Reconstruction of a Death Eater

Required, More Time

Harry and Ron sprawled on the sofa before the fire in the common room, looking like bookends. "Today was really good, lots of action, and we did learn a fair bit about the art of concealment and silent hex slinging," Harry mused as he studied his mate. "You know you looked just like Ginny when you were a little kid."

Ron glared, then grinned crookedly. "Hermione sure was mad at us. I bet Malfoy never thought a Muggleborn could be that powerful."

"No, and I couldn't believe Crabbe. I hit him hard with the intention of knocking him out of the line of fire, but it was like hitting a brick wall. He didn't even stagger, but he did use himself like a human shield to protect me. You know, Ron, I don't think Crabbe is a Death Eater-in-training at all."

"So what do you think he is then," Ron scoffed, reaching out to poke up the fire.

Harry paused thoughtfully. "I think he is a Malfoy Junior groupie, completely, body and soul. He treats Malfoy like his personal lord and master and seems to have appointed himself as Malfoy's bodyguard. If Malfoy is our friend then so is Crabbe, but if Malfoy turns away, then Crabbe will turn, too."

"You think Malfoy has him under Imperius?" Ron asked, sitting up straight.

"No, you idiot! I think Crabbe is Malfoy's friend and follower, nothing more or less than that."

"The junior Death Eater's junior Death Eater?" Ron questioned incredulously, then giggled. "Yes, I think you're right. So what does that make Malfoy?"

"Useful," Harry said decisively. "He knows stuff we don't, stuff he learned from his father, which is the stuff we need to learn how to defend ourselves against. We are running out of time for our training and if we ever hope to be anything like effective, we need to get more time to train as Aurors, learn everything Malfoy can teach us and still fit our bleeding NEWTs in there somewhere."

"Pity we couldn't get a great big time-turner and conjure up a spare year or two from somewhere," Ron joked cheerfully, then shook his head when a certain enthusiastic light entered Harry's bright green eyes. "No, mate, a time-turner of that size has never been invented or made, it would be too hard."

"Probably, but I think I have a glimmer of an idea. Let me think about it, and I'll tell you later." Harry grinned at Ron's disgruntled expression but wouldn't be moved or coaxed into giving any more of his thoughts away.

~~*~~

"No, no, no, no, no! No! I don't care what that fuckwit Meriwether says, you DO NOT BOIL, you simmer!" A long hand made a gesture, and the fire died to a low burn under the cauldron set up in the cellars of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Eeek! Don't do that to me! You scared me half to death, you stinker!" Tonks screeched, her hair going electric city and her face flicking through half a dozen configurations which made the Potions Master giggle like a drain before settling into lines of total disgust. "Besides, you were too busy off in la-la land to do your bloody job for the past week, and we need these analgesics, so it just can't wait!" she needled in the face of his laughter.

Severus almost flinched at the anger in the woman and her odd flickering looks, then straightened and peered down his nose. He wasn't sure when he got so tall, but it did make peering down his nose interesting. It made his eyes cross too as he looked at his own nose, and Tonks couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing, momentary anger forgotten. Snape the younger was a hoot when he got going, a mixture of haughty Pureblood and radically left-field teenager with a wickedly sarcastic sense of humour and a formidable intelligence.

He glanced at her, offended. "Where are you up to? Why are you making this crap? If you need heavy-duty drugs, you should try the indolentia maxis potion. Takes a bit of side stepping but its worth it, if you're any good, that is," he added with a touch of arrogance that made Tonks curl a lip at him.

"Listen, Hot Stuff, we aren't all potions nerds you know, some of us do other things in our spare time, like get a life!"

Severus looked puzzled for a moment or two as if having a hard time comprehending a life that didn't include potions and then he stuck out his tongue rudely. "And some of us know what is important in our lives."

"Oh, bugger off, Snape! Brew your messes!" Tonks laughed, bowing him forward to her place by the bench. She watched in fascination as the man picked up a wicked-looking knife and began to slice a shrivelfig with all the skill of a, well, a Potions Master, wafer-thin slices falling like petals from the blade. It was amazing how some skills had been retained even with the terrible brain injury he had suffered. With a deft flick of his blade, he sent half the slices fluttering over the simmering brew in a perfect flower shape, the other half stayed exactly on the board without a twitch. Amazing!

