Summoned

Chapter 16: Trust

The Dark Lord... almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and to utter falsehoods in his presence without detection."

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

July 23, 1995, late morning

The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, had asked Albus to meet him, not in his office, but in one of the rooms set aside for the Wizengamot's trials. It wasn't as if Dumbledore didn't know these rooms intimately; but he wondered at Fudge's choice. There was a reason for everything the Minister did. Albus wanted to know what this one was.

In addition to the odd choice of meeting place, Fudge was ten minutes late, appearing finally out of breath and agitated.

"Ah, Albus, I do apologize. Things are so chaotic right now. Please." He gestured Dumbledore to a seat along the circular wall that surrounded the court's seating. "I don't want to keep you. You must be - busy." His emphasis on the last word left Dumbledore suspicious.

"Yes, my summers generally are - busy. Especially when I have teaching positions to fill."

"Positions? More than one?"

Dumbledore smiled tightly. "Rubeus Hagrid," he said smoothly, "has indicated that he may have - an unavoidable conflict this year. I've already decided to fill his position with Professor Grubbly-Plank. You remember her, I'm sure."

"Hmm." Fudge cleared his throat meaningfully. "I wish you'd told me about the opening, Albus. I've already explained to you -"

"That the Ministry intends to interfere as much as possible in the running of Hogwarts," he replied. Gloves off. "I hardly think Care of Magical Creatures is critical to your - agenda."

Fudge looked wounded and sighed dramatically. "Albus, you don't make this easy."

"Nor do I intend to. As long as you refuse to take Voldemort's return seriously -"

"Do not use that name here!"

" - I shall continue to do everything in my power to ensure that my students are as well prepared as possible to meet the oncoming conflicts. You are blinding yourself to the terrible reality -"

"He is not back! The rantings of that - that boy you keep harping about -"

"There is more evidence than that, Cornelius, and you know it! Severus Snape showed you the Mark on his own arm -"

"Oh, Snape! Speaking of Snape," he said, his voice lowered dangerously. Albus instantly regretted having mentioned his comrade. "I've heard rumors about him recently."

Dumbledore gave Fudge his best bored look. "Really? What is it this time? He's still working for Voldemort," he said, reveling in using the name right now, "even though, according to you, Voldemort hasn't returned? Or is the rumor of his being a vampire circling 'round again?"

"Neither!" Fudge snapped. "I've been informed that he was spotted making several purchases in Knockturn Alley."

Dumbledore chuckled, belying the anger that rose inside him against Severus. "I'm sure Lucius Malfoy had a good reason for being there. I assume he's your font of information."

Fudge narrowed his gaze. "Lucius had legitimate business nearby," he said. "And Snape was seen coming out of Borgin & Burkes. Why do you suppose he was in there?"

"Because he has been revising his N.E.W.T.-level coursework in light of the fact that Voldemort has returned."

"Apparently, he purchased several restricted items."

Albus raised one eyebrow. "Lucius Malfoy must have been very nearby to notice what Professor Snape purchased. Just how 'nearby' was he, Cornelius?"

"Did he or did he not purchase restricted items at Borgin & Burkes? Yes or no?"

"Yes, restricted items which I am at liberty, as Headmaster of Hogwarts, to authorize the purchase of." And which authorizations, since he knew nothing about this, he had not given. That would be easy enough for Fudge to check out, if he hadn't already. "However, in my busy-ness this summer," he said smoothly, "I neglected to provide him with the necessary paperwork to present at the shop. I understand they are waiting for that: I'll be taking it to them once I finish here."

He was more than a little pleased with his lie: it was just elaborate enough to ring true. Fudge scowled at him. "Hmm. And Snape couldn't wait a day or so to get the paperwork from you before he purchased the items?"

"Apparently, the proprietors of Borgin & Burkes didn't have any problem selling to him without it. Perhaps it's their practices you should be investigating."

Fudge shook his head, his narrowed gaze trying to pierce Dumbledore's self-assuredness.

"As for your instructors this year, I will be filling the Defense Against the Dark Arts position with someone from the Ministry. As I told you, I'm concerned that the students are going to be exposed to far more Dark magical knowledge than they need. Several parents have voiced their concerns about that class for the last two years."

Naturally, Dumbledore thought. It hadn't been Remus' fault that his year there had been linked to the escape from Azkaban of Sirius Black, still thought to be a mass murderer. Nor had he been at fault when Severus had "inadvertently" mentioned the fact that Lupin was a werewolf to some of his Slytherin students, bringing a rapid close to Lupin's teaching assignment there.

