"Today, class," Snape began, "We will begin concentrating more on the magical properties of living beings and how they are useful in Potions. We've gone over some creatues before, but now we will delve deeper. Today, we will be talking about ... unicorns."

Harry looked up from his quill and scroll and stared at Snape incredulously. Did he just say what he thought he said...? Ron and Hermione had the same horrified look on their faces, and Harry noticed Malfoy wearing a very pronounced scowl. However, the pale Slytherin had been doing that a lot lately, so Harry wasn't sure if it meant anything of significance.

"There are many different species of unicorn in the world," Snape continued, completely unaware of the dramatic effect his announced lesson plan had had on Harry and his friends. "There is the ki-lin of China, which resembles a hooved dragon and brings good luck to those who are fortunate enough to spy it. There is the stern kirin of Japan, which cannot abide the faintest hint of dishonesty and whose blood is the main ingredient in Veritaserum. There's the karkadann of Arabia and Persia, which no wizard can tame, and only the concerted effort of a dozen unicorn catchers could ever hope to capture. But we will confine our discussion today to the unicorns native to Europe."

Again, Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged uneasy looks as Snape continued.

"Unicorns are difficult to track down and capture, because they are swift and shy, and have many defenses at their disposal," and here Snape idly scratched his left forearm. "It takes a wizard of tremendous skill and incredible stealth to bring one down."

Harry heard Ron gulp noisily and Hermione gasp and raise a hand to her mouth.

"Admittedly, most potions ingredients that come from unicorns are taken from live unicorns who are captured and then released back into the wild after a few tail hairs are pulled or -- more rarely -- blood is drawn. However, the rarest and most expensive part of the unicorn, the horn, can only be taken from a dead unicorn. Attempting to cut off the horn of a living unicorn has claimed the lives of dozens of careless fools throughout history, but the price for killing a unicorn without a license is nearly as high. You do not want to find yourselves before the Wizard's Council attempting to explain to them why you have illegally slain a unicorn, so if any of you are dreaming of poaching unicorns as your future career, I would strongly advise you to reconsider." And again he absent-mindedly scratched at his left arm, causing another exchange of nervous glances between Harry and his friends.

Snape then showed the class a small piece of unicorn horn, and Harry was only marginally relieved to see that it was definitely silver, not crystaline. But then again, that would have been far too noticable, wouldn't it? And hadn't Snape just said something about not wanting to answer to the Wizard's Council for killing a unicorn?

"The horn is generally considered the most magical part of the beast," Snape continued. "The older the creature, the more potent the magic in its horn. A unicorn a couple of centuries old, while extremely rare, is a worthy find, and a horn from such a creature can last a frugal wizard many, many years." Snape's eyes roamed around the room, and was it Harry's imagination, or did his gaze linger on Ron, Hermione and him the longest?

And how long could a horn from a unicorn rumored to have been around for a millenium or two last, Harry thought.

"Powdered unicorn horn can be used to produce Camentum, one of the most powerful and versatile antidotes known in the wizarding world."

Snape continued. "You ought to remember this from your first year of study. What you may not know, unless you bothered to read your texts before coming to class, is that certain Potions containing powdered unicorn horn can detect poison even before it's consumed." Snape took out two crystal goblets filled with a pale red liquid. "One of these glasses of wine has been laced with belladonna, a poison you should remember learning about a couple of years ago. Belladonna, in its purest form, has no taste or smell. However," and Snape pulled out a small silver bottle and poured a few drops of the contents in both glasses. The wine in the glass on Harry's left turned a deep purple for several seconds before turning red again. "As you see, this potion, which contains powdered unicorn horn mixed with moonwater and a pinch of ground poppy seeds, reveals the cup with the poison, and immediately neutralizes it. Unicorn horn also is used as a curative for many diseases, particularly those that affect the blood, bone and heart. It is also used in Puralux, a potion commonly used to treat injuries and maladies caused by Dark Magic...."

Wonder if it would work on the Dark Mark too, Harry thought bitterly, and if so, then why don't you try it? Oh, but I'll bet you like having Voldemort's seal of approval, don't you?

"Why aren't you taking notes, Potter, Weasley and Granger? Do you think you know enough about this topic already?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione began writing furiously.

"Unicorn hair has many different properties," Snape continued. "It is a popular component of many wands and is commonly found in memory and truth Potions. However, by far the most fascinating, and dangerous, magical ingredient which comes from unicorns, is blood."

He would find blood the most fascinating thing, Harry thought, a bit nauseated.

Harry's stomach really lurched, however, when Snape brought out a palm-sized vial of a silvery liquid.

"Observe. Freshly drawn unicorn blood," Snape said, and his lips curled into a sneer.

How fresh is that blood? Harry wanted to shriek out. Hermione made a nervous motion her hand, which sent her inkwell flying. Ron gagged on whatever he was munching on, and a green, half-chewed something went sailing out of his mouth through the air and into Seamus Finnigan's cauldron.

