Junkie Slip

"..kooky kooky kooky kooky afternoon"--The Clash

Morning came with a serious threat that Daniel Deschamps, Muggle English teacher for Hogwarts Academy, couldn't ignore. His mail was carefully inspected for the usual deadly issues such as tiny bombs the size of a sliver of aluminium hidden in the glue sealing the paper, as well as the routine biological scans using far more sophisticated means at his disposal in Snape's potions room (which, truth be told, consisted mostly of Snape simply having the letter 'talk' its contents using a spell similar to a howler and then destroying the unopened envelope in a sterile blue fire). But despite the usual precautions, this particular morning had much more devastating possibilities.

He checked the frame of his classroom door often, making sure there were no trigger ropes or wires. He avoided opening any drawer in his desk, even when a tiny third year student asked him if he had an extra quill. Books were an especial worry, and each page was leafed through out in the hallway, just in case there was something waiting within them that might leap out and bite. Yes, this could be considered a side effect of a non magic Muggle living at Hogwarts, but the truth was Daniel Deschamps was not worried about magic so much as old fashioned spring mechanisms.

The day was May twenty-sixth, and he was now thirty-six years old.

Today was his birthday.

The morning had gone by fairly well, no doubt due to his own vigilance in ensuring the doors were clear, the drawers not opened, his mail sealed in a vault to prevent any mishaps of a grand scale, and a good scatter of tacks under his bed to prevent anyone from hiding underneath it. By noon he managed to not flinch at every tiny, misplaced step that happened to echo out in the hall. When the day had wound itself down to two thirty, he began to relax enough to stop holding his breath for long intervals. The day was nearly over, and he'd made it through without one devastating event. He noted that Potter, (he was pretty sure that was the name of that blond kid) and his dark haired, bespectacled friend were giving him odd looks all the way through his lecture. It set him a little on edge, but then, they weren't exactly fond of him and would hone in on any small difference in his behaviour. He made a mental note to take ten points off of Slytherin just to piss Potter off and give himself some much deserved satisfaction for it. One of these days he was bound to make the little pisser cry.

There was a knock at his classroom door.

Before he could prevent him, Potter's dark haired friend had leapt at the opportunity and opened it, half looking as though he wanted to bolt through the door himself.

Two men in sailor uniforms walked in, grinning widely at Daniel, who could only stare back at them in absolute horror. They saluted him, while Daniel chanced a glance back at his class, the students looking on in question. One of the sailors had a portable CD stereo, which he placed on the floor and then pressed play. A familiar tune began tinnily making its way through the sterile, white environment of his classroom.

"This is a gift from your pals at Precinct 137!" one of the sailor's said. He was a young guy by the look of him, and clearly very proud of his job.

A small scroll was presented by his near twin, and he saluted smartly when Daniel took it from him. Daniel opened it and read: "Here you go, it'll be cowboys next year! Don't think we haven't forgotten you as much as you have us! We've had a little chat with that Dumbledore headmaster of yours--You'll be seeing us later!"

"Oh no," Daniel moaned, and let the scroll drop to the surface of his desk.

The sailors were now doing a choreography number for the benefit of the class, singing in near perfect key: "If ye gooo will ye send baaack...A letter froooom America!...Take a looooog up the rail track...From Miami to Canada..."

At the end of the chorus they tossed off their hats to some girls in the third row. Daniel shrugged, and scratched the back of his head, and without looking back made his way through the connecting door to Severus Snape's potions room. He opened it with a gentle creak, the students within instantly shooting him fearful glares. Snape himself paused over his cauldron, and gave Daniel a quick once over that ended in relief when he didn't see any tell-tale white envelopes in his hand.

"Sev, I need to talk to you," Daniel said.

Snape's high brow furrowed. "What about?"

Trails of the sailor's song made its way into the potions room: "..of all the blood that flowed awaaay..."

"It's about my birthday," Daniel said. "It's today, and..."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Snape said, dismissing him and turning back to his class. "Turn to page 210 of your potions books and make careful note of the construction of fermented brisbane..."

Daniel wasn't all too pleased. "What do you mean you *know*?" A horrible realization began creeping into his features, dark navy eyes with a hint of steel glaring at Snape. "You didn't call the precinct!"

