From Spark to Flame

Chapter One: Convergence

"Severus!" the raven haired woman's voice called again up the narrow, thinly carpeted stairway.

Only to be greeted by silence.

"Severus! You're going to be late!"

The heavy thud of two booted feet hitting barely covered floorboards was followed by a muffled thump and the sound of a door shuddering as though something had smacked into it in passing. All of that noise preceded the sound of footsteps stomping heavily across a creaking wood floor that already magnified even the quietest footfalls.

"There's no use you taking it out on the floor!" Eileen called up at her seventeen year old son as he appeared in faded bellbottom jeans and an off-black shirt with a borrowed, large, dusty, old rucksack swung over his shoulder, scowling through the long, lank, exceedingly black hair that had fallen over his face.

"I'm not," he groused before every stair was tested to its fullest as he pounded his way down, the rucksack thumping off the wall with every step just as it had done on the door upstairs. "And I'm not going to be late, either," he added. "I can Apparate now, remember? I have my licence."

"Yes, I know," Eileen said with a sigh, determinedly brushing his hair off his face as he ducked and weaved trying to avoid it. "If you hadn't, I'd hardly be calling you at this hour, now would I?"

"Who in the hell is making that noise!" Tobias's voice emerged from the front room before he did. The door to his father's 'secondary bedroom' swung open, and the elder Snape stared out into the dark and slightly damp hallway through drink-ravaged, black eyes.

Severus looked away from the dishevelled man immediately. He'd learned well enough by now not to look his father head-on when he was in this state. Hiding his feeling of repugnance at the realization that, once again, the man had ended up sprawled on the downstairs couch, unable even to make it up the few stairs of their small home in Spinner's End, the boy muttered a barely audible "sorry" and escaped to the kitchen.

"Good morning, love." Eileen kissed her husband's cheek as if it were perfectly normal that he should emerge as he did...which by this stage in their marriage, it was. With a half-smile and a grunt, he nodded at her, his head obviously pounding from yet another night attempting to drink his life into something positive.

"Any tea?" he muttered. "Mouth feels like sandpaper."

"You go on back inside and lie down," she told him sympathetically, as much to get him out of the way of their son as anything. "I'll bring you some right in. Breakfast?"

A pained groan and a dismissive wave of the hand at the suggestion was her response as he disappeared back inside. Turning, his wife headed quickly into the kitchen.

"Have you got everything?" she asked briskly, closing the door behind her before gazing over at her son as he dug his spoon listlessly into his cereal, hardly ever raising it to his mouth. His answer came as some kind of incomprehensible mumble.

"Severus." Eileen turned in annoyance from putting the kettle on to boil. "How many times must I remind you? You should not mumble. You should..."

"....speak clearly and pronounce my words properly. Project my voice and keep eye contact," he finished, turning around to look at her, his scowl softening as he gazed up at her in amusement. "Yes, Mother, I know."

With a smile at his verbatim recital of her speech, she took a seat beside him in the tiny kitchen and brushed a recalcitrant lock of hair back behind his ears. "You have an excellent vocabulary and a good voice...a wonderful voice in fact, deep and imposing, you should use it. People will respond to it. Respect it and you....and those eyes of yours...your father's eyes."

His scowl returned in full force, never enjoying any analogy with his father. "They're beady and dull."

"They're sharp and piercing," she corrected.

"You're my mother, you're supposed to say things like that." He drove a spoonful of Weetabix into his mouth.

"I'm your mother and I tell you the truth." She clipped his head affectionately, as she rose to her feet. "Did you wash your hair?"

"Yes."

"Truthfully?"

"Yes."

"It doesn't look much cleaner."

He paused and lowered his head. "I...I did some potion mixing in the shed last night. It made it greasy again."

"Severus!" she exclaimed as her glance went to the door. "What if your father had found out?"

"In his usual state?" he snorted, his tone withering. "If he'd come in, I could've told him Doxycide was home brew and he would've drunk it."

"Severus, what have I told you about that?" she said sharply.

"Sorry," he answered, feeling nothing of the sort.

Letting it go, her eyes moved to his clothes. "Is that what you're wearing?"

"Evidently," he replied.

"Severus."

"Sorry, Mother. Yes...this is what I'm wearing."

"Haven't you something more suitable? Your suit," she suggested. "You could wear your school robes, I suppose."

"I'm not wearing my school robes on an adult venture," he told her, his words quiet but with a bolt of iron through them that told her it was futile to pursue it further. "And my suit is too small, remember? It ripped under the arms when I tried to raise my wand. Besides, he's giving me some robes." He shrugged then winced. "Though I fail to see why I should have to bother to dress up for something I don't want to do in the first place." He ripped a piece of toast in half but failed to eat any of it.

