Part Seven

The Dark Lord's Fancy

Snape sat at his table, watching with mounting surprise as the two girls tried to explain themselves. At first he had been disinclined to pay them any more than the absent attention he had paid any of his children since he had arrived. He had given a start at that thought; for some mad reason he had almost forgotten that Cassiopeia, her three sisters, and in fact three of her brothers, were his own children, and not Lucius's. He had to think for a moment to remember when he had last set eyes on his two youngest daughters; he wasn't even sure who was looking after the twin girls, only that someone was. What had happened, he wondered, to allow the distance he had let grow between himself and those he loved.

'Severus,' Cassiopeia asked. 'Are you all right?'

'Yes, yes, of course I am.'

'Mother is very worried about you, you know. She feels you are looking down a road you will never take, without noticing the footpath running beside it.'

Snape gave her a long look. He suspected the words were not Delphinia's but Cassiopeia's; they sounded like her sometimes-flowery way of putting things. 'She said what?' he asked, raising his eyebrow to denote his scepticism.

'She thinks you must use love and not hate, and truth and not fear. That sort of thing,' Cassiopeia replied, not at all abashed. 'Oh, and a lot of Dark Magic too. But she was very concerned about something, Severus. She seems to think you are looking at a solution which you can't accept, and she says that you don't need to; she was very clear about that,' she said, beseeching her father to understand what she was saying, without breaking the confidence her mother had placed in her. 'She says that there is another way, another weapon to use against him. One which he cannot turn on you.'

Snape knew he had no options left; he was going to have to ask what it was. He looked at her earnest white face, with its sharp pointed features, framed by her jet-black plaited hair; she was the only one of the children that he had not managed to enchant into looking like a Lucius clone. He even remembered the black-haired baby glaring at him, as Delphinia held her and Lucius looked on, and again and again he had tried to enchant the black hair to Lucius's silver, and the black eyes to his grey. But the baby had watched him in careful defiance; there had been something of the "You might fool the rest of the world, but you can't fool me" about the hard black look she had given him. Severus sighed; she hadn't changed much over the last few years.

'Am I to be kept in the dark for much longer, Cassiopeia?' he asked. 'Only I have much to think about.'

Cassiopeia shared a quick look with Hermione, who stood biting her lip and nodding in encouragement. 'Love, Severus,' she said. 'She kept saying that love was the weapon Lily used to protect Harry, and it was ancient magic that the Dark Lord would not understand. She said it is the one weapon you and Lucius can use against him.'

'I don't know what she means,' Severus replied with a frown, his mind searching for a way.

'I think you do, Severus.' It was Hermione who replied this time. 'I think you do. Your love for Draco is a given,' she said in a very grown-up way, drawing herself up to her unimpressive height. 'But you have to protect Harry too,' she whispered anxiously, and looked at him in appeal. 'Don't make me say it. Please don't make me say it.'

'Say what?' Snape stared at her in bewilderment. He did not understand what Hermione was talking about; his mind was such a maze of uncertainty that he had not worked it out. He had no particular feelings for the Potter boy, although when he examined that he found it was untrue. He resented him; resented the existence that had driven a wedge between James and himself, a wedge he had not had the time or the chance to remove. If the boy had not been born, he could have been at James's side when he had needed him. But even as he thought it, he knew he could not hide behind that excuse for much longer. Severus knew if he had answered James's owl the night before he had been murdered, that James might still be alive. But how could he have known that an innocent request to meet for a drink to try to discuss their difficulties could have prevented James's death? How could he ever have known that? How could he have foreseen that if James hadn't been home, he might have been alive today?

'Mrs Malfoy says that you will protect Harry, too, for the sake of love,' Hermione said in a tiny voice.

'What?' Severus asked, shaking his head dumbly at her, dragging his wits from where he'd allowed them to be scattered.

Hermione looked one last time to where Cassiopeia stood nodding her head. She tossed her bushy hair, and swallowed the tears from her voice. 'She said you will protect him for the love of James Potter.'

Snape froze. He felt the blood rush around him in confusion, roaring in his ears, starring his vision. 'You will leave me now,' he heard himself whisper, even as he felt what little colour was ever in his face drain, as his heart lurched alarmingly. He felt himself swallow savagely as Cassiopeia touched his arm.

'Severus,' she said uncertainly. 'Father, you can do this. If anyone can, you can.'

He didn't look at her, even though she had never before acknowledged him by name, never called him "Father". He didn't move a muscle until long after the door had closed quietly behind the two little girls. Except for the rise and fall of his chest from the breathing that seemed to strangle him, and the thunder beat of his own heart, he could have been dead; it took him quite some time to stop wishing that he were.

*****

'I don't see how this helps us,' Lupin admitted. 'Neither you nor I will be there, Sirius.'

Draco looked from one man to the other. He was glad Lucius wasn't there; Lucius would have complicated things. 'I don't think that matters, not from what Mother said. She seemed to think that Severus and Lucius could protect us without using something she thought Severus was worried about.'

Sirius looked up sharply. 'Did she say what that was, Draco?'

Draco exchanged a quick look with Harry, waiting for him to nod his own assent. 'It was something she thinks Severus might know,' he began doubtfully. 'But she doesn't want him to know that we know ... if you know what I mean.'

Sirius looked at Harry and back at Draco; he thought he needed to know what it was that Snape had refused to tell him. 'What is this dreadful thing that no one will tell me?' He watched the boys squirm for a moment. 'Harry, look at me. I need to know if there is a way I can protect you both. Just because Severus's sensibilities might not want to look at it, it doesn't mean that mine won't.'

'I don't think that applies in this case,' Harry replied, and took a deep breath. 'Unless Draco is a virgin, his body is no use to Voldemort.'

'Oh, fuck,' Sirius groaned. That hadn't even occurred to him; he had assumed it was some kind of Dark Magic or Blood Oath ... but this. And yet the simplicity of it, the vehemence of Snape's refusal to even discuss it should have alerted him. 'You'd better explain the alternatives again,' he said, and looked at Lupin. 'Pay attention, Old Wolf, this is important.'

*****

Draco pushed the Library door open a crack. 'Looks okay,' he said over his shoulder. 'But the girls aren't here yet.'

'We'll just wait for them,' Harry said quietly.