Nor was it anyone's fault that Barty Crouch Jr., having escaped both Azkaban and his own father, had managed to impersonate the teacher for the D.A.D.A. position that Dumbledore had actually hired last year: Alastor Moody.

"I feel it's time for the Ministry to take it in hand. After all -"

"After all," Dumbledore interrupted, "we can't have our children preparing for war, can we?" he asked, knowing full well how Fudge would choose to interpret that. His paranoia about Albus trying to take over the Ministry and fill his position was well-known and seemed to be Fudge's driving force.

When he wasn't busy ignoring the real and present danger of Voldemort's rebirth.

"So. Who will be my new D.A.D.A. instructor?" Albus asked after Fudge had stopped sputtering in anger at the last comment.

"I haven't decided. I have three possible choices. I'll be making up my mind later this summer."

Dumbledore nodded. And he stood up. "Is that all, Cornelius? I do have a school to run."

"That's all for the time being. - Keep your nose clean, Albus. And - keep an eye on Snape. Everyone else is."

* * *

Dumbledore had forgotten, in the anger his meeting with Fudge had engendered, that he had asked Moody and Lupin to meet him at Hogwarts at noon. He'd been sure he'd be finished at the Ministry and back by then.

He hadn't expected he'd need to stop off at Borgin & Burkes to drop off paperwork authorizing Severus' purchases.

The store was open, but there was no one at the counter when he went in. He didn't like the store, but he was often fascinated by what was in it. Curiosity, even of things Dark, sometimes still crept up on him like an unexpected boggart.

He went to the counter and tapped his wand on the enchanted bell, which announced, "You have a customer in the front," in a loud, bass voice.

From the rear of the store, behind a curtain, came a clerk, and Dumbledore greeted him with a smile: the smile was not returned.

"Help you?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, not recognizing the man. "I'm Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft -"

"I know who you are," the surly man cut in. "What do you want?"

"One of my teachers recently purchased some items from you. I believe the paperwork authorizing those purchases -"

"Yeah, yeah, got it here somewhere." The man bent down and began rummaging through boxes and stacks of very old papers under the counter. Eventually, to Dumbledore's dismay, he pulled out four pages of parchment with the Hogwarts crest on top and Dumbledore's unmistakable signature on them. He took them from the clerk's hand and glanced through them.

His anger was growing significantly greater. "Yes, good," he said. Among the list of items he'd "authorized" were various Class-A restricted dragon eggs, which Severus had denied having. "Yes, I think he got everything." He handed the parchments back. "I'd been afraid I'd forgotten to authorize one of his purchases."

The clerk made a noise in his throat and stuffed the parchments back under the counter. "Is there anything else?"

"No. Thank you." He left the oppressive store and headed back to Hogsmeade. He was as angry with Severus at that moment as he could remember having been in years. Probably since Snape's days as a Death Eater.

The sight of the two Order members in his office when he returned brought him up short, so wrapped up was he in trying to decide how to deal with Severus' easily-uncovered dishonesty.

"Oh, Alastor! Remus! I'm - sorry, I'm sorry to keep you waiting." The two were actually standing next to the gargoyle. He'd forgotten to give them the password for the day. "Chocolate frogs," he spoke to the statue and it rolled out of the way.

"Four minutes, Albus?" Alastor said. "Not worth mentioning. - How did it go?" He took a gulp from his flask.

He had, of course, told the Order about his meeting with Fudge. He hadn't yet broken the news of their imminent interference with the courses at Hogwarts to anyone but Severus, the thought of whom resurrected his anger.

He saw the two wizards into his office. He'd left the fire blazing and the room was quite warm, so he snuffed it out and opened the windows instead.

"Please, help yourselves," he flicked his wand and tea and biscuits appeared, "or feel free to get yourselves something from the kitchen. I am very sorry, but I must have a word with -" He quickly weighed the choice of telling them or not, and chose in favor of it. "With Severus. I'll be back as soon as I can, and I'll explain what we need. - I'm very sorry."

"Albus!" Alastor crossed the room, his walking stick thumping on the floor every other step. "I can see somethin's wrong. What's Severus done?"

"I can handle it, Alastor. It's just a misunderstanding I need to clear up."

Alastor smiled, not pleasantly. "A misunderstanding? You mean he lied to ye about somethin'." It was a statement, not a question, and Albus chose not to respond.

"I'll be back in just a few minutes." He left before either of them could hold him up any longer.

He didn't bother using the internal Floo network for two reasons: first, he was loathe to simply intrude on Severus without any warning, and he wasn't in the mood to talk to him through the fire, either. But more importantly, as he walked the corridors and descended the spiral staircase to the dungeons, his ire began to cool and he found his mind beginning, as it always did, to make excuses for Severus' behavior.

