Summoned

Chapter 10: Aurors and Horrors

"They don't need walls and water to keep the prisoners in, not when they're trapped inside their own heads, incapable of a single cheerful thought. Most go mad within weeks."

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

July 14, 1995, afternoon

"Dumbledore."

Severus turned away after opening the door manually and crossed the room to his cauldrons, his face hidden behind the black curtains of his unkempt hair. He was decanting the contents of one of the cauldrons, the smallest one, into bottles, using a long funnel. It was, Dumbledore could see, both painstaking and tedious work.

"I've just had a talk with Orestes," he began. He wasn't sure what Severus' frame of mind was at the moment, so he didn't come any further into the room.

After a minute with no response, he continued. "Can you tell me..." He wasn't sure how to finish the sentence.

Severus continued decanting the potion, putting aside one small bottle after another, ladling the brew very carefully into the little containers.

"Orestes said it had something to do with Lily."

There was still no response: he might have been mute and invisible. "Severus, please. Talk to me."

Finally, the Potions master turned, his hair falling across his face. Dumbledore pulled himself back at what he saw. The dark, etched lines on Severus' face, the streaks of tears, the bloodshot eyes, his lips red as cherries...

"Merlin's ghost, what -? Surely, you put her death into the Pensieve!"

He shut his eyes tightly and took a deep, sniffing breath, but made no attempt to wipe away the moisture on his face. "No," he said. "It wasn't - that. - It was Avery." Severus' breath shook. His hands were shaking. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

Sighing, Dumbledore moved a bit closer, and Severus moved away. "Sit down, Severus, please."

He waited for the space of three breaths before his colleague finally obeyed. Dumbledore took the seat across from him and leaned forward. "I would have thought you'd put - Lily - in the Pensieve."

"I can't - avoid everything, can I?" the Potions master whispered, his voice gruff. "Rather defeats the purpose of these - exercises."

He shuddered with that last word, then sprang from his chair as if catapulted from it. He grabbed his wand from his desk and crossed the room, lighting a fire in the fireplace, albeit a pathetic one. Then he re-crossed the room, put his wand back down, and grabbed his cloak from the back of the chair behind the table. He pulled the woolen material around his shoulders and came back to where he'd been sitting, the cape flowing in a pattern that brought bats to mind.

He sat there, stared into the fire, and said nothing, huddled beneath his cloak. Finally, he closed his eyes and wiped his hand across his face. "I have - nothing to say about it. Please, leave it alone."

Albus watched Severus for a few moments, just watched the way his chest quivered with each breath, how his hands still shook, even though he had them lying on the arms of his chair.

"I can't. This - was too painful - is too painful for you to bear alone."

He glared at Dumbledore. "You forget yourself, Dumbledore! I have borne it alone! For more than twenty years! I do not need you interfering in my life!"

The look on Severus' face as he finished shouting at the Headmaster told him that, once more, the Potions master's emotions were surfacing faster than he could control them. He chose to take no offense, and instead waited, while Severus obviously worked to calm himself.

"It was my fifth year," he finally said, looking into the fire. "I - bested Avery and his cronies. I knew - I knew they would retaliate. I knew I would pay for it. But - they took it out on - Lily." And once more, as always, he choked on her name. He cleared his throat and continued, his voice almost too soft to hear. "They caught us in a corridor between classes. They put me - in a Body-Bind. They Stunned her. And then, Avery -"

It took so long, Dumbledore wasn't sure he'd be able to finish.

"Touched her." He looked up, fire in his eyes. "He mauled her." And then tears began to douse the fire and he looked away. "I couldn't - I could never tell her - what had happened." He rubbed a hand across his face. "He owned me after that."

"What do you mean he -"

"I mean he owned me!" And then he choked. He closed his eyes tightly and tears dripped off the end of his hooked nose. "After that day - I - everywhere I went, Mulciber or Regulus was with me. Or Avery was. I tried to talk to her - but - I was afraid at first to be seen with her again. For her sake. When I finally - once Avery had what he wanted - I tried -"

He lowered his head into his hands and sat there like that for almost a full minute. "Things were never - the same." He looked up. "You know the rest." A few seconds later, he stood up and threw his cloak onto the seat. He went back to his cauldrons. "I have work to finish."