Draco gave him a longer look. He wasn't imagining it now; Harry had become a little bit withdrawn. He supposed he wasn't surprised; it must have been a blow to find out that his father had been having a fling with Severus. Come to think of it, he'd been a bit surprised himself when he and Cassiopeia had worked it out in Scotland; he'd never really thought of Severus as being the type to become as hopelessly involved with someone as Delphinia had seemed to indicate.

Draco thought about that for a moment, realising it wasn't strictly true. Hadn't Severus been so involved with his brothers and sisters in his strange distant way, that he always managed to know exactly what they were doing? Wasn't it always Severus they went to with problems? Wasn't Severus the one who took over when Delphinia died, and looked after not only the children but what was left of Lucius at that time too? His mother was right, and Draco fully understood that he had been borne by a woman other than Delphinia, but she was still his mother to him; she had been right, it was all about love. Love was the sort of thing that had surrounded him all of his life without him even noticing; it didn't encroach upon his life, it didn't have to make itself known, it didn't demand to be looked at or responded to. It was just there, smiling in the background, a bit like his mother's portrait.

'Do you want to talk about it?' he asked tentatively as he sat down and pulled a bar of chocolate from his pocket.

'No, it's okay,' Harry replied. 'I'm fine with it. It was just a surprise.'

'Look, mate,' Draco tried gamely, through a mouthful of chocolate. 'It's not as though your mum and dad split up ... and it was before they got married and all that. I mean, look at Lucius; he's the perfect example of just how much of a mess people can get into.' Draco wasn't quite sure why he'd brought Lucius into the picture, or just what parallel he was attempting to draw, for that matter. He wasn't surprised that Potter's frown was deepening.

'Draco, what are you talking about?' Harry asked, popping a square of the chocolate into his mouth, before the blond boy scoffed the lot.

'Your mother and father.' Draco blinked. 'I thought you were upset that Severus was so involved with your father?'

Harry blinked back in surprise. 'I hadn't thought about that. I never really knew my parents ... not that I don't know I loved them of course, but I never knew them,' he admitted. 'It's not them ... It's Sirius I'm worried about. If he still loves my father, what about Sirius?' He let his eyes flit to the door, as it swung open revealing the two girls.

'Did you do it?' Hermione asked.

'Did you manage to get rid of Lucius?' Cassiopeia asked.

'He wasn't there,' Draco replied. 'Did you speak to Severus?'

Cassiopeia made a face. 'I'm not sure if we made things any better, Draco.'

'Why?' Harry asked. 'What happened?'

'He just told us to go away,' Hermione replied in a worried voice. 'He looked terribly upset.' She looked at Cassiopeia, who was nodding her head in agreement. 'Maybe we shouldn't have gone.'

'Maybe we should stay out of his way for a few days,' Draco murmured. 'You know what he's like when he gets in a mood.'

'We haven't got a lot of time,' Harry pointed out. 'I hope Sirius and Lupin understood too. They can be a bit ...' He searched for a word. '...Un-serious about things sometimes.'

'We've done what Mother asked us to do,' Cassiopeia remarked. 'Let's just let them digest it and see where it goes.'

Draco nodded. He felt a little wash of adrenalin run through him as he remembered about the terrible secret Delphinia had wound about his heart. He understood just why it might work now, and why she had sworn him to secrecy. It was Lucius's last stand; when he faltered as she thought he would, it was up to Draco to unfurl his war banner for him. She had seemed sure he would respond and Draco believed her ... that was about love too.

*****

Sirius lay awake watching the moonlight move across the ceiling of the third floor room he had been allocated when they had first come back to Hogwarts. He had been surprised at how much of his own junk was up here, but he supposed it had to be somewhere; it certainly hadn't cluttered up Snape's orderly space. In fact he had got tired of begging clean socks and underwear when the house-elves got behind with the laundry. Now he could wear his Chudley Cannons orange socks without fear of being sneered at, or hang his Gryffindor scarf on the wall, he thought sourly; it was cold comfort.

He tried to work out where it had all gone wrong; he even tried to analyse himself, but probably it had never been right. He'd flung himself at Snape, so sure of his own abilities to break down the barriers of a youth spent in hurling alternate hexes and jinxes and insults in an effort to get the attention of the boy whose sole crime against him had been that he had not wanted him. Had not, and still did not. The more things change, he thought bitterly, the more they stay the same. Sirius knew he had challenged the phantom of his own best friend, who had beaten him without even attempting to fight back.

He looked at the empty whisky bottle, a fickle friend, that and the empty cigarette packet. He wondered what Snape was doing, what he was thinking about, if he were fantasising about James, if he had fantasised about him while they made love. The more the whisky he had drunk invaded his senses, the more maudlin he became, and the more he hated the way he had cheapened himself.

He awoke in the morning with the empty bottle, the pillow he had been snuggling into, and a slamming hangover for company. He became aware of the smell of smoke and assumed that he'd manage to burn the castle to the ground as well.

'Have you finished with this?'

As the cool drawl reached through the fog in his mind, Sirius spun in the tangle of his cloak, a leather jacket, and a blanket he'd drawn over himself on the settee the night before, almost landing on the floor, immediately regretting the flurry of activity as his head threatened to explode.

'What are you doing here?' he accused.

'We have work to do, and I do not have the time to allow my troops to drink on duty.' Snape stood up and raised his wand, pointing it at Sirius's head, muttering a Sobering Spell under his breath; Sirius suspected it was one he wanted to keep secret. 'Be in my rooms in two hours; we have a meeting.'

Sirius thought two hours gave him lots of room for manoeuvre. 'Wait,' he called to the stiff back. 'Severus, wait.'

Snape turned and looked around the room, his face a study in disdain, as Sirius tucked his Chudley Cannons sock-clad feet under the leather jacket. 'Not here, Black,' he said. 'Really, I couldn't.'

Sirius watched him, sensing his indecision, sensing that at last Severus, too, had reached a turning point and that his indecision was a part of it. He knew Harry and Draco had not been to him; Draco was quite emphatic that Snape was not to be told they knew what was troubling him, and Sirius was in no doubt that the boy was right. But something had happened, some new sense of purpose, some new self-belief had infused itself. Sirius cautioned himself not to frighten him off, not to make a lunge for him; he wasn't quite sure he could stand anyway, and there were still the socks to consider. He decided to go for the jugular; it was a dog thing, he just hoped that Snape had one.