"I warned you to get rid of that pager," Snape said to him. He glanced up at the inquisitive looks his students were giving him and then pulled Daniel a little further to the back of the classroom for more privacy. "They said they have a party for you every year, I assumed it was all right. They said they had permission from Dumbledore."

"Dammit!" Daniel shouted. He was really scratching the back of his head now, his hair a messy halo of unevenly short brown. "Do you have any idea what kind of havoc they can cause?"

Of course Snape didn't know. Snape had been hovering in his Potions room for far too long, and had lain in the sidelines of a serious, humourless dictator when he'd played spy all those years ago. He had no idea how insane Daniel's lot could get.

"...we go Bathgate no moooore....Lewis no moooorre.. Loch-aaaabeeeerrr nooooo mooooooorrre..."

"Shit!" Daniel shouted and bolted from Snape's confidence to run to the connecting door. "They've nearly finished the damn song!"

He ran into his room and stopped the two singing sailors just in time to prevent a rather impromptu male anatomy lesson for his sixth year students. He gathered up their costumes and shoved them into the hands of the dancers along with a couple of pounds tip which both naval officers felt was significantly scant in comparison to what they'd had to do to *get* to Hogwarts.

"Yes, yes, great performance, now sod off," Daniel said to them, and shoved them out the door. He closed it again with a near slam and looked nervously back at his class. "Just..uh...write an essay on evil versus good, which works best. Two pages. Double spaced."

He picked up the scroll on his desk and opened a drawer to drop it in. With a loud clang a shock of smoke emitted from it, along with a skeleton's hand. It held a bottle of good scotch, which was flung from its grip, Daniel neatly catching it.

Daniel looked the medium sized bottle over. It sure as hell wasn't the cheap crap Blurty usually took out. It had to be a subtle message of how much they were going to celebrate when they got here.

"Just great," Daniel muttered to himself.

***

Draco Malfoy did not have to say to anyone "Just wait until my father hears about this!" because of the fact that Lucius Malfoy *had* heard about the expected arrival of a gang of Muggles to Hogwarts, and no, he wasn't pleased. He marched into Dumbledore's office, his robes billowing behind him like a raven's feather, long, straight, flaxen blond hair in an equally windswept state. There were already several people in Dumbledore's office, including Muggle Daniel Deschamps, Severus Snape, Professor McGonagall, Remus Lupin and a large black dog at his side. Lucius Malfoy gave them all an assessing glare before stomping his staff to the ground a few times in pointed agitation.

"I would like to know what madness you think you are playing at," Malfoy said to Dumbledore. "Allowing half breeds and the few..promising...Muggles to Hogwarts is one thing, but to allow a troupe of rag and tear Mud..Muggles with no magic background whatsoever to simply waltz into a wizard stronghold like Hogwarts and..."

Dumbledore stroked his white beard absently at this outburst. "A stronghold? Is that what Hogwarts is referred to as, now?" His huge, bushy white eyebrows knitted together. "How interesting. I was under the impression that this was a school and not a political pawn of battle." He coughed and leaned forward in his seat as he spoke, his voice just a little gruffer in irritation. "Mr. Malfoy, Hogwarts, as a place of learning, must provide the most broadened cultural experiences possible for its students, if they are to live in this and any world. I believe interaction with non magic Muggles may do well to help overcome certain prejudices, as well as seal our own convictions in our fight against Vold--" he cast a sympathetic look to the gasp of some in the room and shook his head with a low chuckle. "'He Who Must Not Be Named'."

Lucius Malfoy flashed him a wholly ingenuine smile. "Never let it be said that I believe Muggles to be beneath wizards." The expression in his eyes clearly showed the opposite of what he was saying, especially when he looked on Daniel Deschamps. "However, I am merely concerned for the safety of these poor, unsuspecting souls, for you know as well as I how easily excitable these Muggles can be."

Dumbledore's brows knit together again as he looked at Daniel Deschamps who, as usual, looked about easily excitable as a rock on the bottom of a quiet forest floor. If anyone was looking agitated right now it was Severus Snape who kept looking from Lucius to Daniel with quick, black, assessing eyes.

