Secrets

Chapter 10

Iris stirred gently and began waking. She noticed that she felt a bit stiff, but then she realised that it wasn't that bad, after all, and she could happily remain where she was, with her eyes closed for a few more minutes, relishing the silence and the comfortable warmth. The next thing she realised was that, surprisingly, the comfortable warmth was not emanating from the fireplace as she remembered it should have been, but from the soft, cosy blanket that was draped around her. According to her recollection of events, the blanket had not featured in the room's setting last night; suddenly, without having to open her eyes, she was wide awake. She remained still, eyes closed, allowing the rest of her senses to stretch outward languidly, unhurriedly, investigating the surrounding space. Yes... she thought, as she located what she was searching for.

She opened her eyes slowly, deliberately, and stared straight at Snape sitting in the armchair across from hers and staring back at her silently. He still looked slightly drawn, as if he had had a few late nights too many --which he had --but other than that he seemed to be his usual self, intensely piercing eyes trying to suck your thoughts out of your head if you looked into them for too long, lips always set that little bit on the tight side, and ever so slightly, permanently creased brow. For a couple of moments, she just stared at him silently, his eyes never wavering for a second, or even so much as blinking. Then, a mellow half-smile touched the corners of her mouth.

'How long have you been sitting there?' she asked quietly.

'Not very long,' came the completely unenlightening reply.

She smiled to herself, as if recognising that she should have expected that answer, and then stretched, slowly, sensuously, ran her fingers through her hair and sat up straight, leaning back and putting her feet up on the footstool in front of her armchair. She snuggled closer into the blanket that had very thoughtfully and quite miraculously appeared, presumably some time during the past hour or so, and turned to look at him again.

'How are you feeling?'

'Fine,' he said, his deep, silky voice gentle despite the shortness of his answer.

She nodded and smiled again.

'I'm glad,' she said smoothly.

For a moment he said nothing, but sat there, immobile, staring at her, his gaze indecipherable.

'Did you get any sleep?' he asked placidly in the end.

'Some,' she replied, offhandedly. 'What time is it?'

'Eight o'clock.'

She nodded, with a pensive look on her face as if she was trying to calculate something.

'On and off, over the past four hours. Not bad. I've survived on less,' she said and snuggled into the blanket again. 'Thanks for this, by the way,' she added impishly.

'The least I could do,' he said flatly, but once again, his voice seemed gentler than usual.

She turned and looked at him; her eyes sharp, piercing, eloquently reproving, as if she resented the implication. She seemed to be daring him to say anything more on the matter. Satisfied that her point had been made with crystal clarity, she calmly turned away from him again. There was nothing that needed to be said on the issue, now, or ever.

'Do I smell coffee?' she asked, suddenly remembering one of the other details her investigating senses had registered just a few minutes earlier.

'Yes,' he said simply.

She smirked good-naturedly to herself.

'Smells like the good stuff. Somehow, I never had you down as a coffee connoisseur.'

'There are a few of life's little luxuries that I indulge in. Black, or white?' he asked, casually, in the same breath.

'Black. It's criminal to corrupt good coffee with milk, how could you even ask?'

'I had you down as a tea person, myself,' he said lightly.

'Touché,' she smirked again as a white, heavy mug floated towards her from somewhere behind and to her left. She plucked it carefully out of the air, cupped it in both her hands, brought it up to her lips and inhaled the fragrant steam rising from the coffee's surface deeply. She sighed expansively in appreciation.

'Thank you,' she breathed with eyes half-closed with pleasure, and sipped the hot liquid.

'My pleasure.'

They sat there, for a few minutes in silence, relishing the tranquillity and the coffee. Finally, Snape was the first to speak.

'I would like to ask you something,' he said quietly and Iris turned to look at him. 'I appreciate that you cannot give me any details on the matter, but, how deeply involved are you in what is going on?'

Iris remained silent for a few moments, investigating his eyes with hers, weighing up her answer.

'Is there any particular reason you are asking such a question?'

'Yes.'

She stared at him flatly; her piercing eyes demanding an elaboration on that answer.

'Your, even obscure, connection to me places you in a position of increased risk. If your involvement is nothing other than happening to be here at an unfortunate time, I would ask you to give serious thought to leaving Hogwarts, in fact leaving the country altogether. If, on the other hand, your involvement is a product of conscious choice, then all I can do is warn you that you are in a position of heightened risk.'

She stared at him perplexedly for a few seconds.

'Do you really think that I would ever do that? Leave Hogwarts, I mean?'

'No.'

'Then why are you even suggesting it?'

'Because I think you should.'

'I am here by choice, Severus. I am aware of the risks --all of the risks; including my obscure connection to you. I've told you that before!... I appreciate the concern,' she added in the end, 'but I am not going to be going anywhere.'

His lips tightened, slightly, and his frown deepened, but he didn't say anything for a while.

'I can't believe you even said that!' she exclaimed suddenly, shaking her head in disbelief. 'I thought you said you trusted me, last night, finally! How can you even think that I would run away at the first sign of danger?!'

'Iris, what I just said has nothing to do with what I may think of you, or your abilities --which, I am the first to admit, are considerable and quite impressive. Your connection to me means that, if worse comes to worse, you are going to be specifically and systematically hunted down, for no other reason than the perverse amusement and pleasure of creatures I hesitate to call men.'

She tilted her head to one side and gazed at him searchingly, a sad frown creasing her brow.

'And what would happen to you in that instance?' she said poignantly.

His lips tightened even more and his brow became furrowed.

'Much the same, I would assume,' he admitted stiffly in the end.

'So we're in the same boat and you just asked me to jump ship.'

He refused to reply to that irritatingly accurate description of the situation, while she stared at him pointedly, challenging him to dare to disagree with her summation. She knew she had won when he finally turned his eyes away from hers.

'Thank you for caring, though,' she said in the end, a bit more kindly, and with a wry smile playing on her lips. 'But I never want to hear another word about it, is that clear?'

'Perfectly,' he breathed resignedly, still refusing to look at her.

'Would you jump ship if I asked you to?' she asked meaningfully.

'No.'

'Well, there you are! We're stuck with each other in the bloody boat, then.'

'Your way with words, sometimes, is simply overwhelming.'

'Thank you!' she grinned broadly at him. 'Oh, well,' she continued with a sigh, 'although all the compliments are an unusual and highly enjoyable luxury, I should get going.'

'There's no hurry,' he said flatly.

She looked at him with an odd twinkle in her eye, and an indecipherable smile that, for some reason, gave his stomach a painful little tug.

'I know,' she said softly. 'I'm just grateful term hasn't started yet. I don't think I could face having to walk into a classroom full of teenagers, right now,' she added more lightly. 'Which reminds me, the Granger girl was looking for you yesterday; something about a potions assignment they have to give in next week. She'll probably show up some time today, so be warned!'

'The Granger girl?' he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly and acquiring a faintly puzzled look.

'Yes,' she said in mild surprise as she noticed the sudden change in his demeanour. 'What?'

'I don't know,' he said slowly, eyes narrowing even more. 'I just wouldn't have thought that assignment would have given her any problems... Let alone any problems that would have convinced her to come looking for me. I haven't exactly given her reason to want to talk to me voluntarily, unless some emergency demands it.'

'So, what are you saying?'

'I don't know,' he said again, this time shaking his head. 'She came and asked you, about me?' he asked after a moment.

'Well, no... not directly. Sprout showed up with her in the staff room and I just happened to be there at the time. Severus, what is it? What's so important about the Granger girl looking for you?'

'You don't know the Harry Potter group! They are always up to something. And they have been keeping a very low profile lately. That's enough to make me suspicious!'

'Well, what could they possibly be getting up to, just because the Granger girl was looking for you?'

'I don't know,' he repeated again. 'But I don't like it.'

'Severus, for Merlin's sake, you're making too much out of this,' she said shaking her head. 'Try and relax a bit, now that you have the chance, and, for the love of God, get some rest.'

She rose from her seat slowly, and placed the mug down on the footstool. Pausing, before she left, she looked into his eyes searchingly, for a moment. Then she shook her head cryptically and smiled.

'I'll see you later,' she said gently, and walked away.

He remained where he was, turning to look the other way as she disappeared through the tiny corridor into his office. Iris opened the door of the office, ready to walk outside, and found herself face to face with Hermione, hand raised as if she had been ready to knock. Both stared at each other in wide-eyed surprise. Iris recovered her composure and frosty glare first, staring down at Hermione in cold anticipation.