'Have I still to collect my gear?' he asked.

'It is still cluttering up my rooms, if that's what you mean.'

Sirius tried again. 'Are you still insisting on its removal?'

'I never mentioned its removal,' Snape replied dryly. 'That was one of your lines, I believe. In fact your comment was along the lines that I should let you know when I wasn't there so that you could collect your possessions.'

'My gear,' Sirius corrected him. 'Possessions is one of your words.'

'In that case you do remember.'

Sirius looked away; he hadn't noticed that the leather jacket had fallen to the floor. When he looked back, Snape had bent to stub out his cigarette. Fuck it, he thought, and went for broke. 'Can I try again?' he asked, watching the bent head, the viciously-straight parting in the otherwise tangled mess of hair, the slim white hand, frozen in the act of grinding out the cigarette. 'Severus, let me try again.'

Snape straightened and held his eyes for a moment. 'Not with those socks on.'

*****

Snape walked back down the stairs, pretending he hadn't noticed Draco and Harry hiding behind a statue of a fat wizard called Dalfrad the Dubious, a man of uncertain bloodlines and questionable talents who had claimed to have produced a spell that could make him disappear forever. The fact that no one ever saw him again, and he left a trail of debts behind him, had done little to enhance his shady reputation. Severus had never ceased to be amazed at just how little one had to do in the wizarding world to have one's statue grace the hallowed halls of Hogwarts in perpetuity. He suspected it might account for the shoddy effort of some of the students and the superiority attitude of the rest of them ... himself excluded of course.

Despite his best efforts at self-denial he found his thoughts drifting to Black. He knew that was an indication that his thoughts on other matters had begun to crystallise, that he had found his sense of purpose again, found his way. He didn't even attempt to fool himself that anyone but Cassiopeia, and to a lesser extent the little Muggle girl she had brought with her, had done that. He could see Black's influence in the girl, Hermione; he could see that one didn't have to be a biological parent to stamp one's mark on a child, after all he had done the same thing with Draco, at least he hoped he had.

He had done his best with Black, he thought, contentedly shifting the onus of reconciliation off his own shoulders onto those more fitted to deal with it. An invitation would have been both unnecessary and beneath his dignity. He was sure Sirius had grasped the point; he wouldn't be long, in fact Severus was only a little surprised that he hadn't passed him on the stairs. He muttered his ward at his door and watched it swing open, as his vision blackened and he pitched forward in agony onto the flagstone floor.

*****

Sirius winked at his reflection, making a rude hand sign as the mirror laughed raucously back at him in derision. He wished he'd asked Snape to leave him a cigarette, as he groped about in the two full ashtrays for anything that he would be able to light without setting fire to his nose. He found one butt with a couple of hairsbreadths of white still showing, and vainly tried to draw the nicotine into his lungs, before he noticed it was leaking out of the torn paper where it met the filter tip. He gave it up as a bad job and headed out of door. He didn't want to appear too keen; he'd done enough of that and it wouldn't do to get to the dungeon before Severus.

He didn't notice the two boys hiding behind the statue of some fat wizard, called Dalfrad the Dubious, who had caught his admiration at some time in the past for some unremembered great con trick he had performed. He'd never ceased to wonder how the hallowed halls of Hogwarts had managed to get statues of these worthies, how they had even known what these wizards of antiquity had looked like. It hadn't ever occurred to him that there was no one around to claim the likenesses were anything but true to life.

He was walking along the dungeon corridor, in fact he'd almost reached Snape's rooms, when he noticed the door was lying open, and what looked ominously like a foot was sticking out of the door.

'Fuck sake,' he groaned as he dropped to Snape's side.

Except for the one leg thrust out in some unimaginable agony, Snape's body was curled tightly in on itself; he seemed to be fighting for breath. Sirius tried to drag him to his feet, but twelve stone of wizard was proving too much for a man with a suppressed hangover.

'Get to Lucius,' Snape gasped as he curled again in another spasm of agony.

'Is it Voldemort?' Sirius asked as he saw Harry and Draco running along the corridor, their eavesdropping exercise thrown aside.

'Yes. Damnit, Black, do as I say,' Snape said in a voice strangled by pain. 'He cannot withstand this.'

'What's wrong?' Draco asked as he too dropped to Snape's side. 'What's happening? It's that mark again, isn't it?'

Sirius straightened and held the frightened boy's eyes. 'Draco, I want you to run along to your father's room and make sure Lupin is with him.' He turned to his godson. 'Harry, I want you to run for Dumbledore ... now ...go.'

'Go with Draco, Black,' Snape said, straightening a little in a pretence of being in control of the searing pain. 'I can manage here for now.' He dragged himself into a sitting position, resting his back against the door lintel, his head hanging and the sweat-dampened hair clinging in untidy wisps to his pale hollow cheeks. His left arm lay in his lap, ending in a tightly clenched fist; he had clawed both the sleeve of his frock coat and his white silk undershirt back to reveal the malignance of the Dark Mark, a shocking burning creeping black on his white skin.

Sirius looked along the corridor at Draco pushing open the door to his father's rooms; he heard the sounds of Lupin's voice and a low keening he knew must be Lucius. He touched Severus's shoulder. He was right, he could manage; Lucius, on the other hand, might not.

*****

Dumbledore watched Snape carefully; he was beginning to wonder how long he could withstand the pressure Voldemort was pouring on him. He was even paler than usual, his features haggard and drawn, his eyes almost feverish. Even some four hours after the initial summons, he knew Snape was struggling to concentrate over Voldemort's constant demand for his presence.

Lucius, on the other hand, had willingly succumbed to the sedation Snape had given him when he had recovered sufficiently himself; he sat quietly in the corner with Lupin. Dumbledore wasn't sure what, if anything, Lucius was able to take from the meeting, in fact the Headmaster had wanted to postpone it until tomorrow, but Snape had argued that he didn't know which tomorrow he might not even be able to be there. Dumbledore conceded the point; he thought it was an indication of just how difficult Severus had found it to resist this last command. Yet he knew Snape was going to have to leave Hogwarts soon; it was the only way of stalling Voldemort until they were ready, and the Headmaster fully intended this battle to be at a time of their choosing, whether the Dark Lord knew that or not. He was surprised when Lucius spoke up.