Dumbledore nodded, even though Severus' back was to him. "Would you like - shall I tell Orestes not to return until tomorrow?"

Severus decanted three more bottles of his potion before answering. "I would like - to continue - this afternoon."

Dumbledore sighed; he wasn't sure Severus could really take much more. Then the man turned and took a shaking breath. "I'd like - if you would - would you - take Orestes' place?"

What it cost for him to make that request, Dumbledore could barely imagine. "Isn't it easier with someone - objective?"

"Obviously not." The Potions master ground his teeth together. "As I said, he seems to delight in - in what he's doing."

It was a difficult request to grant. He still vividly remembered both his early Occlumency lessons with Severus when he was a student, and all the more recent incursions since he'd suffered Voldemort's wrath. It felt as if he were placing his own soul over an open flame, but he said, "Very well."

Severus visibly relaxed. "You might," he said, his voice coaxing, "find the answer to your other question."

"I have no intention of searching for information. There's a reason I offered you the use of the Pensieve." He paused. "All I want is my irritating and loyal Potions master back to his normal caustic, insufferable self."

Severus looked stricken. "Don't - do that!"

Dumbledore pulled back and looked down at the Severus through his glasses. "Do what?"

"I am not - yours!"

Well, Dumbledore thought, this was a nerve he had never struck before. "In point of fact, you are. But apparently, not in the sense that you took my words."

"You thought I was yours for years! I wasn't!" And then, as the words sounded, his expression was transformed into one of anguish. "I'm - I apologize," he said, his voice breaking. He turned away and began to fill another bottle with his potion.

"Do you want to continue later this afternoon?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

Severus nodded once.

"Then you must promise you'll rest until then. And I know that that," he said, pointing to a few bottles on the side of Severus' table, "is Calming Draught. Please take some before I return. My reflexes are not as quick as they used to be."

"I have to finish bottling this," he said, gesturing to the cauldron, "before it spoils in the open air."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll be back at three. I have to finish with Tonks and Remus." He was more than ready to leave Severus' cold chambers. He got up and made it to the door, his hand on the handle.

"Headmaster?"

He turned.

"The Dark Lord. He - has a connection - to Potter's mind." He took a long, deep breath. "When he - shared his memories of his attack on the boy in the cemetery, he - I could - feel Potter's - fear and pain." He cleared his throat and when he spoke again, his voice was little more than a whisper. "We must - keep an eye on that. If the connection - if he realizes that the connection - is strong enough, he could - possess the boy."

Dumbledore listened and recalled the memories he'd scavenged from Severus. "Yes," he agreed. "Yes, I must keep an eye on that."

Severus nodded. He had not turned from his cauldrons.

And Dumbledore remembered, too, that while Severus had been immersed in Voldemort's recollections of the events, he had lost track of his own time, his own place, and had tried to save Harry, earning himself yet more pain.

A strange thought occurred to him. "You aren't - becoming fond of the boy, are you?"

In a low growl, each syllable punctuated with distaste, Severus said, "He is insufferable!"

Dumbledore smiled to himself. "I guess that's a no?"

Severus didn't bother to respond to that. Instead, he said, "If the Dark Lord - if Potter becomes aware of the connection..."

"If he becomes aware of it, or if I learn that it's becoming at all - active, I will take measures to see that it doesn't become a problem."

There was a noise, like a snort, from Severus. "And what measures," he asked, his words dripping with disdain, "do you think will help?"

Dumbledore hadn't actually thought that far ahead, yet. "I'm sure you have an idea."

"I do."

Dumbledore waited, but nothing further was forthcoming. "Well?"

"If it comes to it," Severus said, the sound of death in his words, "the boy will need - to learn Occlumency." His cleared his throat again.

"Yes, I - suppose he will." It surprised him that he had not thought of it himself. "It will be difficult, but I'll find the time."

"If the Dark Lord tries to possess Potter," Severus said, "he will be able to spy on you and everyone else at Hogwarts - just as the Dark Lord hoped to do through me." He sighed, and then, finally, turned and met Dumbledore's eyes. "You are too close to him." There was a pain in those words that Dumbledore couldn't fathom. "I will need to be the one to teach him. There is no one else as skilled as I am."