~~*~~

Roger looked down the length of the table to where Remus and Severus were leaning over what looked like a textbook. "Severus seems happy, as happy as he has ever been," he remarked softly to Molly and Arthur who were sitting on his left.

"He is. He seems to be growing up all over again, and he's rather less abrasive than he usually is. Remus is a good guardian to him, patient and good-natured even when Severus is a little snarky. Severus and Tonks have been trading insults and potions recipes for the last two days, some of them quite creative. The only real problem we have is the music. I blame Remus of course, he insists on playing those wretched Muggle black pancakes of his, but when he and Tonks and Severus decide to sing along...! I mean, 'Just another Brick in the Wall' can have some serious implications when two teachers are singing it. And Severus seems to take a great deal of pleasure in bellowing out the line 'Hey, teacher, leave those kids alone!' I wouldn't mind so much if any of them could hit a note, but please! All I can say is none of them better give up their day jobs."

Roger's eyes fairly twinkled at Molly's disgusted expression but he chose not to comment.

Arthur turned to the other man after studying the group interacting and asked, "Does he remember what happened to him yet? Can you get around his blocks?"

"No. No, not yet," Roger replied. "But I think that - when he feels safe enough - the walls will come down and he may be fully functional again. I live in hopes that he will be fully well."

A burst of laughter drew their attention as Severus bumped shoulders with Remus, making the werewolf shake his head ruefully. Molly caught the fleeting expression that lit the man's face and sighed deeply. "It's Remus I worry about. He is such a lonely, ostracised, badly treated man who deserves better, and Severus has given him unconditional love during the past couple of weeks. What happens when Severus becomes himself again? Will he still be sweet or will he be his usual sour self? Will he still treat Remus as the most important person in the world? Or will he forget?"

"I don't know, Molly, I just don't know but I hope they will still be with each other, for both their sakes." Arthur sighed. "There was never enough love in Severus' life before he fell under Remus' care, and he has blossomed since. If only there had been someone else besides a Malfoy in his life when he really was seventeen years old and needed someone's unconditional love to save him."

The three older members watched as Tonks came dashing in, high-fived Severus and scrubbed Remus' hair before falling over a chair and landing on the bench. Fate was such a fickle old biddy, wasn't she?

~~*~~

Harry flew above the Quidditch pitch, twisting and turning, ducking and weaving as the bludger flew at his head from all angles. He held a beater's bat and whacked at the solid ball again and again, flying like a maniac, loving every minute of it! This was not flying at its finest but it came damned close. He climbed hard and did a classic Immelmann manoeuvre, even though he didn't realise it, coming up underneath the bludger and whacking it away again. He gasped as it shot back at a ferocious speed, twisting and diving, his arm coming round in a slash to bat the ball as far away as the half connecting hit could send it.

There was a flash of white, a laugh on the wind and Harry suddenly realised he had company in the air. He twisted and belted the ball back, making the opponent duck and weave even as the bludger turned and flew back on its course. Laughing now, the two mad flyers whacked the bludger back and forward, flowing though the air as only skilled and dedicated flyers could until, by mutual consent, they whacked the bludger down and wrestled it into its box.

"That was fun!" Malfoy declared as they both mounted their brooms again and shot skyward, looping around each other in a complicated corkscrew manoeuvre. Although neither of them would admit it, their flying skills were on a par and they followed the patterns they each initiated almost as if they shared one body and one mind, both laughing and panting as they landed on top of the North Tower in unison,

"That was fun!" Harry confirmed with a gasp as they both sank down, side by side, knees drawing up to chins. "We're good, Draco, better than anyone else here."

"I know - sad, isn't it? If either of us had come here in a different time scale, we would have been the shining star but both together, we are dubbed enemies to the death," Draco mused softly. "I don't particularly want to be your enemy, Harry. I never did, you know?"

They both contemplated the bright stars that seemed so near they could almost touch them. "I don't want to be your personal enemy either, Draco, but I hate the mindset that condemns good and powerful people to death because they are not born into wizarding families."

Draco snorted. "Do you think I like it?" he asked harshly, still studying the sky. "That monster is evil incarnate, and I have been branded as one of his own, against my will and because I read a situation incorrectly. Now I am stuck with a stupid choice and I hate it. All I can do is hopefully feed your lot with crumbs of information and pray that it is enough to save my soul. Merlin, Harry, the stupid mistakes we make...!" He snuffled for a moment then drew a deep cleansing breath, pushing all the built-up emotion behind his perfect Malfoy facade once again. "We're running out of time, Harry; you are running out of time. He will rise up and try to destroy you as soon as he is able. You have to grow stronger, and you have to have more knowledge before you can defeat him. You need someone like Professor Dumbledore at your side, and you need to be as strong as is possible, or he will win; Longbottom is a poor substitute for the Chosen One."

