Dumbledore's Secret

Tonks prided herself on being an independent, modern woman, one whose identity was not based on silly, romantic fantasies but on higher goals and aspirations. So, she didn't give a second thought to the two very passionate kisses she had shared with Remus several days earlier. Oh no, she had better things to do than daydream about shagging a man (the first time would be frantic and heated; the second encounter would last for hours and hours). She certainly hadn't begun fantasizing about a long-term relationship (every Sunday, after a good lie-in, they'd make love in the shower, and then he'd cook omelets while she read the comics to him). She'd not imagined their child (who had his eyes and a perfectly normal name like Jane) or planned their wedding (a simple affair with her parents, a few close friends, and a wedding dress that changed color every few minutes). All in all, she remained perfectly reasonable about the whole matter.

Still, it would have been nice to have a moment alone with him.

After the Order meeting, Albus herded the Aurors into the drawing room to discuss what had quickly become known as "the Percy matter." They spent a good hour debating; Emmeline and Mad-Eye pushed for an immediate announcement to the public about Percy's new "status," while Kingsley and Albus advocated keeping the matter quiet. This position infuriated Emmeline, who accused the headmaster of playing politics.

"It's clear," she snapped at him, "that you're only trying to maintain Arthur's viability as a candidate against Ogden. If it's known that Percy Weasley is a Death Eater, Ogden will most certainly win."

Albus denied this, claiming instead that it would be Ogden who would turn this into a political matter.

"And," Kingsley added, "think of the effect on Bill, Charlie, the twins. Bill will be discredited at Gringotts, and his diplomacy with the goblins will be all for naught; Charlie's recruitment efforts in Eastern Europe will suffer; and Fred and George's sales will decline, which will in turn hurt our finances - you know they're donating just about all of their profits to the cause."

Tonks felt conflicted. As much as she wanted Arthur to beat Ogden in the race for Minister, and as much as she disliked the idea of dragging the Weasley name through the mud, she thought it unwise to keep the public ignorant about the danger Percy now presented. Nonetheless, she agreed with Albus that Percy could, in the long run, be an asset to the Order, perhaps providing critical intelligence about Death Eater activities.

"I do not think it will take long," Albus noted sadly, "for Percy to realize that he's made a horrible mistake. This...regret may be useful to the Order."

This suggestion only caused Mad-Eye to growl that they didn't need another Death Eater in the group.

In the end, they reached a compromise. Mad-Eye and Emmeline admitted that Percy was not likely to be in the public eye anytime soon, as the Death Eaters would surely know that Kingsley could implicate their newest recruit. As a result, informing the Ministry would do little more than turn the Weasleys into public pariahs and cause irreparable damage to the Orders' efforts.

Albus and Kingsley conceded that, should Percy be spotted, he had to be apprehended immediately. As Kingsley could attest, Percy was indeed dangerous, and whether or not he came to regret his decision to join the Death Eaters, he was not to be trusted.

So, Tonks suggested hesitantly that Emmeline inform the Auror corps that Percy was missing without explaining the cause for his recent disappearance. This way, should any of the Ministry's Aurors spot him, they would know to report the information to Emmeline, who could then have the Order's Aurors apprehend Percy. "From there we can decide how best to ... proceed," Tonks concluded, finding it difficult to speak so dispassionately about a boy she had once seen sorted into Gryffindor.

"I don't like keeping things from my superior," Emmeline complained, to which Kingsley retorted that she had better figure out just whose side she was on. Before the two of them managed to start another row, Albus and Mad-Eye quickly agreed to Tonks' plan, leaving Emmeline and Kingsley little choice but to fall in line. Tonks suspected that this was only a temporary truce between the Order's factions.

When, over an hour later, she finally made her way back to the kitchen, Tonks saw no sign of Remus. Indeed, she found only Harry and Hermione sitting at the table, looking glum as they pushed what appeared to be very dry pieces of meatloaf around their plates.

"Where is everyone?" Tonks asked, coming to sit beside them. She reached for a piece of meatloaf, only to have Hermione shake her head.

"It's disgusting," she warned. "I, uh, don't think Miss Richardson knows how to cook very well."

Taking Hermione's advice, Tonks avoided the meatloaf and settled for a half-burnt roll. "Where is everyone?" she repeated.

Harry only muttered, "No one tells us anything."

"We were told only to come downstairs and eat!" Hermione agreed angrily. "Professor McGonagall asked to speak to Ron and Ginny privately, and when I went to check on them a few minutes ago, the Professor was gone, Ginny was in tears, and Ron ... he looked horrible! Neither of them would speak to me."

"Well, has Arthur, or Bill or Charlie ..." Tonks stammered, dreading the thought of telling them about Percy.

"All we know is that Mrs. Weasley was hysterical, Mr. Weasley disappeared, and Professor McGonagall told something to Ron and Ginny that upset them." Hermione paused before blurting out, "Percy's dead, isn't he?"

"Percy!" Harry exclaimed. "Percy?" He then looked at Tonks with big eyes. "This isn't about Percy, is it?"