By the time he knocked on the Potions master's door, he was prepared to accept an explanation and some form - however nonverbal it might be - of apology.

But Severus did not answer his door. It was, as usual, thoroughly protected with several levels of magical enchantments and charms, but he hadn't changed any of them and Dumbledore knew how to get into the chambers.

Severus wasn't there. In the back of his office, something was burbling through several glass tubes and beakers set against the far wall. He hoped for Severus' sake that it was nothing he wouldn't be happy to explain.

Unfortunately, that explanation, along with the others, would have to wait. Dumbledore left a message, enchanted so that only Severus would see it, on the outside of his door as he resealed it and left. On the off chance that Snape had deigned to leave his chambers in order to eat, he checked both the Great Hall and the kitchens. He wasn't there and no one had seen him. However, Minerva was eating lunch and volunteered that when she had last gone to check on Orestes ("I'm still waiting for you to tell me what's going on, Albus," she said sharply), he seemed to have company. She suggested it might be Severus.

Albus Dumbledore left the Hall, hoping for Severus' sake that Minerva McGonagall was wrong!

* * * July 23, 1995, afternoon

Severus had staggered - quite literally - out of bed well after nine that morning. He appraised himself in his bathroom mirror after the careful, cool shower he'd taken, and was dismayed to see that even he couldn't discern any improvement in his looks. His eyes were still swollen and the bruising had turned darker. The edges around the bruises had yellowed some, which might have been a good sign if it weren't for the new bruises on his face.

He hadn't stopped bleeding: he had vomited twice during the night and again just before his shower. He had taken all the Blood-Replenishing Potion he could, and had tried to keep some of the Calming Draught down. But there was still something internal that wouldn't stop bleeding.

It hadn't yet been a full two days since he'd tested that poison on himself, but by his calculations, he should have been well on his way toward healing by now. Had there, he considered, been some unintended reaction between the Blood-Letting Potion and the Befuddlement Draught?

Whatever the problem, he was going to have to ask for help from someone if he couldn't manage to keep food down by supper.

Having come to that decision, he went about what would have been his normal summer routine. With a small fire to warm the room, he settled into his chair and set himself to the odious task of grading the end-of-term papers. Why he repeatedly assigned these dunderheads so much work, which he was then compelled to spend at least as much time evaluating, he couldn't imagine.

Except, of course, that he wanted them to learn! He might hate the process of teaching dim-witted and thick-headed students, but there were occasionally the small rewards of students who not only grasped their assignments but actually enjoyed the work.

As he always had.

As Lily had.

He took a deep breath: the very thought of her made his throat tighten. He shoved her memories away and continued with his unfulfilling task.

He came, eventually, to Potter's paper. He glanced over it rapidly and decided that before he read it through, he would treat himself to a glass of wine. He summoned a goblet and small flagon and poured the drink, hoping that, perhaps today, it would help keep things calmer inside him.

Two paragraphs into the paper, he realized he had stopped paying any attention to what the boy had written. Unaccountably, he found himself remembering the halcyon days of working with Lily in their Potions classes, the times they had spent in blissful experimentation outside the classes, in the dungeon rooms to which he had almost unlimited access (though he never, of course, told her why). He remembered the difficulty they had both faced of trying to hide their friendship in light of the terrible rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. And, of course, in light of the fact that she was - he never did understand it - friends with Black and Potter.

As he began to realize he was losing his ability to check his memories, to control them, master them, something wet plopped onto the parchment and blurred the second paragraph.

Boggarts! He wiped his eyes, finished the glass of wine in one gulp and pushed the paper away from him.

"Severus! Are you there? Are you available?"

The voice from his fire startled him almost as much as his lack of emotional control had. He wrapped his robe more tightly around him - he'd not bothered dressing since he had no reason to leave his chambers - and went to the fireplace.

"Orestes. How are you?" His stomach was clenching, whether from the poison or from his faltering mental control he couldn't tell.

"I am - well, I'm perplexed. Minerva has been hovering over me since yesterday and - well, I'm not sure what's going on around here. I haven't seen Albus for two days now. - Could you spare an hour or so to keep an old, old man company?"

His mind rapidly considered all the possibilities open to him. He could beg off as being busy. He could go and do nothing but provide a measure of company to the man. Or he could take advantage of what was obviously an auspicious moment he might not have again.

"Give me a few minutes, Orestes. I - need to change."

"Oh, fine, fine. Have you eaten? Shall I have lunch brought up?"

