Old Ghosts

Severus Snape's black silk slippers whisked against the cool marble of the dungeon hallway as he walked, his pace increasing as he pondered a mind too heavy with thoughts. He was exhausted; always a light sleeper he had managed to scrape barely two hours a night for the past week and it showed in the bruised hollows under his eyes. Despite the physical ache of tiredness his mind was wide awake, his thoughts edged in panic.

He had woken moments before from a hideous nightmare. In it, he was standing on a dais dressed in the black mask and cloak of a Death Eater, one in a crowd of shapeless black forms. Voldemort had moved through the crowd, parting the faithful like Moses at the Red Sea, pausing when he came to Severus. Traitor, Severus's mind had whispered as Voldemort had rounded on him, his eyes turning a deadly, hideous shade of reddish gold. Liar! Betrayer, the voice taunted, turning from Severus's own inner voice into Voldemort's, a sound like nails scratched down a chalkboard or screams muffled by the wind. Tell me your secrets. Reveal your mind to me. You cannot hide forever, the voice warned dangerously as Voldemort moved closer. In the dream, Severus could smell the Dark Lord's breath and could feel the heat of it on his face, but although he tried to back away and wall off his mind Voldemort moved closer, his touch searing on the skin.

It had been at that point that Severus had jerked out of sleep with a shout to find himself covered with a thin sheen of sweat and tangled in his bedclothes. His heart had been drumming out irregular beats, the natural rhythm distorted by panic, and his head had ached. He had been able to feel Voldemort clawing in the defences of his mind for a moment, then the sensation had faded. Nervousness had driven him from the bed out into the hall, where the cool air struck him with the force of a slap, bringing him fully out of the clutches of sleep.

Something moved in the shadows. For one moment Severus's mind froze, gripped in a vise of terror. It was Voldemort, he was certain, come to kill him. The next moment the shadowy figure stepped away from the wall and Severus chided himself furious for that moment of fear. He hated to make a fool of himself, especially where Dumbledore was concerned. "Headmaster," Severus said, his voice sharp as razors.

"Good evening, Severus," said Dumbledore pleasantly, stepping forward. His silvery white beard seemed very bright in the semidarkness. "Good morning, rather. You are up quite late, Severus. Trouble sleeping again?"

Mind reading bastard, Severus thought meanly. That was the trouble with Dumbledore; he had an annoying tendency to accurately guess other people's maladies. "No."

"Join me for tea in my office," said Dumbledore. It was not a suggestion, although his eyes gleamed merrily. "I've just procured a package of the most delicious chocolate raspberry biscuits."

Self-righteous, pompous, insufferable know-it-all, supplied Severus's mind conveniently. He rolled his eyes towards the darkened ceiling, cursing his bad luck. He wondered what sort of Dark magic was it that lured Dumbledore out to the dungeon halls precisely when he, Severus, needed time alone. Sighing dramatically as if preparing to be broken at the wheel rather then forced to take tea with the Headmaster, Severus followed Dumbledore out of the dungeons and through the halls.

"Severus, I wanted to speak to you about a very important matter," said Dumbledore as the two of them stepped into Dumbledore's office. And I'm sure it will be almost as pleasant as all the times I have had to deny you the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, he thought wearily, but covered the thought with a brief nod. Severus, the most difficult of his staff, was nonetheless Dumbledore's favourite. "I'm taking you off the case. You will no longer be a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Now, knowing you this will be a battle, so let's have a nice cup of tea. How do you take it? Sugar? Lemon?"

Stopping abruptly, Severus narrowed his eyes and surveyed the Headmaster sullenly. Finally he spoke, using the same dangerously soft voice Harry Potter had come to fear. "Lemon. Now, repeat yourself. I am certain I misheard."

"Sit down, Severus," said Dumbledore. He slid a silver tray of cookies across the desk. "Biscuit? And no, I do believe you heard me correctly. Your career as a double agent must come to an end, Severus. You have provided the Order with vital information. However, I fear the risks are simply too great to allow you to continue."

As he sank gracefully into one of Dumbledore's high backed chairs, Severus glared. "You're asking me to stop spying now? Now that the war is finally beginning and we have an inkling of the enemy's plan?"

"I'm afraid that is precisely what I am asking," Dumbledore answered with a nod. "We know enough about Voldemort's plan to prepare for the attack and to form a defence for ourselves. The time has come to face facts; Voldemort is not a stupid man. If he does not suspect a traitor in his midst now he will soon. It is no longer safe for you to work in the capacity."