"You see..." Tonks hemmed, looking about the kitchen, hoping that someone better suited to this sort of thing would rescue her. "Where's Remus?" she asked instead.

"It's the only thing that makes sense!" Hermione cried as if Tonks hadn't spoken. "Poor Ron! And Mrs. Weasley! No wonder she's hysterical!"

"No, he's not dead," Harry whispered. Something about the tone of the Harry's voice caused Tonks to glance nervously at him. "He's a Death Eater, isn't he?"

Tonks stumbled backwards in her chair.

"Harry, what do you mean?" Hermione demanded, leaning across the table. Then she shot a desperate glance at Tonks, who was picking herself up off the ground. "He's ... he's not right, is he? How could he be? Percy worked for the Ministry, and he was Head Boy and -"

Tonks decided there was no getting around this discussion. "Well, the thing is..." She stopped, considering the best way to tell them.

"You saw it, didn't you?" Hermione asked Harry before Tonks had a chance to finish. "Through your connection with V-Voldemort -"

Harry nodded reluctantly. "But don't tell Ron or Ginny, all right? I don't want them to think...well, I don't want them to know that I saw."

"But, you've told Professor Dumbledore, haven't you?" Hermione demanded. "How long have you known? Did you tell him as soon as -"

"Look, leave it alone, will you?" Harry snapped. Then, in a softer tone, he added, "I've known for a while, and I told Professor Dumbledore, but I thought ... I hoped it was another trick, like with..." His voice trailed off helplessly.

Tonks reached out and squeezed the young man's shoulder. "No worries," she soothed with a crooked smile. He looked at her expectantly, and she realized that she had no idea what else to say to him. "Um, I'm sure that... well, there was nothing you could have...it will all work out," she ended lamely.

Harry shrugged, looking unconvinced, and Hermione pushed away from the table, muttering, "I'm going to bed."

Harry nodded in agreement, and after both teens had thrown their crusty meatloaf into the trash, they left Tonks alone in the kitchen. After muttering a quick cleansing spell to clear away the bits of food the teens had missed, she wandered back upstairs in a last-ditch effort to locate Remus. Instead, she found Charlotte, who was sitting at the piano in the drawing room, listlessly running her fingers across the keys.

"You haven't seen Remus?" Tonks asked her.

"He's left," she murmured, not bothering to look up as she continued to tap the keys. "He wanted me to tell you that he's taking over Molly's watch duty at the Grangers."

"Oh." She'd nearly forgotten about that. Since the last Order meeting, Molly had taken it upon herself to patrol the Grangers' neighborhood and inspect the wards protecting the Muggle family's house. Though Molly herself had admitted that her efforts were futile - "I've only been able to go every few days, and I hardly think my wards will stop a determined Death Eater!" - she claimed that she did it for no other reason than to make herself feel better. "I suspect," Molly had told Tonks over breakfast one morning, "that Hermione has not seen fit to inform her parents of recent events. I begged Albus to let me speak to them - well informed is well prepared, after all - but he advised me to leave the decision up to Hermione. So, I fear this is the only way I can help them."

"Well," Tonks muttered to Charlotte, who was still tinkering on the piano as if Tonks weren't in the room, "thanks so much for passing on the message. I'm glad you came looking for me."

Charlotte's head snapped up, and she glared at Tonks. "Look, I came down here to find you, and you were no longer in the drawing room, and I -"

"Fine, whatever." Tonks turned to go but stopped mid-stride. "Have you seen Molly?" she asked in a slightly less belligerent tone. "Is she all right? How are the rest of them? Ron and Ginny?"

Charlotte's voice also softened. "I don't know. Bill, Charlie, Fred and George left while you were talking with Grandfather, and I haven't seen Arthur since the meeting. Ron and Ginny ..." She sighed. "I tried to bring them some food, but they didn't open their doors."

Tonks snorted, thinking of the meatloaf in the kitchen. Then, deciding she and Charlotte were on bad enough terms as it was, she said only, "All right, well, thanks."

Realizing that there wasn't much more that she could do at Grimmauld Place, she apparated to her flat. She had briefly entertained the notion of waiting for Remus in his room, but she couldn't imagine what she'd say to him when he returned ("Hi Remus, I know you've had a long day, but how about a shag?"). She decided she'd be better off returning early the next morning, after they'd both gotten a good night's sleep.

However, when she awoke, she discovered Kingsley's owl tapping impatiently on her window. In typical Kingsley fashion, his note had been to the point: "My place, as soon as you get this. Search begins today. KS"

She seriously considered ignoring the owl so that she could spend the day with Remus, but dutiful soldier that she was, she met up with her partner and did what she did best: reconnaissance.