For a few seconds, Dumbledore couldn't believe what he'd heard.

"If the Dark Lord tries to possess Potter, he will not be able to hide it from me and he will not learn - anything - from me." He was holding Dumbledore's gaze, almost as if he were trying to reach into the Headmaster's mind. But there was also a look on his face that dared Dumbledore to refute the logic of his plan.

But aside from the fact that Severus was in no shape at all to teach - let alone practice - Occlumency, he couldn't ignore the logic. And bringing up Severus' current weakness would be unproductive.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

"Let us fervently hope it does not come to that," Severus replied.

Dumbledore nodded. He waited a few more seconds, but Severus looked away and went back to decanting his potions.

* * *

At precisely three o'clock, Dumbledore returned. Severus had taken most of the Calming Draught and half the Dreamless Sleep to Madam Pomfrey, had returned and eaten a light lunch, and then simply sat in his chair staring into the fire, trying to empty his mind, to relax, to control his thoughts. It wasn't easy, and so, about a quarter hour before Dumbledore showed up - for the Headmaster's sake only, of course - he took a dose of the Calming Draught and did, in fact, feel much less anxious.

"I hope you've set aside Lily for now," the Headmaster said on entering the room. He glanced at the Pensieve behind Severus.

"For now." He waited as Dumbledore made himself comfortable. He took a deep breath. "I would like to offer my apologies in advance for - any lapse in my behavior that may occur."

"Not necessary, Severus, but thank you. - You still don't want to use your wand?" he asked. Severus resisted the urge to turn around and look at it, as Dumbledore was doing.

"No. Not yet."

"This is the most difficult time, I don't understand why you won't use it. Later, when your mind is stronger, you could work without it, but for now - I would like you to use it."

"That is precisely why I will not," he said. "I will have no defense against the Dark Lord, you know that very well. If I do not regain my strength in this without help, I will never regain it. I - deeply regret it, but this is my decision."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Very well. Prepare yourself."

He emptied his mind, took two long, deep breaths, and heard Dumbledore cast the spell...

* * *

... The Aurors were there, in his bedroom. Mom was screeching, waving her wand all over the place. Books were flying from his shelves, his clothes went soaring across the room, two train models lay smashed on the floor by his bed. He was trapped there: he'd already deflected two Cruciatus Curses, but there was nothing left for him to defend himself with. His wand was on the floor, next to Tobias.

Two of the Aurors grabbed his mother and disarmed her. Her wand fell to the floor and Severus dove for it. He missed it: the oldest Auror grabbed it first, then pointed his own wand at the boy. "Petrificus Totalus!" he yelled, and Severus couldn't move.

His mother looked calmer and began to laugh at him. They started asking questions, but the Auror who had stunned him kept watching him. He didn't like the look on the man's face.

Finally, when his mother had confessed, they let him go. "She didn't do it!" he screamed. "She didn't do it! I did! I killed him. Let her go!" He broke away from the small knot of people, kicked the female Auror as hard as he could on her leg, bit the Auror who was holding his mother, and tried to grab his mother and get out of the room.

He lost: he scratched and kicked, but it didn't do any good. The Auror who'd put him in the Body Bind spoke again, aimed his wand at Severus, and strong cords flashed out of the end and wrapped themselves around him.

"You'll be going with her soon enough!" the bitten Auror said. The woman he'd kicked was bent over, rubbing her leg.

"We need to get someone here for the boy," the Auror who'd bound him said. "Get him somewhere away from this."

The Aurors glanced at each other. "We'll sort this out at the Ministry," the second man said.

"We'll sort it out now!"

"We haven't got the time! Get moving, Alastor! Come on! Now!"

In the hallway, his mother had been pushed to the ground on her face. He watched as the female Auror aimed her wand at his mother, and long ropes spewed forth and wrapped themselves around her arms, legs, and mouth, just as the ropes from the other wizard's wand had done to him.

He was trapped and the ropes that wrapped around his chest and forced his arms to his side were so tight he couldn't breathe...