'What about the dragon?' he asked in a quiet voice, so unlike his own that Dumbledore actually turned to him to check who had spoken.

'What about it?' Sirius asked.

'Are we not to assume that the dragon will be there if Voldemort needs the blood...?' Malfoy trailed off as though he'd lost the thread of his thoughts; he didn't even seem to have noticed, and began talking quietly to Lupin instead.

Dumbledore watched Sirius frowning, as though Malfoy had said something he thought they might need to know. Sirius murmured something to Snape, and turned to where Charlie and Bill Weasley sat on opposite sides of the table in Snape's rooms.

'Would he be able to move the dragon around the country, Charlie?' Sirius asked.

'I assume so,' Weasley replied. 'I mean he doesn't need to take it on a bus.'

'It would be a pretty difficult thing to Apparate though, wouldn't it?' Sirius reasoned. 'I mean, wouldn't it be more likely that he'd be at Malfoy Manor, where the dragon already is?'

Snape shook his head. 'Not necessarily, Black. He can summon me by just touching his wand to the Dark Mark, so I'm quite sure he would have no difficulty with something ... less reluctant.'

'Is that what you were trying to say, Shirley?' Sirius asked.

'Don't call me that,' Malfoy replied.

For once Dumbledore thought that Lucius hadn't feigned the hurt look. He watched on, faintly puzzled. He could see that Sirius's remark had been much better intentioned than his usual way of speaking to Malfoy, that his tag line had been a gentle poke of humour; that surprised him too.

'It's only a joke,' Sirius said disarmingly.

Lucius nodded in dull acceptance and then frowned. 'No, that wasn't what worried me.'

'What was it then?' Sirius probed.

Malfoy looked away, his troubled mind obviously blunted by whatever Snape had given him. 'I don't know; I can't remember.'

'Why should he need to use the blood in the dragon anyway?' Bill Weasley asked. 'He could just use his own blood, couldn't he?'

Dumbledore frowned again; he had asked himself the same question. 'We must assume that the dragon's blood would serve as a link to Voldemort and, I suppose, ultimately Salazar Slytherin's blood,' he reasoned, 'irrespective of what body the Dark Lord was inhabiting at the time.'

'I think we have to assume only one thing,' Snape said tiredly, and stood up. 'And that is that we may safely assume nothing. We must expect the dragon, whether he needs it not; we must expect him to be in any of the places we have discussed or none of them, and we must expect that, within the next few days, I must return to his side ... only the last of these is certain.'

'He needs the dragon,' Lucius said, more emphatically.

Sirius frowned across at him. 'Why? Why does he need the dragon,' he asked. 'What's worrying you about the dragon, Lucius?'

Dumbledore thought it was the way in which Sirius had addressed him that sharpened Malfoy, the fact that he'd called him by his given name and not one of the casual insults he usually appended to any comment to or about him.

Lucius didn't drop his eyes; if anything, he straightened his shoulders and seemed to become more alert, holding his head in the proud way he usually did. He looked to Dumbledore like a man who has at last been allowed membership of an elitist club from which he had always been excluded. 'Voldemort's blood is in the dragon, Black. The blood that Narcissa drew from above his heart on the day that Draco was born,' he declared. 'Believe me, he needs that dragon.'

'Well, then,' Sirius said with a grin. 'Who do we know who's a good sport and loves his dragons?'

'Fuck you, Sirius,' Charlie muttered from the opposite side of the table.

Still Dumbledore watched on. He had deliberately kept his input to a minimum; he did not want to be the one to ask the question he knew was burning everyone, most of all the man around whom it centred. He could see that the men were beginning to wind up, that the next part of the planning would be done in little groups, the fine-tuning so to speak, most of it probably made up as they went along, dictated by necessity. They were getting ready to move; their minds were on dinner or whatever way they were going to fill their evening, leaving the biggest question unanswered, the question upon which most of their hopes were pinned.

'Am I allowed to ask something?' Harry asked from where he had sat obediently silent between Sirius and Draco. 'It's just something Draco and Hermione and Cassiopeia have been worried about.'

'We can talk later, Harry,' Sirius said absently. 'We've got a lot on our minds just now.'

Harry nodded and bit his lip, after shooting an uncomfortable look at Draco and, perhaps surprisingly, another at Snape.

'What is it, Potter?' Snape asked instead. 'If it is pertinent and important, you may ask.'

'Well, yes,' Harry floundered under the black gaze. 'I ... that is... we think it is.'

The Weasleys had turned back from the door and Lucius leant forward, and both Sirius and Lupin looked on, Lupin indulgently, where Sirius seemed to have other things on his mind. Dumbledore knew what Harry was going to ask; at least he hoped he did.

'Very well,' Snape replied. 'What is your question?'

Harry's face had turned quite red, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose as he gave Draco one final look. 'It's just that there's something we don't understand. I mean ... we understand why Draco must go to Voldemort ... and me too. And I can understand why Mr Malfoy has to go, but...' he stammered on, '... why are you going? He doesn't really need you to do what he wants to do. In fact, if I were him, of all people I wouldn't want you there at all.'

Snape let him finish as the others became much more interested. 'How right you are, Potter. One would have thought that I would be the last person, apart from perhaps our Headmaster, that the Dark Lord would want present.' He turned to Lucius and raised his eyebrow. 'Shall I enlighten the boys and those who did not have the courage to ask, or will you?'

'Oh, I think I shall manage,' Lucius replied, giving a fleeting, somewhat worried look to where Sirius frowned over at him. 'You see, Potter, Voldemort needs you and Draco ... and of course me. He does not need Severus at all; but he wants him there.'

'Why?' Sirius asked.

'Didn't you know, Black? Didn't you know the real reason why James Potter is dead?' Lucius asked, but there was none of the usual superiority with which he normally addressed Sirius, as though he were returning the courtesy extended to him earlier. 'Oh, I know he would have been killed anyway, defending Harry here, as his mother was. But, you see, James would have died anyway.'

'What are you talking about, Malfoy?' Sirius challenged him, flashing a look at Snape, who had sat back down and seemed to be carefully watching no one.