Because they had both been suspended, neither Auror had access to any of the Ministry resources; still, they managed to spend the entire day piecing together the remnants of Percy's former life. As a Metamorphmagus who was also quite skilled in interrogation techniques, Tonks excelled at questioning suspects and witnesses without them realizing they were being investigated. Tonks had decided to disguise herself as Percy's ex-landlord, whom Tonks had spotted early in the morning when she and Kingsley had been snooping around Percy's old flat. She thought, with only a touch of arrogance, that she'd done a rather nice impersonation of a concerned old lady who wondered why that "polite young boy" hadn't paid his last month's rent. And it had been rather fun to waltz into the Ministry and conduct an investigation under the very noses of those who had suspended her.

Still, for all her efforts, she didn't discover much. It seemed that the ambitious young man had not been terribly popular at work. His past acquaintances - he'd had no real friends - had very little to say about his recent disappearance.

"Have you checked St. Mungo's?" one of his former work colleagues had asked the disguised Auror. "That swot had a quill shoved up his arse - excuse me, Madam - his rear end from the first day he came to this office. Maybe he's finally gone into therapy for it?"

While the comment caused a spurt of giggles among the staff, it gave Tonks very little to go on.

Penelope Clearwater proved to be the one and only person who expressed concerned about Percy's whereabouts. Although the young woman seemed suspicious of Tonks's pretense for questioning her- "I'm certain, Mrs. Marlborough, that Percy would have paid his last month's rent...are you sure you haven't just forgotten like you did a few months ago?"-Percy's former girlfriend eventually provided Tonks with her sole lead of the day.

"Rich Bradshaw might know where Percy is. But ... well, probably not. No, Mrs. Marlborough, you don't want to bother Rich, he's not a very nice man and ... are you sure I can't pay the rent? Have you tried contacting Percy's parents?"

Tonks assured Penelope that Percy's parents had no idea what had happened to their son.

"Well, double check your records, I'm sure he wouldn't have forgotten to pay. You know how responsible Percy is."

Tonks thought that Percy's ideas about responsibility had become severely warped in the last few months.

With Rich Bradshaw as their only lead, Tonks and Kingsley spent much of the evening pouring over both Percy and Bradshaw's files, pilfered courtesy of Hestia Jones. Hestia's position as Arbitrator in the International Magical Office of Law, combined with her legendary ability to flirt with the day clerk in the Magical Records Office, gave her access to the health and work records of most witches and wizards in England, a fact that always made Tonks glad Hestia was on their side.

Percy's records failed to reveal any useful information (though Tonks did discover that he had to have set a Ministry record for most number of memos written). She and Kingsley were able to learn a bit more about Bradshaw, who worked as a clerk in a quill and parchment shop in Diagon Alley and had a flat not far from Tonks's own place.

"We can check this out tomorrow," Kingsley decided, shrinking the files and storing them in his robe pocket. "I've got places to be," he added with a wink.

"Ooh, hot date?" Tonks quipped with a wink of her own. "You work fast. Two days out of St. Mungo's, and you've already got them lining up for you."

Kingsley laughed. "It's just a friend... a hot friend, but just a friend! In any case, he's not as hot as your man," he teased.

Tonks blushed. "Remus isn't my man." Then she wrinkled her nose and tried for a lighter tone. "And don't call him hot, or you'll make me jealous."

Kingsley chuckled. "If you're afraid of someone stealing him, you should watch Dumbledore's granddaughter. Hmm, let's see, if I were alone with Snape and Remus, who would I choose?"

"Charlotte?" Tonks laughed nervously. "I'm not worried about her. As my friend Dar says, 'I will not be afraid of women.' Or you, Kings."

Kingsley laughed so hard that Tonks swore she could feel the floorboards of her flat vibrating. "I don't know who Dar is, but Tonks, you are hopeless. Put on something sexy and have a good night."

"Unlikely," she told him as he left. However, the moment the door closed, she raced to her closet and found her most flattering skirt and a tight little shirt that accentuated her admittedly small cleavage.

By the time she arrived at Headquarters, it was well past eleven. Summoning her Gryffindor courage, she went directly to Remus's bedroom door and knocked. After a few seconds of silence, she heard what sounded like a soft groan. Wincing, she wondered if she had woken him. Still, she waited hopefully for the sound of his footsteps. When she heard nothing else, she knocked again. Putting her ear to the door, she caught the slight creaking of his bed, but still, he did not respond. Her hand reached for the doorknob, and then she cursed and turned away. If he didn't want to answer, she couldn't barge into his room.

Involuntarily, she remembered Kingsley's taunts about Charlotte. Don't be stupid, she chided herself. Still, she put her ear to his door once more, this time catching the unmistakable sound of whimpering.

"Remus?" she asked frantically, knocking again. "Remus, are you in there?"

"People are trying to sleep!" a voice hissed from behind her.

Spinning around, she gasped, "Oh! Professor Snape, I'm sorry, I just - "

With only his wand light illuminating his face, Snape looked even more sinister than usual. His black eyes narrowed as they took in her appearance. Then, quite to Tonks's surprise, he began to laugh. The abrasive sound sent a chill down her spine, and she felt almost as if she were back in the Hogwarts Potions lab, attempting to drop a rat spleen into leech juice without spilling the resulting Shrinking Potion all over herself.