"No, I - I've eaten. Five minutes." He turned from the fire as Orestes' visage dissolved.

It took more than five minutes for him to struggle into his clothing: the pain in his knees and wrists seemed to be the most acute. He grabbed his hooded traveling cloak, the one he'd worn to the Order meeting, and his gloves. He would, of course, remove them when he got to Orestes' rooms, but he wanted to avoid any other sightings on the way.

At least, he considered, trying to still the ominous rumblings in his stomach, he would have an opening to discuss reviving the Occlumency exercises with the Healer. He would explain to Dumbledore later why he hadn't done as he'd been asked.

Orestes, who had been given the annually-emptied chambers of the D.A.D.A. professor, seemed intensely happy to see his former patient. At first.

"Come in, Severus, come in. Are you going somewhere?" he asked noting Snape's excessive clothing.

"No." He crossed the room and stood next to an old, upholstered chair that sat behind a coffee table and another chair.

"Sit, sit! Can I get you something -" The Healer stopped speaking as Severus lowered the hood and slipped the cape off his shoulders. Then he removed his gloves and waited.

"Merlin's toes! What in the name of all wizarding happened to you? My word, Severus, you - what happened?"

"It's -" He stared to say that it wasn't as bad as it looked. But he was becoming convinced that it was. "It is a long story. I assume you have some time?"

Looking quite distressed, Orestes nodded, gestured for Severus to take a seat, and then took the other chair. "Can I get you anything? Can I do anything?"

He sighed, and launched into an abbreviated version of how he had taken the poison as proof of his dedication to the Dark Lord. "It is, of course, an honor to be able to show the Dark Lord how well I've prepared his - potions," he finished. "I fear, though, that I may have made this one stronger than I thought."

Orestes' eyes had narrowed at his short paean of servitude to the Dark Lord, but that didn't last long. "You're still bleeding? Where?"

Severus shook his head. "I don't know. Nor is there any antidote for this."

Orestes stared at him, squinting deliberately, as if by narrowing his eyes he could see things more clearly.

And then, as he stared, Severus felt it: a gentle push, an attempted incursion into his mind. He didn't react: he let the Healer in, only so far, betraying nothing in his expression. When Orestes finally touched an area he had no intention of showing him, he rebuffed him silently.

Whether Orestes thought he'd been repulsed consciously or not, he said nothing. The entire episode had taken less that three seconds, but it kept Severus fully on his guard.

"Can you tell me what you used? What went into the potion?"

He shook his head. "I prefer not. I've been taking Blood-Replenishing and Strengthening Draughts. Neither seems to be helping."

Very slowly, Orestes pulled his wand from his pocket. "May I?"

Severus nodded. Orestes stood over him and held the wand above Snape's head, then slowly moved it down the length of his body and back up.

"It's your stomach that's still bleeding. And there are - hemorrhages in your brain as well. Not dangerous, just - painful, I'm sure."

He didn't respond to the understatement. "And what would you suggest?"

"If there weren't any Dark Magic involved? I'd put you to bed and give you some of your infamous asphodel and wormwood concoction. Then, when you were unconscious, I'd delve into the damaged areas and heal them. No more complicated than other internal injuries. But," he added, putting his wand back, "I'm assuming Dark Magic was used?"

The opportunity was too inviting to ignore. "I wouldn't want to say that," he said. "But - it wasn't something I would brew around students."

Orestes kept squinting at him. "No, I'm sure you wouldn't."

"Not that there aren't some who would tempt me."

Orestes smiled. "Yes, like the Potter boy."

"Exactly." He felt the imminent eruption gathering in his gut and swallowed several times rapidly, trying to keep it down.

"Well, given the circumstances as they are," Orestes said, sitting back in his chair, "I would still recommend bed rest and sleep. Deep sleep, so the organs involved can repair themselves. As long as you keep putting a strain on them -"

"Yes," he interrupted. It was exactly what he knew he had to do and neither could nor would.

Things here were too dangerous to risk the Sleep of Living Death. He didn't trust Orestes, he couldn't be sure the Dark Lord would not Summon him again, and he had no intention of letting either Dumbledore or the Order know how badly off he was. It was enough that they knew he'd created this damnable potion: he didn't want to give any of them, Black especially, any further ammunition for spiteful reactions.

"Sadly, I'm far behind on my work for next year's classes. I can't afford the luxury of several days in bed."

"You can't afford to die, either."

And, as if to punctuate Orestes' conclusion, he found himself starting to retch. The best he could manage was to conjure yet another deep pail to contain the mess and then to Vanish it as soon as he was done.

He leaned back against the chair and shut his eyes. Orestes simply watched him, saying nothing.

