Summoned

Chapter 9: Retaliation

(This chapter has been revised to remove the mention of Lupin's Wolfsbane Potion.)

"I am very lucky to be working alongside Professor Snape; there aren't many wizards who are up to making [Wolfsbane Potion]."

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

July 13, 1995, evening

The homey scent of some type of dinner, heavily laden with garlic, greeted Dumbledore as he entered the house at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Molly Weasley was well-known for her delicious food. He privately pitied anyone who'd ever passed up a chance to sample it. Of course, there were her ginger cookies, which were reputed to be too hard to chew, but even great cooks had their limitations, he supposed.

The meeting of the Order hadn't quite started. Molly was still in the kitchen, Arthur and Kingsley were standing near the kitchen table, talking quietly, and from the meeting room itself, he could hear Sirius and Remus already heatedly discussing the main topic on the agenda for tonight.

"Dumbledore! I didn't think you were going to be able to make it!" Kingsley moved away from Arthur and shook Dumbledore's hand vigorously. "How are things at Hogwarts?"

"Well, that's partly why I'm here. Are we about ready? I don't want to be gone too long or Tonks might re-set all the charms on me and lock me out."

Kingsley and Arthur both chuckled, and they made their way to the meeting room.

Remus had changed clothing, but the leisure suit he wore was still obviously too big for him. The scratches on his face were mending nicely, though because they were the products of Dark magic, it always took longer than usual for them to heal.

As they took their seats around the table, he was acutely aware of Sirius' intense stare. He met it briefly, then looked away. Molly joined the group and sat by her husband, near the door. "Need to get up and check the dinner, you know. Everyone staying?"

"I won't be able to, Molly, I'm sorry," Dumbledore answered.

"Well, I'll just put some aside for you to take back then. Don't want you going hungry!"

He smiled.

"Alright," Sirius said. "Everyone is here." He looked around, meeting each person's eyes for a second before moving to the next. "Arthur?"

Arthur Weasley pulled out his wand and tapped it on the side of the table. A pad of parchment and a note-taking quill appeared. For the next five minutes, the meeting was called to order, the previous meeting's agenda and conclusions were revisited and approved, and a quorum was called.

"Very well," Arthur said, allowing the parchment and quill to rest next to him on the table. "New business?"

"A continuation of old business," Remus said. He clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward to be better heard. "You all know I've talked with Dumbledore about Severus." He paused and got the nodded heads he was looking for. He glanced at Dumbledore, as if to turn the meeting over to him, but the headmaster shook his head and waved him on.

"Dumbledore has given me certain details that convinced me that Severus did not betray anything or anyone to You-Know-Who."

Sirius rocked back in chair until it balanced on the rear legs. "And I'll ask you again, Remus: what details?" He glanced first at Dumbledore, then back to his friend.

Lupin also shot Dumbledore a glance before answering. "You-Know-Who spent the entire two days torturing him. He revealed nothing. Dumbledore and the Healer were able to find all the memories they needed to verify that."

Sirius nodded thoughtfully, but there was no change in the look he gave. "And that's it?" He turned to Dumbledore. "You still can't give us anything more concrete?"

"He gave me something concrete," Remus said. He paused and looked at his hands, clasped before him on the table. "He found memories of those two days. He saw - everything that happened."

"And if I'm not mistaken, that included at least one use of the Imperius Curse?" Black asked. He tilted his head and dark, thick locks of hair fell across his face. He gave Remus a long glance, then turned to Dumbledore. "What exactly did you find, Dumbledore?"

He narrowed his eyes. He had been afraid of this. He shot a glance at Remus who was sitting back in his chair, and who shook his head and raised his hands in defeat. "An appalling use of the Imperius Curse which in no way had anything to do with gathering information. Or with the Order. It was simply - an additional form of torture."

"During which he maintained complete control and let nothing slip?" Sirius shook his head. "Please, give us some credit for intelligence! If it was that bad, no one could get through it without breaking."

"Dumbledore," Kingsley said, leaning closer to the table, "if he broke, that's quite understandable. And I, for one, would not have trouble trusting him to go back. But if any information -"

"He didn't break!" Dumbledore pulled himself back and turned to Remus for help.

"His Occlumency really is - or was- that strong." After a moment, Lupin leaned in again, arms resting on the table. He looked around, then focused on Sirius. "Each of us, I'm sure, has at least one boggart in our cabinets." Sirius flinched. "You-Know-Who found one of Severus' and used it to torture him. He was angry. He wanted to be sure Severus knew not to return empty-handed again."