The uncomfortable note of silence was dispelled, however, by a shout of indignation in the hall. A familiar voice, one Daniel knew to belong to Harry Potter, the little blond haired kid who'd suffered through his own ire for the brunt of the year. A deeper, heavily Scottish voice followed, and Daniel smiled at the intonations of Chief Constable Blurty. The door to Dumbledore's office was still open, and one other non magic Muggle had found his way inside, his nose as red as if he'd started on the party earlier that day. And no doubt about it, he had.

Blurty shook a shrunken putrefied hand in the air before him. "Here, wha's this? Found it in that little snot's possession, I did." He used to shrivelled black hand to point in the direction of the protests.

"Draco?" Lucius Malfoy asked.

There was some hesitation, but the familiar form of Draco Malfoy (known to Daniel, of course, as Harry Potter) walked into the room, his face as red as a heated iron poker. "Give that back to me!" he shouted at Blurty.

"Nae, I dun think sae," Blurty replied, and winked at Daniel. "This here's evidence."

Lucius Malfoy let out a chuckle and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Draco stood beside him proudly, staring down Blurty and his stolen prize. "That's a hand of glory," Draco said. "It's very expensive!"

"Now, now, Draco," Lucius said, though his voice was only barely tinged with caring sentiment. "As a simple Muggle, this man has no idea of what a hand of glory is, and as such cannot possibly conceive of its, or perhaps many things in this establishment's, worth." Lucius Malfoy gave Dumbledore a nod at this, along with a most unfriendly smile.

"I know what it's worth," Blurty interrupted. He shook the ugly hand around as if it were a twig and not a human appendage. "It's a bloody murderer's hand is what it is."

Lucius Malfoy blinked.

"Well, how interesting that you would have such knowledge..." he began.

"Of course I got that knowledge, who the 'ell do yae think put 'im in the body bag 'i the firs' place? One shot through the neck, but then, I was lucky I never nicked the hostage." He pointed the blackened fingers at Daniel. "What do yae think of this for eerie, wha'? I come here and the first thing I find is O'Grady's hand!" He pointed with his living fingers to the blackened tips of the ex-murderer's in his grip. "Look at that, there's no mistaking. See how all the bits and pieces are all mashed up together on the swirls. Mind, there's a bit of wrinkling, but you can see it clear enou'. Aye, that's O'Grady all right." He mildly chuckled. "You can tell I've been hanging around the labs too much, heheh. I have to admit, though, seeing O'Grady's hand this wrinkly is a surprise--I'd always thought the cesspit of illegal drugs in his system would 'hae helped preserve 'im better."

Daniel smiled in recognition. "How could we forget him? Cut up his fingertips into pieces and then rearranged them like a puzzle in his flesh. It's a marvel of science to see how it actually did grow back that way--however, I don't think he realized how easy it was to put the pieces back the right way again on a computer screen."

"Aye, stupid bastard. Must have hurt like hell and for naught, thanks to fractals and geometry we got the stupid twit for murder anyway." He smacked Daniel on the arm with the black wrinkled hand. "And all this time we'd thought it was Micheal Jackson what had gone and bought his barmy hand."

He handed the now decidedly devalued hand back to Lucius Malfoy, along with a look that suggested the man had been ripped off, and Blurty knew it.

Dumbledore was still stroking his long, white beard and smiling beneath it. "I hear you enjoy a Muggle pastime known as 'soccer'?" Dumbledore said to Blurty. "There is a Quidditch match, our version if you will, of 'soccer', in half an hour. Perhaps you would enjoy viewing a match? It's very popular amongst wizard circles, although, I don't believe Mr. Deschamps has ever attended a game--Today can be a first for all of you, perhaps?"

Snape looked over at Daniel, who was smiling blandly. No, Daniel never had attended a Quidditch match, come to think of it. When he'd been asked once by McGonagall he'd replied that he simply wasn't that much of a fan of sport.

"Aye, that sounds pleasant, eh Danny Boy?" Blurty said. "It can be like old times, when we bet like mad on the Irish teams, wha'? Danny here's a big soccer fan, he is, never missed a game the entire time he was working with us, even had the telly on in the lab to catch the action."

Snape gave Daniel a quizzical glare.

"Mr. Malfoy..." Both Lucius and Draco looked up at the mention of their family name. "We shall no doubt see you both there, as well?"