"I'm just wondering ... where, uh, Remus is," she stammered.

"Forget to look up at the sky tonight?" he sneered.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed a little more loudly than she'd intended.

"Not for you, apparently," he countered with a pointed glance at her short skirt.

"What's going on?" Harry came rushing into the hallway. "Tonks? What is...is he hurting you?" The young man aimed his wand at Snape. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but - "

Snape growled and leveled his own wand at the boy. "Underage magic, Potter," he warned. "Though please, do hex me. Your expulsion is something I've been looking forward to for the past five years."

"That's enough!" Tonks cried, stepping between them. "Let's puts the wands away, all right?"

Both Snape and Harry began to back down when a popping noise caused all three occupants of the corridor to aim their wands toward the staircase.

"Shhh! Mistress trying to sleep!" Charlotte's house-elf shook one of its long, bony fingers at them. "Bad man! Lupa knows bad man is cause of this!"

"Shut up and get back to your little nest," Snape muttered. Then he glanced at Harry. "That goes for you, too, Potter."

"You can't order me around!" Harry argued. "We're not at school, and there's no curfew here. And you have absolutely no authority -"

"I'd say this is authority enough," Snape retorted, pointing his wand at Harry's chest. "Get back to bed."

"Stop pointing that at him, will you?" Tonks demanded. "Can't we just be reasonable about this and -"

"Keep pointing that wand at me, Snape, and you'll regret it," Harry growled, aiming his own wand at the Potions master's face.

"What in God's name is going on out here?" Charlotte stumbled out of her bedroom and glared at the three of them.

"Lupa told bad people to be quiet, Mistress, but -"

"Why is everyone yelling?" Now Hermione had come into the corridor. "I could hear you from our bedroom downstairs! You'll wake up Ginny, and she hasn't gotten much sleep in the past few days - "

"It doesn't matter," Ginny yawned, coming up behind Hermione. "I wasn't asleep, anyhow."

"Oh, very good!" Snape sneered. "Let's all congregate outside the room of a werewolf on the night of the full moon. Get back to bed, all of you!" he roared. "Now!"

Hermione and Ginny started to obey, but Harry sat himself directly in front of Remus's door and declared, "I'm staying here."

"Oh, for God's sake," Charlotte muttered. "Harry, please, just -"

"If anyone's dangerous in this house," he cried, glaring up at Snape, "it's you."

"Most definitely," Snape agreed softly. He then flicked his wand and muttered, "Stupefy."

"Severus!" Charlotte shrieked as Harry slumped against the door.

Tonks dropped to her knees and checked the young man's head, which had slammed against the doorframe as he fell unconscious. "Well, there'll be a bump, but at least there's no gash," she muttered, shooting Snape a look of disgust.

"I can't believe you did that!" Charlotte stormed.

"The boy wouldn't listen to reason!" Snape retorted angrily. "Sitting in front of a werewolf's room on the night of the full moon - I was protecting him!"

"Protecting him?" Charlotte yelped. "Protecting him? You gave Remus the Wolfsbane and warded his door, so unless you don't trust your own abilities -"

"What's all the yelling about?" Ron demanded, staggering into the hallway. With a look of sleepy confusion on his face, he asked, "Why is Harry ..." He stopped speaking when he caught sight of Snape. Then, with surprising agility for someone who had just been awakened, Ron pulled out his wand and aimed it at Snape.

But before the teen could utter his curse, another voice called out behind them, "Accio wands!" All of the wands - and everyone except Charlotte now had their wands in hand - zoomed to the end of the hallway and into the hands of Arthur Weasley.

Tonks gaped at the middle-aged wizard as he strode toward them. He shouldn't have appeared intimidating in his wrinkled nightshirt and fuzzy blue slippers. But his face was so fierce that, when he approached Harry, everyone, including Snape, took a step back.

"Dad - " Ron whispered.

Arthur quieted his youngest son with a severe glance. Then, after dropping the others' wands at his feet, he pulled out his own wand and whispered, "Ennervate."

Harry's eyes immediately fluttered open, and after blinking for a few seconds, he muttered, "Where...what...Snape!" He tried to get up, but Arthur kept the young man pinned against the door. "But, Mr. Weasley, Snape just - " Harry stopped when he caught the stern look on Arthur's face.

"Go to bed, Harry."

"Yes sir," Harry agreed quietly, glancing worriedly at Ron, who helped him off the ground. After grabbing their wands, the teens shuffled back to their rooms, only Ginny daring to glance back at her father before she headed to her room downstairs.

Hanging her head, Tonks whispered, "Arthur, I'm sorry if we woke you. Are you ..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Am I what?" Arthur demanded. "Am I upset? Am I angry?"

"Arthur -" Charlotte began.

"I thought," Arthur continued, his voice shaking with rage, "there were other adults in this house! Apparently I was wrong. Molly needs her rest, and yet I find all of you out here, screaming like children!"