"If I felt confident in Dumbledore's trust, I might do it," he finally confessed. "But I will not risk the Dark Lord's displeasure. I need this position in order to continue my work for him."

"You don't think Albus trusts you?"

He opened his eyes and wished he hadn't. The nausea rose almost immediately. "You're aware of our - history," he said. "I think he wants to trust me, but his cloying concerns for my safety are threatening to interfere with my work for the Dark Lord. - If I show any weakness, I think he might not permit me to continue spying for him. And I cannot afford that. The Dark Lord deserves my - I mean, he expects me to provide him with information. If I don't -" he sighed. "Well, before I had a position here at Hogwarts, he didn't find me terribly useful."

He closed his eyes again and waited for Orestes to digest that. It took nearly a full minute before the Healer spoke again.

"If your main concern is pleasing the Dark Lord -"

"It is," he said, his voice neutral. It was his main concern: but Orestes was welcome to interpret his answer as he liked.

"Then I think the sooner you're well the more likely you are to be able to - continue your work for him."

His lip curled upward. "And just how am I to explain to him that I need to be placed into a coma for two or three days? Especially since I'm sure he knows Dumbledore called you here to assist him." He shook his head. "I don't see a solution there."

Orestes was nodding his head in agreement with Severus' points. But before he could answer, there was a knock on his door.

"Orestes," McGonagall called. "Would you join me for lunch?"

Severus stared at the Healer. He was very close to getting the answer he needed from the man, and it might not even involve more Occlumency exercises. He tried willing McGonagall to leave.

"Thank you, Minerva, I'll just take some lunch here. I've got a book I'm eager to finish." He glanced at Severus. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Are you sure, Orestes? I'm sure you're bored -"

"Not at all, my dear professor, not at all."

He waited, staring at the door. Severus held his breath.

"Okay. If you want to go out for a while -"

"No, no, I'm amusing myself here just fine."

After a few seconds, they heard her footsteps receding and Severus breathed again.

But his moment had been lost.

"Well," he said, "consider my suggestion carefully," he urged. "I truly think you have no other choice."

He stood, sensing that the conversation was over, that Orestes had withdrawn to his normally cautious manner. "Thank you, Orestes, I will - consider it." He took his cloak and slipped his gloves back on.

"Do you think," Orestes asked thoughtfully as Severus wrapped his cloak around himself and lifted the hood, "that taking the Befuddlement Draught made the effects of the other potion worse?"

He hadn't told Orestes about the second potion! He was immensely glad his face was hidden. "Perhaps," he said evenly. "If so, that might help me develop an antidote."

Orestes shook his head. "You need to be put into a deep sleep for two days, maybe three. - Think about it, please."

He nodded again and left the room.

And walked right into Dumbledore.

"There you are!"

"Headmaster. - How was the meeting?"

Dumbledore was fuming. Obviously, the meeting had gone badly.

"What have you and Orestes been discussing?" the older wizard demanded.

"The fact that I am getting no better." He intended to continue, to tell him what Orestes had just betrayed to him, but the look on the Headmaster's face put him off. "What happened at the Ministry?"

"The answer to that I'll give you back in your rooms!" He started off in that direction and Severus followed, Dumbledore's pace painful to keep up with.

As they approached the door, Severus saw the bewitched note and read it, then tore it off: Dumbledore was angry, but from the tone of the note, not all his anger had to do with the Ministry. Once they were back inside his office, he locked the door and took off his cloak and gloves again.

"You told me there were no forbidden items here," Dumbledore launched. Though he was clearly angry, the sight of Severus' continuing injuries did seem to bring him up a bit.

"There aren't."

"Anymore?"

He took a shallow breath: somehow, Dumbledore had found out. "Anymore," he admitted.

Dumbledore's harsh stare was difficult to meet. "Lucius Malfoy saw you coming out of Borgin & Burkes after having purchased several restricted items! Would you explain that to me, please?"

Malfoy had seen him there? How? He'd been diligent, watchful. He looked away. "Restricted," he said. "Not forbidden!"

"I told Fudge I'd authorized the purchases," Dumbledore continued. "I told him I'd failed to give you papers authorizing them. - How did you make those purchases, Severus?"

He looked at Dumbledore but offered no answer.

"You forged the papers, didn't you?"

"Many of those who work in the shops on Knockturn Alley are less concerned with paperwork than with making a sale. Black market and semi-legal establishments aren't too fussy about-"

"Did you forge the papers?" Dumbledore yelled.

