Blood Lines

"No." Snape looked at the proffered johnny top and bottom and stubbornly refused to take them.

Starch sighed. "I will be re-doing every test Merkowitz did and several that he failed to perform. This will take a few hours so I would like to start, now."

Snatching up the offensively pink clothes, Snape muttered incoherently all the way to the screened off changing area.

When Snape came back into the central portion of the room, Starch had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud. He handed a small specimen jar to the surly professor and turned his attention toward the open file on his desk.

"And I'm supposed to fill this with what, exactly?"

He didn't need to look up to see the sneer on Snape's face; he had put up with it for years. "I didn't choose the color, Lenore did. So if you need to complain about it, go to her." He changed tone slightly to add emphasis. "And don't cry over spilt milk."

Snape paled. "I had to have misunderstood you just now." The plea in his voice brought the black-market doctor's eyes up from the report.

"I need to run an analysis of all of your, erm--" His eyes darted away.

Head down Snape left the main room again. With the jar.

(Many members of the Unspeakable Branch of the Ministry were earnestly seeking the file Starch was studying. They would never find it.)

Starch growled softly, the information that Doctor Merkowitz had compiled on Severus was rather extensive, and totally useless. He flipped page after page of contradictory test results and notes that were indecipherably sloppy.

A familiar 'small jar' was thumped down in the middle of the page he was trying to read. It now contained a sticky, milky colored fluid.

"That was the last shred of dignity I had." Snape was clearly seething. "I think I hate you now."

All he saw when he looked into Severus' eyes, though, was a sort of guilty self-loathing.

"Why do you put up with her?"

"Lenore?" Thankful for the change of subject, Starch closed Snape's patient record. Leading the way to one of the exam cubicles, he shrugged. "Because I love her."

Intensely studying the flecks in the floor tiles, Snape sat on the edge of the gurney-bed. "And that's enough?"

"Sometimes I have trouble telling which of us is the Vampire and which is the human." It was an old joke and it drew a slight sort-of-a-grin from Snape.

~

It was nearly four o'clock when Starch nodded to Snape's request. "Yes, I'm done, you can change back to that ridiculous outfit you seem so stuck on." He hooked a thumb at the neat pile of black clothes on a table.

Shedding the pink johnny and pants as though an expelling charm had been used on him, Snape grabbed up his own clothes and quickly put them on.

Starch shook his head as he checked the progress on a series of blood cultures. "Why do you insist on wearing a full set of Muggle clothes Victorian no less! Only to cover it all with that robe. And do you own anything that isn't black?!"

Fully clothed Snape lay his hand upon the doorknob before answering. "I wear them because I need the long sleeves and high collar. The robe I wear because I need to hide." He glimpsed Starch's startled face from the corner of his eye. "You didn't expect that did you?"

"No, I didn't." Honesty was always the best policy, when you were speaking with someone like Snape. "You don't talk much about yourself. Why do you hide?"

The invitation to open up more was strangely tempting and the feeling that he could trust the Vampire was very strong. So strong that he turned from the door and really looked at the pale man.

He barely whispered but knew that Starch would hear. "Why didn't you hide?"

"I'm an Exotic. I would not have been able to hide that no matter what I used as a blind."

The terse reply prompted a counter statement. "Not with the pro-segregationists in power. But what happens when they are voted out?"

"Then they won't let me practice medicine because I'm a Vamp, it makes no difference to them." 'How did he get me worked up and talking about myself again?' Starch wondered. 'This is the way it always goes though. I ask a question, he bats the conversation back to my side of the net, and then he walks away.' He sighed silently as he was proven right. Again.

Snape asked, over his shoulder, when the test results would be ready, as he walked into the brightly-lit hallway.

"It will take about three weeks to get them all in." A door to the outer world opened and shut silently. "Good night Snape," he called to the empty hall.

~

Opening the door to his lab, Snape stepped in and shut it immediately. It would be a royal riot if Lupin got out. As he turned, a fifty-nine kilogram wolf slammed into his chest. He hit the floor hard and his ears rang from the impact. Grabbing the paws that were tearing into him he tried to ignore the pain.

"Black, get the yellow topped bottle out of the third cabinet, on the east wall, now!"

Keeping one eye on the struggling pair, Sirius shifted form and quickly found the requested bottle. "Got it!"