"Arthur - " It was Snape who tried to speak this time, his voice almost contrite. Tonks blinked in surprise as the normally reticent Potions master extended a hand toward Arthur, who jerked away as if threatened. After a quick but visible wince flashed across Snape's face, he bit out, "I need my wand."

"Right," Arthur responded tersely, taking another step back as Snape's wand flew from the ground to the Potions master's hand.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Arthur asked wearily, "What happened to Harry?"

Tonks exchanged a glance with Charlotte. "Well," Charlotte began, "it seems that - "

"I stupefied him," Snape interrupted.

"Why?" Arthur demanded. "I can't imagine that a 16-old-wizard was a threat to you!"

"He was a threat to himself," Snape retorted, "and in any case, I've had more than enough experience dealing with arrogant, pig-headed Potters to know that -"

Arthur held up a hand, and surprisingly, Snape stopped speaking. Then, in a quiet, almost desperate voice, Arthur asked, "This is the best I can hope for Percy, isn't it?" Snape's mouth fell open in surprise. "That he'll end up bitter, perpetually angry - "

Snape managed to school his expression as he responded coldly, "That, or dead."

Arthur's face reddened. "Get out of my way!"

"Gladly!" Snape obliged, spinning on his heel and fleeing the corridor. Without a second glance at either Tonks or Charlotte, Arthur marched back to his room and slammed the door.

Charlotte and Tonks were left alone in the pitch-black corridor.

For a long moment, neither woman moved. Then Tonks bent down, found her wand, and muttered, "Lumos."

Charlotte stared at her for several seconds before whispering, "Yesterday, I found an unopened case of wine in one of the storage rooms."

With a last, helpless glance at Remus's bedroom door, Tonks muttered, "Lead the way."

*

Severus's hands shook as he pulled the vial out of the cabinet. Uncorking the stopper, he stared down at the purple liquid, mesmerized by the swirls of smoke that floated off the potion. It's not as if you haven't seen sleep draught before, he chided himself. Still, he continued to gaze at the potion as if it were a newly discovered substance.

"Sleeping potions," he lectured annually to his fifth years, "are often over prescribed to ninnies who think that the approach of their O.W.L.s constitutes a serious crisis. In fact, sleep draughts, particularly the Dreamless Sleep, ought not to be used except in the gravest of situations. Why is that?" No one ever answered, although last year, Miss Granger had tried, waving her hand in the air as if the future of the world depended on her being allowed to speak. Naturally, he had ignored her and continued with a, "Dunderheads! This is the very type of question you are likely to find on your exams! The stronger the draught, the more Jupiter's Eye it contains. And Jupiter's Eye is ..." A pause, an expectant look around the room, a heavy sigh. "Powdered Jupiter's Eye, after frequent use, is highly addictive."

Most years, this information was scratched onto parchments without question or comment, but Miss Granger had, of course, been unable to keep silent. "Excuse me, Sir? What are the symptoms of this addiction?"

He had glared at her, and she, somehow misunderstanding the off-putting stare as an excuse to talk further, had added quickly, "Symptoms other than the addiction itself, of course."

He had decided to deviate from his customary method of punishment that day. Instead of growling and taking points, he had smiled warmly, a reaction that caused nearly every student's eyes to widen with fear. "What a brilliant question, Miss Granger," he had managed without a trace of his usual sarcasm. "So brilliant, in fact, that I believe the entire class would benefit from an assignment on the subject. Hmm, let us say five - no, six - feet of parchment on Jupiter's Eye. By tomorrow."

In that moment, he had been rather pleased with himself, enjoying the looks of loathing Miss Granger had received, not only from the Slytherins but from her fellow Gryffindors, as well. Later, however, when he had been forced to read, over and over again, "Addiction to Jupiter's Eye often causes muscle spasms, loss of mental acuity, and, ironically, a restless sleep that leaves the potion drinker feeling more fatigued than before," he began to wonder if he hadn't punished himself more than Miss Granger.

Oddly enough, he had never needed the draught when he had been a spy. No matter how many bouts of Cruciatus he had undergone or how many hexes he'd placed on others, no matter how many people he had watched die or how many of these murders he had helped bring about, he'd always been able to sleep and sleep like the dead. No nightmares. No fits of restlessness or night sweats. Deep, dead sleep.

It had been the middle years, those years sandwiched between the Dark Lord's unexpected fall and his spectacular return, when he had begun to take the potion. Just a dose, here and there, once in a while, every so often, a few times a week, once before bed, just a few times a day. The shakes, the dullness of mind, the bags under his eyes had, at first, been noticeable only to himself, and he, in his usual manner of dealing with these sorts of things, chose to ignore the evidence. Albus, despite his reputation for omniscience, had taken over a year to figure out what exactly was happening. The first batch of botched Skele-Gro had been easy enough to overlook, and could anyone blame him for an occasional accident in the labs? But there came a point - sometime between the consistently useless vials of Deflating Draught and the steady flow of burn cases in the hospital wing - when even the most trusting of souls had to be suspicious.