"Hey! Watch it!" Seamus protested as the contents of his cauldron started snapping and crackling.

"Sorry," Ron muttered hoarsely as Seamus tried to extract the green wad from his cauldron with the tip of his wand.

"What is going on here?" Snape hissed as he glared at the Gryffindor side of the room.

"Choked, sir," Ron managed to wheeze out in between coughing and gagging. Seamus, meanwhile, managed to fish out the green blob with his wand, and he flung it onto the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, was trying to help Hermione clean up the ink that had spilled on the table and was dripping down onto the floor.

"You should know better than to eat in my class," Snape scolded as he glared at Ron, who was finally beginning to recover. "That will be 10 points from Gryffindor! And you two! Potter and Granger!"

Harry and Hermione both slowly sat up and faced the Potions teacher. Harry was deathly pale and Hermione's lip was quivering.

"What is this mess???"

"Sorry, sir. Accidentally knocked my inkwell over, sir," Hermione squeaked, her voice artificially high.

"Potter, why can you not manage even the simplest task in this class without making an absolute muddle of it?" Snape roared out as he watched the ink drip from the desk onto the floor.

"It was my fault, not Harry's, sir," Hermione said placatingly.

"Clumsy girl!" the Potions teacher spat out as he hovered over the two errant students like a wrathful shadow.

Harry thought for a moment that Snape was going to give him another detention simply to be nasty, but instead the Potions master merely snarled, "Clean it up, and quickly! Potter, you will take notes for Miss Granger while she tends to the mess herself. It seems that she has done enough note-taking for you the last several years that you ought to have no problem returning the favor."

"Yes sir," Harry replied evenly, dipping his quill into his inkwell and trying to remember what Snape had been saying before Ron started choking and Hermione's inkwell went flying.

"Start writing, Potter," Snape continued to rant. "It cannot be that difficult even for someone with such a short attention span as yourself to concentrate on this lecture. It is not as if I told you to go out and hunt down a unicorn for your homework assignment... although it would serve you right."

Harry's throat became so tight he felt he would suffocate. He saw that Ron's eyes were bulging, and Hermione was glaring.

"As I was saying before I was...interrupted," Snape continued, and he held up the vial. "Pure unicorn blood can save anyone from death, no matter what the cause, no matter how serious the condition, but the price for such a cure is extremely high, for unicorn blood carries a terrible curse. However, unicorn blood can be added to almost any potion, particularily healing draughts, to increase the potency of such a potion, and this does not seem to cause any undesirable side effects ...."

Hermione finished cleaning up all the ink and started to return to her seat, while Harry scratched away furiously with his quill.

".... except for the taste, which is exceedingly bitter."

Harry dropped his quill, Ron gasped, and Hermione toppled to the floor in a heap as she missed her stool.

"Miss Granger!" Snape shouted. "Have you forgotten how to sit down properly? Shall I give you a lesson during your next detention on how to correctly and quietly sit on a stool?"

"No, sir," Hermione said, her voice cracking.

Snape gave Harry, Ron, and Hermione his patented glare for a moment, put the vial down, and proceeded to teach the class how to make a burn ointment using several of the aforementioned unicorn products. The rest of the class seemed to drag by, and when the sand in the hourglass finally ran out, Harry, Ron and Hermione threw their supplies into their bags and ran out of the classroom.

****

"You ... you don't think," Hermione whispered, her eyes wide in horror, as soon as they were back on the fourth floor.

"We saw him with the unicorn last night, and it's too convenient to be coincidence," Harry said savagely, and he pounded a fist into his palm. "Besides, this is Snape we're talking about. I don't think anything is beneath him."

"We could ask Dumbledore. Maybe he'll go see if Fedhamohsi is okay," Ron said. The other two stared at him. "Or not. What was I thinking? But killing a unicorn without cause, that's an even worse crime than killing a familiar! They're a protected species!"

"He could get up to thirty years in Azkaban for it, if only we could prove it," Hermione mused. "But I doubt even Miss Deveroux would be able to help us in this case. We don't have anything but circumstantial evidence..."

"Well, we all know what he is," Harry interrupted. "Fedhamohsi must have known as well. I'll bet the unicorn attacked him right after we left. I'll bet that's why he ordered us to leave."

"No doubt a unicorn would be able to tell a vampire from a human at first sight. I still can't believe it took us this long to figure it out."

"Don't start in about that again, Hermione. The point is we know now. And there's still time to do something about it. We can't trust him; we have to suspect the worst."

"Well you can count on me," Hermione said firmly. "Anyone who thinks they can kill a unicorn and get away with it is going to answer to me."

"Ooh that's a dire threat if I ever heard one," Ron remarked, dripping sarcasm.

"Shut up, Ron," said Hermione.