"Eat that." She pointed at the toast. "You're too light as it is and I'm not sending you off to your uncle and the Ministry starving." She poured the now boiling contents of the kettle into the earthenware teapot she had put four spoonfuls of tea leaves into, as he reluctantly obeyed. "We've talked about this. It will do you good to get out into the wider Wizarding world beyond Hogwarts. You spend entirely too much time in your room reading spell books or sneaking around collecting insects to test the potions you brew in the shed when your father's not around. You never get out and interact with anyone."

"Neither do you!"

"I am not in question here."

"Funny how the ones in charge never are," he commented, watching her. "So who should I be interacting with? All my friends from Hogwarts...or perhaps I should jaunt down to the youth club and play table tennis and football with the local lads?"

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Severus, and all you have just said only proves my point. You don't appear to make friends easily..."

"Try not at all."

"...so you need people you can interact with!" she continued. "Beyond friendship, you need to be practical. If you intend to leave here and work with magic, you'll need contacts and your Uncle Steven has them."

"Auror contacts," he replied, ripping off a piece of dry toast with his teeth. "Why should I bother shadowing him at his work when I don't want to be an Auror?"

Putting the tea strainer over his cup, she poured him some tea. "Because those contacts will help you make the connections you do need to get into places you do wish to go in wizarding society....and your Uncle Steven is the only direct contact we have to start you off."

"Thanks to him." His black eyes moved towards the kitchen door as if he could see his father two rooms beyond.

"Don't start, Severus..."

"It's he that starts it," he replied, turning to look at her. "Why do you put up with it when you could..."

"What?" she said sharply. "Pick up my wand and teach him a lesson?"

He turned his eyes away quickly, knowing he had earned himself a lecture.

"I've spoken to you about this! He's my husband...your father...you never use magic against your own! Never! Even more so when they can't fight back or defend themselves!" she told him, her tone harsh. "He has his faults." She paused and gritted her teeth as her son's derisive scoff followed her words, but she kept going. "He has his faults...but he loves us."

"He has an excellent capacity for hiding it," came the response, his spoon spearing the soggy wheaten biscuit that floated in his bowl like a gradually bloating golden whale in an ocean of milk.

"He drinks because he loves us..." she tried again.

"Ah!" The derisive scoff became a short sharp laugh. "Well then, he must love us a great deal!"

His mother ignored him, continuing doggedly, "Because he's unhappy he can't give us what he wants to."

"I don't want anything from him," he told her sullenly.

Eileen straightened as she pushed his tea towards him. "That's not true."

Her son lowered his head and continued eating his toast and drinking his tea in silence. She watched him for a moment, all too aware that all the boy had ever wanted from his Muggle father was affection and acceptance for who he was, a little pride in what he could do. But Tobias's own stubborn pride was too much the stumbling block. He had never liked magic and had wanted to be the one who supported his wife; in fact he had made it a condition of their getting married. When his business had failed, things had been hard...and when his son had started to show signs of great talent, it had only rubbed his shortcomings in.

Severus's disappointment in not getting that acceptance nor any outward semblance of the affection he craved from Tobias, coupled with his independent streak and intelligence even from a young age, had set them on a collision course.

The great shame of her life was that she had not done more with Tobias over Severus. Too often she had come home from work in Jacobson's Potters, where she worked as an artist, to hear the out-of-work Tobias raging at their young son whom he had caught flexing his magical muscles. Such occurrences had always ended the same, and each time she had watched her husband storm past her and out of the house before finding her little boy, his black eyes shining with tears and fright, cowering in a corner on the floor in one room or another.

As he grew older and found he couldn't get his father's approval no matter what he tried, Severus had settled for his attention...even if it was at the end of a belt strap.

In the two years before he had started Hogwarts, things had truly degenerated. He had changed after that incident in Diagon Alley. Whether it had been the prolonged encounter with the world of magic or his being feted as a hero in St Mungo's, Severus had become even more focused and more determined with his use of magic and in consequence, lived even closer to the edge with his father. The biting tongue he had developed at school hadn't helped much latterly.

Tobias had railed at her, too, from time to time when under the effects of a particularly bad depression and bout of drinking. And when that occurred, it set Severus off, resulting in some explosive fights between the two Snape men...until finally the inevitable had happened, and as Tobias had stripped himself of his belt and raised it to strike his son, he had found a wand in his face, his boy's dark eyes glittering dangerously.

It had only been her intervention that had stopped their child from casting a spell that surely would have resulted in him being taken away to Azkaban that night. She had never been so frightened in her life nor so aware that her son possessed a dark and violent streak.