"You know about that, then?" Harry questioned softly.

"That it had to be one of three boys; you, Longbottom or a kid the Dark Lord killed years ago, with me as an outside chance, yes. I am a coward, I will admit it to you and no other. I don't like pain and I can't stand torture, it makes me sick to my stomach. Neville is not the stuff of heroes, not in the conventional sense. He will stand by his friends and he will perform brilliantly, but he is not the Chosen One. So that leaves you, Harry Potter, hope of the Light and Saviour of wizarding kind, just you - and I do not envy you the task - but man, we need more time! More time to train, more time to grow up, more time to live without wondering if tomorrow will be our last day on earth, don't you think?"

Harry studied the blond next to him, wondering at the tear rolling unheeded down his porcelain white cheek. Moonlight bleached the colour from the other boy's skin, making him look almost ethereal in the light of the half moon.

"Time," Harry repeated almost sadly. "How do you get time? Ron suggested a time turner but then said it wouldn't work."

"Weasley's right, it wouldn't. It would take more energy than any one person could put out to make the jump," Draco confirmed absently. "Still, even a stolen hour is better than no time at all, isn't it?"

"A stolen hour? One stolen hour! Bloody Hell, Malfoy, that's it! A stolen hour! If we can steal an hour, why not a week or a month or even a year! We can do that, I'm sure I can convince it to do that for us! Draco, you are brilliant!" Harry whooped aloud, threw himself onto his broom and launched out in a delirium of excitement, making Draco shake his head before he too launched out and followed Harry's erratic spiral to the ground.

~*~

Harry paced the stone corridor, deep in thought, planning what he needed and trying to take every little detail into consideration. He found that, by doing a lot of preliminary thinking and planning, he could get the Room of Requirement to cooperate more fully. He had called a meeting of the DA almost out of the blue to start at nine o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, which was unprecedented. After the death of the Headmaster, most people had lost heart and the few meetings they'd held had not been very successful. For people to keep a keen and sharp interest, there had to be a present and confrontable enemy; the dismissal of Umbridge had removed that impetus. Harry snorted wryly. While Voldemort was the greatest threat to wizarding kind since the fall of Grindelwald, he was a vague and distant figure to most people, unless his Death Eaters visited the family of a student. Then he came into real and sharp focus!

Today, the general DA meeting was merely a cover for the following meeting which he hoped very sincerely was going to solve the problem of having enough time for Auror training. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement and strode in boldly. It didn't look too different from any other times the DA had met, except for the addition of a door in the far wall. Pushing through that door, Harry almost whooped in triumph. There was another set of corridors leading to bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens and study areas. Books lined the shelves of the small library and a cosy common room occupied a good bit of the foyer area.

"Thank you, Hogwarts, magnificent as usual," Harry spoke aloud and patted the stones of the wall fondly. He imagined that the castle purred under his hand but knew that was not really possible as he heard the first of the new arrivals in the outer hall.

Most of the older members of the DA had graduated and not many people had joined from the younger years, so there were only ten people assembled in the hall. All of them spent most of their time gossiping about the good old days and telling stories of Dolores Umbridge and the black days of fifth year. Harry, Ron and Hermione smiled grimly, remembering their own battles and triumphs of that year, also their own losses and disasters.

After wasting half an hour, Harry called them all to order and put the members through their paces, refreshing their memories of the hexes, charms and transfigurations they had all worked so hard to perfect. He then told the younger ones that they had to start learning to do the same spells without the vocal accompaniment which caused quite a few protests as well as a few eyes to light up at the challenge. New enthusiasm bubbled through the members as they spent a fruitful half hour practising and often failing to work the familiar spells without words.

"Oh well!" Ginny grinned as she plunked herself down beside Harry and rubbed her head on his shoulder. "At least you have managed to get them fired up again. I thought the DA might have died in the flames of Dumbledore's passing."

Harry smiled down at his redheaded girlfriend then stiffened as something tickled the back of his mind. "Say that again?" he insisted.