'Tom Riddle couldn't stand the competition, Black,' Lucius replied. 'Severus is, and always has been, the Dark Lord's fancy.'

'Don't be ridiculous,' Sirius retorted. 'Maybe if you had dragged yourself up to see the state he was in when he came back here, you'd know that for the crap it is.'

'Really?' Lucius raised his eyebrow. 'How do you then explain why he is still alive?' He raised his manicured hand to stave off Sirius's next objection. 'Oh I know his ... affections ... can be bestowed in the strangest ways; but don't you think that it would have been so much easier for him just to kill Severus and take what he wants, what he needs? We all know I do not have the power to resist him that Severus does, and perhaps it is that very challenge that he has always admired. Whatever it is, I may have been his right hand man, Black, in times past, but that does not alter the one undeniable fact ... Severus was always the one he wanted.'

*****

Snape watched them begin to leave, as though he were watching a play, some tableau acted out, the outcome over which he had no control. Lupin and Potter gave him worried looks, not quite accusing, but not quite trusting either. The Weasleys seemed more unconcerned, but then they had not had the first-hand involvement with him that Lupin and Black and the boys had. Dumbledore had appeared, perhaps not shocked by what Lucius had said, but he had certainly been surprised. As for Draco, he knew Draco's trust was unconditional, a bit like Lucius's, but the boy was worried. As Harry closed the door behind him, Severus turned at last to the man who stood behind him, to face the accusation, possibly even the disgust.

'What else don't I know, Severus?' Sirius asked.

Snape shook his head.

'Is this how you intend to stave him off?' Sirius went on, walking around to sit across the table from him. He took a cigarette from his packet and lit it, all the time squinting at Snape as though he were weighing him up. 'Tell me, damn you, Severus. Give me the fucking courtesy of telling me everything I need to know. For the sake of the boys' safety if nothing else. You owe them that much.'

Snape looked away, tired of the scrutiny, tired of always being the one everyone wanted a piece of. 'What does it matter?' he asked. 'Let me assure you that I have no reciprocal feelings. I shall not be the one to endanger anyone, Black.' He turned back to him, picking a slim black cigarette out of his own packet. 'Do not let me detain you any longer. The Headmaster will let you know when I have left.'

'Don't detain YOU any longer, you mean?' Sirius asked.

'Take whatever meaning you want. I no longer care what people think of me,' Snape replied. 'I suspect I never did.'

'Is that it? Is that all there is?'

Snape ground out the hardly-smoked cigarette. 'Yes, I believe so; I believe that is all there is. I know I have no more to offer.' He tried not to hold the blue eyes, flashing in anger and whatever other emotions were vying with one another. 'Leave me, Black. I need to think.'

'You mean you need to come to terms with how you're going to prostitute yourself for everyone else and live with yourself later?' Sirius asked flatly. 'Or maybe you thought you'd die the hero's death and cover yourself in the pathetic glory of failure?'

'I shall not have failed if either is the case.'

'Too fucking true you will have, Severus. You'll have failed yourself.' Sirius shoved himself away from the table and stood up. 'Or maybe you think James will be impressed if you die for his boy; maybe you think you'll square a debt you don't even owe.'

Snape couldn't stifle his gasp of outrage. 'Get out,' he whispered as he felt the blood drain from his face, as his fury rose. 'Get out and don't think of coming back.'

'Don't worry, I'm going.' Sirius had his hand on the door. 'That's what this is all about for you, isn't it? It's one fucking great trade-off against your guilt complex. Fuck it, Severus; you didn't do this. You can drown in your conscience and howl out your fucking miserable existence in any way you want, but you can't change the facts. You didn't do this; Voldemort did.'

'Perhaps,' Severus admitted quietly, his anger had all but drained him. 'But I didn't stop it either.'

*****

Lupin handed Lucius a glass of clear liquid. 'You've to take this every four hours.'

Lucius knocked his hand away, sending the glass spinning from Lupin's hand to smash on the floor. 'I'm not a fucking invalid,' he snapped. 'And I do not care to be treated like an idiot who has to be force-fed a sedative to keep him sane.'

'You know what it's for. Don't blame me if you find yourself wandering out to the hill in the middle of the night to Apparate to Voldemort,' Lupin said mildly, stifling his sigh as he mixed another crystalline powder into a fresh glass of water and handed it to Lucius, before taking his wand from his pocket and clearing the first mess away. He watched until Lucius had snatched it from his hand, swallowed it, and glared up at him.

Lupin wasn't quite sure what to think of things. He trusted Snape, or at least he thought he did, but there was so much he didn't know about either him or Lucius, so much that he knew both Sirius, and more worrying than that, Dumbledore, seemed not to know. It had been almost an hour since he had heard the angry slam of a door along the dungeon corridor; he knew it must have been Sirius. That meant Snape was alone, and Lupin didn't think that was a very good idea tonight. It was still two weeks before the moon was full, and he worried that if Sirius had fought with Snape, that Severus might feel that he was as well keeping an eye on Voldemort than staying at Hogwarts. Lupin didn't think he looked fit enough to withstand two weeks of the Dark Lord's company; he'd seen what one day had done to him.

He looked at Lucius again; his shoulders drooped and his head was falling forward, causing the mass of silver-blond hair to hide his face. Lupin smiled to himself. He was almost asleep; whatever was in the potion Snape had brewed to dull the pain and the mental anguish of Voldemort's call sent Lucius to sleep for about a half an hour after he took it. He thought he'd use that half-hour.

He shook Lucius's shoulder gently and bent down to him. 'I'll be back shortly,' he murmured into his hair, thinking absently that it was rather an inconvenient moment to feel the sexual stirrings he felt.

Lucius nodded absently. 'Just let me sleep for a while.'

*****

Severus poured another drink, a bigger one this time; it would save him emptying the glass so quickly. He had taken the first sip when he felt someone at the other side of the door, someone benign, someone hesitating as though wondering whether to risk knocking the door and being refused entry. At first he thought it was going to be Draco, as he watched the door swing open.

'I won't keep you long,' the werewolf said, nodding to the whisky bottle and the half-empty glass. 'I can see you're busy.'

'Is Lucius all right?' Snape asked with a frown.

'Yes, Lucius is all right; he's asleep,' Lupin replied with the self-effacing smile that annoyed Snape intensely. 'Everyone is all right, Severus ... except you.'