He scowled when Black held it out. "As though I can do anything with it at the moment?! Get one of the empty syringes off the tray, there, and load it with five CCs of that stuff."

While Black fumbled with the safety cap on the needle, Snape continued to try and keep the amber-eyed bloodthirsty beast from clawing his throat out. Because of the cage on its snout, the Werewolf was forced to rely on its claws alone. He hissed when its hind claws began to dig into his thighs, shredding his robe pant legs and flesh. "Are you fooling around or what?!" He vented frustration and pain with one shout. Then grit his teeth and focused on holding on.

Standing three meters away, Black held up the loaded syringe. "What do you want me to do with it now?"

"Get over here and inject it into its shoulder, now." A soft growl had crept into his voice. He was starting to lose the fight, and hot breath created clouds of steam that bathed his face and neck.

A moment of hesitation, then he leapt forward. Stabbing the needle into the thickly muscled shoulder, Black swiftly injected the yellowish liquid. Expecting an immediate magical reaction, he stumbled back when nothing seemed to change. "Why didn't it work," he cried.

A few minutes later the Werewolf began to loose strength. It managed to rake open four, shallow, parallel scratches on the cheek of its intended victim before sagging, then falling to the ground, asleep.

"It is called Phenobarbital, it's an animal tranquilizer," Snape told the stunned Black.

Freeing himself of the weight of the unconscious Werewolf, he checked its pulse and removed the empty needle that Black had left behind. 'When he fled.'

Taking a deep breath, he briefly closed his eyes. Bending at the knees, he scooped up the drugged animal. The pain that flared in his legs and head was ignored. He walked over and laid the creature on the slab.

"You're bleeding." Sirius stared at the trail of blood that led from the place Snape had lain pinned to the floor, to where he was now standing beside the central table.

"The drug will wear off faster than if it were a normal wolf, so I need to hurry." He again pulled on a pair of gloves and began to shave the fur from the side of the wolf's neck.

"Why do you keep referring to Remus as an it?" Sirius distantly noted that Snape was using electric shears.

"What?" he murmured. Obviously more focused on his task than his unwelcome spectator.

"You keep referring to Remus as an it, like he's a dumb animal or something."

Spreading Iodine over the newly exposed skin, Snape spoke softly. "There's a smallish black box over there," he nodded to his left, "hit the play button."

"This looks like an MP3 player." Black examined it for a moment before pressing the tab inscribed with a triangle.

Instantly the speakers imbedded in the walls made themselves known. Jumping slightly at the sudden throb of some powerful woofers, he had to speak up to carry over the loud music. "Isn't this a bit too loud? I mean you are doing some rather delicate stuff. With his jugular and all!" Even more surprised when the music picked up, Black stammered, "I-is this, uh- techno?"

"Yah, Eighties," came the distracted reply.

"Shouldn't I turn it down at least?!" Black shouted, again.

Silently lip-synching the words, it did not seem like Snape had heard him. After inserting a line into the left side of Lupin's neck and securing it in place, Snape skillfully flipped the large wolf onto its other side.

Again he shaved and sterilized the site. "I need to hurry. I have a window of only a few minutes where I can actually get the lines in." Some how his voice easily carried over the synthetic-rock. "If I don't get them in fast enough I won't have time to get the samples I need and safely remove the arterial lines." Sliding another thin tube into Remus' neck Snape again spoke over the music, without apparent effort. "It should take about five minutes for it to heal on each side. The tiny dose of tranquilizer you gave it should last just long enough."

Snape promptly forgot about Black until he had carefully drawn the twenty CCs of blood he thought would be enough. "It's starting to blink at a more normal rate-"

"You're talking about Remus for Merlin's sake!" Black shouted. "What is wrong with you? Do you really hate him that much?!"

"I don't hate him." Snape looked up into Black's fiery eyes. Confusion passed across his face. "Why would you think that?" When Black did not respond, he set about removing the IVs. The right one, first. "Hold pressure here," he ordered as he pressed a thick gauze pad to the site, while drawing out the I.V. needle. "You need to press hard enough that you think you're going to hurt it."

Reluctantly Sirius came forward and took over holding down on Remus' neck. A new song started and nothing seemed quite right to him.

Placing the new samples into a transportation container, Snape started cleaning up the bloody mess on his floor.