****

"Five drops of unicorn blood, a quarter slice of dragon sinews," Snape muttered to himself as he carefully added the aforementioned ingredients to an enormous cauldron simmering in his laboratory fireplace. The Potions master was mixing up a large batch of Recurare for Madam Pomfrey and at the same time trying to keep the unpleasant thoughts of the previous evening at bay.

It had been a very long day of teaching classes, and he had managed to keep the memory in the back of his mind thus far.

Monster....

"Two pints of linseed mixed with moonflower leaves," Snape muttered louder, hoping to drown out the accusatory voice in his head.

I know what you are ....

"Finely chopped shark cartilage...."

You owe a debt you can never repay....

"Two cups of ground shrake spines...."

But Fedhamohsi's voice continued to thunder mercilessly in his head despite his efforts to concentrate on the cauldron.

"I know what you are, monster...You owe a debt you can never repay. You will never be rid of it until the debt is forgiven ... perhaps not even then, destroyer and murderer."

He knows, thought Snape. His hands trembled as he stirred the bubbling ingredients.

Monster. Destroyer and murderer.

Albus doesn't know. Aurellia doesn't know. But the unicorn does. Fedhamohsi knows.

What am I going to do about this? What can I do about this?

You still have not made up your mind whom you serve....

He clenched and unclenched his hands in distress, fluttering around the lab tending the cauldron and hunting for some sort of solution to his current problem in his alchemy books.

You owe a debt you can never repay...

But the Potions tomes contained no answers, no solutions, no useful advice for a curse like the Dark Mark, and the things he had done in service to it. And unfortunately Obliviate probably would not work on a powerful, ancient being like the unicorn king.

And to make matters worse the Mark was starting to prickle at the edges with that first warning hint of Voldemort's wrath. In a few hours the pain would become unendurable unless Snape turned to the cauldron and the Potion bottle... his only means of salving it. But he had too much work to do, and too much on his mind tonight to think of turning to the Draught of Dreamless Sleep again. Necroimperium Incense was the only other useful alternative, but like most illegal Potions, it was extremely addictive and dangerous in large doses. And he had been turning to the intoxicating fumes entirely too often of late.

You can keep calling all you like, Your Vileness, Snape thought nastily, but I'm not coming, no matter how much you torment me. I'm not yours anymore.

You have left the light and joined the darkness...welcome to your new life.

Never again. I'm never going back to you.

But me--I say there are spots that don't come off, Snape....

"I don't want it anymore," Snape whispered, recalling his words to the unicorn the night before, and realizing that he had meant them wholeheartedly. "But I cannot remove it...I don't know how..."

Spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean?

"I don't know how..."

You will never be rid of it until the debt is forgiven ... perhaps not even then, destroyer and murderer.

"There must be a way..."

Tell her what you did…

“No! There must be some other way…”

I know what you are...

Fedhamohsi knows.

Aurellia must never know.

Fianlly, when he felt he would be driven over the edge by madness, Snape removed a smaller cauldron from the bottom shelf in the alcove beneath the staircase and hung it on a hook in a second fireplace along the wall next to the one occupied by the brewing Recurare. Peering over his shoulder to make certain the door was closed, he poured a mixture of witchazel, crushed poppy seeds, liquid amber, resin and ground Alihosty leaves into the cauldron, and ignited a fire beneath it. A shimmering green cloud began to rise from the cauldron almost immediately, and Snape breathed in the welcoming fumes. It wouldn't completely alleviate the pain of an unheeded Summons, but at least the Necroimperium Incense would make the burning of the Mark easier to bear.

I of all people should have known better, Snape thought bitterly as he could feel himself start to pleasantly drift. For I was there. I saw it all, and I survived. Yes, I learned how to survive. But I should have learned more...before it was too late. I knew too much, yet I did not know nearly enough.

The Necroimperium incense wasn't even enough to quiet the inner turmoil Snape was feeling. Sighing, he walked back over to his desk.

The Potions master stood in silent conflict over the spartan desk in the alcove beneath the stairwell. Should he revisit the past tonight? Would she have any advice for him after all these years?

At last Snape tapped his wand on an unobtrusive brick in the wall behind the desk, and the brick slid forward from the wall several inches. With a pale hand he then grasped the brick and pulled it the rest of the way out of the wall and laid it on his desk. He then held out his wand over the brick and whispered, "Lacrimosus."

The brick crumbled into a pile of dust, and lo and behold, in the middle of the dust there lay a small iron key. Snape took the key by its slender shaft and rolled it between his fingers, thinking....

****

The night was black and starless, dark snow-filled clouds rolling in from the Balkan mountains, on the wings of a bitter cold November wind. The wolves were silent tonight, and even the werewolves did not stir from their lairs. The chill air, moonless night, and impending snowstorm combined to provide less than ideal hunting conditions.