'Am I to understand that this is what you've come to tell me?'

'No. You are to understand that people are worried about you.'

'Thank them for their misplaced concern.' Snape raised the glass and tossed over the whisky, blaming the burn in the back of his throat on the spirit.

'You're not talking to Sirius, you know,' Lupin said with some heat. 'Give me the common courtesy of hearing me out.'

Snape looked across at him. It seemed that Lupin, the mild-mannered ingratiating man, had sent some alter ego along the corridor; the idea was refreshing ... he hadn't wanted to listen to platitudes. He nodded to the whisky bottle. 'The glasses are above the sink.'

'No thanks,' Lupin replied. 'I won't be here long. Lucius will wake in about twenty minutes and I prefer him not be alone in case Voldemort calls; even with the sedative I think he would feel it.'

Snape frowned. 'Why are you here, Lupin?'

'Because you shouldn't be alone either. It's too long, Severus.'

'What on earth are you talking about? What is too long?'

'You shouldn't be alone, because I think you will find it hard to resist his call if you are,' Lupin said and held up his hand. 'I don't mean that you cannot withstand him, because I know you can. But I think you feel you are of no need here anyway, so you would be as well with him. Don't do that, Severus; it's too long.'

'I think I can manage his company for two weeks,' Snape said. He had heard enough. For some reason he was disappointed; he had thought the werewolf was going have an original line or two.

'I know you can manage,' Lupin replied. 'But we can't. You owe it to us to stay here with us as long as you can. You owe it to Draco and Harry and Lucius too. You owe it to Sirius as well, Severus.' He hesitated for a moment. 'He has always cared for you, you know, ever since he was a sixth year here at Hogwarts. You didn't know that, did you? You didn't know that Sirius only backed off for James? Well, for what it's worth, it's true. Anyway, you owe it to a lot of people, most of all yourself, and the rest of us ... well, we just need you here. You might be able to manage this alone,' he repeated, 'but we can't.'

Severus watched him as he stood up and gave his strange little smile; somehow it didn't really seem self-effacing after all, it was just mild, and tolerant, and gently amused, a bit like Lupin himself.

*****

Sirius poked his meal about on his plate, rearranging it to make it appear as though he had eaten something. Neither Lupin nor Lucius had appeared for dinner. Of course Snape wasn't there either; he would be drinking his meal, possibly straight from the bottle, he thought sourly, wondering why he was sitting here on his own instead of sitting in the Three Broomsticks drinking himself into some sort of oblivion. He watched Harry and Draco with their heads together, and the two girls opposite them, chattering away too; occasionally the boys would drag the girls into their conversation, more often it was the other way about. He realised that he envied them, envied Lupin and Lucius too; everyone had someone to talk things over with, to voice their fears to, and be reassured by, even Charlie and Bill had their heads together with Kingsley, who'd arrived just before dinner. Sirius had no one, he thought miserably, no one who wanted to listen at any rate.

Every now and again one of the four children cast a glance along the table to where he sat; every now and again either Bill or Charlie gave him a long look, even Dumbledore seemed to be gazing at him with reproachful benignity. He pushed his plate away and hauled himself to his feet. As he turned from the table he closed his eyes in relief for a moment, as he caught sight of the tall slim figure leaning languidly against the upright of the great double doors; he wondered how long he had been there.

Severus turned and walked away as he approached him. Sirius almost had to run to keep up with the long strides; it didn't matter much, he supposed he knew where he was going. He followed in his slipstream, trying not to draw the parallel of an eager dog following a tolerant master. He stopped in his tracks and watched the ramrod-straight back disappearing down the dungeon steps, asking himself just what he was doing. He decided he didn't much care, as the top of Snape's head vanished from view; he'd come for him once already today and now he'd come again, that would do for Sirius.

The dungeon corridor was empty when he reached it; he wondered if Snape had run along to his rooms and discarded the notion as ludicrous. Maybe he had Apparated, but Sirius knew even he couldn't do that inside the walls of Hogwarts; it wasn't that far, maybe he'd just walked quickly. As he got to the door of Severus's rooms he could see it was lying open; he hoped it was an invitation. He crossed the threshold and frowned; he'd just begun to think no one was here, begun to feel the creep of disappointment and alarm, when the door was slammed behind him and he was slammed against the wall.

'What the fuck kept you?' Snape demanded, knocking his legs apart with his knee as he dropped his head to him.

Sirius didn't think this was going to take very long at all.

*****

Tom Riddle let his long fingers drift over the keys of the piano. It was good to have this body; he had always wanted to play a musical instrument. He didn't attempt to fool himself that the young Hungarian pianist had been picked for anything other than his looks, and the purity of his blood, and of course the total devotion of his stupid parents to the Dark Lord's beliefs; the boy's musical talents has been a bonus. He sighed to himself in pleasure; there was something charmingly baroque about the dark rosewood full grand piano, the dull shine of the brass candelabra with its black candles, the heavy gilt chandelier, lit with finest beeswax, and the voluminous blood-red velvet curtains, tied back with heavy gold ropes this early evening to give a pleasant view of the graveyard at Little Hangleton.

Riddle sighed again; he hadn't found anything in the boy's memory to suit his own tastes. The Beethoven was too grand, Brahms too light, the Chopin too romantic; he didn't want to play anything which sounded as though he should have lilies draped over the piano, and he had not yet been able to master Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody, he had so wanted to have perfected it before Severus got here. He stopped playing, vaguely wishing that old devil Paganini had written for the piano; he didn't feel inclined to learn the violin. Severus could play the violin; he had the talent to make the heartstrings ache with the instrument's, he would accompany him. He let a smile play on his lips as he fantasised about the future he had planned for so long, the exquisite details of the life they would lead.

Riddle slammed the lid of the piano down on the keys, in a sudden fury. Severus should have been here by now; everything was ready for him. He had redecorated the whole mansion to what he knew would be Snape's tastes, down to his own soap in the bathrooms, and a box of his favourite black Russian cigarettes in the library he had stocked himself, plundering not only the antiquarian bookshops of London, Paris and Rome, but the personal collections of most of the elite of the wizarding world. The little misunderstandings of the past would be swept aside and Snape would see the whole picture for what it was. Riddle was enormously pleased with himself; this truly was seduction on the grandest scale.