Severus wondered, even now, if Albus really would have made good on his promise to sack him had he not stopped taking the draught. Of all the things the headmaster had asked Severus to do in his life, ending the use of the potion had to have been the most difficult. To ask a Potions master, who had at his disposal all of the ingredients, equipment, and knowledge necessary to make that little bit of comfort that he so desperately needed ...

And yet Severus had stopped, if only because Albus had removed the Jupiter's Eye from his stores. He could have visited an Apothecary, perhaps one in Knockturn Alley who knew how to keep his mouth shut for the right number of Galleons. Still, Severus was desperate, not stupid; he knew he was being watched nearly every moment of every day. Poppy had informed him, with pursed lips and disapproving clucks, that she would begin making the Dreamless Sleep Draught herself, as surely he had better things to do with his time. On the very night Albus had confronted him, Minerva had come to his study and given no excuse for her presence. She came almost every evening for a month, usually saying nothing while she marked papers and shot him anxious, angry glances like a distraught mother. The portraits' eyes followed him throughout the castle, and Hagrid tagged along whenever Severus headed into the Forbidden Forest. Even the house-elves were in on it; they began to clean every nook and cranny of his labs, his office, and his residence, despite his obvious disapproval of their meddling.

The following year, when his fifth year curriculum required the Jupiter's Eye, the ingredient mysteriously reappeared in his stores, but only for that day, and then it again went missing.

It was only after the Triwizard Tournament, only after Severus had gone crawling back to the Dark Lord, that the Jupiter's Eye made a permanent reappearance in his lab. "You realize," he'd told Albus upon returning from the first summons, "I could ruin everything. Just a drop of the potion," he'd threatened with a sneer. He'd wanted to see the fear in Albus's eyes; he'd wanted to make him pay for sending him back to the monster.

With a sadness that had cut Severus to the quick, Albus had responded, "You could, but you won't. You may not be very loyal to yourself, but I don't doubt your loyalty to me."

Severus knew that loyalty had very little to do with the matter. As a spy who relied on his Occlumency skills, he needed sleep - real, deep, restful sleep, not the foggy oblivion that the potion provided. Ironically, it was the constant dread of being summoned that had, in fact, made it possible for him to stave off the nightmares and get a good night's rest. His life, after all, depended on it, and he was nothing if not a survivor.

But now, hidden away in the house of his enemy, protected by people who, for the most part, would rather see him dead than alive, he found it impossible to close his eyes without seeing Dorcas. In the middle years, she had spoken to him in the dreams. She had blamed him, reproached him, hated him, but she had spoken to him. Now, however, she spoke about him, and he found it infinitely more frightening. With twisted limbs and a bruised face, she complained of him to Henry, whose eyes were as vacant as they had been the last time Severus had stared into them; she laughed about him with Emmeline, and they sounded just as they had when they were girls, except now Emmeline had streaks of gray in her hair and Dorcas's skin was rotting; and, last night, Dorcas had been dancing with Percy Weasley, telling him, as they moved in dizzying circles, how her dear younger brother had taught her the Killing Curse.

The worst of the dreams, however, featured Charlotte, whose clear eyes clouded whenever Dorcas whispered into her ear. Sometimes the two women were playing duets on the piano, and Dorcas would lean over and murmur something that would cause Charlotte to look over at him with disgust. Other times the three of them were in the Grimmauld Place kitchen, or in the Headmaster's Office, or even in Guinevere Dumbledore's sunny bedroom, the Dark Lord at their side. Dorcas never looked more frightening than she did in those dreams. Even in the nightmares where her eyes had rolled back in her head, her lips were cracked and bleeding, and her bones were poking through her rotting skin, even then she was easier to bear than when she stood next to Charlotte and whispered.

The smoke rising off the potion drifted to his nostrils, and he breathed it in, catching the subtle scent of the sweet violet petals. "The color, taste, and smell of the potion," he explained to every crop of fifth years as they stirred three grams of the dried flower into their cauldrons, "comes from Viola odorata, which, when boiled with common table sugar, forms the base of the draught." He'd always found it ironic that he, of all people, had become addicted to something so sweet. "Such a bitter man, aren't you, Severus?" the Dark Lord had observed after burning the Mark into his skin.

The Mark. He was starting to believe that it was the root of his nightmares. Not his conscience - he was fairly certain that it had been obliterated long ago - but the Mark. Yes, it had to be the Mark that was keeping him awake at nights. In the first few days following his defection, the Mark had tingled, nothing more. After a week or two, it itched, and that was when the nightmares had returned. Then the Mark began to burn, as if his fair skin had been exposed just a tad too long in the summer sun, and he stopped sleeping for more than a few hours at a time. Most recently, the Mark had started to throb, so that, if the nightmares didn't wake him, the pain did.

The pain may have woken him, but it was the Mark's change in color that kept him from falling asleep again. Over the past two days, the tattoo had transformed, ever so slightly, from a charred black to a sickly green, though if he stared at it long enough, he could almost convince himself that the skull and snake were still as black as the day they had been burned onto this skin.