Severus did not know what time of night it was, and couldn't have cared less, due to the fact that "now" and "soon" are the only times four-year-olds can truly comprehend. All he knew was that mayka would be very angry with him if he snuck outside or tried to get into bashta's laboratory again tonight. But how was he supposed to sleep when his tum kept grumbling and his throat burned with a thirst that water couldn't satisfy? His mayka knew about hunting and feeding. Sometimes she even drank blood herself. Severus had seen her do it, even though he knew that she would be angry if she caught him spying on her.

Severus heard the floorboards creak downstairs, and he knew that mayka was up pacing the floor again tonight. She had been staying up later and later, and sleeping in later and later since...well, as far back as his memory went. Yesterday, he had asked mayka why this was so and had been rewarded with a harsh slap across the face and a furious order to never ask questions like that again. Then she had broken down and started crying and saying that she was sorry and that she didn't mean it. Severus had cried too, more out of confusion than the fact that the slap had hurt. Mayka cried a lot these days, especially after his bashta went away, but Severus was afraid to ask why. It was hard to know what was the wrong thing to say to mayka anymore, and so he usually kept his distance from her and watched silently.

And this was why Severus didn't dare go downstairs and tell mayka that he was thirsty. He knew that this was something he didn't dare mention to mayka. It was safer to talk to bashta about such things; bashta always knew how cure the thirst.

But unfortunately bashta had gone away, "for a little while," mayka had said. Severus had no idea how long that was, but it was obvious that bashta would not come back and help him tonight. And mayka would be furious if she caught him trying to sneak into bashta's lab again.

Maybe Aunt Moarta would help him. She was very kind and understood about the blood. Bashta liked to visit Aunt Moarta, and often took Severus with him. Auntie lived down the hill at the edge of the village. Severus knew how to find her house.

But mayka did not like it if Severus or bashta went to visit her. She hated Aunt Moarta for some reason that Severus could never understand. Perhaps it had something to do with the blood.

Suddenly a loud rapping at the front door startled the youngster, and he forgot all about sneaking down to Aunt Moarta's house.

There was a moment of silence, more knocking, and then the rapid footsteps of his mayka as she crossed the foyer downstairs.

"Nicolae! What are you doing here? You should not be here!" Severus heard his mayka say as he crawled out of his walnut bed and tiptoed across the cold wooden floor toward the second floor balcony.

Mayka was talking to a strange man whom Severus had never seen before on the front porch. Why hadn't mayka invited the man in, he wondered? Was she afraid of him?

"My husband will kill you if...."

The visitor held up a hand to ward off any further protests. "I know that Karcharias has gone somewhere to the west, either to the Americas or to the British Isles and that he intends to stay there for at least six weeks," the man said in a low, resonant voice. "Therefore, I am not overly concerned about my own safety...at least where he is concerned. But it is for your sake and Severus' sake that I have come here tonight."

Severus' ears pricked up. The man was talking about him! And Karcharias, that was his bashta. Who was this strange man? How did he know them? He rested his hands on the black railing, which had an intricately carved column framing both sides. A fierce dragon with two sharp taloned feet perched on top of each column and guarded each side. The great, golden wings of the two dragons stretched across the ceiling, almost touching in the center. Young Severus loved looking up at those dragons, even if their gold coating had chipped and their wings had cracked, for the dragons made him feel safe and secure. Mayka said that the dragons were their guardians and would protect them from their enemies. But tonight the boy's full attention was focused on the conversation down below.

"What is it, Nicolae? What has happened?" Lucie's tone now went from one of concern and surprise to one of fear.

"That I cannot tell you, Lucie. I am bound to secrecy by the oaths of my Order."

Order? thought Severus. "The Order" was a terrible thing capable of making Bashta fly into a rage whenever anyone mentioned it. Bashta said that the Order went around killing for sport, unlike vampires who killed only because it was necessary to feed. Mayka had cousins far away who were in The Order, and she and bashta were always shouting and arguing about them. Mayka said that she regretted letting Bashta take her away from her family, and that she wished she could go back. Bashta said that her family wasn't worth shedding tears over since they had disowned her without a second thought. Severus did not understand why mayka didn't want to be here where there was room to run, and neighbors who knew how to hunt properly, and wild animals to hunt and kill. Father loved it here in the mountains. Why couldn't mayka just understand about the blood and be happy?

"This has something to do with the Order of Van Helsing then? Has your Grand Slayer declared war? Is that it?"

The Order...there was that word again! Mayka sounded frightened. That was odd. Mayka did not like The Order, but she had never sounded afraid like this before.

"Do not ask questions that I am not permitted to answer!" and the man cut off the stream of fearful queries with an angry wave of his hand. "Please, my poor bewitched cousin, put aside your stubborn pride and foolishness for once, and listen to me. You must take your son and leave this place tonight. Flee into the mountains, or to my sister in Hamburg, or even to Ilantha in Chervenbreg if you must, but do not stay in this house another night!"