Draco's mouth was a thin line. He shoved the hand of glory into his father's grip and nodded curtly at him before leaving the office.

"Hm," Blurty said as he watched him leave, "he's like a little soldier, isn't he?"

"My son understands the importance of self discipline," Lucius Malfoy said, his eye twitching slightly as he looked on the rumpled, red faced form of Blurty.

"Well, a game of wizard soccer sounds like a right enough way to spend the early part of a day. I'll bring the lager, Daniel, you bring the rest of the gang. They've all been distracted in that huge cafeteria of yours, Mr. Dumbledore, I don't think Constable McKinnon has quite seen so many pastries in one room. He looked rather faint, though that might have been from having from having one of those 'all flavour beans' as they were called on the train ride in. Apparently he got a dog hair flavoured one. Serves the poor stupid ass right for not reading the label, wha'? I think he half suspects the sweets in front of him are all misleading." Blurty coughed into his fist. "Maybe this will finally get his fat ass to keep on his diet."

***

The faculty booth at this day's Quidditch match was especially crowded this time around, and Snape noted that Lucius Malfoy was very perturbed to have been wedged between one fat officer of Muggle law and his thin as a twig companion. There were four Muggles, all told, including Daniel Deschamps, and were drunk, loud, and swearing far more than was prudent at a school function. Everyone that was, save Daniel, who was quietly sitting between Snape and Blurty, a half smile teasing the edges of his mouth as he watched the game, his dark navy eyes as far away from the event as Snape was from understanding Blurty's constant conversation.

"..and anybody with a brain knows that Ireland just *gave* away the championship to Belgium last year, but mind you they have that little quick as a sniper Beurgen on their team, and if any man can weasel his way past a goalpost and under a ref's legs, it's that one. What's this, you're sitting here not having a drop at all? What's the point of even watching a game without a bit of bolly--Here," he shoved an opened can of lager into Snape's protesting hand. "Drink that, it'll straighten your hair."

"Aye, an' make crooked a few other things," the chubby Constable McKinnon said ahead of him. His companion, Constable McKnulty, grinned and reached around Lucius Malfoy between them to punch his companion harshly in the shoulder.

"Fifteen pounds says the dark haired kid gets the snitch in ten minutes," a forensics officer Snape knew as Amanda shouted back to all of them. She adjusted her dark brown glasses on the bridge of her nose, and looked pointedly at her peers.

"I know better than to gamble wit' you," Constable McKinnon said to her. There was mumbled assent from all who knew her, but Lucius Malfoy patronized her with a smile and said:

"I'll bet you a hundred gold galleons that you're wrong."

Amanda adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose again, dark brown eyes showing no emotion whatsoever. "If you want higher stakes, that can be arranged. Two hundred and fifty galleons says he'll catch the snitch in ten minutes, the score will end at exactly 634 for Gryffndor and 200 for Slytherin."

Lucius Malfoy actually grinned at her audacity. "My dear, you have a, how do you put it? A bet."

Snape looked from Lucius Malfoy's malevolent stare to Amanda's cold statistical one, and took a long draught of his bitter, strong lager. This couldn't end prettily.

***

Ten minutes, 634 points for Gryffndor and 200 for Slytherin later, Snape caught Lucius Malfoy neatly hidden with Amanda underneath the scaffold that had held their booth, a navy velvet bag open in Amanda's hands as Lucius unhappily counted out two hundred and fifty gold galleons into it. Constables McKinnon and McKnulty got a good laugh out of it, the chubby McKinnon confiding to Snape, "That's what the poor snob gets for betting with a physics genius."

The canned lager had been quite strong, and Snape was feeling a little light-headed from its effects. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon of Hogwarts grounds, layers of dark greens and blues blurring together over clumps of trees and hedges. Another full can was shoved into his hand as the empty one was taken away. Snape couldn't be sure who had given it to him.

"Aye, Danny Boy didn't look all that pleased to be there, did he?" Blurty said to Snape. Daniel was ahead of them all, his hands in the pockets of his Muggle jeans, the hem of his suitjacket sloppily wrinkled against his arms. "He almost didn't come to the game, but I made him rethink it when I told him you'd be with us all alone. Dunno why he's so worried about that, we'd hardly do you harm, am I right?" He shoved Snape in the arm, and Snape opened the can of lager with some difficulty, nearly cutting his finger in the process. He took another long sip of bitterness from the can.