... He woke up in a cell. It was cold, it was wet, and it was grey. There were thick, heavy bars across the door, and outside the door he could see shadows moving.

"Where's my mother? Where did you take my mother?"

"Hey! Filth! Come here!" The voice sounded awfully like Tobias...

... He cried through the night. They took him away in the morning, to another cell, a cell where cold water lapped around him, a small island of cold water and hard rain and...

Something cold dropped around the cell. The place smelled like rotting meat. Cold and dark... He could feel something inside him, something sucking his breath away...

He tried to scream, but no one heard him, no one could hear, the screaming was in his head, Tobias yelling, his mother screaming, Tobias smashed a fist into his face, kicked him in the stomach, "Cruciatus," the cold, he couldn't breathe, no one listened, he was hungry, he picked up a piece of bread and Tobias slapped it out of his hand, made him eat it off the floor, filthy bastard evil child, devil spawn, falling, falling...

"ENOUGH!"

He kept his eyes shut for another minute. The cold was still seeping through his bones, the stench of Azkaban was in his nostrils, his breath was rancid, he could feel Tobias' fist...

"Severus." Dumbledore had a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes and nodded to let the man know he was alright.

"Again," he whispered.

"No." Dumbledore stepped back. "Tomorrow..."

"Now!" He felt the wrath begin to build. "We do not have the luxury of - continuing - only when - it's easy. The Dark Lord could Summon - me at any time, I must - be ready for him!"

Dumbledore met his anger with anger of his own. "I will not risk having you back in the hospital wing! I have more than a few years experience in this, Severus!"

"As do I!" He swallowed: it was getting hard to talk again, to put the words in order.

"No. No more today."

Without thinking through what he was doing, he lurched from his chair, grabbed his wand and pointed it. "Legili-!"

"-limens!"

Their wands locked and Severus felt himself falling backward...

"...Potter will be arriving this evening on the Hogwarts Express."

"I am well aware of that, Headmaster."

Severus only called him "Headmaster" in front of others or when he was intending to be particularly aloof or cold, Dumbledore knew. "Yes. - Hagrid reports that the boy strongly resembles his father."

Severus looked up from the letter he was scrawling in front of him at his desk. "Lovely."

... He wondered if the boy's eyes still looked like hers. He wondered if he would recognize the boy in the crowd of first year students. He wondered...

... There he was, The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, chosen by the Dark Lord, chosen because he, Severus Snape, had told the Dark Lord what he should never have even heard...

The boy was in the front of the room, and he turned to look at Severus as if he had sensed his gaze. He winced and touched his head and Severus saw the infernal lightning-bolt mark on his forehead, the indisputable sign that he was the one who had survived the Avada Kedavra.

The eyes of the only woman he had ever loved, the only woman who had ever loved him, looked at him with fear. He had never seen Lily afraid of him...

... "Try to look beyond your past! Look beyond your hatred for James Potter and look for the love you felt for Lily Evans! Try to judge him on his own merits, Severus."

"What merits? He is, at best, mediocre. He cannot follow directions. He is half-witted and thinks he is special and worthy of attention and praise. Just like his father!"

"He does not like attention, Severus, not that kind, any more than you do! I'd think you, of all people, would recognize that quality in him, at least." Dumbledore gave his former student an amused smile which was not returned. "And what child doesn't crave praise?" He saw that his comment had just the effect he'd been hoping for...

... "You must concentrate, Severus." Dumbledore helped the boy up from the floor. "Learning Occlumency is not easy, but if you prepare yourself more carefully -"

"And how do I do that?" The boy's petulance was understandable, but even so, Dumbledore knew it had to be curbed.

"Tone, Mr. Snape! I expect you to treat me with respect at all times."

The boy looked back at him, sullen and angry. "Yes, sir."

"Alright. Now. Wand at the ready. Prepare yourself. Shut down all emotions... Legili-"

The spell broke. Their wands stopped emitting the green light that had shone from each of them, the beams meeting between them, combining both their attacked thoughts.

"Better," Dumbledore gasped. He had stood throughout this exercise, and now he crossed to the chair he usually occupied and sat heavily in it. "You did succeed in repulsing me. I suppose that's an improvement."