He turned to Arthur and Molly. "You all know I was totally dependent on Severus for my Wolfsbane Potion when I was teaching there." He looked next at Kingsley, who nodded, as did the others. "He could have done any number of things to that Potion if he'd wanted to, from making it ineffective to poisoning it. And he never did." And then to Black. "I am even more convinced, now that I know what happened, that Severus can be trusted. He's willing to walk back in there to spy for us. He's already suffered more than most of us -" he nodded at Sirius as an exception, "- and he's still willing to continue. You-Know-Who trusts him, but he must have information when he goes back there. If he doesn't, if we give him nothing, we're condemning him to a very nasty death."

There were low murmurs and Dumbledore kept his eyes on Remus. After a few minutes, Sirius ended the discussion.

"Then I think we need to take a vote," he said. "All in favor of trusting Snivellus - pardon me, Severus Snape..." He waited.

Arthur and Molly, then Kingsley, then Remus, all raised their hands. "I have Tonks' vote by proxy," the werewolf said. "She votes in favor of trusting Severus."

"All against," Black said, raising his own solitary hand. "Well, I've been outvoted." He smiled tightly and turned to Dumbledore. "You will never convince me to trust him," he said. "But since everyone else here is willing to do so..." He shrugged and put his chair back on all four legs.

Arthur's parchment and quill were recording the proceedings. "Alright," he said, "we need to decide what information to give him, then. Dumbledore?"

He felt a kind of relief he hadn't realized would be so strong until now. "I suggest we let him know that we're seeking the cooperation of the Giants."

"What?" Sirius demanded.

"Hagrid and Madam Maxime have already made a brief foray to them," Dumbledore explained, "and they'll be returning in a few days. If we tell Voldemort that we're trying to win them over to our side -"

"He'll send Death Eaters to try to get them to work for him! That's ridiculous!"

"Hear me out, Sirius. Hagrid has already reported that Voldemort sent one agent to them a while back, before he actually regained his body. At that time, the Giants weren't willing to throw their lot in with either him or the wizarding world." He sighed and bent his head to the right, addressing only Sirius as he spoke. "If Voldemort sends more agents, and Hagrid and Madam Maxime are there, the contrast between us and them might be enough for the Giants to choose to ally themselves with us."

"Or to decide that they've never liked us anyway and their chances of getting rid of us are worth backing You-Know-Who," Kingsley pointed out.

Dumbledore nodded. "And Hagrid will be there and be able to tell us what the Giants are doing. He'll be able to bring us details, one way or the other." He looked around him, waiting for the others to understand the plan. Obviously, none of them was particularly good at espionage.

"It's a good idea," Kingsley finally said.

"It puts Hagrid in more danger, though," Molly objected.

"He's already in danger, just going to them. He's only a half-blood himself, you know," Remus pointed out. "He's willing to take the risks." He turned to Sirius. "We all have to take risks."

Sirius scowled and didn't rise to the bait.

"Alright, then," Arthur said. "All in favor..."

Once more, Dumbledore received the support of the Order, and even Sirius held up a half-hearted hand.

"Good!" Molly said, once the decision was made and the details noted on the parchment. "Dinner, now, everyone!"

The meeting actually took a few more minutes to conclude. Dumbledore made his way out to the hallway, and Lupin followed quickly.

"Thank you, Remus," Dumbledore said quietly. He shook the man's hand. "By the way, there's a fresh batch of Wolfsbane Potion being brewed for you in the Potion master's chambers."

Remus looked at him for a long moment. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Dumbledore smiled.

"Here, dear!"

He turned and Molly handed him a large, covered stoneware pot. It was very hot and very heavy. "There, I've put up enough for you and Tonks. And Professor McGonagall and your Healer friend."

"Thank you, Molly."

He smiled and tucked the pot under his left arm and pulled out his wand.

"Give my regards to Tonks," Remus called as he headed back to the kitchen.

Outside, he Disapparated, thinking to himself how easy it was for even Molly to forget to include Severus in even such a small act of kindness.

Well, he admitted sadly, Severus had brought that on himself, hadn't he?

He intended to make sure he got some of Molly's cooking anyway.

* * *

The afternoon session had gone as Severus had expected. Orestes had attacked him with fervor and a distinct sense of pleasure. He was left drained, angry, frustrated, and in pain. Severus knew he could expect these all to continue for the near future, so he distracted himself as much as possible with the potions he was mixing.

The Wolfsbane Potion was simmering. It would need to do so through the night, and he had already set the fire beneath the cauldron to burn until morning. Next to it, the Dreamless Sleep Draught was nearly done; it needed a bit more asphodel and then it would sit all night until there was a thick film of grey residue on the top. He would scrape that off in the morning, and it would be ready to decant and take to Madam Pomfrey.

His third cauldron was brewing more of the Calming Draught, and he fully intended to take a dose himself before he tried to sleep. It would only take a couple more hours to be ready.