"They are coming here, aren't they? Your friends are going to attack the village at dawn, aren't they? But surely they would not harm me! They know that I am not vampire, and my husband has left the country...and besides, Daniel Murdock himself said..."

"By the Savior's Blood, do not ask me any more questions! Listen to me, Lucie, Domnul Murdock may have granted you camin four years ago, but here his authority is weak. The Koynare clan does not care to whom the Grand Slayer may have promised clemency. You are married to a vampire, and your child is of his blood. And Friedrich, rest his soul, cannot help you this time. You must take the boy and leave immediately!"

"I am not a vampire! I walk in the sunlight! I worship the same God you do! I eat the same food! I do not practice the Dark Arts! I do not drink the blood of the living! You must tell them, Nicolae. You must make them understand! I am not! I..."

"There is nothing I can say that will persuade them, Lucie! I am sorry, but circumstances have changed drastically since Friedrich was killed last month. I have taken enough of a risk simply by coming here tonight!"

"No! I will not leave! This is my home! Mine! They will not dare to harm me! I am not a vampire! Tell them, Nicolae, tell them!" Lucy pleaded.

"You must leave," the dark-haired man implored. "Please, Lucie, if not for your own sake, then for your son's."

"I will not leave! They will not force me out of my own house again!"

The man sighed and sounded sad. "Very well then, let it be on your own head. I have done all that I could do. Don't say that you were never warned..." and with that the visitor turned and left.

The eavesdropping boy watched in bewilderment as his mother turned from the door, shaking.

"Sevvie, what are you doing out of bed!" Lucy shrieked.

I'm scared! I'm hungry! I'm thirsty! What's going on? When's bashta coming home? Severus wanted to say. But instead he said nothing and waited to see what mayka would do. Generally that was the safest thing to do, especially when mayka was very upset like tonight.

"Your bashta will not be back for several weeks. Go back to bed," Lucy ordered sharply.

Severus stalled as long as he dared.

"GO!" Lucy shouted.

Severus went. There would be no sneaking out tonight. Mayka would be watching.

****

Snape took the key and inserted it into the secret lock in the back of his bottom left desk drawer. He sniffed with bitter amusement and chuckled to himself. "Moody" may have searched his office and lab from top to bottom ten times over and never once found a single one of Snape's hidden cubbyholes. Unlike Macnair, Snape knew very well how to keep hidden the things he meant to keep hidden.

Of course, he had not counted on the return of a ghost from his past, nor on his encounter with a supposedly mythical unicorn.

Snape pulled open the secret drawer and withdrew a picture in a simple unadorned silver frame.

"Que pasa se queda en la pasada?" Snape snorted contemptuously as he remembered his Mexican colleague's mantra. "On the contrary, Enrique, my old amigo, you are quite wrong. The past never stays in the past. We are all like Ilantha's uruboros."

He sat in the chair behind the desk and stared at the picture for a long moment....

The woman in the picture was beautiful. She had silky brown hair done in loose ringlets that hung past her shoulders. She had flawless, pale skin with just a hint of pink in the cheeks and full, ruby lips. She wore a brown and maroon dress and in her arms she cradled a black-haired, pale infant swaddled in a blue blanket. But there was no loving smile on the woman's lips for her infant. No, her soft gray eyes were closed, and she wept quietly, with tears falling like clear pearls down her smooth cheek.

"Mayka..." Snape said softly, his tongue going over a word it had not spoken since he was a small child growing up in Koynare, at the foot of the Balkan Mountains of Bulgaria. Mayka. Mother.

But the woman only ignored him and continued weeping.

"Just the way I have always remembered you," Snape remarked disappointedly. "What was I thinking? You have never seen anything beyond your own tears..."

"Who is she?" a familiar voice asked softly.

Snape tossed the picture back into its drawer, closed it with a bang, then drew his wand and magically slammed the lid tightly over the smaller cauldron. He leapt to his feet in fury. "What are you doing in here without my permission? Get out! OUT!" he shouted, jabbing a finger toward the stairs.

Aurellia stared at Snape in open-mouthed surprise for a long moment, but made no move to leave. "Well in the first place, you left the door open again. And in the second place I'm supposed to be..." She sniffed the air suspiciously. "What is that horrible smell? From the smaller caul...?"

"Elf repellent! It's a new formula, and apparently it is no more effective than the last."

"Funny," Aurellia remarked skeptically, "it doesn't smell very much like 'elf' repellent."

"It isn't burning this time. Now get out, Deveroux, or I will speak to the Headmaster about your continuing...harassment, despite the stern reprimand you received in December."