Severus stared blankly into the room, dropping his wand on the table. Eventually, he heard Dumbledore rise and summon drinks for them. "Here," the Headmaster said, pushing a goblet into his hand. It was butterbeer. He took a few careful sips, then turned and put the goblet on the table.

"Again."

Dumbledore was drinking his butterbeer somewhat faster. He finally put it on the table. "Please keep in mind that I am an old man. My own strength is not what it once was."

"Your false modesty is irritating!" he snapped back. And he picked up his own wand.

Dumbledore eyed him with concern, but then sighed. He put down the dregs of his drink, then pulled his wand again. "Prepare yourself. Legilimens!"

"Protego!"

... "I have written to the warden," Dumbledore said, watching Severus carefully. "Of course, as I expected, he turned down my request. I'm sorry."

The boy, who would be turning thirteen in a few weeks, shrugged as if this news meant nothing to him at all. And yet it was a sad resolution to what had kept him occupied for the last three months: trying every avenue he could think of to be able to visit his mother over the Christmas break.

"You know," Dumbledore continued, "we have quite a feast here for Christmas. There are a few other children who always stay. Emma Dreamwell had to stay her first two years as her parents were working overseas. But now she stays because she enjoys it so much."

Severus was staring at the carpet. He didn't seem to have heard.

Dumbledore left his desk and went to the boy's side. "I'll see if, perhaps, she could be allowed to write to you. How would that be?"

Another shrug.

"Tell me, Severus, if you could spend the break here doing whatever you would like to do, what would it be?"

At that, the boy looked up, black, empty eyes suddenly filling with light. "Anything?" he asked.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Could I - could I work on my potions?"

It was exactly what Dumbledore had expected. "You could. Is that what you'd want?"

The boy nodded excitedly. All hint of his sadness was wiped away.

"Alright, then. Professor Slughorn won't be here, so I'll be supervising you."

"Okay."

He let the informality pass this time. "And I'll see if Hagrid can spare some time to take you through the Forest, let you learn some of the less common ingredients."

A soundless "wow" came from the boy's lips.

Dumbledore couldn't remember ever seeing Severus so happy. He didn't smile, of course: Dumbledore didn't think he knew how to anymore. But his eyes sparkled the way small, innocent children's did on Christmas morning...

... "I'm going to speak to the Minister," Dumbledore said. He was shooting evil glances at the Aurors on either side of Severus, very unhappy that Alastor was one of them. "I'll have you out of there and back here in a day, two at the most, I promise."

"I really don't care."

"Don't say that! You gave me your word you wouldn't give up."

Severus gave one of his most bitter snickers. "There's no reason not to."

... "The Imperius Curse? Malfoy claimed he was Imperiused?" He was pacing Dumbledore's office like a caged dragon. He paused long enough to shoot Dumbledore a furious look. "If he was Imperiused, it had to have been going on all his life! How could they even think -"

"Remember, Severus, he's a generous supporter of several worthwhile causes. Including the hospital where the Longbottoms are. He has friends in the Wizengamot -"

"And you don't?"

"Severus, it doesn't matter!"

"It. Does!" He crossed the floor swiftly and planted his hands on either side of Dumbledore's desk, leaning in very closely. "I am here only because they let you guarantee me! Because Albus Dumbledore vouched for me! And he is going to walk free..."

"It doesn't matter, Severus, you're here, you're free!"

"I have a sword hanging over me! There is nothing standing between me and Azkaban except you! If you're right and the Dark Lord comes back, the Ministry will have no trouble tripping me up if I spy for you! I'll be right there at his side again and don't you fool yourself into thinking they won't come after me at the slightest hint that I'm helping him!"

"Severus, if that happens, you know I'll hide you. I will not let you go back to Azkaban!"

"You said that before!"...

He staggered back, not so much from the spell as from the emotional force of Dumbledore's memories.

"Oh, don't you have any memories that don't involve me?" he gasped. He had caught isolated images in his youth of his mentor's mind, when Dumbledore had tried to help him strengthen his Occlumency skills. But never had he seen this clearly, this intensely.