What he found most distressing, aside from the intensity of his memories and emotions, was that he still had difficulty putting words together when he tried to talk. It was as if that portion of his brain had somehow been damaged. He could think the sentences clearly enough, but he couldn't always be sure the words would arrange themselves in the right order when he tried to say them.

He went through his chamber, closing books and putting them back on his shelves, cleaning the last of the specimens he'd been working on from his table, and taking periodic breaks to deal with the waves of unaccountable terror that kept swelling inside him.

He had made liberal use of the Pensieve this afternoon, stashing not only the multiple, painful memories of the five years between his student and teaching days, but also every memory about his decision to join the Dark Lord so many years ago. Given that both Dumbledore and McGonagall were suddenly and inexplicably asking about that, he wouldn't have put it past Orestes to have been tipped off to look for it.

Now, once the rest of his room had been put back in order, he took his wand and began replacing his memories back into his head. He wished he could leave them where they were for a few days, but if Orestes insisted that he not use the Pensieve in the morning, he didn't want to risk having it removed with his thoughts still floating in it.

As he was putting the last memories back, though, he noticed that one of the two strands Dumbledore had left in the Pensieve was coiling around one of his own. That his filaments looked grey compared with Dumbledore's light, silvery ones, was no surprise; but that the two memories were entwining was. He'd never seen that happen before. But then, again, he didn't often use the Pensieve.

Dumbledore had left his two threads behind intentionally. Severus had intended to ignore them, to return the Pensieve without touching them. But the way they twined themselves made him realize that Dumbledore had something very deliberate planned by this "gift". Something he wanted Severus to know that he wouldn't - or couldn't - tell him any other way.

The thought was not pleasant. He knew which memories of his were left: what he didn't want to consider were the contents of Dumbledore's.

He watched the two filaments swirling together. The second pale, silver thread lurked separately around the edge of the basin, not intending to draw attention to itself. At least, not yet.

He checked the time in his hourglass and sighed. Dumbledore would soon be back from the meeting in London, he imagined. And, knowing him, he would waste no time coming down to tell him the results. If things had gone well, he might even need to discuss their next step.

If he were entangled in the past, Severus reasoned, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on Dumbledore's news. And if, as he suspected, his memory and the one from Dumbledore were of the same thing, he most certainly did not want Dumbledore to arrive right after he'd seen them.

Prudence dictated that he simply set the Pensieve aside for now.

He lit the fire in his fireplace, one that would burn gently for two hours. Then he considered food. The thought was not appealing; his stomach churned at the thought of eating. But he knew that nothing would be made easier by starving.

He was just preparing to summon some food from the kitchen when someone knocked on his door. He flicked his wand and opened it.

"Evening, Severus. I thought you might be hungry."

"Headmaster." He shut the door behind the man and watched as he came and set a large tray on his table. There was something of a stew in the covered, stoneware crock, two loaves of crusty bread and some cheese and fruit. A carafe of wine, two goblets and two bowls and spoons completed the setting.

"Hope your appetite is back," the Headmaster said. "I have good news." He ladled some of the stew into the first bowl and handed it to Severus. He hadn't bothered to give him a chance to respond and, despite himself, the smell of the food made his stomach growl.

He accepted the bowl and waited until Dumbledore had served himself. They sat in the two chairs near the fire and the cauldrons.

"Complements of Mrs. Weasley," Dumbledore explained as he began spooning his soup into his mouth. "The bread and fruit are from the kitchen, of course."

"Of course." Whatever he meant by that. "So - what good news? Are the Order ready to send me back into the Dark Lord's embrace?"

Dumbledore stopped eating and gave Severus an unhappy gaze. "Yes. I wish you would phrase that differently."

"Why? Does it bother you to think of what I do, now? Have you developed a tender conscience?"

Dumbledore put his soup down on the table. "I take it the exercises aren't going well," he said, his own gaze narrowing.

Severus was irritated that Dumbledore was ignoring the fact that he was trying to create an argument. And then he realized that he had no idea why he wanted to do that in the first place. A rush of anger flooded him suddenly, and he put his own bowl on the table and got up. He turned his back on Dumbledore and found himself staring into the Pensieve.

"I know it must be difficult." Dumbledore continued, his voice calm.

He felt a long overdue sneer creeping over his features. "Difficult," he repeated, the word formed slowly on his lips. "No, Dumbledore, it is not difficult. It is agonizing! Orestes seems to delight in his work!" He turned around and saw, with a glimmer of pleasure, that the Headmaster looked quite distressed. "Or would you like to sugar-coat that, too, to make it more acceptable?" He glared down at the man and felt his stomach begin to churn.