'Er...' said Hermione.

'You're up bright and early, Miss Granger,' said Iris.

'Er..., I was looking for Professor Snape,' Hermione managed finally.

'So it seems.'

Hermione looked pleadingly at her and gulped.

'Is he here?' she asked in a rather small voice.

'Where else could he be?' Iris retorted flatly and stared disconcertingly at Hermione a bit longer. 'Professor Snape, Miss Granger would like to see you!' she called out, without turning her head, her voice pitched at the precise volume needed to carry into the next room. A couple of exceptionally uncomfortable seconds went by for Hermione and then she heard the unmistakable sound of a door closing softly and the swish of long black robes. Perfectly on cue, Iris moved aside, allowing Hermione entry into Snape's office.

For a moment or two Hermione remained frozen to the spot, gazing apprehensively at the tall black figure that had appeared at the far end of the office, behind Iris. He was staring very coldly at her, the dark shadows around his slightly sunken eyes and the extreme pallor of his skin making it much harder than she had expected to pluck up the courage and speak to him.

'Miss Granger,' Snape scowled silkily, 'what is the great emergency that has compelled you to come and speak to me this early in the morning?'

'Er...'

I wish they would both stop staring at me like that.

'I will leave you to it, shall I?' Iris said smoothly and glided purposefully past Hermione. 'I will talk to you later, Professor Snape,' she added before disappearing.

'Of course,' he growled softly, without taking his eyes off Hermione for a second.

Ok, Ron was right. This was a very bad idea; a very, very bad idea.

'So, Miss Granger, are you going to come in?'

But I'm here now, so there's nothing to it! I have to say something; otherwise, he'll be on to us before you can say 'detention'.

Hermione walked into Snape's office, as calmly as she could manage and closed the door behind her, preparing herself to start talking about potions.

Mental note to myself: start listening to Ron more often from now on --if I'm still alive after this, of course!

*

'I told you you shouldn't have gone!' Ron hissed at Hermione as they made their way towards breakfast. 'You and your insane curiosity!... Was it that bad?' he added shooting her a slightly worried glance.

'No. It was worse!' she breathed. 'It was an absolute nightmare!... Still, I managed to get through it, I'm not in detention, I'm still alive, so I guess I shouldn't complain.'

'Do you think he suspects something?'

'Oh yes! The only reason he put up with me for five minutes, in my opinion, was because he was trying to get me to slip up and say something that would incriminate us!'

'Damn!' Ron cursed under his breath. 'You shouldn't have gone! When are you going to start listening to me for Merlin's sake?!'

'I started doing that about ten minutes ago,' said Hermione. 'From now on, if it looks like I'm not listening to you, just remind me of today's encounter with Snape, will you, and I'm sure it will return me to my senses.'

'I will!' he retorted meaningfully. 'Was it worth it, at least? Did you come to any conclusions?'

'Well, first of all, Raveneye was still there. I didn't get a chance to knock on the door and she opened it, as she was leaving, presumably.'

'She stayed the night?!... Are you sure?'

'Oh yes. She stayed the night. It was obvious. And, damn Ron, she can be scary if she wants to!'

'I've been telling you that for months --but do you listen?! No! What did she do?'

'Nothing, she just stared at me! I tell you she can hold her own in a staring match with Snape!'

'I know that already! What else is new?'

'Ok, so you know like we could hear them on and off last night. They were there one second, and then they weren't? Well, I'm sure that Snape's rooms are somewhere through that office! I'm certain! He must have a hidden passage, somewhere, there's no other explanation. Plus, he wasn't in the office when she opened the door. I couldn't see past her, but she called him, and then I heard a door close quietly somewhere behind her, and I heard him walking into the room, and then she opened the door and let me peer in.'

'It could just be another room to his office. It's not like we ever go there if we can possibly avoid it. It's entirely likely that we just haven't noticed before.'

'No. I noticed this time. There's not another door in sight. Plus, there was absolutely no reason for them to spend the night in his office, if they could just as well have gone to his rooms. I'm sure of it, his rooms are through there, somewhere; I just don't know where.'

'Did they blush and look guilty?' Ron sniggered evilly.

Hermione turned and looked at him in disbelief.

'Ron, where do you keep your brain?! Weren't you listening last night?'

'I was! So what? You heard Dumbledore. He said Snape would be right as rain today, and if he managed to scare you that much, he was obviously back to his usual sweet and charming self. They were there all night! Ample time!' he added meaningfully.

Hermione continued staring at him in unadulterated incredulity.

'All I can say to that, Ron, is that you should have seen him, and then maybe you would realise how ridiculously daft what you just said is!'

'Why?!'

'Ok, Ron,... you know nearly-headless-Nick?'

'Yeah....'

'Or, better yet, the Bloody Baron?'

'Yeah...'

'Well, bring to mind the Baron's remarkably "healthy-looking" complexion.... Now bring to mind Snape, and apply the aforementioned complexion to his usual, "rosy" countenance... Am I making the image clear enough for you? Is it coming across?'

Ron stared at her open-mouthed.

'Stop gaping at me. Do you understand what I'm talking about? He looked like he hadn't slept for about a month and then got run over by a bus for good measure. Somehow, I doubt that any sort of fun related activity featured largely in his schedule recently. Raveneye was not exaggerating last night! Not that she looked much better herself... the bus probably missed her, but I'm pretty sure the last time she slept was before Christmas!'

'Was it that bad?' Ron hissed in astonishment.

'Yes Ron, it was. It's time you started listening to me a bit more, too, you know! That's why I went down there, remember? To try and establish to what extent what we heard last night holds water. The conclusion I came to is that it does - a whole load of water. I'm not surprised Dumbledore was down there in three minutes flat, after what I saw today.'

'Ok. So what now? We tell Harry?' Ron asked immediately. He didn't need much more to be convinced. Hermione was not easily disconcerted and, when she was, she usually had reason to.

'We probably should...' said Hermione, but she didn't sound very convinced.

'What?' Ron asked suspiciously. 'What now? We established what we started out to establish... You were right, I was wrong, I admit it wholeheartedly, even though I still find it hard to believe! The point of this entire exercise was to find out for Harry's sake. Now that we have found out you don't want to tell him?!!'

'Well, no, it's not that I don't want to tell him...'

'But-what?' Ron insisted.

'But, I don't know... I'm just thinking that we should think about it a bit, before we do tell him.'

'What's there to think about??!' Ron almost screamed. 'We found out what we wanted to find out, and now we should tell Harry!'

'Just think about it, for a moment. If we tell him everything now, then he's going to know that we still have the Earspy in Snape's office. Isn't he going to want to start listening in too, especially if we tell him that there's a chance he is going to hear information on you-know-who first hand?'

'Yes, he probably will. So? He's welcome to it!'

'Yes, he's welcome to it, only won't that make him even more depressed and frightened if he spends all his days listening in on Snape's office in morbid fascination? We're trying to cheer him up, if I remember correctly, not make him feel worse! I'm not saying don't tell him, ever! I'm just saying let's think about it for a day, or two and work out the best way to go about this.'

'Hermione, we've been lying to him for over a month now! We have to tell him!'

'We will! I know we've been lying to him for a month. A couple of more days won't make any difference! Will they?' she added pleadingly.

Ron stared at her suspiciously for a moment.

'A couple of days,' he said slowly, dubiously. 'Just until we work out how we're going to go about this...'

'Yes!'

'You swear!?'

'I solemnly swear! We will tell him!'

'Ok... a couple of days. No more! Are we agreed?'

'Yes!' said Hermione enthusiastically and with obvious relief.

Something was bothering her about telling Harry right now, and it was something a great deal more vague and unclear than she had led Ron to believe. She needed some time to try and work it out in her head. Things had started happening at a rapid pace recently, horrible, frightening, disturbing things, and her instinct told her to keep Harry out of this, as much as possible.

'What are you two talking about?' a jocular voice made them both jump, just as they were walking into the Great Hall. 'You have that conspiratorial look about you, again!'

'George, clear off!' said Ron irritably. 'You frightened the life out of me! Can you stop sneaking up on people like that?!'

'Clear off?! Us? Your partners in crime?' Fred joined in happily. 'You promised you'd let us in on all the gossip, in exchange for our services, and judging from your expressions there's gossip to be shared. Come on, we're cashing in on our "payment".'