"Yes, I forged the papers!" He took a deep breath and decided to just get this over with. "Some of the ingredients were used in what I've already taken to the Dark Lord. Some I purchased in anticipation of future needs. None of them are in the castle or on the grounds."

Dumbledore fumed silently for a couple minutes. In that time, Severus found he could no longer keep standing. He took the seat in front of the fire, half-doubled over from cramping in his stomach and legs, and waited.

"I don't mind lying for you if I have to, Severus. But I do mind having to make up a lie on the spur of the moment because you lied to me! You aren't making it easy to trust you."

"I misjudged the situation," Severus replied quietly. "I did not want you to know about the items I purchased so that, if I should be caught, you could say in all good conscience that you had no idea they were around."

"I'd think you'd have more than enough trouble with your own conscience, right now, than to worry about mine!"

The words stung. Sharply. He clasped his hands together between his knees and hung his head forward; the position was monumentally uncomfortable, but it hid his facial response. "Yes. I do."

After a moment longer, Dumbledore sighed and sat in the empty chair. "Ah, Severus! How are we to get through this?"

The question startled him. He raised his eyes without moving his head. Dumbledore had removed his glasses and propped his elbow on the arm of the chair. He rested the side of his head in his hand and closed his eyes.

Whatever "this" Dumbledore had meant - the war, their struggle to define their communication strategies, the harrowing of his mind, Dumbledore's distrust - he knew one answer would fit them all.

"We must stand together," he said quietly. "Or we will surely fall - apart."

After a time, Dumbledore put his glasses back on and looked at him. "Why aren't you any better?" he asked, his voice weary, his eyes tired.

Severus shook his head. "Either the potion was much stronger than I thought or - perhaps the combination of that and the other Draught have had a worsening effect."

"Could it be from the snake venom?"

He hadn't thought of that. "I doubt it. The bezoar Madam Pomfrey shoved down my throat should have absorbed all of that." He took a deep breath. "Orestes believes I should be deliberately put into a coma-like sleep for two or three days to allow my body - unhindered time to heal."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "That sounds dangerous."

"Only because of what might happen around me. The process itself is not."

"What might happen..?"

He sighed. "Orestes wondered if the combination of the two potions I'd drunk could be making the effects worse."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "You just said."

Severus shook his head. "I said that I'd contemplated that possibility; I hadn't spoken to anyone about it. - Orestes said he hadn't seen you in two days?"

Dumbledore took a long breath and looked away. Then he nodded. "Yes, that's about right."

"The only person I told about the Befuddlement Draught was you. If you haven't told Orestes about it, how did he know?"

He watched while the implications sank in. Dumbledore looked up, sharply, and Severus nodded his head. Slowly.

"He was there," Dumbledore said very quietly. "Or at least, Volde- Riddle told Orestes about it. - He didn't try to use Legilimens on you, did he? Could he have seen into your memories?"

"He made a small incursion while we were talking. He got nowhere. No, Headmaster, I'm afraid Orestes is in contact with the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore rose from his chair and paced away, head down, hands clasped behind his back.

"I am - sorry. I know he was a friend."

Dumbledore waved off his attempted sympathy. A moment later he turned back. "I'll deal with that situation." He said. "Right now, I want to know how we're going to heal you."

He sighed. "A deep sleep for a couple days would probably work," he reiterated, "But doing it here is too dangerous. We now know Orestes is here for some reason, but we don't know what that is. He is quite capable of making it past any guards or enchantments if he wanted to get to me. And," he continued quickly, "I would have no way of knowing if the Dark Lord Summoned me back."

Dumbledore cocked his head to the side. "Then what do you suggest?"

Severus stared at the fire. "I suggest that I go somewhere that Orestes cannot find me. And - someone will need to keep watch in case - the Mark begins to darken." He looked back at the Headmaster. "I have a place in mind that would work," he said. "And - I have in mind someone who might be available for a couple days to - guard me."

Dumbledore thought about that for a moment, then a half-grin slid over his lips. "Remus?"

Severus inclined his head. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than anyone else he could think of. Madam Pomfrey, for all her expertise, alternated between cloying and officious, and while she was a good enough nurse, he didn't trust that she would be vigilant in keeping watch over him. And McGonagall - well, in addition to the fact that she, like he, was probably still trying to finish her own class preparations, he had a feeling she already knew much more from his past that he had never wanted her to know. He didn't feel comfortable with her, especially if he were unconscious.

So, Lupin it was. Only Dumbledore himself would have been better but he was not available for such a menial task. In addition, he didn't want Dumbledore to know he'd set up his potion-making for the Dark Lord in the Shrieking Shack, where he intended to spend his unconscious days. Lupin, he hoped, would not let on.