"Say what? The club died with Dumbledore? Well it did, sort of; it's hard to be an army dedicated to a dead man."

"No, no, no! You said it 'died in the flames of Dumbledore's passing'. What did you mean by that?"

Ginny, Ron and Luna exchanged surprised glances, but it was Neville who answered the question. "When a wizard dies, if he dies a magical death - or even one from old age, these days - as a precaution against burying him too soon, his family create a funereal brazier for him. Some are simple affairs, same spell as a basic cauldron, but some are quite magnificent -- bronze, gold, platinum, silver, alabaster, jade, marble, granite, you name it. It has to be made quickly because it has to be lit within twenty-four hours of the wizard's passing or else, the ritual says, the wizard's spirit will have wandered too far away to be called back to the body, if it is just a hex in operation. Once it is lit, the fire is kept alight for at least until the funeral service finishes - or if the person was important, for a week after that. Once it is finished with, the brazier is put into the tomb or incorporated into the headstone so that once a year, usually on the day of their death, someone can light a small memorial fire for the wizard's soul."

"Wow, you know a lot about it, don't you?" Luna commented with wide-eyed astonishment. "How did you know all that?"

Neville blushed and ducked his head. "My Gran made me learn it so I couldn't muck it up on her," he mumbled, making Ron snort and Hermione hiss angrily.

"You wouldn't muck it up anyway," Harry said off-handedly. "You never muck up the important stuff, just the incidentals."

For a second Neville gaped open-mouthed, then flushed and smiled shyly when he realised exactly what Harry had said. "Thanks, mate," he muttered as Luna gave him a thistle she had conjured.

"So, here we have the Department of Mysteries Survivors club discussing funeral arrangements in the Room of Requirement. Is this a significant topic?" Ron asked, scratching his nose meditatively.

Harry chuckled at his friend's cock-eyed look. "No, you prat, I expect the rest of the Trainee Auror's group will be here in a moment or two. And here comes the rest of them.... Hi, people, what time is it?"

"Time? Nine thirty, of course, isn't that the time we were supposed to meet?" Dean asked impatiently as Seamus shouldered him out of the way to make room for the rest of the class to enter. "And why did we have to bring enough stuff to last a week?" Both boys dropped duffle bags on the floor as they sank into a tailor seat, knees touching. While both had been part of the original DA, Harry's message had separated certain people from those who were designated test guinea pigs and given different instructions.

"You'll see," Harry said mysteriously while the rest of the group exchanged puzzled looks. How could it be nine thirty when they had been in for an hour and a half, and had arrived at nine? Before questions could be asked, Moody swept in followed by Malfoy and Crabbe. They exchanged quite civil nods with Ginny as she slipped out to act as the control person on the outside of the room. Being the youngest of the remaining DA members, Harry was a little reluctant to allow her to join the Auror class, her brother even more so. On the other hand, because she was so close to Harry, she was bound to be a target. If Voldemort got his hands on her it would be a disaster for Harry as well as her family!

The ex-Auror looked around at the group judging their readiness and then glared at Malfoy who was casually buffing his nails while leaning on the wall. His wand flicked but Malfoy was moving, his own wand out and cast Protego over himself. Moody chuckled when he saw most of the rest of the trainees also had their wands out and were shielded rather effectively. It was always good to keep them stirred up and set on a hair trigger. "Right, let's get down to it! Mister Potter, we all received a very cryptic little note from you to the effect that we should all pack for a week. Care to elaborate?"

Harry flushed and scrubbed at his scalp before glancing up. "Okay, as you all know, this room really likes me. So, I asked it nicely to set itself up for a week to be passed in an hour...."

"Impossible!" Moody burst out the rest of the class raising eyebrows and muttering.

"Not necessarily," Hermione said consideringly. "Harry is a powerful wizard and the school really does like him. Besides, we have already been here an hour and a half, and yet you tell us that it is only nine thirty. We started at nine."

"If I did it right," Harry began, then raised his voice over the growing swell of noise. "IF I DID IT RIGHT. In three hour's time we can step outside and see how much time has passed, just to check that is it going right. Until then, I suggest, Sir, that you do not waste it."

Alastor used his magical eye to check the sincerity of his class, then nodded and ordered them to listen up. If he was to be granted a few extra hours out of time, who was he to waste it?

~~*~~

"Remus? Remus, please wake up. Please, Remus."