Fool, Severus thought. It was never safe. He sipped his tea thoughtfully. "Irregardless of safety concerns you may have, Albus, my work is not finished. I did not agree to spy out of any misinterpretation of the risks involved. Cutting off the only source of information we have is not only foolhardy, it's suicide. No, my work continues."

"Please, Severus, be reasonable. I assure you no one will view you actions as cowardly. The Order of the Phoenix understands how hard you have worked and what risks you have taken, and we wish to thank you for those contributions --"

"I am not interested in assurances, Albus," Severus remarked, staring across the table at Dumbledore. "Nor do I require the Order of the Phoenix to serve as a cheerleader on my behalf. My contributions, as you well know, are not due to any sense of responsibility towards the Order." His eyes were serious, his gaze black. "I trust I do not need to explain myself. Your memory for details is...sufficient."

"If lingering feelings towards Lily P -- Evans," Dumbledore corrected himself hastily, seeing the steely glint in Severus's eye. He did not miss the way Severus clutched the handle of his teacup so hard that it snapped off. "If those feelings have prompted you to continue putting yourself at risk to protect Harry then I am all the more thankful. I understand it is difficult for you to let go. However, your work is becoming increasingly more dangerous."

Setting his teacup down onto the saucer with a loud clang, Severus raised his eyes to Dumbledore. "Be that as it may, Headmaster, the Dark Lord is still intending Harry's destruction. For the time being my work continues."

"Please, Severus, listen to reason. I understand that you feel obligated to protect Harry, but putting yourself at risk is suicide and will not help him," Dumbledore urged. In the flickering candlelight his eyes were multifaceted, shimmering with colour and bright with sympathy. "Be logical. Dying for the Order will not undo the past. Dying to defend Harry will not bring Lily Evans back, however much you may wish it."

"Your logic bores me," Severus declared icily as he rose. How dare you... how DARE you, he thought violently, filled with a rage he normally reserved for thoughts of James Potter. Even Harry had only seen a shade of the fury boiling within Severus, and that was due to his infernal spying. "You have nary the slightest understanding of how I feel or what I think. Farewell, Headmaster."

Dumbledore sighed, the weight of his long years settling on his shoulders. His age was obvious in his weary eyes. "You were always reckless, brilliant and brave, Severus. It was those qualities that brought you to Voldemort in the first place. I hope they will see you through."

Severus swept from the room without looking back. In his wake a cold wind blew, puffing out the candles and casting Dumbledore's office into darkness. Dumbledore rested his chin in his hands feeling, not for the first time, that the control he had long yielded was slipping away.

Perhaps I should have brought an umbrella, thought Remus Lupin with a tired smile as he trudged forward through the desert. Overhead, the sun was a brilliant gold disc, its rays shimmering down onto Lupin's skin hot as molten lava, drawing out sweat. Underfoot the sand stirred and shifted, obscuring his tracks. Sunblock, at the very least. He could feel his skin reddening, succumbing to burn, and wondered if the miraculous healing powers of werewolves extended to sunburn.

Up ahead, Remus could see the flapping sides of the striped silk tent that symbolised the beginning of the marketplace. Breathing a sigh of relief, Remus moved towards it at a quicker pace, wiping his glistening brow with his sleeve. His mouth was dry, calling out for water, and he wondered how Severus Snape, who seemed to thrive on the dark and the cold, was faring. Next time, perhaps he'll choose to summon me to a destination with a better climate, Remus thought, wondering what Severus would look like with a sunburn on his normally pale skin. Covering his face with one hand to hide his smile, Remus hurried forward.

Taking shelter in the small tent, Remus looked around. This was the marketplace, an impromptu sprawl of Bedouin tents and rickety structures, a gleaming man-made oasis in the midst of the swirling sands of the desert. It was filled with life, men bedecked in turbans faded by the desert sun, women with their faces partially obscured by filmy veils, eyes accented with kohl. Scents assaulted him; exotic incense, opium, roasting meat, homemade perfumes. Clouds of smoke drifted under the tent from men smoking a shared pipe; the tobacco was stronger and sharper on Remus's nose then the smoke of English cigarettes.