"I didn't come to fight with you, Severus. I came to enjoy a meal with you and to tell you what's happening. If you aren't up for it, I certainly understand. Orestes told me he was - rather hard on you today."

And as swiftly as his anger had flared, it was dowsed with a deep, wrenching guilt. What had Dumbledore done to deserve his wrath? He was his one true supporter, and pushing him away was stupid and self-destructive. How often had he had to learn and re-learn that in the past?

"No more than I asked for."

A moment later, he went back and took his seat and began to eat. He tore a chunk of bread from one of the loaves and dipped it in his soup. "It's - very good stew," he said. "Thank you."

Dumbledore's lips turned upward, just a bit, and he, too, resumed eating.

"So - there was a vote of confidence at last?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Except for Sirius. But I didn't really expect him to come around." He looked up. "You know, now that you know he didn't betray James and Lily, you might consider -"

"Don't!" He took a deep breath to control the next surge of emotions. "Leave - that alone."

The headmaster regarded him with a long, blue gaze, then looked away and nodded. "Some things are beyond forgiveness?" he asked quietly.

He felt the rage inside him bubbling up like froth on the top of a badly mixed brew. "It is not. What. You think," he said. The words were getting harder to say. He was breathing deeply, trying to control, to block the fury of thoughts that pummeled his mind.

"Then what is it? That stupid prank? No one wanted you to be killed, Severus."

"They -" He was practically choking on fury again, and he couldn't stop it. "Don't you realize - what they did? To Lupin? He was their friend! They were - willing to let him murder - or bite - me, just -because it - would have amused them!" The fury was rising up inside him and he couldn't stop it, he actually couldn't stop it! He could barely force the words through his teeth. "They could have - turned him - into a killer! - For laughs! He was their - friend and they - did that to him!"

Dumbledore's eyebrows drew together, and he put his food aside on the table. "Severus -"

"No! They - didn't - even think! About what - they were - doing!" He was shaking, he was so angry. He couldn't quell it, he couldn't control it. "They never - went into that - shack - as humans! They only - went there as - animals! He wouldn't hurt - them when they were - transfigured. They knew he'd hurt - anyone who - went there! They knew - he couldn't - help himself!"

Damn! It was there, all of it, and he knew Dumbledore was going to hear just what he wanted to hear: he was going to think Severus cared what happened to Lupin. But that wasn't an impression he intended to leave the man with.

"They - didn't - think!" he growled. "They never - thought about - what they were - doing - to others. Or themselves! Just like - Harry Potter! He - never thinks!"

His stomach clenched, violently, and he doubled over, gasping for air, trying to keep his food down. The spasms were back, and his arms began to contract against his will. His vision went dark.

He could hear Dumbledore talking, but he couldn't make out what he said. He felt himself falling, his head was swimming with images of that night, the shack in darkness, the inhuman howling within, the sudden appearance of James at his side, pulling him away...

And then, as suddenly as it came, it blew over, like a false storm on a sunny day. He sat up; he was in his office, Dumbledore was crouched in front of him, the stew still smelled delicious...

"Severus?"

He took a few more calming breaths and nodded. Dumbledore moved away, back to his chair. He watched him for another minute, then resumed eating. When Severus finally looked at him, the concern etched on his face seemed deeper and more pronounced than he could remember seeing it for years.

"Tired," he explained. "Just - tired."

Dumbledore gave him a nod that said he didn't believe it.

They ate in silence until both had done. Severus partook cautiously of the wine, not wanting to drink too much since he already intended to treat himself to the Calming Draught later. But there was a long-held ritual between the two of them, sharing a goblet of wine, sometimes a bit more, when things became difficult. It never had to be spoken of: it simply solidified, in Severus' mind, Dumbledore's unspoken support.

The ritual went back at least to his third year as a student. Maybe the year before that. He couldn't remember.

"So - what information am I to take to the Dark Lord?"

Dumbledore flicked his wand and collected the empty bowls and tidied the remnants of bread and fruit. He poured Severus a second serving of wine, then levitated the flagon back to the tray.

"We'll discuss it when you're stronger. It will be significant, I assure you. He ought to be pleased, maybe even - reward you properly this time."

Severus doubted that. He would have to re-establish a pattern of being useful to the Dark Lord on a regular basis, something he wasn't sure Dumbledore understood. It would be some time before he expected to bring anything valuable enough to warrant a reward.

He wasn't sure he'd want one anyway.

"What - thoughts did you leave in the Pensieve?" he asked, feeling the mellowing effects of the wine. He wasn't sure it was a sensible topic to bring up, but then he wasn't sure of much of anything at the moment.

Dumbledore smiled. "If I'd just wanted to tell you, I'd have just told you."

Typical Dumbledore, he thought. He shook his head and drank a bit more wine. "There's no need to rush, though, I won't need it back right away."