She knew that it was, in part, due to her failure to stand up to her husband. Something she could only put down to her loving Tobias far too much. Underneath it all and in their quiet times alone, he was still the charming, good looking, sensitive dreamer he had always been -- the one with natural magic in his hands, who spoke to the artist in her with what he could create with wood and with metal. He was still the young man who had sauntered cheekily up to an odd-looking, introverted, Muggle-curious witch one day in the high street and asked her if she fancied going out with him...every Saturday night for the rest of their lives.

She had known that it was only a chat up line -- a bad one at that -- that he had probably thought she was an easy mark, being not too good-looking, and that he was at a loose end looking for someone for that night. But something had happened between them and the line had become a reality... he had kept that date with her ever since.

He was in her blood. He was her blood. She had given up everything, including her magic, to be with him. And every time she had resolved herself to do something to teach him a lesson, berate him or walk out on him, she had seen him crumple. Seen the pain in his dark eyes and the self-loathing at his failure, at what he had become, heard him beg her forgiveness...and she would give in. She hated herself for the weakness, but her heart was too tangled up with his. She would never leave him, she knew...for despite his pride and his proclamations of self sufficiency, he simply needed her too much.

She turned to pour a second mug of tea and put it on a tray for her husband, as her son finished his food and turned to open his rucksack -- the one she had made a rare foray to a neighbour to borrow, much to Severus's intense embarrassment. He could transfigure something into one, she knew...she could too, for that matter...but how would she explain it to Tobias? After pouring some milk and adding a significant number of spoonfuls of sugar into the tea, she moved to carry it to the front room, when the kitchen door opened.

"Any sign of that...ah..." Tobias started to enquire, rubbing his hand through his brown hair as he entered. "Thanks, love." Taking the mug from the tray, he drank from it, his eyes moving to his son as the boy turned himself and the contents of the now open rucksack away from his father's gaze.

"How long are you going for?"

The teen bit back a retort about why he cared. "A month."

"Trust you're going to behave yourself for your uncle," Tobias addressed him over the mug. "Live up to your name."

"Wouldn't be much point in going if I did that. I can hardly trail an Auror around and not do magic."

"You know what I mean and don't use that tone with me," Tobias replied, the edge in his voice starting to return. His wife's hand found his arm, her eyes pleading him not to cause a scene. She had spent a great deal of the last few days reminding him that Severus would probably leave home after his final year...that this would be their last summer as a family and begged with him for tolerance, if nothing else. Releasing a little of the building tension, Tobias turned his gaze back to his son and the rucksack. "See you're bringing that whackin' great journal or scrapbook or whatever it is...you ever going to show your mother and me what's in it?" He sipped on his tea again.

"It's private."

"Ah...those kind of pictures, eh?" Tobias snorted. "Well, if you don't have a girlfriend, I suppose you'd have to have some..."

"Shut up." Severus turned his head to glance at him, shoving the book in question down among his belongings and closing the bag brusquely. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Severus!" Eileen's voice rang out sharply in shock, as her husband's face grew thunderous.

"What did you say, boy?"

Severus stood up and swung the bag over his shoulder. "I said I'm going."

"You're not going anywhere!" Tobias growled. "Not till you've apologised for that remark!"

"No." Two sets of fiery black eyes clashed and locked together before Severus calmly turned his head away to look to his mother. "I'll see you soon, Mother. I'll give Uncle Steven your best."

"I said, you're not going anywhere." Tobias moved to stand in front of the kitchen door.

Severus took a step away from him and turned back, his wand in his hand. "I think you'll find I am, Father."

Tobias's eyes widened and narrowed rapidly at the sight of the magical instrument. "Don't you dare!" he snarled at his son.

"Severus, what are you doing?" Eileen moved towards him quickly. "You promised me! You said you wouldn't do that again!"

"What did you expect, Eileen?" Her husband raised his chin and sneered from behind her. "Not everyone is as strong as you...certainly not him. That power he has is unnatural even for your kind, you've said so yourself...and power corrupts...he can't resist using it. He's weak. He's always been weak."

Severus snorted derisively. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree then, does it, Father?" He turned his eyes to his mother again. "I'll see you in a month, Mother."

Raising his wand, he concentrated and Apparated away.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The alleyway he appeared in, midway between The Strand and Soho in London, was as typical an alleyway as you could think of. So typical, with its peeling posters, broken boxes, litter, and leaking down pipes, that it would make one mildly suspicious about its authenticity. Which wasn't surprising, seeing as the entire thing had a permanent glamour on it to hide the frequently Apparating witches and wizards from passing Muggles. It also made the alley one of the safest travelling points in London for their comings and goings.

"Mornin'," said an old witch with a sniff to the newly-arrived teenager as she wandered into the alleyway and disappeared.