At the hastily erected booth beside Remus stood a man dressed completely in black; black Oxford with a pressed collar, black trousers that had maintained their crease despite the crushing heat, longish black hair framing a face of exceptional pallor. Severus's eyes were hidden behind opaque black sunglasses, his feet strapped into thin soled black sandals. He was haggling in faultless Arabic with another man, who was wearing a long checkered scarf adhered to his head with a black band. Glancing up momentarily, Severus turned towards Remus. Without acknowledging him, he turned back to his discussion, his accent immaculate.

"You smell like you haven't bathed in a week," said Severus in his usual clipped English accent as he turned towards Lupin a few moments later. He handed the man across from him several crumpled Muggle bills and pocketed the thick gold wrist cuff he had purchased. Sniffing, he wrinkled his nose. "More like two weeks."

"It's lovely to see you again too, Severus," Remus answered with good cheer as he brushed away the sand that had collected in the folds of his white linen shirt and khaki trousers. "I do beg your pardon, but I've just walked four miles through the desert. I take it you Apparated here directly?"

Shaking his head impatiently, Severus gestured towards a camel, tied to a bit of scrub brush with a leather strap. "I rode a camel, of course," he answered with disdain, as though any fool with half a brain could have figured it out on their own. "Typical desert transport."

Coughing to cover up the irrepressible urge to laugh at the mental image of Severus Snape astride a camel, Remus nodded. The camel spat upon the ground, it's attitude of irreverence so similar to Severus's own that Remus could not hide his smile. "I see. No cars to steal out this way?"

"Nor roads, as you can plainly see, unless you've gone blind as well as daft," Severus retorted smoothly, his head held high. "I have neither the time nor inclination for chatter, Remus. I summoned you because I have a report to make and a question to ask, and this pointless babble is getting us no closer to solving either matter. Follow me."

Amused, Remus followed Severus's quicker pace across the sand until they came to the largest tent structure, which had two solid walls and a flapping cloth ceiling. It was far cooler inside, despite the crowding of people, animals and items for sale. The wolf part in Remus unconsciously scented the air for danger, but the blend of exotic smells and the blur of movement was too much for him to detect anything. People moved through the melee, their voices raised as they haggled and debated, or shouted out a description of their wares. Remus saw a stand with fruit and vegetables, several selling cooked and raw meats, a group of children trying to market their goats, tables of all manner of jewelry, clothing and art.

Ignoring it all, Severus guided Remus through the market, pausing to buy cups of tea. It was a heady brew, all spices and little water. Remus sipped it greedily, worn out from his excursion. "I didn't know that you spoke Arabic."

Removing his sunglasses, Severus rolled his eyes heavenward. "What you don't know would fill all the libraries of Europe, I'm sure." Glancing away he looked for a secluded spot. "There," he said, indicating a corner out of the way of traffic. They moved through the crowds, Severus using his elbows to jostle others, Remus politely excusing himself with every foot he trod upon and every arm he brushed against. Finally they reached the open space and sank down to the sandy ground.

Shaking the remaining granules of sand from his hair, Remus turned to Severus. Severus, however, was staring at an American tourist with reddish curls slipping from her straw hat. She leaned over a display of abayas, ruffling through them so quickly that the gold bangles on her arm clanged together musically. Without blinking, Severus observed her progress, the interest evident on his face. Remus had never seen him so fascinated with anything except rare potions. "Severus?"

"What?" Severus snapped, tearing his eyes away from the tourist, who moved on to admire hammered rings of silver.

"You summoned me?" Remus questioned, taking a long drink tea.

Blowing on the cup to cool the beverage, Severus nodded thoughtfully. Without reply, he drew a packet of Jordan almonds from his pocket and ate them, chewing reflectively.

"You came by way of Jordan?" Remus asked, puzzled. Severus was a confusing creature, surrounded by intentional mystery, but a holiday in Jordan was unusual even for him. Especially for him, Remus's mind corrected. Severus despised the sun and the heat, both of which were prevalent in Jordan.

With a weary sigh, like a mother who has answered the same question repeatedly and has been asked once more by her whiny children, Severus explained. "Voldemort has not summoned me for a week. I need someplace to sleep, and I cannot return to Hogwarts for the time being. Lucius Malfoy suspects me. Don't ask how I know," he said, waving away the question that formed on Remus's lips. "Suffice to say I do. I have been instructed by Voldemort to leave my position as a professor. If I return to the school my cover will be blown. Hogwarts is being watched; I'd have no chance of slipping in unnoticed even if I wanted to. The rent in Jordanian hostels is astonishingly inexpensive."