The attacks themselves were causing him to have difficulty speaking. The stronger they were, the more intense the memories, the harder it was to speak afterward.

"Of course I do." Dumbledore sounded almost as breathless. "But it's you I'm concentrating on right now, isn't it?" He took in a long breath and let it out slowly. "I thought we were working on your Occlumency, not your Legilimency."

"What I can't block I can repel," he said. "Defensive - procedures, remember? You're the one - wanted me to use - my wand."

Dumbledore gazed at him, his blue eyes not quite focusing. "Again. - Without your wand."

Reluctantly, Severus put it down and turned to face the Headmaster. "Ready?" He nodded. And with his wand pointed at Severus' head, he called, "Legilimens!"

... In the forest, Hagrid walking ahead, talking... He stopped: there were fur keelies here, several of them. Hagrid wasn't looking, so he bent down and dug up two of them. He didn't have to tell Hagrid. The oaf didn't need to know what he was concocting in the dungeons...

He pushed back... The scene shifted...

... "Back off, Mulciber! Your miserable master isn't here to protect you!"

"Oooh, I'm so scared of you!"

"You should be." He stepped closer until they were almost touching. "I can do things to you that you can't even dream of!"

"Yeah? Like what?"

Dumbledore gasped and shut his eyes. Severus watched him, feeling a small triumph. He had repulsed Dumbledore much quicker than he'd been able to before. He had prevented the Headmaster from seeing any further into either of those two moments.

"Nicely done, Severus," Dumbledore congratulated him. "I'm afraid, though, that you've worn me out."

He could see the truth in that: Dumbledore looked terrible, pale and shaking, and he slumped in the nearby chair and closed his eyes and dropped his head to his chest.

Severus tapped his wand on the two goblets and refilled them, then handed Dumbledore his. "Here."

The Headmaster looked up and took the drink with a ghost of a smile. "We'll continue tomorrow," he said, and took a sip of the beer. "In the meantime, I want you to join us for dinner in the Great Hall. Rest until then."

"I prefer to eat here."

"I know. But you have to leave the dungeons sooner or later. You can't stay here all summer."

"That was my - original intention."

"I'm sure it was." Dumbledore drank half the goblet, then got up and put it on the table. "Consider it an order," he said. He pocketed his wand and headed for the door. "Oh, and the answer to that question?" he said, turning around with the door half opened.

"What - oh." Why he had joined the Death Eaters. Dumbledore apparently wasn't going to let go of that until he knew what he wanted to. But Severus was in no mood to tell him. Not yet.

"We've eliminated James and Sirius. So there's really only one person left who would have been - important enough to you to warrant that particular form of revenge, isn't there?"

He met Severus' wary gaze steadily. All hint of amusement was gone. "What I don't understand is what I did to merit that. But I suppose you'll tell me when you're ready." He pulled open the door and as he walked through the doorway he added, without turning around, "Which should be tomorrow."

* * * July 14, 1995, evening

Minerva wasn't sure who looked more surprised at the dinner table that night. For the summer, the staff who remained at the castle abandoned the large, formal table for their meals and had one of the students' tables set up in the corner of the Hall. It made their gatherings more pleasant, almost family-like. Given that for some of the instructors this was their only family, it permitted a pleasant break from their usually professional relationships.

Remus and Tonks, sitting together at the end of the table, had been discussing something that had nothing to do with either resetting the charms around the castle, or business pertaining to the Order, so she had turned a deaf ear to them. Dumbledore was expounding some theory of wizarding history with Orestes, who had apparently been there at the historic moment in question. Madam Pomfrey, who was seated next to Minerva, was simply eating without bothering with conversation, which was normal for her.

A break large enough to fit another four people at the table occurred between their group and the couple of Professors Sprout and Flitwick, who often spent free time together, though Minerva wasn't sure what they had in common, even after all these years. Professor Trelawney, who always stayed at the castle over summer break, wasn't at dinner: like Severus, she rarely left her chambers for meals, preferring to eat alone.

When Severus walked into the hall, looking as uncomfortable as she had ever seen him, it was she who first noticed him. She smiled and beckoned with her head for him to join her, the seat on her right being empty.