Ron looked at Hermione in desperation. She just shook her head dismally and looked away.

'Come on, out with it!' said George with a big grin on his face. 'We want to know!'

'This isn't a good time,' said Ron meaningfully.

'What, you're still keeping it all secret from Harry?'

'Yes.'

'Wow!' George turned to look at Fred in amazement. 'It must be really good then!'

'Come on, Ron, out with it, or you'll live to regret it!' Fred threatened him impishly.

'Guys, this really isn't a good time,' Hermione intervened for the first time. 'Harry is probably going to show up here any minute now. We told him we'd meet him for breakfast.'

'You'd better make it quick then!'

She sighed in despair and turned to look at Ron pleadingly as if he could do anything about it. He shook his head, spread out his hands helplessly, and shrugged. Hermione gave up and motioned to the twins to follow her to the nearest secluded corner she could see in the immediate vicinity.

'You two do understand that this is the equivalent of a state secret, don't you? One word of this gets out into the general population and people will probably get killed. I mean it! I'm not joking or trying to get rid of you. It's serious!'

Fred and George stared at Hermione speechlessly for once, their eyes wide in surprised uncertainty.

'George, I think she's serious,' Fred breathed after a moment, his eyes still on Hermione.

'I think she is, Fred.'

'I am! This is no laughing matter. If we tell you what we know you're going to have to swear that you won't breathe a word of this to anyone else. Anyone! Do you understand?'

'We are as silent as the grave!' said George solemnly.

'Our lips are sealed!' Fred confirmed.

'I don't know about this, Hermione,' said Ron, shaking his head again.

She looked at him hesitantly.

'Come on! We can keep a secret! You know we can. Tell us! You promised you would!' George urged them on enthusiastically.

'We promised, Ron,' said Hermione desperately.

'Ok,' said Ron, obviously not in the least convinced about the whole idea of letting his brothers in on the secret.

'Ok, briefly, this is what we know,' Hermione came to a decision quickly. 'If you want more details, it will have to be some other time... Snape is spying on you-know-who for Dumbledore. He's pretending to have joined up with him again, and that's where he keeps disappearing off to. Seems like you-know-who might have started suspecting him of lying so there was a bit of a panic last night. Raveneye is in on it too, although we don't know in what capacity.'

Fred and George seemed frozen to the spot, gaping at Hermione speechlessly for the second time in the space of two minutes, which Ron was sure must have been some kind of record. They looked like you could have knocked them down with a feather.

'You are kidding me!' George breathed, finally.

'I am not kidding in the least,' said Hermione gravely. 'I told you. Word of this gets out and people will die.'

'How do you know all this?' asked Fred in a shocked whisper.

'That comes under the "details" that I told you will have to wait for another time.'

'Raveneye is in on it too?' asked George again in disbelief.

'Yes.'

'Wow,' both of them breathed in perfect synchronicity.

'Exactly. Now clear off, before Harry shows up!' said Ron sharply.

'Ok...' said Fred in a bit of a daze.

'No wonder you're not telling him anything,' said George and turned bemusedly away.

Ron and Hermione watched Fred and George retreat slowly, both of them sighing simultaneously in relief.

'Ron, they can keep a secret, can't they?' she asked hopelessly.

'I should think so. Otherwise, they would have got themselves expelled years ago with all the stuff they get up to.'

'This is a bit more serious, Ron!'

'I know... But they look like they figured that too, I think.'

*

Sitting at her desk an unknown distance away in the Haven, Iole Ranger scrunched up the piece of parchment she had just been reading, tossed it into the fireplace and before it even had the time to shrivel up and burn away, she threw in a pinch of powder that made the flames turn bright purple.

'Alice, will you please try and get in touch with Aidan White?' she called sharply at the flames. 'And make sure the mode of communication is discreet please!'

'More than usual, Ms. Ranger?'

'Yes. Highest security level, Alice.'

'I will get right on it.'

'Do what you can. If you can't reach him, or if it looks like it might threaten his cover, tell me immediately, do you understand?'

'Yes, Ms. Ranger.'

'Just make sure you locate him, please.'

'Yes, Ms. Ranger.'

The flames flickered and went back to their usual deep orange colour.

Iole sighed, leaned back in her chair, laced her fingers in her lap and started thinking.

*

'Sit down, Severus,' Dumbledore cooed pleasantly.

Snape paused, halfway down towards his seat, and shot Dumbledore a suspicious glance. Then he sat down cautiously.

'And how are you this morning?' asked Dumbledore with equal pleasantness.

'She called you down last night, didn't she?' said Snape silkily, stating a fact rather than asking a question.

Dumbledore looked at him with an expression of such innocence a newborn babe would have been put to shame.

'You mean Iris?'

'You know perfectly well whom I mean.'

'Shouldn't she have?'

'No. She shouldn't have.'

'Strange. I was under the impression that she acted appropriately, with the best sort of presence of mind, under the circumstances --the sort that I have come to expect from you.'

Snape glowered at Dumbledore, then sighed cynically, leaned back in his armchair, crossed his legs slowly, and laced his fingers in his lap.

'Whatever you say, Albus,' he said acidly. 'The fact remains that I specifically asked her not to.'

'Yes, I know. And it's to her credit that she didn't listen to you and she used her judgement instead. Cheer up, Severus, if she had let me have my way, you would have woken up to find Poppy in your rooms.'

Dumbledore found Snape's look of horror most satisfactory, so he continued with his point.

'Iris, bless her, seemed to think that you wouldn't have liked that, so she convinced me that she should stay instead. Judging from your expression, she was right --again,' he concluded meaningfully.

Snape scowled at Dumbledore once more, drawing upon his coldest most reproving stare, just to let him know that his little mind games were not going unnoticed.

'The lesser of two evils,' he sneered dismissively in the end.

'Of course, Severus,' said Dumbledore indulgently, with amusement he didn't bother to conceal. 'Now, don't you ever do that again!' he added sharply. 'Although I hope and pray that there is never another time, don't you ever try and hide something like that from me again. This time Iris was there to pick up the pieces. You were lucky. It could have been worse --much worse --and Iris might not have been there! I need to know that I can rely on you to act reasonably and that you are not going to put your life at risk for the sake of your pride! Am I making myself clear?'

Snape's lips tightened and his eyes narrowed angrily.

'Severus?!'

'Yes, Albus,' he said grudgingly, in the end, a hint of acid still in his tone.

'Good, now we can move on to other things. Oh, and Severus, don't you dare make Iris's life difficult over this! She cared enough to do the right thing, even though she knew you would have resented it. And I would have found out anyway! Now, tell me what happened.'

Snape started talking, trying to ignore the fact that Dumbledore had just given him a dressing down the likes of which he hadn't had the displeasure of experiencing since his school years. Dumbledore listened quietly, expressionlessly, to Snape's narration of the previous day's events, occasionally jotting down a note, here or there, but without interrupting even for a second. When Snape had finished, Dumbledore remained silent for a few moments, looking down at his notes, briefly, and then rubbing the ridge of his nose with a sigh.

'I am sorry you had to go through that Severus,' he said in the end. 'I wish there was something I could have done that would have prevented it all.'

'It wasn't anyone's fault and there wasn't anything anyone could have done to prevent it. This is how things are. It's not as if I didn't know what I was getting into Albus, so there is no point dwelling on it. Besides, there are bigger problems to deal with now. Like, where are they sending Aidan White, and what for. And, of course, I will have to have certain information for Voldemort by the next time I am called. You need to tell me what I can pass on about the staff here.'

'Yes, I know,' sighed Dumbledore. 'I will have to think certain things through, and I will let you know what I come up with.'

'What about Iris?' Snape asked unexpectedly.

Dumbledore looked up at him.

'You will tell him that she's an Auror that I have hired to teach here, as an extra security measure.'

Snape looked at Dumbledore searchingly.

'She's nothing like an Auror, Albus,' said Snape flatly, challenging him with the obvious lie.

'What makes you think Aurors have specific character traits that are discernible to the casual observer?'

'First of all, I'm not a casual observer --and neither is Voldemort. Secondly, I have met enough of them, unfortunately, to be able to spot one a mile away.'

'Nevertheless, that is what you are going to say. It is what he is expecting to hear, anyway.'

'So she's not an Auror.'

'I did not say that, Severus. That is your interpretation of my words... Maybe because you'd like to think that she's not,' Dumbledore added meaningfully.