Daniel had been acting very strangely since his friends arrived, an odd distance placed between himself and the rest of them. If Snape could feel it, he was sure Daniel's friends could all the more. He could hear Constables McKinnon and McKnulty as they caught up with Daniel, their hands patting his rather stooped posture.

"All that whizzing noise," McKinnon was saying, possibly talking about the Quidditch match, "It can grate on your nerves well enough, am I right, Danny Boy?"

The slap on the back was supposed to be jovial, but Daniel certainly didn't see it that way. He whipped around and without warning gave McKinnon a fierce punch to the jaw that floored him. McKnulty jumped Daniel when he tried to hammer a few more hits onto McKinnon, and earned a good shove to his ribs for his trouble. Snape was frozen to the spot at this appearance of violence, and it was Blurty who tore Daniel off of his friend, and who asked him just what the bloody fuck was his problem...

Daniel shrugged, and scratched the back of his head, his breath a heaving series of panting gasps as though he'd run a mile only to find he'd lost the race. Without saying anything he turned from his friends and walked into Hogwarts, away from McKinnon and his busted bottom lip and away from McKnulty who was still rubbing his side where Daniel's elbow had pummelled him.

"Fucking nutter," McKnulty said. He shouted after Daniel, who was already out of sight. "Happy birthday, you fuckup twit!"

McKinnon got off the ground, testing his busted lip with his fingertips, blood leaking onto the pads. "What the hell's got into him?" he asked Blurty.

Snape heard Blurty sigh. The Scot's usually red face was even more rouged than usual. "You know as well as I, it was that damn O'Grady's hand. I'm bloody stupid. I should never have made a joke of it."

He left Snape alone, with his open can of now not so bitter lager, the night crawling over Hogwarts like a steady, fast stream of shadow. Everything about the situation he was in was wrong. Daniel never lost his temper, not for the months he'd known him--if anything he'd always been eerily calm in face of even the most deadly forces of nature. He thought about the vial Daniel had kept in his pocket, that coldness so close to his heart. Not even something like that had affected him.

So, why would the shrivelled hand of a dumb murderer be the thing to set him off?

He took another few gulps of the can of lager, the taste muted the more he drank it. He followed Blurty, keeping a few feet away from him and his friends, not entirely sure if he was supposed to be a part of their gathering or not.

***
By the time eleven thirty pm rolled around, Severus Snape was feeling very, very numb indeed. He tried to remember the last time he'd been this inebriated and instantly a date came to mind. 1979--and it had been butterbeer which wasn't even a quarter as potent as the current levels of alcohol his body was harbouring. He kept nodding at everything Blurty was saying, the Scot's mouth moving and moving as it had done all night, and nothing of what he was saying was registering in Snape's mind whatsoever. All of his concentration at the moment was being spent on how to keep his eyelids from closing, though he couldn't figure out why this was important. Right now, sleep was a very good idea.

Daniel was nowhere to be found. For all his worry of leaving him alone with his friends, he'd managed that feat quickly enough. Daniel Deschamps...Muggle, former forensics expert, former officer of Muggle law, formerly calm, non-violent Daniel with big lazy navy eyes and messy brown hair...Snape could feel a lazy smile of his own finding its way onto his expression.

He'd really flattened that McKinnon, hadn't he? Oh yes, he'd seen a bit of that before, in much, much different circumstances.

His face felt hot. He pressed his cheek against the stone wall, enjoying its cool texture. The Muggles were loud, and had found a few others to join them in their drunken party, McKinnon and McKnulty were currently having a contest to see who could down a bottle of scotch the quickest, although it was clear from the attempt that whoever brought it back fastest would be the real winner.

He got up, surprised momentarily with the way the room spun at odd angles. He ran his hand along the wall for both support and direction as he headed unseen out of the mess hall, his forehead resting on damp stone once he was out in the hallway away from the throng within. He walked a few paces and down a couple of flights of stairs, heading, he hoped, in the vague direction of his bedchamber. He had to pause a few times to regain his balance and composure, though his steps were staggered as he made his way further down.