~

Thursday was a perfectly wonderful day for many millions of people all over the world. None of those people had potions at Hogwarts. None of those lucky people had to put up with a certain Potions Master, who had not got his day off to a good start.

After throwing up for lunch, he tried to prepare himself for his first Potions Theory class of the year. As the students filed in, he gave the eager Miss Granger a withering smirk, then choked on the humiliating comment that he had prepared for her.

"Mister--" he had to clear his throat, "Mister, Longbottom? You are aware that this is Potions Theory, are you not?"

Neville could not look up from the floor. "Yes Sir." Cautiously Neville stepped closer to Snape's desk so that the others could pass by.

"What are you doing here then?"

"My grandmother wanted me to take the class. She wrote the Headmaster and had me transferred in, Sir."

"And that happened today," he stated. Neville nodded. "Take a seat then." Looking over the room full of, mostly Slytherin, students, he started class with an appropriately intimidating speech. "Until now I have had to pace the curriculum to allow for the less dedicated students. By signing up for this class you have set yourselves apart from them and have thereby placed yourselves into the center of my world."

He did not walk back and forth in front of his desk, as he usually did when speaking to a class. Instead, he stood with arms folded loosely across his chest and looked each of the Fifth-years in the eye.

"You have no idea what you have just submitted yourselves to, but you will regret it. I have no time for fools, or slackers. For each exercise you will either pass, or fail. If you fail you will be thrown out. No exceptions. No excuses." He flung a piece of chalk over his shoulder at the blackboard; it caught itself a breath away from being smashed and began writing out a list of ingredients. "Begin."

He slipped out the door while the scratching of quills filled the air. Due to a conflict between his and Lupin's schedules, he needed to be in both Potions Theory and Fifth year Defense at the same time.

Because of the previous night's, events Lupin had not been able to teach his classes today. Snape had worked out a tenuous contingency plan ahead of time, and it seemed to be working. His own Fifth, Sixth and Seventh year classes were being supervised by The Baron; no childish acting out there. McGonagall was covering First year Defense. That freed him up for Lupin's Second through Fifth year classes. Sixth and Seventh year Defense had a study hall supervised by Sir Nicholas.

~

The note taking had lasted for nearly all of the period and when the tiny nub of chalk that remained slumped down to the holder, everyone sighed with relief.

With a curl of his lips, Snape (who had had to dismiss the Defense Against Dark Arts class early to make it back in time) mocked the entire class at once. "I am not going to be failing any of you, today, as you all seem to have managed to finish your notes. Your next assignment is even simpler. All you must do is come to class next Wednesday with the name of the potion whose formula you have just copied. Dismissed."

He made it to the next Defense class on time, but running back and forth between his dungeon and Lupin's tower was starting to make his head ache again.

~

Skipping dinner, he instead checked on the blood samples that had been taken early that morning. The twenty CCs drawn from Lupin, while in full wolf form, were lined up beside identical vials of Black's blood, and also drawn while in canine form. There was just room in the transport container for the pint of blood that he would be drawing from Lupin shortly. Then it would all be sent to Natalie (someone that he knew who had access to the equipment that could perform the tests he wanted done.)

Correcting the work for his own classes, and all of Lupin's, would not have taken nearly so long as it did if he hadn't tried to curb his sarcastic comments while doing Remus' job.

With all of his official duties taken care of, Snape wearily approached Lupin's door. 'How could the Headmaster have put them both down here? It's not like I didn't have enough trouble getting my work done as it was. I now have to dodge Lupin and Black to answer the Dark Lord's next summons.'

The hallway began to tilt and he felt as though he was looking through a dense fog, 'I need to get more sleep,' he thought as his vision became totally obscured.

@---,--'---------

Sirius had spent the morning in Remus' quarters. Still too tired from the moon and everything else that had occurred last night, Remus readily took up Sirius' offer of 'A few rounds of chess.' A few rounds stretched into lunch then Remus had taken a nap, and in the afternoon Sirius came back across the hall to see if he was up to a chat.

"Yah," Remus stretched and yawned while stepping aside to let Sirius in. "I've actually been meaning to talk to you about a few things too." He motioned toward one of the large fluffy chairs in front of the fireplace. "I used to have a window," he apologetically murmured.