Snape glowered at him again.

'I resent the implication,' he growled.

'I really don't see why. She is a wonderful woman and deserving of your admiration, regardless of her professional status.'

Snape continued glaring.

'Being an Auror is much more than simply a "professional status". Besides, I don't remember mentioning the word admiration anywhere in this conversation.'

'My dear Severus, whatever you may think of Aurors, the fact remains that Iris has proved her loyalty and trustworthiness many times over, especially to you --so I really don't see how her job comes into this. And as for the word "admiration", some things need not be said, and they need carry no shame, either! However, it is your prerogative to think of her in any terms you choose to, and if the word "admiration" is unfitting, you may select a different one of your choice.'

Snape had reached seething point by now and sat rigidly upright in his armchair struggling to find the appropriate words to reply to Dumbledore's enraging commentary. Noticing the imaginary fumes coming from Snape's nostrils, Dumbledore decided to desist - not before he got one last word in, however.

'It is not a weakness to like someone, or to enjoy their company, or even to feel akin to someone. It is simply life. It is what we are fighting to save. However, if you say that that is not the case, then I have no choice but to take your word for it,' he added in the end, with a histrionic shrug that would have failed to convince a five-year-old.

Snape regarded him pensively, the piercing, slightly irritated quality still in his eyes.

'Can we move on to a subject of more immediate interest now, Albus?' he said, preferring to leave this highly embarrassing one behind, as quickly as possible. He had got some semblance of a retraction from Dumbledore and he knew better than to hope for anything more convincing than that shrug. Whatever Dumbledore may have thought, it was a weakness; under the circumstances, it was a very dangerous weakness, for all parties involved.

'As you wish. I need some time to think things through, so I will talk to you again when I have come up with something,' said Dumbledore plainly.

'Fine,' said Snape and rose to leave.

'And Severus, try and get some rest please. Term starts in a couple of days and this is probably the last chance of rest you will get for a while.'

'Is there an echo in here?' Snape breathed in exasperation. 'Yes, fine, I will, if you will all stop going on about it! That reminds me, has Draco Malfoy returned?'

'Yes. He returned yesterday; late in the afternoon.'

Snape nodded, without saying anything, and turned to leave.

*

'Ms. Ranger,' came Alice's voice from Iole's fireplace.

'What is it, Alice?'

'I have located Aidan White, but I cannot contact him.'

'Fine. Where is he?'

'In London, Ms. Ranger.'

Iole nodded to herself quietly, as if she had expected that answer.

'I know. Can you give me a precise location of his whereabouts right now?'

'Yes. I will send you up a copy of the address.'

'No, Alice, send me the only copy of the address, please,' Iole said meaningfully.

'As you wish,' came the disembodied voice again, and after a second --no more --a small piece of parchment floated up out of the purple flames, over towards Iole and landed smoothly on the desk in front of her.

'Thank you Alice.'

'Is there anything else, Ms. Ranger?'

'One more thing, Alice; do we have any available animagi, at all?'

'One minute, I will just check. Do you have any preference on the type of animal?'

'Don't get me any wild animals, and no flying insects, please. They won't do.'

'I can only see a badger, here, Ms. Ranger, and an arachnid. Everyone else is on assignments.'

'No dogs, no cats, no rodents?'

'Sorry, nothing Ms. Ranger.'

'Ok, see if we can pull someone off another assignment; preferably a dog, a cat, or a rodent. Just don't get me any monsters, like Dobermans, or anything similar. Alsatians will do. Oh, and no Poodles, please.'

'I don't think we have any Poodles, Ms. Ranger.'

'I should hope not! Just keep the word "inconspicuous" in mind!'

'I'll see what I can do.'

'And send me the details of the arachnid up, will you? I want to see him immediately.'

'Yes, Ms. Ranger,' came the voice and another piece of parchment floated out of the fireplace.

'Oh, it's a her,' said Iole, glancing at the new parchment now lying on her desk. 'And I need the second animagus to have been sorted in ten minutes, Alice.'

'Ten minutes?!' called Alice incredulously.

'Ten minutes Alice. See which one we can pull the fastest, with the least amount of disturbance and get them over here by this afternoon. I just need to know whom it will be in no more than ten minutes. I'm going to have to go out for a while and I want to know before I leave.'

'Yes, Ms. Ranger,' said Alice resignedly.

True to her word, ten minutes later Alice had pulled an animagus from an assignment in Austria, had sent Iole his details and had arranged an appointment with him for later on that afternoon. The 'arachnid' had been in to see Iole in the meanwhile, and had turned out to be true to her animal nature. A slim, pale young woman, with short, jet black hair and enormous, equally black eyes. Her hands, showing beneath robes of dark, shimmering grey, were thin and so white they looked almost transparent, faint bluish veins showing under the pallid skin, her fingers long and slender, like spiders themselves. The impression of her eyes was enhanced by the black eyeliner and grey eyeshadow she wore. She looked almost insubstantial, ethereal, like a ghost; a very romantic, beautiful ghost, the sort that would haunt an old, dilapidated manor house somewhere in the desolate countryside of the highlands.

She was young, and was a relatively recent recruit of the Department. Iole would have preferred someone with more experience, but under the circumstances, she couldn't afford to be too picky.

'Phaedra, I need you to be ready to start on an assignment, the moment I say the word. It might be in two hours, it might be tomorrow,' Iole said. 'I would like to make it very clear that this is going to be an assignment, the importance of which I cannot stress enough! It is also probably going to involve high levels of personal risk, so be warned. I will brief you more fully later on today, but you can expect to be working with at least one more agent, maybe two, and you can expect to spend an indeterminate amount of time in your animal form.'

Phaedra nodded silently.

'I will be ready,' she said quietly in a beautifully melodious voice.

'Good,' said Iole, simply. There was nothing else she needed to know since she had spent the past five minutes reading Phaedra's file and was reasonably confident that Phaedra would be able to manage herself. She may have been young, but she seemed, from her records, to be exceptionally competent --she wouldn't have been hired otherwise, of course.

After Phaedra had left and Iole had received the details of the second animagus coming in from Austria that same afternoon, she rose from her desk and made her way to the Apparition room.

Two minutes later, she was back in her office and scribbling something down hurriedly on a piece of parchment.

'Can't believe I almost forgot,' she muttered to herself. She folded the parchment, sealed it, magically and otherwise, tossed a pinch of powder into the fireplace and called Alice.

'Yes, Ms. Ranger?'

'Alice, send this letter to Fudge, please, and attach a note saying that I expect all the relevant arrangements to have been made by tonight. If they are not made I will do them myself! Be sure to tell him that, Alice! And also, you might want to mention that I will not be reachable for the next few hours, so he might want to spare himself the frustration of trying to find me and complain.'

'Yes Ms. Ranger,' said Alice, a faint hint of amusement in her tone.

Iole turned away from the fireplace and left her office, for good this time.

*

Aidan White sat on a big, soft sofa, the sort that, once you sit on them, seem to start devouring you and become very reluctant to let you ever rise from them again. He was drinking black coffee from a mug the size of a small decanter, and seemed to be himself devouring one Muggle newspaper after another, when his doorbell rang. Surprised at the sound, since he hadn't been expecting anyone, he rose, frowning, and walked to the door. He peered out through the spy-hole and was even more surprised at what he saw. Quickly, he unlocked the door and pulled it open.

'Bloody hell! What are you doing here?' he asked Iole in astonishment. Then his eyes travelled swiftly up and down her entire figure and suddenly he smirked. 'Looks good. You should consider adopting the style; it's most definitely you.'

Iole pushed past him, into the flat, without anything more than a barely contained sigh. She seemed to be wearing an extremely elegant, slightly severe, maroon, tailored suit, with a white shirt underneath, perfectly matching maroon high-heel shoes and carrying what looked like a very expensive, black briefcase in one hand.

Aidan closed and locked the door, then turned to face her.

'You're not half-bad in Muggle attire, yourself,' Iole commented expressionlessly as she eyed Aidan closely for the first time. 'Looks like you blend right in.'

Aidan was sporting a well-worn, but hardy-looking pair of black jeans, a thick, woolen, turtleneck jumper, also black, and a comfortable pair of walking boots. Somewhere in the corner of the room, Iole's keen eyes had also spotted a heavy leather jacket.