He had to rest momentarily at the side of a large griffin, the cool comfort of the statue's shadow a welcome relief for his hot face. He rested his forehead on the side of its beak, and closed his eyes, a dangerous thing to do when what he wanted most of all at present was the pleasure of sleep.

His possible slumber was broken by the sound of a creaking door. He slowly opened his small, black eyes, to see Lucius Malfoy creep from someone's quarters, his gaze furtively looking up and down the hallway to see if anyone had noticed him. Behind him the familiar form of Amanda stood with her arms crossed. She sighed, and uncrossed them, to adjust her glasses on the bridge of her nose. Lucius turned to her, and gave her a condescending smile, though it was by no means as imposing as the cold glare Amanda was giving him.

Lucius refastened a few top buttons on his black robe before he spoke to her. "I trust I can rely on your discretion," he said.

"You can fire it off on a NASA newsletter, I don't care," Amanda replied.

Lucius Malfoy's right eye slightly twitched at this, but it didn't stop him from trying to press his point further. "What are the chances," he asked, "of my coming back here to visit you again?"

"Nil," Amanda replied.

"Oh come now," Lucius replied, and actually leaned his arm against the frame of the door, a sultry smile leering down at Amanda. "I figured out where it was eventually, didn't I?"

The heavy door slammed shut in his face.

Lucius, obviously chagrined, checked once again to make sure no one was in the hall before slinking away in the opposite direction Snape was heading. Snape watched him until he was no longer in sight before leaving his hiding spot in the shadow of the stone griffin. The display had been interesting, to say the least--Lucius Malfoy's prejudices obviously didn't extend into the bedroom, although, perhaps, Amanda's did.

Somewhat sobered by this information, Snape made his way further down, and into his dungeon dwelling, a small, damp room not far from his classroom and office. It had been a while since he'd been here, since most of his time lately had been in Daniel's company, though he had been sure to make at least one or two trips here a week to give the illusion he still lived there. So, it was with some surprise that he found he was not alone as he had expected, but Blurty was walking quickly down the narrow, algae lined hall, and was talking in some confidence with a young man who stood next to him. At first, Snape thought Blurty had followed him, but then realized he didn't know where Blurty had gone in the interval between his wanting to stay conscious and leaving the mess hall himself.

"Express stairs," Blurty was saying, clarifying the matter. "Who would have thought such a thing could exist?" He chuckled and smacked the young man with him on the back. "Look, I meant no disrespect about that hand earlier, but you have to understand, when you know where these things come from, you have a much better insight into its possibilities, am I right?"

The young man spoke, and Snape was surprised to hear Draco Malfoy's voice break clearly into the darkness of the hall. Snape hid himself again, this time in the shadows of a staircase. "I just want to know more about this O'Grady person," Draco said. "You said he wasn't very smart, but you have to admit that it takes courage to be able to take another life..."

Blurty swore in exclamation at this. "Rubbish!" he shouted. "What fool has been putting that kind of nonsense into your head? No, Draco, there is no courage of any sort in cold blooded murder--Courage comes from finding a way to let someone who should be dead, live. That is significantly harder." He shook his head, and coughed into his fist. "Here, that O'Grady was not only stupid, he had a long history of making idiotic choices. He always looked out for himself, and how to take the easy way out of everything. That's what it all boils down to, lad. The criminal mind is no master--it's a stupid, bloated blob of grey that only sees its own ends, and as a result is it any wonder criminals destroy themselves most of all? No, if you want to be successful, avoid glorifying a criminal mindset." He smiled at Draco's frown. "Follow my advice and stop listening to your father--At your age you should be thinking about rebelling, and getting at least one really bad friend. We all need a bad friend once in a while, lad, they teach us how not to be when we see how fast they fall, or sometimes, how wrong we've been thinking." He sighed, the sound echoing through the black confines of the hallway. "O'Grady weren't no one's friend. He was a business associate of a very nasty crime gang, and when we took him down it was a bloody business all over. They'd just been ambushed at their 'safe house', you see, right in the middle of a seedy and busy London street. He'd taken a hostage, I was damn lucky I never shot her, but I knew if I'd waited one more second that poor girl would have been dead. It's never a good thing to have to kill anyone, lad. As you can see, he's still managed to come around and cause mischief." Draco tried to interject, but Blurty held up his hand, stopping him. "I only hope it won't be to cause the same sorrow he did when I took him down. Two innocent people died that day, along with him. Yes, I suppose there are people in the world who can get over seeing a small child die. I don't want to know them."