The soft, shaking voice penetrated the deep sleep, dragging Remus to consciousness. "Sev? What's wrong? You're trembling!" He pushed himself up in the bed and put a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Here, get in, you're freezing."

Severus slid in beside Remus and wrapped very long arms and legs around the slighter man. "I had a dream, a horrible, horrible dream," he sniffed, rubbing his cheek against Remus' chest. "There was a snake with red eyes and he kept turning into my grandmother and he kept hurting me, daring me to crack up and cry, but grandmother made sure that wouldn't happen. I built a wall and locked him out, but then I lost the key and got locked up inside my own mind." There was bitterness in his tone for the first time since his torturing.

"Hush now, he can't hurt you here. That was Voldemort, Severus, the Dark Lord who is trying to destroy our kind. Hush, it's okay, I have you."

"What happened to me, Remus? I know... I'm not like this really, am I? I... sometimes the others look at me, like I have two heads or like I will destroy them with a glare."

Considering his words carefully, Remus lay back and tightened his arms around the frail frame huddled into his side. "You are really a brilliant Legilimens, and you use that power to help win the war. The other side of the coin is Occlumency, the ability to hide your inner thoughts and feelings from everyone. Unfortunately, you were driven to the point of death, and all you could do to preserve your 'self' was to hide within the Occlumency. Yes, built a wall around yourself and locked everyone out. Your dream about losing the key is not far wrong, you recovered physically, but you locked your mind away and have been living here as a child for the past two and a half weeks. You've been my beautiful, sweet, intelligent, loving child, but you haven't been yourself." Remus couldn't resist dropping a kiss on the sleek black head as Severus' fingers sketched an idle pattern in his chest hair.

"What am I like really, Remus?" he asked softly.

Remus sighed, stroking the thick black hair back off his brow and smiling ruefully. "Hard. You are hard and stern, sarcastic and biting, but you have more honour in your little finger than most people have in their whole lives. You are incredibly brave and strong, both in will and in character. Even as a schoolboy, you were very intelligent - and as curious as a cat when it came to research. You're brilliant, one of the youngest Potions Masters ever. You worked at Hogwarts School, teaching Potions, but you are also a spy for the Light."

"A what? What do you mean?"

"Calm down, Sev, it's alright. Look at your left arm, love, yes, the tattoo. It's called the Dark Mark, the Mors Mordre..."

"Yeah, that's what Roger said, from a very bad man. How come I have it, am I a bad man, too?"

"No, you aren't bad, not at all, quite the opposite! Hush now, I'll tell you. The self-styled Lord Voldemort gives it to his loyal followers who are called Death Eaters. No, no, wait now; hear me out. When you were at school and just after you left, you fell in with a bad crowd. Something happened to you at your home so you made a decision and joined them. I feel partially responsible for that, me and Sirius, James and Lily, probably Peter, too," Remus confessed sadly as Severus sat up to stare down at him. "We were cruel to you, Severus, bitterly cruel and evil."

"You would never be cruel, Remus," Severus declared with utter conviction, reaching up and dropping a soft kiss on his lips.

Pulling back, Remus held him off worriedly. "Oh, Sev, you don't know what you are doing."

Severus smiled, his eyelids drifting to half closed. "Yes I do, Remy. I know what I am doing, and I know what I want to do. I ... I assume you want it, too? I often see you watching me when you think I won't notice. I wondered what it meant until Tonks explained it to me, and then I just knew it was what I wanted. I think I have done this before, it sort of feels like I know what I am doing. Do you mind?"

Remus laughed and dropped a kiss on his forehead before tipping up his chin and kissing him deeply. "God, Sev, more than anything in this world I want you and no, I don't mind at all."

The reply came in kisses and touches rather than words, each drawing the other into the spell of passion that had been building between them for two weeks, if not years. History forgotten, present relegated to outside the room, they moved together, hands exploring, mouths tasting, bodies speaking to minds.

"I love you, Remus Lupin."

"I love you, Severus Snape."

The words came simultaneously as they twined, smooth, hairless skin gently abraded by a thick haired pelt. Warm lips found small hard nipples, long fingers stroked scarred hard abs, long legs wrapped around muscled buttocks, and both rose to climax in a spiral that exploded them both.

As they drifted down to sleep, Remus clung tightly to the thin man who had come to mean more to him than any other living person in his life, refusing to allow guilt to spoil the moment. "I love you," he whispered softly.