'Thank you,' he grinned at her. 'Although, to be fair, I do get the chance to practice more than you do.'

'That's what you think,' Iole said mysteriously with a shrewd little smile.

'Touché,' Aidan agreed with a smirk and a shrug. 'So, what are you doing here?'

'Getting the information you omitted in your little note.'

'I would have sent you a full report tonight,' Aidan began.

'I want it now.'

'Fair enough,' he shrugged again. 'I'm pretending to be a journalist.'

He flashed a very genuine-looking press card at her.

'I know that, already, you told me. Why?'

'They want me hanging around the Houses of Parliament and No.10.'

'Why?'

'They haven't really said much about it, and in their circles, it seems that too many questions are not appreciated. For the time being all they have said is that I'm to spend as much time as possible in both places, get thoroughly acquainted with what is going on politically in the Muggle world --hence all the newspapers,' he motioned to the pile of papers lying on the sofa, 'and keep track, as much as possible, of the movements of major players.'

'And you didn't think that all this was important enough to include in your little note?'

'It seemed more like a long-term thing, rather than something we should be panicking about right now.'

'Aidan, that is something I'm supposed to be the judge of! From what you say, it does sound as if it's a long-term plan, but one can never be too careful. You should have known better than to wait. Also, we can't have you here without any other method of contacting you, short of me coming from the Haven to see you.'

'I was going to install a Muggle telephone, today. I only came here last night! Give me a chance, will you? I can't very well have owls flying in and out of a London flat. Somehow, it strikes me like a touch conspicuous. And, as you can see,' he waved round the flat in one sweeping movement, 'no fireplace! If I could have popped into the Haven last night to arrange an alternative method of communication, I would have, but it was simply not possible!'

Without saying anything, Iole reached into her briefcase and pulled out a small black item, which she tossed to Aidan. He caught it deftly in mid-air, and turned it around in his hand, inspecting it. Then, with a sly little smile, he pressed a tiny button and a slim flap flicked open, with a faint click.

'Hey, a mobile!' he grinned happily.

'Presumably you know how to use it...'

'Are you kidding me? I love these things. Great toys. Their only downside is their annoying reliance on electricity.'

'You won't have to worry about that with this one,' said Iole flatly.

Aidan looked up at her sharply, and then back down at the mobile phone he was holding.

'Really?....' he said with profound interest, and pressed the "on" button.

The mobile's screen lit up, as one normally would, and the name of a mobile network, along with the time of day appeared on it, but there was no indication of the battery level, or reception signal on it, as one would have expected with run-of-the-mill mobiles.

'Fantastic!' said Aidan, happily, obviously an enthusiast of gadgets, magical or otherwise.

'With that you can come into direct contact with me,' said Iole, or you can use it as a normal Muggle mobile phone. 'I thought it best to avoid peculiar magical devices, since you're going to be spending all your time here, for god knows how long. My name looks like it has been stored into the mobile's memory, and all you have to do to contact me is to go about the normal "making a call" procedure, but, needless to say that call will not be going through the normal Muggle network. Is that clear?'

'Perfectly,' said Aidan with another grin and slipped the phone into his back pocket.

'Now, let's sit down because I want to go through something else with you, and it might take a while.'

'Sure... want any coffee?'

'Why not? Just the sort of thing I need for my nerves to get frayed just a bit more.'

'Exactly my perspective on things!' Aidan grinned again, as he prepared the coffee. 'So, what's this all about?'

'I'm having two animagi assigned to the Muggle Prime Minister for his protection. I want to talk to you about how you three can coordinate yourselves so that a) you know who and where they are, b) they know who and where you are, and c) how you can warn them, if you become aware that danger is imminent.'

Aidan turned slowly and gaped at her.

'You are assigning two animagi to the Muggle Prime Minister?' he asked in disbelief.

'Yes.'

'Is he going to know they are there?'

'I have told Fudge to make the arrangements. If he doesn't tell the Muggles the truth, then I will!'

'Bloody hell, you really think my presence here means that things are that serious?!'

'You think Voldemort is just kidding around, Aidan?'

'No, of course not --believe me, I know first hand that he's not! It's just that I never considered the possibility that the Department would assign Lunariors, overtly, to this sort of mission.'

'Desperate times call for desperate measures. I know it's a cliché but there's nothing truer.'

*

Back at the Haven several hours later, Iole met with Phaedra again, and this time, they were joined by the second operative who had only just arrived from Austria. He was a tall, jovial, robust looking fellow, in his early forties, dressed in navy blue robes. His bright blue eyes seemed to sparkle unnaturally brightly, maybe because he seemed to always be thinking of something mischievously amusing. Although there was grey in his short, fair hair, one had to look very closely to be able to spot it; the overall impression he gave being that of a very blonde, very sturdy Saxon.

Iole spent over an hour briefing them both on all conceivable aspects of their assignment. She was interrupted at some point by Alice informing her that Fudge was desperately trying to get in touch with her, but she told her to tell Fudge she was out, and was going to stay out --indefinitely. As far as she was concerned, Fudge could just stuff it. Finally, she took out Aidan's file from one of her desk drawers and opened it up in front of her. Picking up his photograph from the file, she handed it to Phaedra, first.

'Since you need to know whom you're going to be looking for... This is agent White.'

Phaedra peered at the picture expressionlessly, and then suddenly she giggled, her entire face changing completely in the process. All of a sudden, she seemed to radiate light.

'Yes, I know,' sighed Iole acidly, shaking her head in distaste.

'He just winked at me,' said Phaedra with another amused giggle, as she showed the picture to her new partner, who leaned over and peered at Aidan amusedly.

'Oh, there he goes again!' he said with a chuckle. 'It's good to see we're working with someone with a sense of humour!'

'Felix, I'm glad you see it that way!' Iole mumbled with obvious lack of conviction.

'Oh, come on, Iole,' Felix rumbled good-humouredly, 'he looks like a smart fellow... Can't blame him for having a bit of fun with the camera!'

'That is his official photograph, in the Haven's files!' Iole exclaimed. 'You would have thought he'd have made the effort to appear dependable, at least! Honestly!'

Felix chuckled, again.

'Obviously he's achieved that by other means, or he wouldn't be in the position he is now, would he?'

Iole shook her head again in exasperation.

'Oh, don't get me started,' she grumbled, deciding to end the conversation there. 'Anyway, you've seen him. I'm sure you will remember him quite clearly, after that little demonstration, so this briefing is over. Off you go, both of you, and I will contact you soon about when you're going to be taking up your placements.'

Felix and Phaedra looked at each other, smirked, and rose to leave.

*

As Hogwarts started settling for the night and students gradually disappeared into their common rooms, Hermione, followed by two much taller, and very furtive looking shadows, slunk quickly along a dark corridor and stopped in front of a blank wall.

'What's this?' one of the shadows hissed.

'You'll see,' Hermione whispered and reached for a single, only slightly discoloured stone in the wall. The door of the secret closet swung silently open.

'Wow,' breathed the second shadow, and quickly followed Hermione inside.

'You're not the only ones that know the ins and outs of this place,' said Hermione with exaggerated casualness, unable to disguise her pride completely.

'Nice,' said George, looking around the rather cramped space, by the light of his wand. 'So this is where you and Ron have been disappearing off to all this time.

Hermione nodded.

'Very handy,' Fred agreed. 'So, come on, out with it.'

Hermione produced the tiny Earspy from her pocket and activated it with a tap of her wand.

'Now what?'

'Now nothing. You wait, and you listen. It's quite likely that you will hear nothing at all. God knows we've had to do that, sit here and listen to mind-numbing silence, for weeks on end.'

'Your patience is astonishing,' said George solemnly.

'As are the results it's produced,' Fred agreed with equal gravitas. 'So, come on, spill the beans, Hermione. We want the details. We've spent all day thinking about what you said, and we're just about ready to explode from curiosity!'

Hermione sighed, leaned back against the wall and, after a moment or two, started talking. She told them everything she and Ron and heard, over the weeks, and everything they had surmised, or were somewhat inclined to believe. By the time she had finished, the twins' jaws were hanging so low and their eyes had grown so large, that they looked like a pair of oversized goldfish. The fact that they opened and closed their mouths, several times, without any sound coming from them, before they actually managed to speak another word, didn't do much in terms of dispelling the impression.

'Er...' Fred said in the end.

George only managed to clear his throat.

'Wow.'

'Yes, wow,' George echoed.