Disappointed by the news but not at all shocked, Remus nodded. He and Dumbledore has discussed the inevitable eventuality over the past few days. Voldemort, for his many faults, was not a fool. He was bound to notice a consistent leak and to figure out that Severus was a spy. "Return to the school with me, Severus. You'll be safe there. Dumbledore has asked that I persuade you to return; continuing in this capacity is dangerous."

"I have no interest in discussing the matter with you. My mind is made up. I will continue to pose as a Death Eater to gather information for as long as it proves useful, which is precisely why I've summoned you here. I will no longer be able to make direct reports to Dumbledore and the Order; I require a reliable contact to whom I can make reports without arousing suspicion." Severus glanced up, his eyes dark and impressive.

"Severus, I --," Remus started to say before he was cut off.

"Think before you answer," Severus directed. "Think carefully. I may have to summon you at inconvenient times; once Lucius Malfoy forgives my latest transgression I'll have precious little privacy. Don't ask," he added, as Remus's brow creased with concern. "I'll also warn you that it will be dangerous. If the enemy senses I am reporting my information to anyone, they'll attempt to capture and kill my contact. I am discreet, but caution is no guarantee of safety."

Every nerve in Remus's body twitched, commanding him to launch himself at Severus and drag the man kicking and screaming back to Hogwarts. Let Dumbledore deal with his suicidal madness and come what may, Remus thought, but a deeper part of him contested. Severus was driven in a way few others were, in the way Sirius had been, led by bitter determination and a will that was unstoppable. If Remus denied him this, Severus would carry the resentment to the grave. In any case, it wouldn't work. Severus would slip away from the school and return to spying, which would surely cost him his life.

His gentle hazel eyes met Severus's harsh black ones as he considered the proposition. He did not want Severus to hate him, that much he was sure of. Remus wanted nothing in the world so much to be liked, and Severus's civility, his trust, were more valuable to Remus then he could easily explain. If he destroyed this chance, the fragile bridge of friendship they had begun to build would shatter. The alternative, condoning and even supporting Severus's spying, was just as dangerous. If he was lucky, Severus would die a quick death in the far future; unlucky, he would die a painful, torturous one soon. Drawing a deep breath, Remus nodded slowly. He had battled with the same question when Sirius had voiced his intention to go with the Order to defend Harry. Remus had wanted badly to protect Sirius, whom he loved even more then he loved Harry, but he'd known then that it was Sirius's choice to make, not his own. "I'll do it, Severus, on one condition."

"Which is?" Severus questioned coldly, his eyes sceptical.

"That you will return to Hogwarts when your time runs out, or try. I understand that you are willing to lay your life on the line, and it is honourable, but when you are found out, if you have any chance, come back to Hogwarts. I've already -- just, promise me you will try," Remus answered quickly, cutting off what he was about to say. Severus wouldn't care that he, Remus, had lost too many people already. It would only embarrass and infuriate the other man. Remus knew what Severus would say, in any case. He'd declare Remus childish in his concern and become angry that anyone cared about him, which was Severus's way. "Please try."

Thoughtfully, Severus gazed past the throng to the edge of the tent, peering out on the desert. In the distance the pyramids thrust upwards towards the purple tinged sky. A handful of sand twirled, captured momentarily in a pocket of air. "If you insist," Severus said, which was his way of agreeing.

"I do," Remus answered quickly, draining the remainder of his tea. "I will help you if your work benefits Harry, but I won't agree to anything if this is a suicide mission. The fact that you insist on doing this without the Order's blessing or Dumbledore's supervision makes me uncomfortable enough. You are valuable to the Order and to Harry's survival, but only if you keep your wits about you and protect yourself."

"I do not need to be taught lessons in survival by you," Severus retorted, but his comment was without malice. "I am sufficiently informed in the worthlessness of a dead man. Something else, we must devise a code. If I am captured or discovered, the Dark Lord may attempt to trick you into coming to him. There must be a way for me to convey that it is truly me, should that unfortunate happening occur. "

"Rowena Ravenclaw's lace edged knickers," Remus answered promptly, unable to disguise the mirth he felt at the phrase. "We can also use it if you're in trouble and need assistance."

Stormily, Severus's eyes settled on Remus without a trace of amusement. "How did you know about that?" he inquired angrily.