Hoisting his rucksack higher over his shoulder, Snape moved out into the grimy street beyond before pausing and glancing around, mentally checking his instructions. The street had a timelessly smudged and run-down appearance to it. It gave one had the odd feeling that it could have stood, looking as it did, for anything from twenty to one hundred years with just a few small changes to the signage and graffiti on the walls to indicate the passing of the years. Even though cars and Muggles moved up and down it freely, everything about it spoke magic to him.

On spotting the grotty old telephone box with the peeling red paint he'd been told to head for, he walked quickly to it. No matter his disgruntled attitude towards traipsing around after his uncle at his mother's behest, there was still a minor thrill at the idea of being about to see, in person, the nerve centre of magic in Britain.

On stepping into the box and closing the cracked glass paned door behind him, he turned to face the phone and put down his bag. Picking up the heavy receiver, he inserted his finger in the dial and circled it around to the 6...watching intently as the dial clicked and whirred back to its starting point before doing the same again with the next number...2...4...4...2.

It rang for a moment before the answering voice surrounded him, startling him somewhat. "Good morning, Ministry of Magic. Please state your name, the nature of your business, and which Department it is in connection with."

Glancing around himself for a moment, Snape frowned and composed himself. "My name is Severus Snape. I have business with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement...with Steven Prince."

"Steven Prince?"

"Yes, he's an Auror."

A moment later, he was holding a silver badge bearing his name and the word VISITOR emblazoned underneath with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's seal beside it, and as soon as he pinned it on, the phone box dropped like a stone.

This he had been ready for, having been warned in the short missive he'd gotten by owl at Hogwarts from his uncle that that would happen. Waiting patiently, he emerged a short while later into the large foyer that was the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Lowering his bag again, he gazed around at the hive of activity, watching the witches and wizards attached to the Ministry or who had longstanding business there entering and exiting the building through the magnificent gleaming fireplaces to the left and right.

The people were magnificent -- their robes fine and flowing, all of them were among the most impressive people he had ever seen, and everything about them was in keeping with the splendid setting they conducted their affairs in.

His black eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he took in the huge room. The sight around him lived up to, and even surpassed his expectations. The moving images he had seen while voraciously researching the place during his first year at Hogwarts paled in comparison to what stood before him now. Then, he had only been an eleven year old desperate to understand everything about a world he could only sneak knowledge of where he could. Now he was an adult, at least in the eyes of the law, standing right in the centre of where those laws were made.

Crossing over the dark wood floor towards the Fountain of Magical Brethren, his eyes shifted from the moving symbols above him on the ceiling to the golden statues around the water centrepiece. Turning full circle as he took it all in, he remembered himself and how he would appear to others. Determined not to look naïve and out of place...even though now he was regretting his lack of suitable attire...his face took on an even more self-possessed air as he moved towards the golden gates and the manned security stand there, only to stop when he saw a familiar figure heading his way.

Steven Prince was not exactly what one would expect when picturing a member of the Prince family...nor the first person one would have immediately placed as a relative of Severus Snape. Though he possessed the long black hair of that family line and had a similar facial structure to his older sister, on him it was much more flattering. Like his nephew, he was a rather tall man and carried himself confidently. As he moved across the foyer, Severus could not help but noticed how he seemed to glide more than walk...and that several young ladies passing by took notice.

There was also a lack of arrogance about the man and as he grew closer to his quarry, a bright and warm smile lit upon his features. "Severus!" Steven came to a stop in front of him with a slight fluttering of robes. "I see you made it...excellent." He paused barely a second before shaking his head with a wry smile. "I can't believe I'm now looking my little nephew in the eyes...I swear it's only been a year and you seem to have grown a foot."

"Uncle," Severus greeted him. "Just nine inches."

A friendly hand clapped his arm and gave it a warm squeeze, as the other man's bright green eyes sparkled. "No 'just' about it. Seems you got the Prince height all right. And how's your mother?" he enquired, a worried furrow just crinkling his brow.

"She's in good health. She had some bronchial difficulties recently but recovered well. She sends her best," his nephew replied before adding, "I know she is grateful to you for doing this for me."

Steven waved his hand in dismissal of that. "No gratitude necessary," he told him with another smile. "I'm happy to...about time you got to see more of where you come from than just Hogwarts."

Snape's eyes wandered around the place briefly once more. "Yes," he agreed, admiration creeping into his voice. "I am grateful for that opportunity, too. Hogwarts and Diagon Alley aside, I've not seen much of this side of things." He glanced back at his uncle. "If you discount my stay in St. Mungo's, that is." Taking in his uncle's pristine and highly impressive robes, he looked down at his Muggle clothes. "I apologise...I didn't have anything more appropriate. I did not wish to come in school robes...and appear...well...childish."