'Do I need to remind you that all this doesn't go beyond these walls?' asked Hermione worriedly.

'Don't be daft! We're not stupid, woman!' George exclaimed.

'Well, I'll be...' breathed Fred, still trying to come to terms with everything he had just heard. 'What are you going to do with all this information?' he added suddenly.

'Don't know,' said Hermione. 'I'm thinking it's still probably best to keep Harry out of this... Ron doesn't seem to agree.'

Fred and George looked at each other. Then they turned simultaneously, as if some sort of extra-sensory communication had just taken place, and spoke in chorus.

'Keep him out of it.'

'I'm glad you agree. Try telling that to your brother.'

'We will,' said Fred meaningfully.

'Absolutely!' George agreed.

'I can't believe old Snape is a spy!' Fred exclaimed suddenly, changing the topic of the conversation again.

'Well, no. I can believe he's a spy, I just can't believe that he's on our side!' George corrected him.

'Well, yeah, that!'

'And Raveneye... What's up with that?' George asked incredulously.

Hermione shrugged.

'I have no clue. She's involved in some way, but how... I don't know.'

'We need to find out!' said Fred determinedly.

'If you have any ideas, I'm open to suggestions.'

'We'll think about it,' George said, doing his best at sounding confidently gallant.

'And you think she's involved with Snape?!' Fred added with such incredulity, one would have thought Hermione had just assured him that the world was flat.

She shrugged.

'I think so. If she's not involved, she definitely cares for him. I'm sure of it. And he cares about her too. It's plain as daylight, boys. Just notice the way they look at each other. Use your eyes, for a change!'

The twins stared at each other again. They were finding this even harder to swallow, for some reason, than the revelation that Snape was genuinely on their side.

'Nah!' they said, in chorus again, shaking their heads dismissively. 'Can't be.'

'Fine,' Hermione sighed. She had had enough of trying to convince people about this and, the truth be told, she didn't really care whether anyone believed her any more. Time would tell --it always did --and this wasn't really an issue of immense importance, under the circumstances. 'Now, are you going to sit here and listen, so I can go and hang out with Harry, before he gets really suspicious, or have you changed your minds?'

'Are you kidding?' Fred exclaimed. 'Wild horses wouldn't drag us away from this thing now,' he added, picking up the Earspy. 'Right, George?'

'Oh yeah!' George breathed with an excited grin, leaning closely over the Earspy, as if that was going to make things happen any faster.

'Well, enjoy!' Hermione said sardonically, and got up to leave. 'Anything astonishing happens, and one of you will come and get me, are we agreed?'

'Yeah, yeah! Ok. Go away, will you?!' Fred motioned to her impatiently. One would have thought that the unfolding of potentially interesting events depended on Hermione leaving the room.

She shook her head and walked carefully out of the hidden closet.

Under the pale, blue light of the moon Snape descended the large, stone steps and stalked out into the school's grounds. He turned, heading towards the lake, and ultimately, the edges of the Dark Forest. He seemed to be making no attempt at discretion, and simply walked as if doing nothing more sinister than taking an evening stroll in the peaceful, chilly moonlight --even though his version of strolling was more reminiscent of some sort of feline, stalking its prey.

He watched his breath, steaming, rising up from his mouth into the frosty night, and savoured the slightly burning sensation of the icy air sliding down his windpipe and unfolding into his lungs as he walked, deliberately, but unhurriedly. Vaguely, he wondered whether anyone that might have seen him walking out into the night would ever even have considered the possibility that he might just be taking a walk with nothing more ominous in mind than the desire to feel the sharp, cold evening breeze and smell the fresh frost on the ground. Probably not, he decided emotionlessly, and then stopped, as he noticed a small movement near the ground, just ahead of him.

He looked closer, and then smiled to himself. Apparently, he was not the only one that was out at this time of night, although he seemed to be the one with the least sinister intentions in mind, in this particular case.

Hecate licked her jowls, cleaned her whiskers with her paw thoroughly, and then looked up at him. In front of her lay the semi-devoured remains of a rather enormous rat. She looked down at the carcass, seemed to decide that she was quite full and that it held no more interest for her whatsoever, and then looked up at him again, impassively. A short, slightly rumbling meow acknowledged his presence, but she made no movement to approach, and neither did he.

'The hunt was good tonight, I see,' he murmured to himself, with an appreciative smirk and continued walking, exactly as he had been, his path taking him past Hecate and her prey. Her strange, gleaming, golden eyes followed him closely as he walked past her, staring at him so intently that he found himself compelled to stop, in mid-step, and turn to look at her. The staring match was uneven, he knew, and Hecate won it within three seconds.

'Oh, alright,' he breathed resignedly and motioned to her with the faintest, almost imperceptible flick of the head. He turned again and continued walking, with Hecate trotting languorously along beside him, this time. For a moment, he wondered whether it was just Hecate that was there with him, but quickly dismissed the thought again, on the grounds that Hecate had just been eating a dead rat and it seemed unlikely that Iris would have been keen on sharing that particular experience.

He continued walking, for quite a while, refusing to let the biting chill bother him. Hecate ran off at some point, having obviously become bored with the lack of eventfulness of the evening, but had reappeared again, just as he had been contemplating turning back. She meowed softly, to announce her presence to him, and this time honoured him with a brief rub around his ankles. He gave up. With an imperceptible smile and a shake of the head, he leaned down suddenly, and scooped her up in one arm, bringing her up to his chest. He stared intently into her eyes again, but soon gave up the lost cause of staring down a cat, and tickled her under the chin instead. She purred so loudly she sounded as if she was about to explode.

Carrying her all the way, he made his way back to the castle.

Just inside the great double doors, he hesitated. Glancing down at a very content looking Hecate that was still purring comfortably, her head rubbing up against his chest and her paws kneading his upper arm, he seemed to come to a sudden decision. His lips twitched in amusement, ever so slightly, and he rubbed her belly with his fingers as he held her, watching her stretch and arch her back, obviously inviting him to continue with more of the same. Then he turned and headed away from the dungeons.

Several minutes later, he stopped outside Iris's rooms, with Hecate still curled up comfortably in his arms. He hesitated only for a moment, as if suddenly having second thoughts about this, but then knocked on the door.

'Come in,' came Iris's voice from behind the door, sounding relaxed and peaceful.

He opened the door and walked into her room. The fireplace was burning brightly, shedding enough warm, flickering light for him to see by. No other candles, or lamps were lit. The window stood slightly ajar, presumably so that Maeve could get back into the room, and Iris was sitting in the big, winged armchair in front of the fire, with her back turned to him. There seemed to be a small, short table standing in front of her, although he couldn't see what lay on it.

'I found this, outside, and I thought you might want it returned to you,' he said and made his way into the room and round the armchair to face her.

Iris looked up at him and smiled at the sight of a contended cat snuggled up in Snape's arms. There was something slightly bizarre about the image.

'She's shedding all over you robes,' Iris said flatly, and indicated with her eyes the parts where his black robes had turned an unusual shade of pale grey.

He didn't even look down.

'I know,' he said and continued rubbing Hecate's belly.

'So, did you enjoy your walk?' asked Iris casually.

Snape stopped stroking Hecate and his eyes started narrowing suspiciously.

'How do you know that I went for a walk?' he asked very slowly. It suddenly occurred to him that Iris's voice had an unusual, slightly distracted quality, as if she was so relaxed, she wasn't really making an effort to concentrate on the conversation.

'You just said that you found her outside... Presumably, you didn't mean outside my room, so I'm assuming you just went for a walk. What else could you have been doing outside, in the cold, in the middle of the night? Are you going to sit down?' she suddenly added meaningfully. 'Looking up at you is making my neck ache.'

That was more like it! She was finally starting to sound like Iris again. Snape eyed her for a couple of moments and then glided to the armchair opposite hers and sat down, Hecate refusing to move so much as a muscle in the process.

'So?' Iris prompted him again.

'What?'

'Did you enjoy your walk?'

'Yes.'

'Wasn't it a bit nippy?'

'It was.'

'But that doesn't bother you.'

'No.'

'Me neither,' Iris agreed.

'Really?'

'Nope.'

'It was very chilly indeed.'

'I know.'

Snape stopped short and eyed her suspiciously again.

'What were you doing in this past hour then?'

'Oh, this and that.'

'Playing chess...' he indicated the game set up in front of them on the small table that he had noticed as he had walked into the room.