He was determined to woo Snape properly this time; there would be no distractions. He just hoped Severus wouldn't be tiresome on the Lucius detail, but he thought not. He would understand that Lucius was superfluous to requirements; he would be in the way. There would be no James Potter, no Dumbledore interfering in the background; this time he would have Severus to himself. And once he had installed the Malfoy and Potter whelps in their places, and got next week's little bit of business out of the way for the time being, he and Severus could spend the next few years together in the bodies they both inhabited just now, enjoying the maturity of them, the worn and comfortable contours.

Perhaps they would travel and explore the exotic and erotic offerings of the east, and then when the time came, and this body he inhabited had served its purpose, and Severus's own body was starting to show signs of age, they could come back and Severus would help him to do his final metamorphosis, as he would help Severus to do his. It would be his finest gift to the man he had wanted since he had come to his side as a disillusioned boy of barely seventeen, searching for a way forward. How could he refuse him then? Severus would finally understand the strength of Riddle's love, when he was gifted the body of the son of the man he had loved. He would at last realise the depth of his devotion, the length of his unsung courtship, when he found out that the vessel held not only his blood, but the blood of James Potter too. That way, Riddle reasoned to himself, everyone would have a bit of what they wanted; he would have Severus, Severus would have James Potter, and of course, they would both live forever.

He raised the lid of the piano again and began to pick out a Chopin nocturne; perhaps he liked the romance after all.

*****

Draco watched as Cassiopeia stirred the cauldron and Hermione dropped the neatly chopped ingredients into it, with a studious look on her face. He hoped they knew what they were doing; a mistake would be a very bad thing, he reckoned.

'How long will it take?' Harry asked, nodding to the cauldron.

'Just a day or two more,' Cassiopeia replied.

'Which?' Draco asked. 'A day, or two?'

'It says here to keep an eye on it until its ready,' Hermione replied. 'So we'll just have to do that.'

'Don't you know?' Harry asked, with the same frown that Draco felt creasing his forehead.

'Perhaps we should ask him?' Cassiopeia asked, with her eyebrow raised the way Snape raised his.

'Perhaps not,' Harry muttered; he was a bit uneasy about this. Sirius had seemed awfully secretive when he'd spoken to them; he suspected Snape didn't know what he was up to. 'I see they didn't turn up for breakfast,' he commented, changing the subject to one he was just as uneasy about.

'Good,' Draco replied. 'I know Lucius was going to spend most of the day with him again. Severus wants to do something else to his mind ... if he can find it.'

'Draco!' Cassiopeia chided. 'Maybe if you tried to understand him a little more, it would be better.'

'He doesn't even understand himself,' Draco replied, and gave them all a worried look. 'I hope he's not going to let us all down.'

'He won't,' Harry replied more surely than he felt.

'He has a past record, Potter,' Draco argued.

Harry could see how worried he was about the possibility that his father would once again be the cause of their downfall. He wondered again just what it was that the portrait of Delphinia had said to him; neither Cassiopeia nor Hermione had any idea of what it was either.

'I think Harry's right, Draco,' Cassiopeia said to her brother. 'And we have to trust people; isn't that what Mother said?'

'Not really,' Draco replied. 'You have a habit of just making things up because they sound nice.' He turned to Harry. 'It didn't mean anything, you know. It just meant that Voldemort is as insane as he's evil. Severus is hardly going to have his head turned by a maniac.'

'Sirius turned it,' Harry argued in an attempt at humour he didn't feel. 'It's just that Sirius seems a long way down the queue.'

'Oh, I don't think he is,' Hermione said knowingly as Cassiopeia nodded her agreement. 'Maybe Severus and Sirius don't know yet, but we think he's at the top of the queue.'

*****

'He is insane, Black, dangerously insane,' Snape said into the darkness, as the moon slipped unnoticed through her waxing quarter. 'It means nothing more.'

'All the more reason for you not going alone,' Sirius replied, pulling himself into the heat of Snape's body.

'We have been through this before,' Severus said with a sigh. 'You cannot go with me. No one can go with me. I don't even know where I'm going.'

'Lucius can go, can't he?' Sirius mused, pulling himself closer as he felt the first stirring of his arousal reawakening.

Snape said nothing; he knew what Sirius was thinking about but he would not consider protecting the strong by abandoning the weak, Lupin had shown him that much. 'I must go alone,' he repeated, turning to face Sirius. He supposed there was one way to distract his line of thinking, as he pulled him close and found his mouth; it wasn't an altogether unacceptable alternative to Severus's way of thinking either.

He had spent the last week constantly grooming the two boys until they understood him, making sure they would recognise the signs he would send them, and knew the responses he would expect. They had the somewhat frightening faith of the young. Draco could shield his mind very well for a boy who had had such a short time to learn, and Harry had understood that his own mind had to remain an open door. Snape had found himself humiliated and deeply gratified that the boy had taken that on trust. He left Sirius to deal with the logistics of following Lupin once he established where they were; Sirius was the soldier, he let him deal with the Weasleys and Kingsley, and the rest of troops Albus had brought together. That gave him the room to devote any free time he had to Lucius, picking away at his mind until he had satisfied himself that Lucius could close it down, and still leave an avenue for Severus to reach him. He had done all he could; he did not have the script, and he had covered everything he could think of ... it was the things he hadn't had time to think of that worried him. But for now he would give himself this one last night, just in case, in case tomorrow it was gone and he never got the chance again.

*****

Sirius dragged himself awake in the otherwise empty bed. He knew Snape wasn't far away; he would have felt the void if he had already left. Sirius hoped he could carry off what he intended to do; he hoped the others he had allocated tasks to were equal to their burdens, he thought they were. He smiled to himself, as he smelt coffee and the toasted smoke of Snape's slim black cigarette. As he groped through the drawers for socks and underwear, he became aware of other voices drifting in from Severus's study; he identified a few of them as he abandoned the idea of a shower and a shave. He wondered what time it was. He dragged his fingers through his hair in an attempt to make sense of it, and avoided the mirror in the bathroom, as he splashed cold water on his face. He was sure he was presentable enough.

He watched Severus close his eyes briefly in what looked like a combination of despair and disgust as he walked through to the study, and grinned to himself; maybe he should have checked the mirror after all.