He snorted. "Orestes feels I shouldn't rely on it any longer."

He saw Dumbledore's expression darken, his brows practically meeting at the top of his nose. "Please, Severus, use your own judgment. You're the only one who knows how much you can bear. Don't let him push you. We can't afford for anything more to happen to you. We need you." He took a deep breath. "I need you, Severus."

He felt his stomach turn over, felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. This was what Dumbledore did! What he always did, what he'd always done! This was why...

He stopped that thought and closed his eyes, trying to suppress the new onslaught of rage.

"I'm not sure I'm - up to - watching those - memories," he said quietly, pleased with the fact that he'd been able to choke back his initial reaction. He looked back at Dumbledore. "You might as well remove them."

Dumbledore smiled again, very gently. "No. As I said, take your time. When you're ready - I want you to know."

Know what? That was Dumbledore's second trick, to give him just enough information, almost too much, and then to leave his own imagination and curiosity to do their work.

He closed his eyes, just for a second, then realized he had started to dream... His eyes shot open and he saw Dumbledore getting rid of the tray and everything on it.

"I think I should leave now," he said. "I'm afraid if I keep you a minute longer, you might not make it to your bed before you fall asleep." There was a hint of humor in his words, but there was concern as well.

"I didn't mean to -"

"This is exhausting work that you're having to do. - You should probably try some Dreamless Sleep tonight."

"I might," he said, knowing he wouldn't. Part of regaining his skills was to learn, again, to empty his mind of all thoughts, all emotions, especially before he slept.

"I'll see you tomorrow. If you can, stop by my office in the morning. If I don't see you, I'll understand."

He nodded, too sleepy to respond otherwise.

When the door closed, he forced himself from the chair and went to check his three cauldrons. Everything was going well. He extinguished the flame under the Dreamless Sleep and Calming Draught, deciding even against the moderate relief the latter would bring to the night.

Instead, he went through the back door to his bedchamber, and dropped on top of the bed, too tired to move. He stared at the ceiling for only a few seconds, trying to still his emotions, before sleep overtook him.

* * * July 14, 1995, morning

He woke early and surprisingly refreshed. His body still ached to the bones from the convulsions and seizures, and the small one last night hadn't helped. But his mind felt clearer than it had in almost two weeks.

It was with a shock that, as he showered and dressed, he counted the days since he'd returned from the Dark Lord's presence. Three weeks into summer break, and he remembered enough to know that Dumbledore had hoped that Severus would have made much more progress by now in filtering information about the Dark Lord's plans back to the Order.

He remembered Dumbledore's request from last night and, after eating a light breakfast of fruit and cheese, he made his way to the gargoyle guarding the staircase to the headmaster's office.

He stood there flummoxed for almost a minute: Dumbledore hadn't given him the current password. So, perhaps, he thought, he might have chosen one Severus would think of. "Tea for two," he tried, and the gargoyle swung aside to allow him access to the stairs.

He was surprised to find that Dumbledore wasn't alone when he knocked and was beckoned in. Tonks and Lupin were both there, and he wasn't quite sure he was up to facing the werewolf yet. Not much choice, though, he realized, and struggled to put a damper on the surge of emotions Lupin's presence brought forth.

"Good morning, Severus," Dumbledore greeted cheerily. "You look much better."

He inclined his head in silence, and waited. Lupin, who had been poring over an old map on Dumbledore's worktable, was watching him intently. Tonks looked up, gave him a quick, "Wotcher, Professor," and went back to the writing she was engaged in.

"Making progress on the charms and such," Dumbledore said. "Remus has had some excellent ideas." He descended the four steps and came to stand quite near the Potions master. "I've spoken with Orestes," he said, his voice lowered. "I've asked him to use some restraint."

"Unnecessary."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I meant what I said last night, Severus. Please don't push yourself too hard."

"It is the nature of the exercise to push, Headmaster. You know that."

Dumbledore looked unhappy but apparently didn't think it was worth arguing.

"Is that all?"

"I wanted to tell you that when we finish with this," he gestured back toward Lupin and Tonks, "I'll meet with you to discuss our - alterations."

He nodded. "Are we finished?" he asked again impatiently.

Dumbledore nodded, then turned away and returned to Tonks' side. He hesitated, then looked at Lupin, who was watching him with obvious sympathy in his eyes. That wouldn't do!

"I have the books you've been looking for together," he said curtly. "Please come to my office in half an hour; otherwise, please wait until the afternoon."

Lupin nodded. "Thank you, I'll need a break from this shortly anyway. I'll be down presently."

He took a deep breath, then left the office. Dumbledore had obviously wanted to see how he was doing this morning. But he felt as if he'd been asked to show up here to display himself for Lupin's and Tonks' benefit as well. Whether Dumbledore really had intended that, he couldn't be sure.