"I'll ask him. Or, better yet, he's here. Why don't you discuss it yourself with him? And where would you go to do this?"

"Somewhere in Hogsmeade," he said truthfully. "I have a - secure place. No one will find me there."

Dumbledore looked less than pleased, but he couldn't help that. "And if something goes wrong?"

"If I am Summoned, Lupin will be there to give me the draught that will waken me. If any other dangers arise, he can either deal with them himself or, again, waken me." He looked away. "I don't think he needs to seclude himself with me for the entire time. Aas long as he checks up on - things on a regular basis."

Dumbledore looked at him, and Severus knew he was looking mostly at the discoloration and swelling on his face. "I'd prefer he stay. Or that you ask someone else to help out and take shifts. You'll be far too vulnerable to leave for even an hour."

Severus nodded and went to grab his hooded cloak. "You said he's here now?"

Together they returned to Dumbledore's office. Neither Moody nor Lupin had expected him: their surprise was obvious.

"Remus, Alastor," Dumbledore greeted them, moving into the room. The other two wizards were sitting in the comfortable chairs in the antechamber. Severus stayed where he was, just inside the door.

"I've asked you both to come for one reason, but - Remus, I've another favor to ask you as well." Dumbledore ignored Severus as he explained the issue with the portal and then informed them of Severus' conversation with Orestes.

"So. Ye've had more than one follower of Voldemort here for the summer," Moody commented, but he, like Dumbledore, ignored Severus as if he weren't there.

"Severus isn't a follower of the Dark Lord," Lupin said, rather sharply. It surprised Severus.

"What are you going to do about him?" Moody asked the Headmaster. "Orestes, I mean."

"Whatever I do, I'll need to act completely on information I gather myself, not something Severus has discovered. Otherwise, Orestes is likely to report his betrayal to Voldemort."

Severus winced at the name, but said nothing.

"So, to begin with, we know there's a portal and we're going to add an alarm to it?" Lupin asked.

"Yes. And - Severus needs to talk with you about another matter."

Moody made some grumbling noises and got up from his chair. "I know when I'm being kicked out," he muttered and started for the door. He stopped to look at Snape, his magical eye rotating to take in the veiled face. "Watch your step, Snape. And your back!"

He sneered. "I always do."

Moody left and Severus turned to Dumbledore and Lupin. The latter looked mildly curious, but patient. He had made himself tea and was sitting in the chair, drinking it as if he had nothing else to do. Dumbledore, on the other hand, went to his desk at the back of the room and began to work on some parchments in front of him.

"I'm having residual - difficulties," Severus began. "From the Blood-Letting Potion. I need," he continued quickly, as Lupin opened his mouth to say something, "to rest - deeply - for about two days, and I need someone to - oversee that."

Lupin's gentle, half-grin slipped over his face. "Me."

"If you are free."

Lupin glanced back at Dumbledore who was ignoring them. Deliberately, it seemed. "So you're going to - what? Take Dreamless Sleep for two days?"

Severus shook his head: the pressure building in his brain was becoming strong enough to induce the ubiquitous nausea. "Powdered root of asphodel in an infusion of wormwood -"

Lupin looked surprised. "Draught of Living Death?"

"Are you free?"

The werewolf nodded. "When?"

Severus glanced at Dumbledore. "Now. As soon as you can."

Lupin got up and turned back to the Headmaster. "He knows?" Lupin asked.

Severus nodded. "But no one else."

"Well, Professor," Lupin called out. The man looked up. "I never thought I'd catch babysitting duty when I joined the Order."

Severus scowled. That was just the sort of sarcasm he'd been dreading. He took a long breath and shut his eyes. It was far more important at the moment to avoid vomiting again than to spend emotional energy on Lupin.

"
Unfortunately, it does not pay well, and I hope you'll find it quite boring," Dumbledore answered humorously. "I'd pack some books if I were you. - Will you be needing Alastor to relieve you?"

Damn! He hadn't wanted to bring up the idea of shift-relief for Lupin. Not because he wanted to overtax the man, but because he truly didn't want Moody involved. To begin with, he didn't want the former Auror to know about the Shrieking Shack. But even more: he didn't want Moody anywhere near him while he was vulnerable. Despite Dumbledore's affection for the man, and despite Moody's testimony against his fellow Aurors so many years ago, Severus neither liked nor trusted him, and knew the feeling was mutual.

Lupin turned and looked quickly at Severus. "No," he said slowly, reading Snape's expression. Then he looked back at Dumbledore. "No, I'll be fine for a couple days. I'm - used to being up at night."