"Nice to have you join us, Severus," Dumbledore said drolly, breaking off his conversation with Orestes to greet him.

Minerva wasn't sure, but she thought that comment held a double meaning. The angry look the Headmaster received from Snape seemed to confirm that.

"Here, Severus, try some beef. It's quite good."

The Potions master took the seat next to her and all conversation at the table ceased. He glanced around him with his eyes, not moving his head even an inch, and served himself some of the roast Minerva had passed him.

"Thank you for the potions, Professor," Poppy finally offered, breaking the tense silence at last.

Severus nodded and said nothing.

From the other end of the table, Remus shot him a visual "thank you" that, hopefully, no one else caught. Severus turned away.

"We've finished all the protections and wards," Dumbledore told him, awkwardly trying to fill the silence, Minerva thought. "I'm having a few members of the Order come out here tomorrow to see if they can break through any of them. Might be amusing, seeing if those who've been working so hard on it actually remember enough spells for it to work."

Lupin and Tonks both chuckled. Professors Flitwick and Sprout couldn't quite hear what was being said, it seemed, but they looked up and smiled in their direction.

"Professor, I have a new batch of mandrake ready for you whenever you can come down and get it," the Herbology professor said, speaking a bit louder than she really needed to.

"Tomorrow?" Severus asked. Minerva could tell he was trying, but the group was too much for him to handle. What no one but she noticed was that his muscles were tensing, his hands were shaking, and he was growing paler by the moment.

"Any time," Sprout agreed.

Minerva leaned close to Severus and whispered, "Take a few bites and excuse yourself. I'll have something sent down for you."

She pulled away quickly, knowing that her sub rosa comments had been noted by the others, and gave Dumbledore a meaningful look.

It surprised her that Severus actually took her advice. He choked down a couple bites of meat, shoveled in some asparagus, and then addressed the table. "I have two brews I must take care of. Excuse me."

Everyone watched him leave. Minerva decided not to. She went back to her meal, shooting Dumbledore a glance to let him know she wanted to talk with him after the meal.

Remus and Tonks lingered well after everyone else had gone, so Minerva gestured Dumbledore to follow her to the far end of the table.

"Was it your idea to put him through that?" she opened.

"Since he isn't actually a vampire, Orestes and I thought it would do him some good to join us. I'm not sure it was an unqualified success," he added with a grimace.

"I'm not sure it was any kind of success. - How is he, Albus?"

Dumbledore cocked his head to one side. "He was able to repulse me twice this afternoon-"

"Repulse - you? I thought Orestes..."

"Severus asked me to take over."

He said it as if it were the most normal of requests. "Albus, I can't believe - he knows your weaknesses! He knows how to hit home, how to weaken you!"

"Minerva, surely you don't think he would do anything to harm me."

She shook her head. "He's not in his right mind yet, you said that yourself. - Please, Albus, let Orestes keep working with him."

He contemplated her words. "I said I'd do it. If I find it too exhausting or if I think he's using his powers to weaken me, I'll withdraw my help."

She shook her head. "You wouldn't know he was doing it until it was too late. You've got a very big blind spot when it comes to him, at least when it means defending him. He's already tried to fool you once," she reminded him, not that it brought her any pleasure to do so.

She found her growing affection for Snape disturbing. He was, she kept reminding herself, a deliberately unlikable person. She assigned her growing sympathy to thwarted maternal instincts, the same ones that often came into play with her students.

"What about this," she said. "Have Orestes there to monitor what happens. He'll be able to sense if something goes wrong, won't he?"

"Oh, yes, most likely. But that defeats the purpose, Minerva. Severus doesn't want Orestes involved in this. He's putting himself into my hands far more than I'm putting myself into his."

She shook her head, not happy with the answer. "Then why is Orestes still here?"

Dumbledore glanced over her shoulder. "Because I asked him to stay." He looked back. "These exercises... He tries not to let on, but I'm concerned that at some point, when Severus thinks he can take one more attack, he won't be strong enough. I want Orestes around if that happens."

"I'm registering my disapproval of this, Albus."