"Show them your Mark, Igor," the Dark Lord had hissed to Karkaroff as he lay trembling in front of the full contingent of Death Eaters.

The once head of Durmstrang hadn't been able to lift his finger, much less his arm, but the Dark Lord had helped the traitor along, levitating his arm so that it pointed upwards at an unnatural angle. Severus had been one of the closest in the circle, so he had been able to see the Mark better than most. He had wondered, as he stared at the bright green skull tattooed on Karkaroff's arm, if the Dark Lord hadn't positioned him nearest the traitor for a reason.

"Who brought him here, My Lord?"

Of all the Death Eaters, only Malfoy could ask such a direct question without fear of retribution.

Indeed, the thinly veiled anger in Malfoy's voice only served to amuse the Dark Lord. "I know how much you wanted to bring the traitor to me, Lucius, but do not despair, no one has supplanted you. Igor brought himself to our little gathering, didn't you, Igor?"

With his arm still in the air and his face pressed against the earth, Karkaroff had whimpered pitifully.

"This is what happens when you try to leave," the Dark Lord had explained softly, his red eyes fixed on Severus. "You'll always come back to me. You can't stop yourself, isn't that so, Igor? You just have to press your fingers against the Mark as it turns such a lovely shade of green. You can't help but return to your Master."

Severus tipped the vial so that the liquid slid toward the rim. Feeling as if time had slowed, he watched as a drop - just a drop - splashed over the rim and onto his outstretched index finger. The potion stained his skin, highlighting the swirls of his fingerprint. Could Albus really blame him? What was so horrible about one night of dreamless sleep? "You've lost control, Severus," the headmaster had lectured him years ago. But had he ever really had control? Hadn't that always been his problem? In any case, the nightmares and the lack of sleep they caused were just as dangerous as the addiction. Indeed, Albus was going to reprimand him - perhaps even sack him - for hexing Potter. Severus had simply been too exhausted to resist the brat's taunts. How much worse could it get?

He brought the tip of his finger to his lips and sucked.

"Longbottom, inform the class what is to be put in the cauldron after the violet."

"Uh...well, uh...acacia gum?"

"A lucky guess. Mr. Malfoy, the next ingredient?"

"Red root, Sir."

"Very good, five points to Slytherin. These two ingredients are used to help bind the properties of the violet to the last and most important ingredient, the powdered Jupiter's Eye. When, Potter, does one add the Jupiter's Eye into the potion?"

"Uh, before the end?"

"Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek. A more accurate response? Ah, yes, Mr. Crabbe?"

"Just before the potion is to be taken, Sir."

"Very good, five more points to Slytherin."

"That's not fair! Malfoy whispered it to him, I heard him and -"

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley, for interrupting this class, and another five for falsely accusing a student. Because the Jupiter's Eye should be added at the very last moment, most Apothecaries keep the base of the potion on stock, adding the Jupiter's Eye only before the potion is to be dispensed to the patient. Now, what happens if the Jupiter's Eye is not added to the potion? Anyone?"

"Sir, the potion is basically useless. Although the violet has some calming properties, perhaps enough to relax the drinker into a light sleep, it cannot provide the sort of dreamless quality that Jupiter's Eye -"

"That's enough, Granger, I don't remember calling on you. Very well, add the ingredients. In the proper order, Longbottom!"

A sudden knock at the door nearly caused him to drop the vial. With a curse, he yanked his finger out of his mouth and growled, "It's not yet ready."

He'd expected her to say something, but he heard only her footsteps retreating from the lab door. With a heavy sigh, he reached for the tin of Jupiter's Eye. Still holding the vial in one hand, he used the other, trembling hand to scoop one heaping spoonful of the powder into the potion. He pushed the stopper back into the mouth of the vial and shook the glass tube rapidly.

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled open the door to the kitchen and thrust the potion into Molly Weasley's outstretched hands.

*

She felt as if she had aged a decade in a day. She probably looked it, too, though she hadn't bothered to so much as glance into a mirror on her way downstairs. She'd been too intent on leaving the room without waking Arthur. He'd have tried to stop her from getting the potion. He had already attempted to wake her twice during the day. But she had kept her eyes firmly shut, even when he'd shaken her.

It was, of course, unlikely that she'd have woken Arthur as she slipped out of bed. After he'd come storming back into the room, waking her up with a slam of the door, he'd crawled into bed and, within minutes, he'd begun snoring. Snoring, as if he hadn't a care in the world.

The sound of his heavy, gasping snorts had made her too furious to fall back asleep. In any case, she'd slept for nearly twenty-four hours, and she wasn't very tired anymore. But that did not matter to her. She wanted to sleep. She needed to sleep.

Somehow, she had known that she'd find Severus in the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee. It didn't matter if it was midnight or morning, if he wasn't with Charlotte or in his lab, he was sitting in the back corner of the kitchen, coffee cup in hand.

He looked as bad as she felt. Even in the dim light, she could tell that he needed a good meal and a long night's sleep. If it had been some other night, she might have told him so, but on this night she said only, "I need a dose of Dreamless Sleep."