'Have I missed anything important?' he asked, as he sat at the table in the seat Severus had just vacated, leaving him to stand.

'Breakfast and lunch,' Kingsley replied dryly.

'I must have needed the sleep.'

'That's a novel name for it,' Charlie said unhelpfully, as Snape gave him a sour look.

'Can we get a move on?' Lucius asked from where he sat at the top of the table, with Draco on one side and Lupin on the other.

Harry sat on Draco's other side, and Dumbledore sat at the fire, staring into the flames, with Fawkes murmuring into his ear. Sirius wished he weren't blocking his view of the clock; he felt completely disoriented in this underground room, he wished he'd looked up at the tiny window in Severus's bedroom to see if it were light or dark.

'It is half past two, Black,' Snape said from where he'd somehow moved behind him and tipped his chair. 'And that is my seat.'

'I thought I was hungry.'

*****

There was no real planning left to do; so much of what they did would be reactive, they would be dancing to another's tune for the most part, up until it really mattered. Sirius felt Severus become restive from where he had hoisted himself up on Snape's workbench, behind his seat. He wished they would all go now; he felt that time was slipping through the hourglass and he was watching it pour away.

'You know what to do,' Severus said, watching Lucius carefully. 'Resist him as long as you can, and when you feel you must, he will Apparate you to him. A day or two before the Moon would be the best time; if you can wait that long.'

Malfoy nodded; he seemed more confident than Sirius had seen him before, he hoped Snape hadn't noticed. 'When are you going?' he asked. 'I know you have come to a decision.'

Snape looked away for a moment, and it was only when he turned that Sirius saw the pain-etched sharpness of his gaunt features, the dark hollows in his cheeks. 'I must go now, Lucius,' he replied quietly.

'Tonight?' Lucius asked, in what looked like a momentary flare of panic. 'I thought you said you weren't going until the end of the week?'

Sirius dropped from the workbench and walked around the table, watching as Snape looked at Lucius with something that seemed to border on sympathy, and Malfoy clawed back his sleeve and looked in detached surprise at the malignance creeping through his own left arm. Whatever Severus was dosing him with was working, but then Sirius already knew that.

'Not tonight, Lucius,' Snape replied and closed his eyes for a long few seconds. 'When I said now, I meant right now.' He shook his head in what looked like sorrow. 'I cannot withstand this any longer.'

Sirius cursed his own sharp intake of breath, as he watched Lucius pale and heard Harry gasp and Draco give out an odd little whimper. It was too soon, Sirius thought in his own panic; there was too much still to discuss. He hadn't been with Severus for long enough; everything was wrong, either too much or not enough, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

He watched Dumbledore turn from where he had been staring into the flames in Snape's fireplace. 'I know it is not an option you will ever take or even consider, my boy,' he said. 'But if it should come to pass that you find you are unable to continue down the path you are following,' he inclined his head to the side, and looked at Harry and Draco, 'before Lucius arrives with the boys, of course ... if you should find that, Severus, retain enough power to save yourself. We may yet live to fight another day.'

Empty words and useless platitudes, Sirius knew Severus would not and could not consider surrender, running away, the hoisting of a white flag of defeat; Dumbledore knew it too. The Headmaster had risen to his feet and was nodding the rest of them out of the room, as Draco ran to Snape's side and hugged him, fighting his tears back bravely; somewhere along the line Sirius had forgotten the boys were only ten. One by one they left until just he and Severus stood at either side of the room.

'No tricks, Black, nothing fancy,' Severus said. 'I need to know that you are here watching over the boys; don't forget your own role in this.'

Sirius nodded, suffocated by emotion, but he would not weaken Severus by a display he would hate. 'I'll walk you out to the hill then, shall I?' he asked with his broken grin. It was the best he could do; Severus would know that. He noticed absently that the black cat he had last seen at Snape's cottage in Scotland had reappeared.

*****

Severus was momentarily disoriented; he had been almost sure that Riddle would be in Malfoy Manor. In the time it took the Dark Lord to finish playing the last few bars and turn in the piano seat, he had composed himself.

'Alone, my Severus?' Riddle raised his eyebrow in amusement as he crossed the polished mahogany floor.

Snape smiled; there was little point in denying the undeniable. 'It would seem so.'

'Feel free to correct me, Severus,' Riddle replied, 'but you seem to have forgotten something.'

'Hardly.' Snape shook his head as Riddle reached his side. 'But it is not time yet, Tom.'

'And yet you are here,' Riddle purred. 'Am I to assume that there is some reason for that?'

Snape felt the subtle push on his mind and opened the first layer of the fabric he had woven into it. 'I found it hard to resist your call.'

'But resist it you did, Severus, for over a week,' Riddle said with a hint of anger, which he seemed to stifle quickly. 'But let us not argue, my Severus.' He nodded to where a Stradivarius sat on a damson-coloured ornately tasselled velvet cushion, on a table beside the piano. 'I have acquired a little gift for you,' he said. 'Perhaps you could accompany me after we have dined?'

Snape crossed the wooden floor, his heel clicks echoing off the hard surfaces in the vast room, the acoustics of which he just knew were going to be awful; but Riddle wanted to play games, he could play them too. He lifted the violin; it was truly beautiful, the work of a master at the pinnacle of his skills, and turned to watch him. If he hadn't known just what lay behind the facade he would have thought the Dark Lord looked almost vulnerable.

'I confess I have not played for quite some time but ...' He nodded his head in agreement as he fingered the fine wood of the instrument. 'Perhaps I could be persuaded.'

Riddle had somehow arrived at his side again; he had slipped one arm around Snape's waist. 'And I confess I am quite pleased you are alone,' he said, pulling him close and breathing into his hair. 'And I am quite alone too, Severus. It is just the two of us ... for now. Let us take advantage of that before the tedious business of what must be done is upon us.' He dipped into Snape's pocket and drew out the wand he had brought with him, snapping it in two and sending the two pieces to skitter across the polished floor.

Snape nodded coolly; it didn't matter. He had had no expectations of holding on to it; he could have hoped for no less, nor any more. Sirius had been right about one thing, but he had not realised just how important it was that he prostitute himself to Riddle; it would give them the time they all needed, and time was of the essence.

*****