"Actually, Dumbledore asked me to speak to you about an important matter which has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with what happened last year, and I'm not leaving before we have a little discussion. It has to do with the fact that I'm your Watcher, and I saved your life last night, in spite of the fact that you keep insisting you can handle everything by yourself. I think I'm entitled to a little cooperation here."

The Potions master stared back through narrowed eyes. "What do you know about what happened last night?" he hissed.

"I...I Summoned Fedhamohsi," Aurellia replied, knowing that her answer was likely to make Snape even angrier than he already was.

"What?" the Potions master snapped. "Are you saying that you are the one responsible for the unicorn that attacked Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes. But I didn't know about you and Malfoy until this morning when I asked Fedhamohsi about it. I only knew that you were in danger last night, and I sent Fedhamohsi to intervene."

Snape said nothing for a moment, silently debating whether to try a banishing charm on Aurellia in order to force her to leave, or to put up with the intrusion and hear her out. After a moment, curiosity got the upper hand over irritation and desire for solitude.

"So I am in your life-debt, not his. I think I would rather be indebted to the unicorn," Snape remarked caustically.

"Well, technically, I don't consider it a debt, since it is my duty to keep you out of trouble, after all. But I think I'm going to ask Dumbledore for a raise after this. You are a pain in the neck to Watch."

"Truly, you have no idea."

"You're quite welcome, Snape. But the next time you invite one of your old school chums over for a late night chat, don't expect Fedhamohsi or I to break up the party."

"Progress at last!"

"Oh, if I weren't bound by that Watcher's Vow!"

"Yes, if only...Why don't you ask Albus for a leave of absence?"

"You might be dead right now if I hadn't acted," Aurellia pointed out acidly.

"Unlikely. I'm faster than Malfoy, and my aim is better."

"Fedhamohsi didn't seem to think so."

"He's a unicorn! What does he know about dueling?"

Aurellia glared at him. "He is no ordinary unicorn. As you once said to me, he has planned and fought in many a war, seen many a conflict before you were even born. Fedhamohsi is older than Dumbledore himself."

Snape scowled and looked away. "Nevertheless, I prefer fighting my own battles myself. I did not, and do not need your help, Fedhamohsi's help, or anyone's help for that matter."

Aurellia arched her right eyebrow. "Nevertheless, I am your Watcher, Fedhamohsi did help you last night because I asked him to, and you were in danger. Not that I expect an arrogant troll-headed fool like yourself to admit to it.”

"What part of 'I was not in any trouble and I can fight my own battles' do you not comprehend, elf princess?" Snape said testily. "Whatever gave you the impression that I was in such mortal peril last night that you felt it necessary to sic a unicorn on me?"

"My Guardian Charm," Aurellia replied cooly. "As you know, it has a lock of your hair embedded in it, as well as a lock of my own hair and...." Here Aurellia hesitated as she idly fingered her locket. It was a second or two before she continued. "It protects both of us, and will alert me if either one of us is in danger. I was sleeping in my nice warm bed last night when ... something woke me up. I noticed that my locket was hot to the touch, and the blue stone was glowing. Since I was safe in my room and there were no assassins hovering over my bed waiting to kill me, by process of elimination I figured it was you who were in danger. And despite the fact that I would very much have preferred to go back to sleep, I decided to intervene."

"So how did you ... or perhaps I should say, Fedhamohsi ... know where to find me?" Snape asked.

Aurellia thought a moment and shrugged. "I sensed that you were out in the Dark Forest somewhere. There are certain spells a Watcher can use to pinpoint where their client is located. A highly skilled Watcher can sometimes even 'see' through his or her client’s eyes and know immediately what sort of danger they are in, but I'm not that skilled. Admittedly, the credit for actually finding you in the forest belongs entirely to Fedhamohsi."

"Obviously you have as much aptitude for Watching as you do for brewing Potions," Snape said waspishly. "You overreacted last night."

"Fine, if you want to deny that you were a hair's breadth from becoming the next name on the missing list, that's your business," Aurellia grumped. “But I'd like to see you try to learn everything I have about how to get by in the Wizarding world, about magical law, about how to teach a magic course, and about Watching, all within the span of two months.”

“Which is why you have no business Watching anything more than a flobberworm!”

Aurellia glared and continued, “All right, I’ll admit that most of my Watching training has been on-the-job, and I feel like I'm a bit underprepared. But you’re still alive despite the fact that I've felt my locket heat up twice while you were out. Last night, of course during your meeting with Malfoy, at which time you were in more peril than you care to admit. And the other time was about a week before the first Quidditch match. I Summoned Fedhamohsi that time as well, but he told me that he thought the biggest threat in the woods that night was you."

Snape turned away from Aurellia and stared hard at the wall in front of him. He remembered the night she was referring to. He was supposed to have met a new courier from Wales, but that person never showed himself or herself. Fearing treachery Snape had decided to forget the meeting, and he had been on his way back to the castle, and that was when he had felt the Mark begin to burn. Snape never again heard from the courier or learned the nature of the information he was supposed to be bringing.