They walked past Snape, steps echoing into the distance, Blurty still talking in confidence to Draco, who was hanging on his every word. Again, Snape waited until they were completely out of earshot before leaving his hiding place. He avoided his quarters after all, and instead made his way to the express stairs to the upper floors, wondering if Daniel was home.

He had a few questions about O'Grady's hand himself.

***
Daniel was in bed, fully clothed though his suitjacket and tie had been tossed off and lay in a heap of fabric on the floor next to the bed, his white shirt partially unbuttoned. Numerous empty bottles of scotch littered the floor, which suggested Daniel had a party all on his own, a theory which a very tired and snoring Clash poster agreed with.

Snape sat on the bed beside him, his own head pounding with a migraine that wouldn't be cured easily. He shoved Daniel's shoulder. "I don't suppose it's worth it for me to say 'Happy Birthday?'"

"Not really," Daniel groggily admitted. He sighed roughly and rolled onto his back, bloodshot navy eyes now open and blearily looking at Snape. "What's Blurty doing?"

"Giving very bad advice to an impressionable young mind," Snape said.

Daniel nodded, and then rubbed the side of his forehead with his palm as though it pained him. "I figured he'd do that," he groaned.

"Your associate Amanda seems to have either improved or further destroyed Muggle/Wizard relations, I'm still not sure which." Snape got more comfortable on the bed, and his head sank with grave relief onto a pillow. "McKinnon and McKnulty are busy showing the older students that there are worse things to be consumed than an unfortunate all flavour bean."

Daniel rubbed his hands over his face, forcing a sense of wakefulness into his body. Snape watched him, acutely aware of how the shadows played over Daniel's features, making him appear gloomy along with his silence.

"Everyone else is wondering if you've gone mad," Snape said.

Daniel wasn't disturbed by this information. He turned on his side away from Snape and buried his face into his pillow with an exhausted sigh. "A little late for that realization, isn't it?" he said.

"I suspect a shrivelled hand was involved in it," Snape testily replied. He stared up at the ceiling, mentally remarking on its plainness. "I know about O'Grady," Snape said.

Daniel groaned, but remained facing away from Snape, his face buried in cotton and the softness of feather down. When he spoke the words were muffled, and Snape had to strain to hear him. "Do you know what Death looks like, Snape?" he said.

Snape was about to say it looked like a smoky/liquid greyish substance when it was sitting in a vial, but Daniel answered before he could.

"It's a small child. A little girl of about five. It's the pupil of her eye, Snape, the way the light inside of it gradually fades after a stray bullet shoots through her ear, and she starts to fall." He let out a sad laugh. "Sometimes, I can even hear the bullet. That whizzing noise as it rushes past the ear. Fwoom. Fwoom. McKinnon was right, it does get annoying. This afternoon, that stupid snitch in that damn game of yours....It's all I could hear, it's all I could think of." He raised his hand and shaped it into the form of a gun, brushing the 'barrel' that was his finger past his ear. "Fwoom. Fwoom."

Snape reached out to Daniel's shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "What O'Grady did wasn't your fault, Daniel."

"It wasn't his bullet," Daniel said. Then, so quiet only the barest hint of the words could meet Snape's hearing: "It was mine."

More shadows played over the room, Snape frowning as he looked up at the ceiling, part of him actually wondering if he'd seen something crawling and casting a grey relief. He still held onto Daniel's shoulder, his mind a rush of thought and latent alcohol and pain. Blurty had said two innocent people had died when he took O'Grady down. Blurty had been a good shot, Snape supposed, while Daniel wasn't.

He closed his eyes, ignoring the sensation that the grey shadow above them was moving again. Right now he was so tired, and terribly sad. He leaned on his side, and pressed his temple against the back of Daniel's head. He wanted to tell him he was sorry, but then, who wasn't right now, with such horrible past events rushing to the surface of the present?