What he could be sure of was that something had to be done about Lupin. It was not going to be endurable to face him if he continued to emote, even if it were simply in his expression.

Having the potions to work on was a relief. It kept him occupied with something besides the leaden weight in his stomach as he anticipated the coming exercises with Orestes. He decanted the Wolfsbane Potion into two large jars. He had, for nearly two years now, prepared a batch every month, and though he would have liked to complain that Lupin didn't even try to keep it fresh enough to last longer, the fact was that Wolfsbane Potion spoiled very easily. Even he would have trouble keeping it just right any longer than a full month.

That task completed, he checked the time and turned to the Dreamless Sleep concoction. He was almost finished with it when a light tapping sounded at the door.

"Come."

Lupin entered, looking cautious, a small smile wavering on his lips. "Too early?" he asked.

"No. It's there." He pointed to the jars on his table. Next to them, he had printed the recipe for making it.

"Well, Severus, you always were good with subtle hints." He left the recipe on the desk and gathered up the jars. "I suppose you think I should find someone else to make this for me from now on?"

Snape swallowed tightly: he had carefully safeguarded the information on this potion from Lupin ever since Dumbledore had hired the werewolf. He didn't want Lupin to find someone else. He needed to make this each month as a self-imposed penance for having cost Lupin the only real job he'd had in years. And the likely possibility that he would not be able to find employment again.

He finished decanting the last of the Dreamless Sleep, and then turned. "It means that given the events of the past two weeks, I think it would be wise of you to find a back-up. You don't want to be without it in case I'm unable to make it for you."

Lupin tilted his head back a little and to the side. "That's very considerate."

"It is not considerate! It is simply a good idea. The Order would suffer if you went without it." He crossed the room and shoved the paper into Lupin's jacket pocket.

"So would I, of course," Lupin pressed. "But you'd like me to think that doesn't matter to you."

"What you think," he said, lowering his voice menacingly, feeling the sudden, unbidden surge of anger, "is of no consequence to me. Is that clear?"

"I'm not one of your students, Severus," Lupin bristled. "And for your information, since I'm sure it's eating at you, Dumbledore told me almost nothing. I already trusted you, if you must know."

He swallowed and tasted blood. He'd bitten the inside of his lip without realizing it, and his hands had clenched into fists at his side. Lupin held his gaze evenly, despite Severus' best attempt to intimidate him.

He pulled the small piece of parchment from his pocket and tossed it back onto the desk. Severus decided not to fight it. Let him transform without the draught! Let him pay the damned cost for transforming without, the chance that he'd bite or kill one of his friends. After all, aside from the dismal prospect of the un-medicated transformation itself, Lupin probably deserved the chance to get back at Black for his prank so long ago.

"Thanks again," Lupin said, making a hefting motion with his arms to indicate the potion. "I promise I'll let no one know you're a decent chap." He grinned with the mischievous grin that had driven Severus crazy throughout their school years, then left. Severus had just started to breathe more easily when the door magically opened and Lupin stuck his head in.

"Oh, and speaking of good ideas? Letting go of childhood grudges might be one to consider."

The door closed just in time for the jar of pickled frog hearts to miss the werewolf's smug face.

When Orestes finally arrived, he'd cleaned up the mess and stored several more memories in the Pensieve. He might not agree with Dumbledore that the exercises should be less intense, but he was definitely going to keep as many of his most painful memories from Orestes' probing attacks as he could.

"Still not going to use your wand?" the Healer asked, seeing both it and the glowing Pensieve behind Severus. He had decided to take this one sitting down, since it was inevitable that he'd be unable to stay on his feet for very long.

"Has anything regarding that changed since yesterday?" he demanded.

"Hmph." Orestes took a deep breath and aimed his wand. "Legilimens!"

... He was at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. Regulus Black, Sirius' obnoxious brother, and Mulciber sat on either side of him while they ate dinner. He was being guarded, he knew. He'd made Avery horribly angry earlier by interrupting one of the first-years' "initiation" ceremonies Avery had decided to resurrect after Malfoy's graduation. His fifth year at Hogwarts had only just started, and already he'd made a new enemy.

He would be followed when he left, if he left first. If he lingered, they would simply make it quite plain that he needed to go, and if they did that, here, their methods would be calculated to embarrass him. And he wasn't going to give them that opportunity.

Two tables away, half the width of the Great Hall, the Gryffindors were enjoying their meal with no hint of the kind of savagery that infected Slytherin House. Black and Pettigrew were predictably sitting with Potter. They had their backs to Severus, but Potter faced him. Next to him was Lily. As if she could sense him watching her, she looked up and smiled at him. And as if that weren't enough to make him feel like he could fly without a broom, she then tilted her head toward Potter and rolled and crossed her eyes.