The Potions master idly scratched at the prickling Mark on his arm. He sincerely wished that Aurellia would go away and leave him to his misery. But if he forced Aurellia to leave before she was ready to leave, he would no doubt soon find himself in Dumbledore’s office attempting to explain his illegal “elf repellent” to the headmaster. And Dumbledore would not be very understanding about the Necroimperium Incense. Indeed he would not! Snape had no wish for his only effective means of relief from Voldemort’s Summons to be curtailed, nor for his activities to be even more closely watched than they already were. So he smoldered silently and did nothing as Aurellia continued.

Aurellia said, "I think it might have been Fedhamohsi who made your mark burn that evening three months ago."

“He certainly has the capability," Snape snarled. He dropped his arms to his sides. "Dark magic and light magic always seem to clash whenever they are in the same vicinity." He turned towards the elf, who did not seem to get the hint. "It sounds like your brand of Watching is merely a series of guesswork and hunches. Instinct and intuition. I prefer more proven means of defense."

"Oh I remember quite well your ‘proven means of defense’," Aurellia said caustically. “And if perchance I had forgotten about the duel, there were your brutal, bloodthirsty little Scattershards to remind me."

Snape curled a lip in malicious amusement, and Aurellia glared and continued.

“Nevertheless your ‘proven means of defense’ is not without drawbacks. You really do need someone to watch your back, to help you if you get into trouble, whether you will admit it or not. We all do. But…” and here the elf’s stern look faded as she sighed. “You have a point when you say that Watching is mostly instinct and intuition. It’s not a precise magical science like Potions-making or Transfigurations.”

“And you would prefer for it to be so,” Snape observed with a smirk.

“Admittedly, yes.” Aurellia replied. “Because instinct and intuition were never my strong suits. I studied law before I came here, remember. I dealt in fact and logic and measurable evidence. But the Watcher's Vow and other Watching-related spells have fine-tuned my intuition, at least where you are concerned. You might be surprised to know that if I concentrate hard enough, without any distractions, I can get a reading on what floor of the castle you are on and in which wing, or if you are outside in the Dark Forest."

"I do not like being spied upon, Miss Deveroux," Snape hissed angrily. "If I find out that you are using your Watching intuition to snoop on my personal business, you will deeply regret your interference."

"Oh give it a rest, Snape," Aurellia spat in exasperation. "I don’t intend snoop on your personal business or otherwise interfere with your life. My only concern is to make sure you are safe. I don’t know precisely where you are, and I can't see what you are doing. I’m not that good, and never will be, and you’re almost impossible to read, anyway. So you don’t need to worry about your privacy. I'm not going to spy on you while you are in the loo!”

“Nevertheless, this Watching business invites more of your intrusion than I find acceptable. Furthermore, intuition, hunches and emotion-based spells can be dangerous and unpredictable. Miss Deveroux, I do not think that you fully comprehend the possible consequences of this…quest you have undertaken.”

“On the contrary,” Aurellia disagreed heatedly. “I understand completely. If you are in any sort of danger, I am honor bound to try to protect you any way I can, even at the cost of my own life, if necessary. If I were not prepared to accept the responsibility and the risk, the Watcher’s Vow would have been unsuccessful, and Dumbledore would have had to find someone else.”

“Preferably with my advice,” Snape added drily.

“Preferably not.” Aurellia retorted levelly.

“And why not? Do you also think that my advice is worthless?” Snape said caustically.

“Your advice would have been for Dumbledore to dispense with the idea of a Watcher altogether!”

“I do not think that I have been ambiguous in any way about my opinion,” Snape stated waspishly.

“No,” Aurellia retorted, “you have not. But your opinion has been overruled, and like it or not, we are going to have to learn to work with each other.”

“And as I have already said, I do not think that you fully comprehend the possible consquences of…working together.”

“They make medication for headaches, Snape, and I’ve been taking it almost daily. I’m thinking of buying out the Apothecary in Diagon Alley.”

“No doubt you will singlehandedly assure that business will never be lax.”

“Because I keep getting headaches? Indeed! And most of them have your name or Draco Malfoy’s on them.”

“No. Because you keep giving them. You cannot bear to let things be, but must continually insist on rearranging everything to suit your purposes.”

“I don’t think asking for a little cooperation from you is asking for too much, Snape, but if you truly feel that way, then why did you change your vote about the workshops?”

“Because Minerva’s reaction when I spoke in favor of your workshops was worth the hassle of having to plan a workshop with you at some future date. And because the other teachers ought to have the opportunity to share in the pleasure of ‘working together’ with you as I have.”