"Oh, come now, Severus," Remus replied, smiling. "Sirius and James used to spy on your lot constantly. We knew most everything there was to know about Slytherin, including your favourite swear. What say you, shall we apply it to this case? If you were being watched, no one knowing you would think twice of you using it, and yet it's unusual. No one would say it on accident."

"Potter and Black," Severus declared, his voice icy. "They can thank their lucky stars they're dead. Being skinned alive seems sufficient punishment for never allowing me a moment's peace, the bastards. Very well, Rowena Ravenclaw's lace edged knickers it is," Severus said, his face straight.

Ordering himself not to giggle, Remus nodded. He hoped that if the time came he would be able to overhear the phrase without bursting into peals of laughter. "If you're in trouble, contact me with that phrase. I'll alert Dumbledore immediately."

"If I'm in trouble, I highly doubt I'll be at liberty to pen an owl for you or go shouting into your fireplace," Severus reminded him. "Were I able, you'd no doubt have a girlish laughing fit before you sent any rescue, by which time I'll likely be dead."

"That's what I appreciate about you, Severus, your optimism," Remus answered, but in his heart he knew it was true. If, when Severus was captured, all the preparations in the world would not be able to aid him. Voldemort's wrath against innocents was notorious; he'd have no qualms utterly destroying a traitor. He frowned.

"Get a hold on yourself Remus," Severus answered. "I was informed that werewolves were prone to emotional outbursts, but your bipolar mood swings are in another league entirely. In case you have forgotten, I had a report to make."

Remus nodded. "Please, go on."

Narrowing his eyes, Severus searched Remus's face, wondering if Remus was trying to joke with him. After a moment he continued. "Voldemort has set a date for the attack on Hogwarts. Preparations are being made to launch the assault two weeks from now. Potter is to be killed on the spot; apparently Voldemort is tired of cat and mouse games and does not intend to capture the child or toy with him. He should be removed from Hogwarts promptly, tonight, Remus, if at all possible."

"Tonight?" Remus questioned. "But, there are no plans for his evacuation yet." Musing, he considered. "Perhaps he could be placed at the Burrow. The Weasleys consider him family, I'm sure there would be no objection."

"No," Severus said quickly. "The Weasleys are being watched; Voldemort knows he has eliminated all of Potter's non-Muggle relatives and is aware of the bond between Potter and the Weasley family. In any case, the Burrow is without protection, no wards, few protective charms. Voldemort would have open access to the house."

"12 Grimmauld Place?" suggested Remus. "The Black estate is one of the most well protected homes I know. It's Unplottable, Severus, protected by Dumbledore as the secret keeper."

Severus looked down at the dregs of his tea as if he was a tasseomancer searching for signs in the wet leaves. Thoughtfully, he rubbed his temples. "Perhaps. Take the matter to Dumbledore, I trust he has given the matter considerable thought. Irregardless, he will need to be placed with guards, not alone. Recruit at least five members of the Order for his defence; if he is found he doesn't stand a chance, but we ought to take the appearance of protection in any case."

Not Harry, don't take Harry too, Remus prayed within his mind. He had lost everyone he had ever loved already -- Sirius, Lily, James, his parents, even the traitorous Peter, the list went on. He could not bear to lose another. When he had first come to Hogwarts as a professor and met Harry, Remus had tried to erect a wall, fearing connection. Let my heart in lone seclusion hoard its rapture and its pain, his mind had whispered, repeating a bit of the poem that had once been his favourite. Getting close to Harry was risky, especially given Harry's unusual circumstances. He had been unable to resist, however. Harry reminded him so of James. They had become close; Harry had grown to trust and respect Remus. He could not stand losing Harry too.

"I'll alert Dumbledore," Remus said finally, his voice husky as he spoke. "I should go now, if it is as urgent as you say, Severus."

Without comment Severus rose, leading Remus through the crowds once more. They emerged from the tent into the brilliant flash of sunlight, the sand like fire underfoot as Severus led the way to his tethered camel. He climbed on board, looking for all the world like a sultan with his comfortable pose.

"Take care of yourself, Severus," Remus urged as he backed away from the camel.

Contemptuous, Severus glared down at Remus for a moment. Then he put on his black sunglasses and whistled thinly through his teeth, prompting the camel onwards. "Go home and bathe, Remus, you smell like a used athletic sock," he snapped. Then the camel was moving, it's feet hurtling across the desert, kicking up sand until Severus Snape became a mere black dot on the horizon.