Stepping back a minute, Steven eyed his nephew's attire and nodded. "Yes...is that what Muggles are wearing lately? Fascinating..." he mused with a shake of his head and shrugged. "No matter! And you can, of course, borrow some of my robes...until I can get you over to Madam Malkin's for some of your own. You'll need them after this next year." He shook his head again. "I can't believe you're of age...and about to enter your last year of Hogwarts! It was only yesterday that I was tucking you in and telling you stories." A nostalgic smile lit on his lips before he enquired, "Are you excited about your NEWTs? Your mother says you've been doing very well in your classes...so I shan't ask if you are worried."

Snape blinked as he struggled mentally to keep up. He had nearly forgotten about his uncle's rapid thought processes and even more rapid expression of them. "You...really don't have to buy me robes...borrowing them is more than sufficient," he assured the elder man. "I...am looking forward to taking my exams and moving on, yes," he added with a nod.

"Wonderful! Both your mother and I did quite well on our NEWTs...if I must say so myself," Steven answered with a grin. "And nonsense on the robes. I missed Christmas this last year...and I owe you a present or two...and I won't hear an argument otherwise." And before his nephew could do just that, he clapped his hands and rubbed them. "So...let's start with a tour!"

Hiking his rucksack a little higher, Snape nodded, quietly intent on seeing everything he had read about. "Is there somewhere I can put this, Uncle?"

The elder man eyed the bag for a moment and nodded. "I don't have an office...none of us do unless we're desk bound, but I'm sure Miss Weatherby wouldn't mind keeping an eye on it for you," he said, already moving to the elevators. "She's Barty Crouch's secretary. Nice bird...wonderful knitter!"

"Knitter?" Snape repeated, having not really expected that. "Barty Crouch?" he breathed a second later as his eyes widened.

"Yes...bit of a stick in the mud...but excellent tactician and head," Steven told him as they stepped into the elevator, hitting the button with the number two on it. But as the doors were about to close, a voice called out, "Wait! Hold the lift!"

Steven quickly stuck his hand out, holding the doors back as a red headed man slipped in, gasping for breath. "Thanks!" the man panted. "Jolly good of you! I've got to nip upstairs...forgot my notes you see...and with the hearings today..." He grinned on seeing who it was. "Oh hullo, Steven! Fancy seeing you! They finally pulled you off field duty, then?"

Snape watched the red faced, red haired young man in his mid twenties as he took up a spot beside his uncle. Of all the people he had seen today, he looked the most...average...though his bright eager eyes spoke of a quick mind and gregarious nature. Snape was never wholly comfortable about the latter, but the former made up for it, and he decided he would at least give the man a chance before deciding he was annoying.

"Hello, Arthur," his uncle replied with a smile of his own. "Keeping you busy in the Missuse office...or are you bored yet?"

"Oh, Heavens no! It's quite fascinating really...most fascinating! I was to be out on the field today myself...but this hearing has everyone up in a tizzy, so Satersley kept me in," the red-haired man explained. "Are you going to the hearings? I hear she's going to speak today...can't wait to hear that myself. And who's this young fellow?"

"This," Steven said with a proud inflection in his tone, "is my nephew, Severus. My sister's boy. He's going to be job shadowing me for the next month." He turned to the young man. "And this, Severus, is Arthur Weasley. He works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts section."

"How do you do, sir?" Snape inclined his head, still taking careful note of his mother's instructions regarding his voice as he had done from the moment he'd stepped into the telephone box.

The lift door pinged quietly and slid open as Arthur went to respond. "Quite well! Quite well, Severus!" he replied genially as they all stepped from the elevator and headed to the door to the Auror Headquarters. "Well, I must be off...Satersley will have my head if I don't fetch those notes, and I'm afraid my Molly quite likes where it is."

Steven's grin was wide as the younger man dashed off down the hall and around the corner. "So! Let's get that bag dropped off then," he said with another clap and rub of his hands, leading the teen towards a large desk by the door they had just entered.

As Snape followed behind, he noted how confident his uncle always seemed. He had to admit he found Steven's speech and thought patterns somewhat disconcerting, and a part of him really would have preferred to be somewhere else practicing his potion making and spell crafting...but an equal if not greater part of him had always been taken by his uncle's apparent glide through life. The pride of a family that had disowned his own mother for marrying a Muggle, Steven lived up to his surname -- his hair, black like his own, was thick and flowing and well maintained, his clothes were pristine, his bearing proud but not arrogant, and his children when he had them would probably be ridiculously handsome...unlike their cousin.

