeworth. Christmas lights glowed on the houses and storefrust. Severus thought it might be Christmas Eve, but he didn’t really keep track of that sort of thing. It was raining softly, and drops gathered on his hair and his coat. He arrived at the record shop just as it was closing.

“Sorry,” he said. “I lost track of time.”

Linda scowled as she padlocked the iron grill at the front of the store, but didn’t say anything.

“And I’m sorry I had to leave early yesterday,” he said. “There was something really important I had to pick up for-“

“The band was great,” she said. She folded her arms as she turned to look at him.

“I’m sure it was,” he said. “I had something really important to do. Lily – her Mum’s sick, she’s really ill, and -“

She interrupted him. “You know, I thought you were like me, Sev. I thought you were authentic, but now I can tell you just don’t get it.“

He was about to say “Sorry” again, but suddenly he was sick of apologising for everything.
“Maybe you don’t get it,” he said hotly. “You don’t know anything about me. You pretend that your life is full of problems. I’d kill to have your life. You don’t know half the shit I have to put up with.

The expression on her face stayed with him for a long time. She turned and marched off up the street. For a second he wanted to go after her, but then he turned away. He needed to get back to the Evans'.

True to his word, Severus watched the potion throughout the night, making sure it didn’t get too hot, and that the burner didn’t go out. Lily fell asleep at the kitchen table, her head pillowed on her arms. The potion reached its penultimate stage just as the sun was rising.

Severus turned the heat off. When he looked up from the plastic knobs, Lily was watching him. Her gaze was bright and piercing.

“Are you sure, Severus?”

He nodded. Carefully, he pricked his thumb with the silver scalpel. A fat drop of blood formed, and then dripped into the potion.

There was a hiss, like water poured on hot iron. At once, the potion turned from blue to a deep, dark red.

He took a dead rose from the vase by the window, and dripped a single drop onto the dry black stem. Lily gasped as the flower burst into full bloom. Severus grinned.

It was Major Evans who administered the potion. Severus understood in theory how the Muggle feeding tubes worked, but the Major was more practised at operating them. Petunia wouldn’t be in the room with them. Severus wasn’t sure if she had agreed to the plan, exactly, but she was at least staying out of the way.

“What happens now?” Lily asked. She was nervous now: a curious mixture of excitement and fear.

“Wait,” said Severus.

Slowly, Lily’s mothers skeletal hands clenched in the counterpane. From his seat by the window, Severus watched her body change and fill out beneath the blankets. Her hair regrew in tumbling waves of cornsilk, and her eyes fluttered open. They were green, like Lily’s: a beautiful, deep green, like a dappled foliage in midsummer. She blinked around at them, and smiled in a confused sort of way.

“Hello,” she said. “Severus, dear, what are you doing here?”

Severus heard a muffled sob beside him. Lily’s hands were clapped over her mouth.

“Oh, sweetheart,” said Mrs. Evans. “Don’t cry.”

Lily collapsed into her mother’s arms and buried her face in her hair. The Major was gazing at his wife with a look of rapture on his face.

“Where’s your sister?”

Lily wiped her face on the back of her hand, laughing and crying at the same time. “She’s in the living room. You’ve been sick, Mum.”

“Nonsense,” she said, laughing. “I’ve just been a bit under the weather.”

She walked down the three steps to the living room, supported by her husband’s arm. Her blonde hair fell to her shoulders. Her face was round, with a flush in the cheeks. Even from his position atop the stairs, he could see the look on Petunia's upturned face.

Lily's mother did have her own kind of magic, Severus thought. The house breathed with her. As Petunia rushed into her mother’s arms, Severus knew it was time for him to go.

As he was unlocking the hall door, he heard a sound. He thought it would be Lily, but it was Petunia standing in the doorway.

“You…” she said.

“You're right,” he said to her. “Magic doesn’t do anything, really. It’s just a trick. But please enjoy it while it lasts.”

As he walked home he hoped that - in spite of everything – he had done one decent thing in his otherwise worthless life. It was snowing, so softly that Severus knew it wouldn’t last the night.

When he got home, there was a surprise waiting for him.

“Hey,” said Linda. She was hunched on his front step, looking miserable. She was clutching a shopping bag between her knees.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Hey,” she said again.

“Lily’s mum died,” he said, quietly. “She was really sick, like I said.”

“When?”

“Just then,” he said. As he said, he knew it was true. There was something in the stillness of the evening. There was a quiet finality in the air that was more powerful than words alone.

“I’m sorry,” she said, scuffing her boot on the pavement. She looked on the verge of tears. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He fumbled in his pocket for his key. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said… I don’t know your life.”

“No you don’t,” she said. She shrugged her coat – his coat – tighter around herself. “Look, I know you’re going back to school next week. And I know I can sometimes be… Look, did you still want to be mates? You could write to me, I guess.”

Severus looked at her, in the orange glow of Christmas lights down the street. Her haircut was as ugly as ever, and she jutted out her jaw with determination. Her makeup looked like it had been applied with a trowel. Yet he suddenly realised that despite all of that, she was quite beautiful. In her own way.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

She held out the bag to him. “Got you a Christmas present. It’s all the stuff you should have heard of. And some stuff from the shop that was missing its cover, or something.”

“Thankyou.”

Suddenly, and without warning, she threw her arms around him. Surprised, but pleased, he hugged her back.

As he watched her striding off, back up the hill, with more confidence than Black and Potter combined, he couldn’t help but feel his heart lift slightly. Now he had three real friends, which was more than he’d ever had before.

They had the funeral on New Year's Eve. He held Lily while she cried, stroking her hair.
Three days later, and they were travelling back to London, in the back seat of Major Evans' beloved old Ford. Their hands were resting on the seat between them, fingers just touching.

Lily's father held her for an unusually long hug before letting her go. He clapped Severus firmly on the shoulder.

“Thank you for the ride, Sir,” he said. The Major nodded.

They parted ways before the barrier, by an unspoken agreement.

Nothing had changed, Severus knew. Nothing – except everything that mattered.

The train was less crowded on the winter journey, and he managed to find a compartment to himself. He began to re-read Linda’s copy of Nineteen Eighty Four. The train flew through a white wilderness, and all the while the scar on his left forearm itched and burned.