The overriding feeling at the moment was that he was once more in Lupin's debt: not a pleasant thought.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, "can you wait a few hours so that Remus and Alastor can set the spell around the portal?"

He nodded and turned to Lupin. "If you'll meet me in my office when you're free." He got a nod and headed out of the room without waiting for more.

* * *

Outside the castle, Lupin met up with Moody, not far from where the portal had been detected. "I hope Orestes isn't watching," the former Auror grumbled. "Make this all pretty useless if he catches on." While he spoke, he was slowly waving his wand in a circle over his head, apparently, detecting whatever magic had been used.

Lupin joined him, quickly detecting a sinister barrier that would, he guessed, close the portal on anyone but the caster. "Try going through it and you'll probably end up splinched into a dozen places," he said.

"And pieces." Moody looked at him. "We need a spell that will alert Dumbledore if it's used. Any ideas?"

They discussed it and finally settled on a complex number of spells that, together, would be too subtle for detection, as each spell would be hidden within the next. They tied all of these to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. And those, once they went back to the castle, they would have Dumbledore apply to himself in one of several possible ways.

"Tell me something," Lupin said as they had just about finished, acting on a hunch. "It's probably not my business, but - well, is there some reason Severus doesn't like you? Or - trust you?"

Moody took a drink from his flask and laughed loudly. "Like me? Who does Snape like?" Lupin shrugged. "Trust me, though?" He turned toward the tower beneath which the dungeons lay, and his magical eye rotated madly. "Yeah, he's got reasons not to trust me. Goes way back to -" He stopped as if he had been about to say more than he should.

"To his days as a Death Eater?" Lupin guessed.

"Yeah," Moody agreed, finally looking away from the castle: his voice had the sound of someone who had been rescued from a disagreeable truth in favor of a more agreeable prevarication. "I was an Auror back then, you know. Rounded up a bunch of Death Eaters."

"Severus?"

Moody nodded. "Tracked him down right there," he said, pointing not just to the castle but specifically to the area of the dungeons. "Dumbledore wasn't exactly hiding him, but - well, he tried to get me to turn the other way. But I had my orders." He paused for some time, then said, "I - had my orders. I had to arrest him." He looked away, toward the western sky.

"I thought Severus never went to Azkaban?" Lupin cut in. "Dumbledore said he'd vouched for him. I assumed -"

Moody smiled tightly; the effect wasn't pleasant. "Most people assume Snape never saw the inside of the prison. And every one of them is wrong. Yes, Dumbledore vouched for him. At his trial." He shook his head. "For Dumbledore's sake, you know, I promised to keep him away from the dementors. Dumbledore was talking with Crouch, trying to get Snape's trial expedited. Thought he could get it in a day or two. So I processed him - Snape, that is, not Dumbledore - into the short-term area."

He stopped and it seemed as if his magical eye had lost focus, if that were possible.

"And?"

"And some toad at the prison 'lost' Snape's paperwork." He had lowered his voice once more to a growl and, since they were done for the time being, he started limping back to the castle. "He was buried in the worst area, where back then we had only dementors looking after the prisoners. Only time guards went in there was to deliver the bread and water once a day." He continued walking, faster, and Lupin had to hurry to keep pace.

Remus said nothing for a few minutes. He'd talked with Sirius some about the years he'd spent at Azkaban, having never even been tried for his supposed crimes. He still heard Sirius cry out at night, too, and knew he had almost constant nightmares about those twelve years.

"So - Severus blames you for that?"

Moody gave another chuckle, but it wasn't amused. "For that? I don't really know how he feels about that. He's got enough else to blame me for, though." The man stopped walking so abruptly, Lupin walked into him. "And that, my lad, is none of your business. Nor anyone else's."

Which of course gave Lupin an almost insatiable desire to find out what it was. He couldn't imagine anything else that would have happened between them. Moody had been in the Order during the first war, but Severus, obviously, hadn't. He couldn't imagine their paths crossing aside from what Moody had just told him.

They went back to the castle, but when Moody headed toward the tower to Dumbledore's office, Lupin hung back. "Can you handle the rest yourself with Dumbledore? I - have something else I need to do."

Moody narrowed his real eye and set the other spinning dizzyingly. "Something for Snape?" Lupin didn't bother to answer. "Constant Vigilance, Remus! Constant Vigilance, especially around Snape."

"So - you don't trust him either?"

Moody considered the question. "No. I know him, and I'd keep a weather eye on him. Tell Dumbledore the same thing. Got himself a blind spot for that one, he does. Constant -"

"Vigilance," Lupin finished.

Moody disappeared down the corridor and Lupin headed for the dungeons.