Yes, when he married he would probably marry a pureblood heiress and make a name for himself within the Ministry. Everything about him spoke of a leader...a future Minister in the making...and seemed to come so easily to him, but not in a way one could resent. It seemed he truly was one of those men who did glide through life. A thought which brought him to focus on the way his uncle literally moved. Snape had learned to walk almost silently from a young age. It was a necessary skill when one wished to undertake banned practices in secret, and it had resulted in him having a smooth easy walk, but as he took careful note of his uncle's stride patterns, he found himself deftly slipping into them and taking up the elder's man's more flowing, commanding glide.

"Miss Weatherby!" Steven announced with a large smile as he approached the desk where a thin young woman was knitting as she answered correspondences with the help of a magical quill. "How charming it is to see you on such a bright and sunny day."

Looking up from her knitting, a pair of luminous green eyes grew wide and bright and an eager smile quickly slipped into an altogether more flirtatious one. "Steven..." she greeted him, running his name out slowly between two quite red and attractively full lips. "Where have you been keeping yourself?" One would, Snape thought to himself, have to be blind not to notice the woman was more than interested in his uncle, and he turned with some mild interest to see what the elder man's reaction would be to this clear invitation to flirt.

"Here and there," Steven replied genially. "I just got back a couple nights ago...nasty business in Wales. His people are getting bolder by the day," he added with some disgust.

"I heard. Bad business," she agreed with a nod, growing more serious. "There were attacks in Scotland as well last night. It does seem to be getting worse all the time. I presume you were brought in to help with security on today's events around the Wizengamot?" The gleam in her eyes grew appreciative once more. "Mr. Crouch does like to use the best..." She leaned on her desk, her eyes wandering over his slim form. "Can't fault him on that score." Snape's eyebrow twitched -- the woman was practically panting for his uncle -- and his eyes returned to his relative, waiting for some kind of reaction.

And there was absolutely none forthcoming from the Auror. In fact, he seemed rather oblivious to the woman's overtures, though Snape suspected he was more likely ignoring them. "Why thank you, Miss Weatherby!" Steven replied with a most comraderial smile. "It is nice to know that we are so well appreciated, but alas no...today I am off to help my new trainee of sorts. Now...I'd like you to meet my nephew Severus. He's going to be job shadowing me for the next month." He flashed a grin over at the teen. "Severus...this is Miss Fortuna Weatherby, the best secretary in the Ministry....and the most talented knitter in all of England."

"A...unique...claim to fame," Snape replied, stepping forward and putting his bag down, unsure what else to say to that. "A pleasure," he finally settled on saying to the attractive woman.

Fortuna Weatherby's eyes wandered over him in a similar, if quicker, manner as they had over his uncle, clearly evaluating him though her smile was friendly. "Steven exaggerates." Her eyes flitted back to the man in question. "He has no real idea of where my true talents lie," she added, extending her hand to Snape as the mischievous look returned to her eyes.

Taking it, Snape couldn't help but feel a certain amount of heat rise up at the nape of his neck at the attractive woman's flirtation...even though he was just receiving the edges of it, he could feel himself respond bodily to her. He could only assume that his uncle had decided work and pleasure did not mix.

"Miss Weatherby...would you mind horribly if Severus left his bag with you while I took him on a tour of the Ministry?" Steven's voice broke in. "We shan't be too long...not with the hearings this afternoon."

"No...not at all," Fortuna replied, releasing his hand and gesturing for Snape to put it behind her desk. "Feel free to drop by and pick it up anytime. What with the comings and goings today, I shall be working through lunch and probably late tonight." Her eyes turned back to the elder of the two before her. "You gentlemen feel free to join me for dinner here, if you like...I would welcome the company."

Steven smiled and inclined his head in gratitude. "That's very kind of you, Miss Weatherby, but I'm afraid we've already got plans," he replied with an apologetic tone. "Perhaps some other time?"

Snape looked at him, wondering what he had in store for them, before turning his attention back to the secretary. "Thank you, Miss Weatherby."

"Not at all, Severus," she demurred. "My pleasure...and I shall take you up on that, Steven," she told his uncle. "Don't think I won't."

A slight flush finally appeared on the older man's cheeks as he coughed. "Yes...well...thank you again," he replied, a little flustered, and quickly led his nephew out the door again.

With a slight nod to the woman, Snape turned and followed his 'mentor' outside. "May I ask what our plans are?" he enquired him, closing the door. "For this evening, I mean?"

"Not sure," Steven replied, walking swiftly to the elevator. "Thought we'd eat over at the Cauldron...know some blokes that like to hang out there and get you settled in."

"So, I can assume you don't care for her?" Snape responded, falling in beside him and taking up the careful stride pattern once more. "It hardly takes a genius to notice her interest in you," he observed.