He let out a heavy sigh, and slept.

***

Morning was far too bright and cheerful, and everyone involved in the McKinnon And McKnulty Experiment had obvious ill effects plaguing them. The Weasley twins looked the worse off, and McKinnon even slapped George on the back, and said, "Well now, you don't need a bean to make you taste the hair of the dog *this* morning, now do you?"

Snape would have found the joke funny if he wasn't suffering from alcohol poisoning himself. The Weasley twins were so pale you could barely see their freckles, and Snape himself knew his own face was a tad green. How Daniel managed to appear unaffected was beyond his understanding, as was the cheerfulness bloodshot-eyed Blurty still held onto. "It's a shame we have to leave, I could get used to this place."

"Some things can't be solved with a wave of a wand," Daniel reminded him, and Blurty gruffly pshawed.

"You've always been the spoilsport. Here, happy birthday, you fuckwit." He gave him hearty shove and a few swats on the back of the head, which Daniel good-naturedly allowed. The fight the night before was instantly forgiven even on McKinnon and McKnulty's part and they also tackled and roughed him about a bit, exchanging swearing insults meant as endearments. Amanda, approaching a bit later, left the front door of Hogwarts, her overnight bag slung over her shoulder, a quick "Happy birthday, Daniel," muttered to him as she briskly walked past them all to head towards the train.

McKnulty nodded after her. "She scored with one of them wizards, she did. Fellow came round last night asking how to reach her, and where she lived."

McKinnon frowned. "Did you tell him?"

McKnulty gave him a grin. "I gave him a cell phone number."

"She'll kill you."

"Nah...it was her husband Ricki's." McKnulty cocked his head at Daniel. "Did you know he got laid off from the lab? Poor bastard. He'll probably have to go back to being a bouncer at the nightclub again."

"He's suited for it, anyway," McKinnon said. "He's bigger than that Hagrid fellow."

As they picked up their bags, Dumbledore and Remus Lupin stepped out of the main Hogwarts doors, to greet them on the grassy plains in front of the stairs. Dumbledore shook Blurty's hand with more strength than his elderly stature would suggest, his eyes sparkling beneath bushy brows. "I'm happy that you enjoyed yourselves," he said. "I must admit, some Muggle creations are quite fascinating, especially those VDs."

"DVDs," Blurty instantly corrected him.

"Yes, yes," Dumbledore said. "Please, all of you, feel free to come back and visit our establishment anytime. You are always most welcome."

As these pleasantries were exchanged, Remus approached Snape and Daniel, and spoke lowly to them in confidence.

"There might be a security breach," he said. "Dumbledore suspects there might be a Death Eater lurking about Hogwarts, and I myself have seen his shadow. I'm not sure how to best flush him out, but there's no mistaking. Last night someone tried to break into Dumbledore's office, and you and I both know what for." He bit back a little on his own fears. "He Who Must Not Be Named's forces have taken Argon, off the coast of Trelly. They're circling in, and whatever it is they think they have to use against us, it's giving them all a terrible amount of confidence."

Snape's forced smile for Daniel's guests was even more strained at this news. Beside him, Daniel was as calm and lazily composed as he usually was, but after last night Snape knew better. He could see without any aid of magic the horror of the past invading the present, the murky contents of that hideous vial the same thing Daniel himself had seen in a barely begun life. He was seeing that gradual emptying of Life affecting all the world he'd lived in, while he stood powerless to stop it.

The morning was full of cheer as Daniel's friends left. In the doorway of Hogwarts, Snape caught the eye of Draco Malfoy, who was watching them leave with an intent and curious expression on his face. He turned away and went back inside when he saw Snape had noticed him.

There might be hope. After all, this was a world where Draco Malfoy's chosen 'bad friend' was Chief Constable Blurty.

The sunshine refused to abate. Soon, the students of Hogwarts would be finishing their final exams and a peaceful quiet would descend upon the school as they returned home. A quiet which, unfortunately, the faculty of Hogwarts would not share.

The train blew its whistle and began its journey back into the world of Muggles, where Life and Death were so much more fragile, and happiness in both was a struggle. Snape alone remained to watch it leave, until the track itself dissolved, and no one of Daniel's world remained.

END