"So noted." And then he smiled. "I hope you'll join the party tomorrow trying to tear up the protections around the place. I'm planning a celebratory feast afterward."

She laughed. "What if your charms and wards are defeated?"

"Then the main dish will be crow."

* * *

It was a feeling he couldn't explain or justify. It was a feeling he loathed in himself, more than almost any other feeling except outright self-pity. It was loneliness. And it had such a strong hold on him right now he could barely think past it.

It was as if a dementor had gotten into his head: he was so abysmal he couldn't move from his chair. And going up to the Hall to eat: that wasn't the kind of company he wanted or needed. He pulled his cloak more securely around himself, stared at the little fire, and finally closed his eyes.

He wanted it to stop. He wanted the memories to go back to where he always kept them, back into the crowded boxes he had learned to place them in when he was still a child. He wanted them hidden away, where no one would see them, where he would not have to face them.

Boggarts! He stared at his empty cauldrons. He'd done everything he could think of to fill the time until he could justify sleeping. He'd cleaned the cauldrons, he'd finished re-organizing his pickled and preserved ingredients, he had disposed of all the outdated herbs and other dried ingredients, he'd made a list of those he needed to replenish...

The list! It was too late tonight, but tomorrow he could go into Hogsmeade and pick up some of what he needed. Then he could Apparate to Diagon Alley for some of the more exotic herbs and insects. Then a quick trip around the corner to Knockturn Alley, which was the only place to find the extremely rare - and often illegal - contents of brews he could never admit to having.

There was such comfort in the anticipation of those trips that for several minutes, as he went to his desk and began adding to his list and creating the paperwork he'd need to purchase certain items, he forgot the horrible feelings that had engulfed him only moments before.

He tapped his wand against the door of the cabinet where he kept his personal stocks. Then he grabbed a book from his top shelf, the very old Ensnaring the Senses: Forbidden Potions from the Middle Ages (Updated and Expanded to Include a Listing of Alternative, Modern Ingredients). He had bewitched the cover of the book so that anyone looking at it would see only A History of Potions from the Middle Ages.

He wondered with a comforting sense of self-righteousness, how many people would be so quick to denounce these as Dark Arts if they realized how many of these potions were simply failures on the way to discovering their curative counterparts.

And, as he had long ago discovered, there could be valuable and legitimate uses for some of these potions, even in their "forbidden" forms. The trick to getting others to accept them was to rename them, something he had learned to do at St. Mungo's his first year out of Hogwarts.

He finished adding all the extras to his list, closed up his cabinet, re-shelved his books, and tallied up the estimated costs. It was well worth it, he decided, though he anticipated he might have to special-order some of the ingredients. That wouldn't be a problem. Even if they were delivered by Owl, no one in Hogwarts ever asked him about what he actually did with his time, probably on the theory that the answers would make no sense to them, or that they might not really want to know.

Having finished with his task, he set the list under his hourglass, which doubled as a paperweight, and glanced around the room for something more to occupy his time and mind. It was still far too early to seek the oblivion of sleep.

And then he noticed the Pensieve, still sitting on the bottom bookshelf in the corner, where he had stashed it to keep it out of harm's way. It glowed faintly in the fire-lit room. He stepped over to it, and stared at the silvery threads swirling inside.

Dumbledore had left something for him to see. Something he was fairly certain he didn't want to see, especially after the Headmaster's parting comments earlier.

"...there's really only one person left who would have been important enough to you... What I don't understand is what I did to merit that... you'll tell me... tomorrow..."

What it came down to right now was a question of courage. Fear gripped his heart, but his mind was already breaking away from that seductive emotion, forcing him to look at this rationally, carefully, logically. Whatever Dumbledore wanted him to see, to know, it would be better to be armed with it when the Headmaster returned.

He picked up his wand and tapped the side of the Pensieve gently. His own thoughts, set aside earlier, separated into distinct threads, and he began replacing them, each one returning with a fresh slice of pain.

And finally, there was only one of his memories left, the one entangled with Dumbledore's. Something he would see from both sides, he understood that. What Dumbledore wanted him to know...

He took a deep breath. "Damn you, Dumbledore!" he swore softly, and then plunged...