His uncle sighed as he hit the lift button. "Yes...I've noticed. And yes, the feeling isn't mutual. She's a nice girl...just not...my type," he answered with a shrug.

Snape nodded and clasped his hands behind his back as they waited, while he wondered what type of woman was his uncle's type...for he was certainly an eligible man. Steven probably had had his fair share by now, and Snape's mother had told him their parents were pressing Steven to marry and produce an heir for the family. One that wasn't the son of a non-wizard, that was. He supposed it was only a matter of time before his uncle did just that...putting aside a playboy lifestyle for family. He looked at the elder man out of the corner of his eye and drew himself up a little more, moving his shoulders a little more into line with his...feeling his somewhat slouched stance rather keenly beside his uncle.

The door opened with a ping and the elder man led the way inside.

Two hours later -- the length due to Steven stopping every five minutes to explain this or that, launch into a seemingly irrelevant tale, or simply to stop and greet random people they met along the way -- both men arrived back at the office to collect Severus's rucksack before heading out. With a quick smile at the secretary, Steven waited for Severus to collect his bag and both men moved toward the elevator once more.

"Right! Are you hungry? Tired? Horribly bored yet?" Steven asked once the doors had closed.

"No. Not at all," his nephew replied, slipping his rucksack over his shoulder.

"Really?" the old man enquired with an arched eyebrow. "Jolly good then! We'll head on over to Diagon Alley I think then...get you fitted for some robes."

"Of course." Snape nodded. "There is a good second hand store...I got my last set of robes there."

"What? Oh no," the other man told him with a firm look as the doors opened and they stepped into the lobby. "We're going to Madame Malkin's. Second hand robes are fine for school...but you are here to partly to see and carve a niche for yourself. And though it is sad to say it...some quarters will see second hand robes and turn up their high brow noses. No...and since it's my treat...new robes it is."

"If...it is a gift...and you are sure," Snape replied hesitantly, for even if he would never acknowledge it, something of his father's pride in regards to self sufficiency did course through his veins. "Thank you, Uncle. I...appreciate it."

Entering the Atrium, Severus was a little surprised when, instead of heading to one of the many fireplaces in the walls, his uncle turned sharply and headed to a small darkly lit area off to the side. He watched as the elder man pulled out his wand and after a quick series of taps, a door formed and opened, leading to a long candle lit hallway. "This way," he instructed before disappearing inside.

With only an arched eyebrow to indicate his surprise and the fact he was impressed, Severus quickly followed his uncle, the door closing quietly and sealing shut behind him.

The passage was made entirely of brick and stone and appeared to be quite old and, judging from the wear of the stones beneath their feet, well-used. The candles lit their way, igniting and snuffing out as soon as they were out of range of the previous and in range of the next and created long shadows behind them. Their walk only took about five minutes and they were soon exiting though another door out into an alleyway full of dustbins, broken bottles, and three Aurors, all of whom looked vaguely apprehensive as their eyes scanned the street and buildings.

Snape blinked at the sudden light, somewhat surprised to find himself on the surface. They had walked for quite a bit, but in a direct line and never veering from a level path. They had definitely been underground, he knew that, but it had taken the same amount of time to get to the Ministry in the lift as it had walking a straight horizontal line out of it.

Surmising that the magic involved must have been spatial and dimensional in nature, he found himself considerably impressed by the complexity of it. From the manner of their entry, it was also clear that it was an entrance known only to a few in the Ministry...most probably only the Aurors, he reasoned, before turning his attention to the three in front of him.

The tension was obvious. Something was about to happen. Something he assumed had to do with the mentions he had heard about the Wizengamot and some woman who was to address it amongst others at a hearing. He supposed that the Aurors present were there to guide these speakers down the secret passage when they arrived.

Steven's brow furrowed more than a little as he moved over to the nearest of the trio, his manner completely shifting to one of utter business. "Hello Erasmus," he greeted him quietly.

The blond haired man blinked a little in surprise, but the tension in his body lessened on seeing whom the speaker was. "Steven," he greeted the new arrival, his eyes flicking over to the teenager.

"My nephew," came the quick explanation. "You here for that speaker coming in? The building is buzzing like a hornets' nest."

The other man grimaced. "Oh yes...she's had several death threats over the last couple weeks...and one tried to get her this morning." He paused on seeing Steven's eyebrow arch. "Exploding package. But I'll give the lady her dues...she's not about to quit. So we were ordered up here to take her in this way. No Floo network to sabotage and they've got to be watching the booth."

Severus waited for a few minutes while his uncle spoke with the Auror Erasmus. However, once the conversation shifted to personal matters he lost interest, his attention shifting to the spread of the Aurors as they waited and wondering whether they intended to move forward when someone arrived at the alleyway, or whether someone was to Apparate straight there. He wandered up past the man and woman flanking both walls near the top of the alley, returning their nods as he went. Close to the entrance of the alley was a small flaxen-haired, sharp-faced man who seemed to be in charge of the operation. After a brief glance at the dark teen, the man returned to looking pensive.