He couldn't help himself; he laughed. Under the table, Regulus Black stomped down hard on his foot. He smothered the small cry that almost brought forth, and he turned to glare at the horrible boy.

It didn't matter, though. Lily was biting her lips trying not to laugh with him, and just looking at her made him feel as if he could do anything! Anything!

Five minutes later, still feeling a bit giddy, he was escorted by his two guards to the Prefect's bathroom where Avery was waiting. He knew exactly what was coming, and he knew that, this time, he would not be taken down.

"Sneaky little git!" Avery spat at him. "Your great protector isn't here now, is he? Think I'm going to be so easy to seduce? I don't think you're cute, Snape! And I don't think you're funny, either."

No one had yet touched him, but the three of them were closing on him, forcing him back against the wall. The door had been locked with a Charm, and no one would either interrupt or help him. But that was alright.

"Think you're so holy and righteous, you greasy snitch?"

"Me?" he asked innocently. "I may be a sneak, but I'm not a snitch."

"Then how did McGonagall find out about Minimer, huh? Who told her? You think he did?"

He shrugged. He knew the little boy hadn't said a word about what Severus had rescued him from; he'd been too embarrassed and too scared to ever breathe a word of it to anyone.

They continued to advance on him, and he continued to back away as if he were, in fact, frightened. Then, as his back touched the cold wall, Avery began the predictable order of "Hold him," but before he could get the words out, Severus pulled out the long stick he'd concealed in his cloak.

"Expelliarmus!" Avery cried, his own wand faster. Severus' stick was hurled in the air and over his head, and made a plopping sound as it fell into the toilet in the stall beside him.

His eyes glittered: this was working perfectly.

"Now then," Avery sneered.

"Coward!" Severus cried out. "Have to hide in bathrooms! Have to be sure you outnumber your prey. Never dare do it one-on-one, do you?"

Avery looked almost mad with fury. He eyes narrowed to small slits, the same look that had terrified Severus a year ago. But not now.

As Avery raised his wand, Severus pulled his real wand from the sleeve of his cloak. "Expelliarmus! Stupefy! Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!"

All three had been disarmed, and Black and Mulciber were Stunned before any of them even realized what had happened. Avery looked around with utter astonishment at his unconscious cronies and when he looked back, his face had darkened, reddened with a look Severus had seen all too often on Tobias' face.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Snape yelled. And the boy froze in position.

For the next five minutes, Severus played with them. He knew he was going overboard when he forced Avery's face into a toilet bowl, and he knew, as he stripped them to their underwear with what he thought of as one of his more brilliant spells, that there would be vengeance eventually.

By the time he left them, dashing out of the bathroom as soon as he cast a Rennervate Charm on them, he felt a kind of glee he couldn't remember having ever felt before. He felt light-headed and he laughed all the way back to the Slytherin Common Room...

Now he could prove to Lily what he really thought of these so-called 'friends'...

Orestes broke the spell and Severus leaned back in his chair, breathing heavily. He was surprised that one of his few good memories was right there, easy to find, to interpret. The images had been vivid enough, he knew, for Orestes to have easily followed them.

"Not bad," the Healer said. He squinted at Severus and smiled. "I'm sure that cost you in the end, though," he added.

Severus took a couple more steadying breaths: despite the pleasantness of the memory, the act of being invaded was still painful and exhausting.

"Avery, was it? Must have had his revenge."

Then he really looked at Orestes, and he knew the Healer was going to target that memory with the finely tuned form of Legilimency that the Dark Lord had used on him, the Legilimens Extremis.

It wasn't something most Legilimens could do; and the echoing feelings from the memories he'd just relived, the carefree happiness he'd felt, dissolved.

He didn't want the next memory targeted! He didn't want Orestes going there, not now, not today. He wasn't ready for it. He opened his mouth to try to dissuade him, but before he could utter a syllable, the cry resounded and Orestes invaded his mind with a terrible, sharp force...

... For two days he'd slept only briefly, lightly, knowing that Avery and the others would most surely come after him. But for two days nothing happened.

The third day after he'd so thoroughly beaten them, he finally had a chance to see Lily alone after their Potions class, and he told her what he'd done: maybe she would finally realize that the fact that he "hung around" with them didn't make them friends.

She laughed, alright. She laughed so hard she doubled over and dropped her books. He bent down to pick them up, and when he did, someone kicked him and sent him sprawling on the floor.

"Ah, the slithering Slytherin!" Sirius Black crowed. "Crawling on your belly again? Looking for food down there?"