'A bit.'

'And the rest of the time?'

Iris remained silent and looked at him pensively. Just as he began getting restless, waiting for her to say something, she finally spoke.

'Any particular reason you're asking?'

'No, not really,' said Snape, after a moment.

'Oh well, then, care to join me in this little game of chess here? I think I've managed to create a complete deadlock with myself, and I'm thinking that a fresh perspective might be able to get things moving a bit.'

Snape peered at the chessboard.

'This isn't a wizard's chess, is it?'

'No... I find all the violence distracting. You don't mind using your arms a bit, do you?'

'I think I'll be able to manage. You really have created quite an impasse, here, haven't you?' he added, still peering closely at the board.

Iris shrugged.

'I told you so. Think you can do anything about it?'

Snape contemplated the half-played game a little longer.

'Are you playing white or black?'

'Don't care. I've been playing both for days, so the choice is yours.'

'I think I'll take the white then, if it's alright with you.'

'Be my guest!'

'Is it your move, or mine?'

'Yours.'

He reached out carefully and moved the single remaining white knight across the board. Iris watched the move closely, her eyes lingering for a moment on his long white fingers as he handled the piece. Then she concentrated.

An hour later, they were still at a seemingly irresolvable impasse. Ten minutes after that, Iris gently knocked her king over, in a gesture defeat.

'You win,' she said with a smile.

Snape looked at her, frowning.

'Why did you cede? You could have held me back for hours longer.'

'Eventually, you'd have won. It would have taken a while, but you'd have won. I don't like wasting time on an already decided outcome. It's too valuable...'

He regarded her perplexedly. Surely, the point of chess...

'I don't have the patience to make an exceptionally good chess player. I'm simply decent because I like the intellectual challenge. That's why you're much better than me; you're willing to wait, and you're willing to use your patience as a weapon.'

'Doesn't it somehow defeat the purpose of the game, if you just predict the outcome, rather than play it to see what the outcome will be? How do you know I would have won?'

'I know, because I did my very best against you, for an hour, and we were still stuck in an impassable deadlock. During that one hour, you had, however, managed to corner me into becoming defensive. Chess games cannot be won by playing defensively; I know that very well. You're in a different league, admit it. Maybe only on the one just above mine, but you're in a different league. Eventually, you would have taken me; you know you would have!'

She smiled at him again. The puzzled frown on his face was telling her that he was having trouble understanding this outlook on chess. Her smiled broadened and became a chuckle.

'Don't worry, that's just my perspective on chess, not on life in general,' she said with obvious amusement. 'I have a higher threshold of tolerance for pointless games in real life.'

'How do you know they're pointless? And more importantly, how do you know they're games?' Snape said pointedly.

Iris shrugged.

'I use my judgment. If someone disagrees with my assessment then they can always try and convince me otherwise. I'm generally open to debate.'

He regarded her pensively.

'And what happens when you predict an unfavourable outcome? Do you capitulate to the inevitable in real life too?'

'It depends.'

'On what?'

'On whether I think the issue is worth fighting for. Beating you in a game of chess doesn't come under that category.'

'What does?'

'Beating Voldemort --in real life.'

'You predict an unfavourable outcome there?'

'I haven't made a prediction yet. In situations like this, I tend to make an effort to be optimistic since I know, beforehand, that no matter what the prediction, I'm going to fight it to the end. You, on the other hand, I think have already made a prediction, and I don't think it's in your nature to be optimistic. I also don't think it's in your nature to be open to debate. You're simply willing to fight it to the end, regardless.'

He didn't say anything, just gazed at her searchingly.

She smiled gently at him.

'I'm simply making an observation, nothing more,' she said quietly. 'You're perfectly entitled to correct me, if I'm wrong... Am I wrong?'

He still said nothing, but continued trying to find whatever it was he was searching for, in the depths of her eyes. It struck her, suddenly, how sad he looked. The usual anger that smouldered in the depths of his gaze seemed, momentarily, to have transmuted into sadness. She felt her stomach tighten painfully and he must have seen that in her eyes too, or maybe saw his own reflection in them, because he suddenly looked away.

'No.' he replied. 'I should go,' he added suddenly, and lifted Hecate off his lap, placing her carefully on the blue rug on the floor. He started rising from his seat.

'You don't have to,' said Iris evenly.

Snape rose, slowly, and then looked down at her, his eyes searching again, delving deeply, trying to extract the thoughts from her gaze.

'I should,' he repeated quietly, but made no move to leave.

She smiled, a bit sadly, at him. Then she shook her head, ever so slightly, and pursed her lips, as if stopping herself from saying something.

'Then go,' she said in the end, but her tone was gentle, and warm and, despite appearances, understanding.

For some inexplicable reason, the fact that she was making no effort to keep him there, nor, on the other hand, attempting to push him away was making it harder for him to leave. She was making it his choice, entirely, whether he stayed or left, and he wasn't sure whether he appreciated that, or resented it. Both, most probably, he decided and finally turned to go.

He heard her rise, behind him, and walk with him to the door.

'Goodnight,' he said, without turning, as he reached for the door handle.

'Goodnight,' she replied.

He turned the handle, pulled the door open, and then suddenly closed it again, almost rigid with tension, hand still grasping the handle, head bowed, he struggled with himself. For a moment, he wished she would say something, anything that would tip the balance one way or another, but all that greeted his thought was silence.

He turned round to face her and she received his gaze, unflinchingly, and held it with calm anticipation, without moving, or saying anything. She noticed his breathing becoming sharper, more rapid, as his brow furrowed and he forced himself to take a half-step away from her. He stood there, in the dark corner by the doorway, still fighting himself with every ounce of willpower he possessed, his eyes still locked onto her own.

Time drifted to a standstill.

Then, suddenly, he strode over to her, slid his fingers round her neck and through her hair and grasped the nape of her neck carefully, but firmly. He stared into her eyes for a moment longer, then leaned down and kissed her fiercely. She responded, with equal fervour, but made no attempt to reach out and touch him, or entice him any further. When she found herself being forced back against the wall, she didn't resist, but also did nothing more than grasp his arm, in an effort to steady herself. It wasn't hard for him to pin her down, his free hand grasping hers and pushing it up against the wall behind her, his fingers sliding in between her own and gripping them tightly. She welcomed his touch and the feeling of his body up against hers by responding avidly to his kiss; but she let him retain the initiative, the control, giving him the option of stopping, if and whenever he chose to do so.

He drew away from her, for a moment, taking the time to look into her eyes again; then he leaned closer, his cheek lightly brushing against hers as he whispered in her ear. His breath seemed to burn, on her skin, and his voice came in nothing more than a deep, soft rumble.

'I want this more than you can know,' he breathed forcedly, and suddenly pulled himself away from her entirely, wrenched the door open and swept out into the dark corridor beyond; the flurry of black melding into the darkness outside and making him disappear almost instantly.

Lips still tingling warmly, and with a quiver still lingering at the base of her spine, Iris walked to the door and slowly pushed it shut. She stayed there for a moment, her hand lingering on the heavy oak woodwork; then she turned and walked over to her armchair and sat back down slowly. She looked down at Hecate that was regarding her interestedly, and, after a moment, invited her over with a faint smile.

'Come on,' she whispered, and Hecate leapt nimbly onto her lap, made a full revolution around herself and finally settled down, curling up into a tight, furry ball, that purred happily.

Snape walked into his office, slamming the door shut behind him, to find Hades perched haughtily in the middle of his desk, regarding him sternly. He hesitated for a moment and then motioned to the crow with the faintest flick of his finger. Immediately, Hades fluttered over and landed on his wrist. Snape regarded him closely for a moment, and then, with the merest shadow of a smile, rubbed the crow's chest with his finger. Carrying Hades with him, he walked over to take a seat behind his desk. He sat down silently, in the semi-darkness, the room only illuminated by the dying embers of the fire that had been burning in the fireplace earlier.

While he continued stroking the crow's plumage carefully, one part of his brain wondered if there was a way one could convince familiars not to exhibit suicidal tendencies, when attempting to assist their master. If there was, he made a mental note to find it and use it. The idea of Hades attempting again to come between himself and Voldemort, the next time something unpleasant occurred, made him feel slightly sick. It was rather difficult to explain the concept of 'pointless' and 'suicidal' to a crow however.