"Whatever, Snape,” Aurellia grumbled, narrowing her eyes. Oh, but he was in a caustic mood tonight! And yet, all things considered, he was taking the news about her and Fedhamohsi’s intervention rather better than she had anticipated. He hadn’t thrown her out of his lab yet, despite the fact that he had seemed ready to when she walked in. Snape seemed to have something else on his mind tonight, something that was bothering him considerably more than Aurellia’s presence. Alas, the elf could not imagine what it was, and Snape was not exactly forthcoming. Perhaps it had something to do with Lucius Malfoy?

“So why was Malfoy here last night?” Aurellia wanted to know. “Is Voldemort angry with you for not answering his Summons?”

Snape shifted uncomfortably and scratched at his left arm. “Yes, his Vile Lordship has grown intolerant of my excuses. He is concerned that I have forgotten where my loyalty lies,” he replied reluctantly, thinking that Aurellia most certainly did not need to know that she also had been a major topic of discussion. “I think that he sent Lucius to determine whether or not I should be… reeducated.”

“Killed, you mean.”

“Only if I were deemed uneducable.”

“My locket seems to think that Malfoy had deemed you so.”

“Your locket may not recognize the difference between reeducation and death. Then again, with this new Voldemort… I suppose that there isn’t all that much difference.”

Something about Snape’s tone gave Aurellia an unsettling, eerie feeling. Perhaps it was because Snape knew a whole lot more about Voldemort’s methods of ‘reeducation’ from firsthand observation than he cared to tell. Having an answer to satisfy her and Dumbledore’s questions about the meeting last night, Aurellia decided to change the subject.

“So, what else are you brewing there besides the ‘elf repellant’?" Aurellia asked.

"Recurare," Snape responded. "Madam Pomfrey ordered more since she is nearly out, and we are almost into the spring cold and flu season. And there will be the stress of finals, OWLS and NEWTS soon. Also, the NEWTs classes are learning more complex emotion-based spells, and they frequently tend to exhaust themselves while practicing their homework lessons. Recurare prevents them from doing any permanent harm to themselves and their classmates."

Aurellia nodded. She had already started teaching some of these spells in her fifth-, sixth- and seventh-year classes and more than one student had left her practice alcoves looking peaked and needing a draught.

"Yes, I remember how drained I was after taking the Watcher's Vow," Aurellia mused. "I'm teaching the Patronus charm to my NEWT classes now, and I had to administer restoratives to a couple of students who had difficulty concentrating on the spell. I've also talked to the fourth-years and up about casting and countering other emotion-based spells such as your Inferno Wall, which by the way, requires a great deal of focused anger in order to form properly." Aurellia peered at Snape. “I’d like to know what you think about when you cast that one?"

Snape's mouth curled into a grimace as a memory stirred ....

"Mayka! You hurt Mayka! I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU!!!"

Scorching flames burst from his fingertips, then he heard the screams....

“Second place," Snape said enigmatically, scratching at his left arm, which was beginning to feel as if it had recently taken the brunt of one of his Inferno Walls.

“Why are you so angry, Snape?” Aurellia asked softly.

The Potions master irritably brushed away the question. "You have no room to talk about me being angry, Miss Deveroux! Or have you forgotten what you did to me during that infernal duel, when you made me repeatedly Apparate in and out of existence? I was sore for hours afterwards, I'll have you know."

"The Shemelake?" Aurellia queried. "The Shimmering Veil? Yes, that one takes considerable anger, although I would call it righteous anger, or indignation. It is a different kind of anger than the blind, destructive rage that summons demons and conjurs Inferno Walls and Gravity Traps and Violet Ion Storms.”

“You are wrong, Miss Deveroux,” Snape stated disdainfully. “Anger is what it is. You cannot label it or classify it. You can only harness it, contain it, put it to work for you.”

“Your anger is like a wild dragon, Snape. You may think that you can chain it up and force it to do your bidding, but if you don’t find a way to deal with it and tame it, someday it is going to eat you alive.”

“Tend to your own dragon, Miss Deveroux, and do not presume to tell me how to deal with mine.” Snape cast a long, pointed look at the hourglass. "This conversation has been most enlightening, but a half hour has already passed since you barged in uninvited, and I do not have the time to fritter away with idle chit-chat. I have a cauldron which requires my immediate attention, student essays to grade before my first class tomorrow, and several letters to send to our international allies. So if you are quite finished annoying me with your endless questions, I wish to get some real work accomplished."

He’s gone Slytherin on me again, Aurellia thought irritably, but aloud she said, "No, I have nothing more to say, at least nothing you would be interested in hearing since you’re so busy. Except…don’t forget about your ‘elf repellent’." Aurellia turned and stomped up the steps, closing the door behind her with a loud "slam."

But the pile of essays sat untouched, the cauldrons untended as Snape became lost in his own thoughts. He carefully pulled the picture of his mother out of the desk drawer and remembered the first time he was ‘eaten by the dragon’ as Deveroux put it, the first time he became angry enough to kill ....

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