He rolled over fast, wand out, and used the first jinx he could think of, the infamous Jelly-Legs Jinx. Potter and Black began slipping around on the floor and Severus got up, grabbed Lily's books, and handed them back to her, all without a word.

"Finite Incantatem!" he yelled, and stormed away from them.

"Severus! Severus, wait!"

He didn't. He was too humiliated to talk to Lily now. He walked more quickly, even as he heard her hurrying behind him.

"Severus, stop! Just stop!"

He whirled on her, a horrible fury burning in his chest. "What? Did you put him up to that?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out at first.

"You know they do that to impress you!" he shouted.

"I - did - not - put them - up to anything!" She swore. "How could you even think that?"

And then, the bad moment got worse, much worse. Behind Lily, Avery and Mulciber came strolling up. He glanced over Lily's shoulder at them and before he knew what was happening, they had Stunned Lily. She dropped to the floor, and when he bent to try to catch her, they hit him with a Body-Bind.

There was no one in the corridor. Black and Potter had gone the other way when Lily had run after him.

"Time to play, Snivellus!" Avery said by way of greeting. "Nice little girlfriend you got here." He bent down and while Mulciber unnecessarily held his wand on Severus, Avery began touching her...

"STOP!"

Dammit! He would never let anyone see that, never! Even the Dark Lord hadn't found that memory.

He sprang from his chair, his legs as weak as if they'd been jinxed, and slammed open the door to his bedchamber. He headed for the bathroom and vomited just as he got to the sink. His head pounded, and he was shaking. He planted his hands on either side of the sink, and struggled to breathe. He choked and vomited again.

"Severus?" Orestes was standing behind him. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"Get. Out!"

The old man inhaled loudly, then blew the breath out between his teeth, making a hissing sound. "Come on back," he urged.

"Out! NOW!" He looked up, looked in the mirror, and saw the man still standing there. "GET OUT!"

"Okay, I - guess we've done enough for the morning," he said reluctantly. He pulled his wand out and aimed it for the sink. "Scourgify!" he commanded, and the foul mess in the sink disappeared. He put his wand back in his robes. "I'll come back around two, then. We'll pick up where we left off."

He left the room and Severus stood where he was, gripping the sink just to stay upright. He heard the door to his office open and then close. He splashed cold water on his face, and stared at his reflection. He looked about the way he felt, as if his heart had just been torn open.

Never, in his wildest imaginings, had he thought Avery would take out his revenge on Lily. He had been forced to stand there, to watch, with screams building inside him that couldn't come out, that no one could hear. Avery put his hands everywhere, and Mulciber and he laughed and taunted Severus and made crude comments about her...

When they finally left, releasing both of them from their spells as they ran down the corridor and out of sight, he scooped her up and held her as she looked around, puzzled...

"What happened?" she asked. "Severus, what happened?"

He couldn't speak. He hadn't felt such horror, such grief, such torment inside himself since those days in Azkaban...

"Lily, go back to your Common Room, or - or to your room, or - something," he told her. He helped her stand, his own legs quivering. "Just - go!"

"Severus -"

"Go! Get away from me! Stay away from me!" He was crying, he couldn't believe it, he was crying.

And down the hall, as if through a tunnel, he heard Avery and Mulciber calling out, "Oh, poor Snivellus!! Snivellus!!"

The world turned irreparably dark that day. The small, solitary, desperately needed light and joy that Lily had brought into his life was snuffed out. Nothing was ever good again. The relationship tottered along for a little while. But it had begun to die that day in the corridor and nothing he could do could stop it.

He could never answer her when she asked what had happened. When she objected to his "friends" and used what they had tried to do with her friend, Mary Macdonald, as an example of the type of people they were, he realized, when he said "that was nothing," that he had numbed his own soul.

What he had considered revolting only a few months before now seemed almost acceptable.

What began as servitude to Avery eventually faded into what he accepted as simply a routine, and then into what was normal. But from time to time, on the worst nights, he found himself longing for his days of service to Malfoy.

He couldn't direct his anger at Avery. So he did what his father had done: he found someone "safe" to take it out on. Lily deserved none of it. She deserved the world, and he gave her his anger and bitterness. Potter and Black became more vicious, and so did he, his retaliations on them becoming more and more severe until the number of detentions he'd warranted exceeded the amount of free time he had, even after cutting all extracurricular activities.

And then eventually, inevitably, the day of their O.W.L.s, the horrible word: Mudblood. The terrible, unforgivable word.

"You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

He would never, could never, tell her what had happened that afternoon. He would never tell her that because of that, he had had no choice about obeying Avery, just as he'd found himself with no choice but to obey Malfoy two years before. He toed the line, he did what he was told, he "joined" their group.

It really didn't matter to him by then: the one thing he'd ever really wanted in his whole life was gone.