The rest of his brain was trying to calculate the precise level of imprudence he had shown in the last ten minutes, and how much it would cost everyone involved, when, suddenly, a knock came on his door, surprising him so much he thought his heart almost stopped for a moment. Deciding that it couldn't be anyone but another colleague, at this time of night, he called for them to enter.

The door opened, and to his utter astonishment, Minerva McGonagall walked in. She stopped, just inside the door, looked around her in reproving disbelief, and promptly snapped her fingers. Instantly, enormous flames erupted in the fireplace, and every candle in the room flared up.

'That's more like it!' she said sternly. 'It's like a dungeon in here!'

'It is a dungeon,' Snape pointed out.

'You should do something about it,' she said, completely unfazed by the fact that she had just told him to change a dungeon into something that wasn't a dungeon. 'What're you doing sitting here in pitch darkness, anyway?' she added, but it was a rhetorical question, made in the sort of tone one would use on a stroppy teenager.

'I quite like my dungeon, Minerva; and my darkness,' said Snape with an immeasurable show of patience. 'What are you doing here? And... what's that you're holding?' He indicated with his eyes the item she was holding in her left hand.

She strode over to his desk and set it down in front of him purposefully.

'Whisky,' she said simply.

Snape peered at the 35-year-old bottle of Malt bemusedly, and then back up at McGonagall. Instead of saying anything, she turned her back to him, drew up an armchair by motioning to it to 'heel', and sat herself down with same sort of strictness she carried with her constantly.

'I need a drink,' was all she said by way of explanation. 'And I think you do too. So, where's the glasses?'

Snape regarded her in silence for a couple of moments, and then beckoned with his hand, slowly, in the direction of a side-table to his right, without turning to look at it. A glass tumbler floated smoothly into his hand. He set it down in front of McGonagall and repeated the movement, setting the second glass in front of himself, his eyes never leaving hers.

'What's going on Minerva?' he said silkily as she poured the whisky.

'Nothing,' she said, and suddenly looked up, eyeing Hades piercingly. 'Shouldn't he be sleeping, or something?'

'Does he bother you?'

'He stares at people even better than you do.'

'I know,' said Snape, the faintest smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. 'Vade, Hades,' he whispered, still without taking his eyes off McGonagall, and Hades fluttered up to the small window standing ajar, high up behind Snape's desk, disappearing through it into the night.

'Cheers!' said McGonagall, lifting her glass to him and taking a swig of the Malt.

Snape raised his glass and sipped the burning liquid a bit more judiciously.

'Now, will you tell me why you're here?'

'Oh, I just wanted a drink and a chat; and I thought you could use some of the same,' said McGonagall casually.

Snape's eyes narrowed, and he eyed her suspiciously. The truth of the matter was, however, that he welcomed the company --especially that particular evening. He liked McGonagall... when she was treating him like an adult, and not like a misbehaving teenager. He could probably be convinced to share a glass --or two --of a whisky of exceptional quality with her.

'It is difficult to turn down a 35-year-old Malt and what I'm hoping is going to be stimulating conversation, at eleven o'clock at night,' he sneered silkily.

'I thought you'd see it my way,' said McGonagall and settled back into her armchair. 'You know, I never did find out what happened when you went out with Iris to set up the Dementor Alarm. Albus said something about a little incident...'

'It's not like you to beat about the bush, Minerva. Are you asking me for the details?'

'Yes.'

'I would have thought that you would have simply asked me.'

'I am asking you. More whisky?' she added casually, but she didn't wait for his response and topped up his glass regardless. 'So?'

'What do you want to know?'

'Everything.'

'Everything?'

'Yes. Including how you two set up the Sentinels, which I'm sure is a fascinating procedure. Oh, and how you managed to almost get yourself killed. I'm particularly interested in that part.'

*

Sitting in her armchair, in her room high in the Ravenclaw tower, Iris looked up at the crow that had just appeared at her windowsill.

'You do come quickly when you're called, don't you?' she said softly. 'Come on then,' she urged the crow to fly over to her, which it did, without hesitation.

She stroked the top of its head, as it sat perched on her arm, and spoke gently to it for a few minutes, gazing into its black, beady eyes all the time.

'Participo,' she whispered quietly, in the end.

Hades didn't resist her. He was used to her presence in his mind, not only from the instances in which she had Shared with him, but from the times when he shared his mind with his master. As far as Hades was concerned, there was nothing objectionable in her presence, in any way.

Gently, carefully, Iris probed the edges of the crow's consciousness. Then she began delving deeper, finding her way through his mind by following images, sensations and emotions whose pathways were not always obvious and were, instead, often misleading. As she had expected, however, it did not prove difficult to find the memory she was looking for; it was engraved starkly, vividly, in the crow's mind. She knew she had located it, when the first emotion that hit her made her heart feel as if it had suddenly caught fire, and her pulse began racing.

Knowing what would come, for a moment she hesitated, before immersing herself into Hades's memories of the night before. She tried to keep as much distance as possible between herself and the crow's emotions, as she experienced, through his eyes, what he had witnessed. But still, when the first image came, she was shocked.

She saw Voldemort's malicious, gleaming, red eyes and felt him probe Hades's mind brutally, carelessly, slicing through layers of consciousness and memory like a burning blade. She felt Hades's relief as he was finally released and allowed out into the open air again. And then, a kind of instinctive knowledge, a furious terror hit her, almost physically, making her breath catch in her throat and her heart begin to race wildly. Quickly, she pulled herself away from the crow's intuitive, uninhibited emotions as she relived his mad attempts at forcing his way through a closed window. She tried to make herself become nothing more than a simple observer of events, but that did nothing to disengage her from her own feelings, as one merciless sensation after another hurled itself at her. In a horrifying, disconnected blur of sounds and images, she heard the agonised screams first, then she saw Snape's writhing body on the floor, then, a blood-curdling hiss in her ear said Crucio with such coldness she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. The wild thrashing against the window continued, as the screams were suddenly cut short. Then the memory of the words came in a jumble, but there was no doubt in her mind as to the order in which they had been said. 'Shall I let him in, Severus?' Voldemort's spine-chilling voice hissed in her ear again. 'No!' came the achingly familiar whisper. 'As you wish... He wouldn't have bought you much time anyway... Crucio!' And the screams started again, and the writhing, and this time she saw the blood on his lips, the image flashing up brightly, sharply in focus, in Hades's memory, and then fading again, as it was overwhelmed by other images; Voldemort smirking coldly in satisfaction, the enormous snake in the corner of the room rising its head to watch on in interest and finally the frightening silence as everything stopped --the pounding at the window pane, the screams and the writhing. Only the occasional violent tremor remained as the sole sign of life in what otherwise seemed like a tortured, lifeless body. She saw Voldemort lean over Snape's still figure, and heard the word Enervate being uttered with unimaginable relish. 'Imagine what it will be like if I ever find out that you really have lied,' the memory of Voldemort's blood-curdling hiss came again and she watched him leave the room, the immense snake slithering ominously behind him.

Although every instinct in her body wanted her to pull away, kept telling her that she had seen enough, she kept on watching the images being thrown up at her, relentlessly. She watched as Snape lay, shaking, on the bare floor, while Hades waited restlessly at the window, for how long she didn't know. Then, Snape doubled up, and somehow managed to pull himself to his knees, unsteadily, and for the first time looked straight at Hades. She felt the crow's sudden agitation as it renewed its efforts to get through the window and go to its master. 'No,' she heard Snape's whisper, and immediately, the fluttering stopped. 'Vade!' Snape instructed, pointing weakly away from the house. It was the first time in her experience that Hades had disregarded a direct order from Snape. He stayed where he was, with a sort of stubbornness that must have made his master proud. 'Vade, Hades!' Snape repeated faintly but forcefully, and instantly swayed, and almost crumpled to the ground again, but he managed to keep himself on his knees by reaching with one hand to the floor for support. She felt Hades's desire to resist, again, but this time Snape's force of will was stronger.

She pulled away from Hades's mind just as the memory of flight, and the sensation of riding on the wind washed over her, bringing her a kind of relief she had never before experienced.

As her consciousness returned to her own mind, the feeling of someone having just wrenched her heart and her stomach out of her body with some sort of iron hook came with it. For a moment, she sat there numbly, the sharp, burning sensation in the empty space where her vital organs used to be, the only thing she could feel; and then suddenly, she noticed that tears were rolling, unheeded down her face.