He stared at her for a long moment before rising silently and heading into his lab. As he closed the door, she slumped into one of the chairs at the table. There were bits and pieces of food on the wooden surface, scraps of napkin on the floor, piles of dishes in the sink. She caught a whiff of something - spoiled milk? - and wondered briefly if she should vanish the trash. But the thought came and went, and she continued to wait, slouched in her chair.

She tried to remember how long it took, exactly, to make Dreamless Sleep Draught. She had been fairly competent at Potions. Indeed, had she chosen a different route in life, she might have become an apothecary. She was precise, logical, detail oriented, the very traits one needed to make Potions well. Oh, she could never have become a Potions mistress, but then, she had always thought that Percy had a real shot at mastering...

She needed the Dreamless Sleep Draught. Now.

Pushing away from the table, she hurried toward the lab and pounded her fist against the door.

"It's not yet ready!"

She moved away from the door, confused. Should it take this long? Dreamless Sleep Draught: petals of sweet violet, dried and crushed; table sugar, dissolved in boiling water; acacia gum and red root, stirred in small doses; and Jupiter's Eye, powdered and dissolved into the solution just before being ingested. Simple.

Severus emerged from the lab, his face pained as he handed her a vial of purple potion. She grabbed for it and began fumbling with the stopper, afraid that if she waited too long, the Jupiter's Eye would lose its potency.

"Give it here," Severus muttered, taking the vial from her hand and removing the stopper. He started to hand it back to her, but the moment her fingers brushed the glass, he abruptly pulled the tube away. "How many doses have you had?" he demanded.

She gaped at him. "I need to take the potion before it loses potency -"

"How many doses have you had?"

"Just the one, yesterday after... give me the potion."

"You're not supposed to have more than one dose every seventy-two hours." He turned away from her and took a step toward his lab.

"But, you already made it... give me the potion!"

"No, I've changed my mind," he told her, his back still to her. "Go back to bed."

"Why?" She winced at the desperation in her voice. Feeling as if she were watching the scene from outside of her own body, she heard herself repeat, "Why?"

She saw his back stiffen, and he muttered, "I told you, no more than one dose in - "

"No, why? Why did he do this?" The words slipped out before she realized what she was saying.

He whirled around to face her. "What did you just ask me?"

"Tell me why."

His face twisted into a scowl. "Tell you why he joined? Is that what you want to know?"

She didn't want to know, but still she felt herself nodding.

An expression she couldn't read flickered across his face, and his lips relaxed into a frightening smile.

Suddenly, she knew she could not hear this. "No, I don't want to know. Just give me the potion and -"

"Perhaps you expect to hear that it was all my parents' fault, is that it? That had they done a better job, had they not pushed me away, had they supported me rather than criticized me -"

She turned away from him and stumbled toward the stairwell.

"He finds your weakness," Severus said very quietly, causing her to halt abruptly. "The Dark Lord finds your weakness and says exactly what you want to hear. He convinces you, he cajoles you, he promises you -"

She spun around. "But he knows better! He knows better!"

Severus let out a bitter laugh. "Apparently he doesn't. In any case, what is there to know? He felt alone, he felt weak, he felt powerless, and the Dark Lord promised to make him part of something important, part of something powerful. What more is there to know than that?"

"He knew that he had us! All of us! He didn't have to do this!"

"Perhaps," Severus murmured, "he wasn't thinking. Perhaps he was so angry that he couldn't see clearly."

Molly felt her eyes fill with tears; she squeezed her lids closed to keep them from falling. "But, even then, even if he made the mistake of joining, to hurt Kingsley, to bring a man he knew to near death... he knew what he was doing, how could he- "

"Molly, listen to me." Her eyes flew open at the desperate tone of his voice. "Your son made a horrible decision. But he's a reasonably intelligent man. He knows - everyone who joins knows that once you've taken the Mark, you have two choices, only two choices. You can recognize that you've made the worst mistake of your life and refuse to continue. But then you'll die. He'll see it in your eyes, and you won't last long. There's no leaving, Molly. There's no turning back. So, if you're smart, you close your eyes. You just close your eyes, follow orders, and hope you'll continue breathing for another day."

She felt the tears coursing down her cheeks. "Kill or be killed," she choked out, and he nodded. Then she shook her head. "No, no, there's another option. You're alive, you made it out, maybe he can -"

Severus turned away. "That ...don't wish that on him, Molly. Don't wish that."

"But -"

"It took an extraordinary ..." He stopped, and she thought he wasn't going to finish. But after a deep breath, he managed, "Mine is an extreme case. Don't wish that on him."

She gazed as his back for several moments. And then it hit her. She couldn't believe she hadn't realized it before. "Dorcas, " she whispered. "You turned when Dorcas-"

He took two long strides toward her and grabbed her hand. "Take this, but do not expect any more, do you understand?" His voice was harsh as he shoved the sleeping potion into her hand. "That's it. Go to bed."

Before she could respond, he had disappeared into the stairwell.