Meandering away from the front of the alley, he wandered towards a nearby run down shop selling Muggle sewing machines, although the place looked so dingy and dreary and the windows so unwashed, it seemed unlikely anyone worked inside of it...never mind shopped there. Putting down his rucksack, he folded his arms and leaned back against the window frame, his mind turning to a spell he wanted to try and finish. His fingers itched to take out one of the two books he had brought with him but decided, all things considered, that it was probably best his Auror uncle did not catch him with his notes on unauthorised spell crafting.

About five minutes later, a small black and white car with tinted windows that looked very much like a Muggle cab pulled up to the mouth of the alley. The Aurors on the street were instantly on guard. The door opened and a dark haired young man stepped out, his eyes seeming to go everywhere before he beckoned to someone inside. A delicate and decidedly feminine hand appeared, and whoever the passenger was stepped out of the cab covered in a long blue velvet cloak.

What happened next was a complete blur. For out of nowhere several bolts seemed to shoot out of the sky taking down two out of the three Aurors, their lifeless bodies falling to the ground.

The last Auror started firing shots but couldn't seem to find his target, and was soon felled by a curse shot from somewhere off to the side. The young woman was pulling out her wand, though seemed unsure whether to leap back in the car or run off down the alley.

Snape had hit the ground quickly, moving into the shop doorway as soon as the first shot had gone off, and from where he was, he could see what the last Auror down had frantically been trying to make out -- the precise location from where the blasts were coming from.

Across the way in an upstairs window, he could see a shadowed figure lit up in a flash of split second magical fire. Magical fire that was somehow being suppressed so the Aurors on the ground could not quite track it. It was minute but the glint was enough to attract his attention.

His eyes moved to the target. The car she had come in was the only thing saving her from joining her protectors...but it was now under fire as the attackers tried to flush her out. His hand moved to his jacket...paused...and then moved again, drawing out his wand. This was none of his affair...but he could hear his uncle shouting at the woman to run to them...and knew damn well if she moved from behind that car, she would get no further than two steps before she was cut down by the perfectly placed and almost completely hidden assassin. But if she stayed much longer where she was...that car would combust, taking her along with it.

The driver in the car, sensing something horrible was about to happen made a break for it, shoved open the door and dove to the ground before rolling and making a dart for cover further down the street. But he was not quick enough...and his legs were taken out from under him, leaving them blackened and charred, while the man writhed and screamed in agony on the ground.

The attack upon the car was resumed, and a moment later, as Severus turned his eyes upon the window above the old cobbler's shop and crouched his body low to the ground, he made a break for it. At the same moment that he raised his wand hand and swept his other arm out in an arc, his brow furrowed in absolute concentration as he dived and caught his target in the hook of his arm, taking her to the ground with him.

Behind him, an explosion reverberated around them and down the surrounding streets.

Debris from both the car and the building shot in all directions as bits of twisted metal, brick, and mortar scattered. The window and the wall around it disappeared in a fireball of the impacting car, bathing everything in the room beyond in flaming fuel and bringing the roof down on top of it.

Black and noxious smoke billowed up, and an unnatural silence descended, broken only by the sound of burning materials and the groans of the wounded survivors.

His body covering that of the diplomatic personage below him, Snape raised his head and winced at the burning sensation on the side of his neck. Turning his head towards the smoking charred remains of the building, his eyes widened a little at the destruction he had caused by the simple combining of a levitation and projection spell on a combustible object. There was no sign of movement...perhaps the assassin had Apparated away before the car had struck, but he had his doubts. The attacker probably hadn't seen the object coming until the last second and if the Aurors had had any sense they would've set up an exclusion zone to stop people Apparating in and therefore out...while this crisis was going on.

Seeing nothing, he released his hold on his wand since his other hand was under his rescued target, and his fingers gingerly touched his neck, coming away bloody. Reaching back tentatively once more, he could feel the deep slash on the side of his neck and the blood leaking from it badly. Glancing quickly down, he saw the piece of metallic shrapnel that had caused it and picked it up with a glower...another inch or two and it might have actually severed something serious. With a slight grunt, he tossed it away, more annoyed than anything, for though the wound was deep it was, for the moment, doing nothing more than stinging rather badly.

Turning his attention to the person he was lying over, he enquired as solicitously as he could, "Are you all right?"

A pair of deep blue eyes stared up at him in shock, and though the woman had obviously grown older since the last he had seen her, it was without a doubt...his angel.