"I stared at the stone walls in my living room so long that I started to see pictures in their texture. You could go crazy cooped up down here for too long," he laughed. "And that's from a guy who just got out of Azkaban! Seriously though, there is a lot of weird stuff going on and I think we should get to the bottom of it."

"Like the PMR diagnosis and the Plastijuice I told you about?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "How did you find out about all of that?" He sat forward, intent on the answer.

"He told me," Remus grinned.

"Huh?"

His grin faded as he explained. "I think it's a side affect of the Plastijuice, but when he takes it, it's like he's on Veritaserum or something. Plus he spooks easily and acts, well, strange."

"Hasn't he always been strange?" Sirius conjured a tea tray and helped himself.

Remus shook his head and also took a cup of tea. "No, I mean strange for him. He gets this different look in his eyes and he... well just acts different." He set his cup aside, knowing he sounded lame.

When he nodded, Remus sat up again. "I think I know what you mean," Sirius spoke around a cookie. He gave an overly significant look. "He was eating an orange when I found him in the woods. And in that lab of his-" Another cookie was begging to be eaten and he obliged it before continuing, mostly because he knew it would bug Remus.

"Would you stop stuffing your face and finish your sentence?" Remus finally broke down and demanded.

Taking a sip of tea and earning a sigh of stretched patience he set his cup aside with a grin. "He keeps a collection of American Muggle music. From the Eighties!" They both cringed. "The decade that good taste forgot."

Finally Remus laughed and Sirius felt more relieved than he thought possible.

"I can't believe you fell for that whole bondage line," Remus laughed harder. "He tried that one on me when I first came to the lab and I just rolled my eyes and -hehehe- and you bought it!"

"Okay, now that was not funny!" Sirius blurted. "I have been through a lot in the past few days and I," he gave up. Remus was just laughing harder and he decided to join him.

Never let it be said that Sirius Black couldn't laugh at himself.

@--'---,--------------

In Gryffindor common room, just after dinner, Ron approached Hermione as she gathered her finished work and prepared to put it away. "'Mione?"

"Yes Ron?" She did not stop shuffling her scrolls and quills, but she did glance up at him and smile.

Ron took it as the invitation to talk that it was meant to be. "Tell me you're not taking an extra potions class," he pled.

Doing a rather good impression of McGonagall, she pursed her lips and looked down her nose at him. (Even though she had to look up at him, she could still look down her nose doing it.) "I need to if I want to get into Advanced Potions next year," she patiently explained.

"Why would you want to do that?" Ron cried.

Slinging her book bag over her shoulder Hermione sighed. "Ron, really. Don't you have some work to do or something?"

"Hey guys," Harry called as he joined them. Glancing around, he motioned for a huddle. "I just had a great idea and we need to meet."

One by one they slipped unnoticed into their secret room. Sitting close together so that their voices wouldn't carry beyond the false wall/entrance, Harry excitedly explained his plan.

"So I was thinking we need to make sure that The Corsairs don't end when we graduate. It should carry on-"

"Like a secret society?!" Ron exclaimed.

Nodding vigorously Harry continued, "Yes, so we need a member of a lower year to join."

After a bit of discussion on things like the rules of induction of new members and the criteria for choosing them, it was decided to carry out Harry's plan.

"But who do we approach?" Hermione asked.

"What about the Rittenhouse kid?" Ron offered.

Harry grinned. "The albino?"

"He is not an albino, Harry," Hermione corrected. "Albino's have pink eyes and no pigment in their skin. He's pale and has blue eyes."

"Well, I was just joking Hermi," he pacified. "I don't need to get a book on the subject. For a second year, he's pretty good."

"And he gets in enough trouble to qualify," Hermione interjected.

"Yah, so..." Ron waited impatiently as his two friends exchanged a glance.

Smiling, Hermione held out her hand to the center of the triangle they made. "I say yes."

Her hand was joined by two others as Harry and Ron cast their votes. "Well now that we have decided to ask him to join," she paused, "how do we actually ask him?"

Ron leaned forward. "Just like all of the great secret societies do! We send him an unsigned note and have him meet us somewhere dangerous. If he shows it's 'cause he wants in."

"And if he doesn't it means he has too much good sense to come?" Hermione pricked his bubble.

"Well, I like the idea of a secret meeting," Harry, ever the peacemaker, stepped in, "but I agree with Hermione that we shouldn't do anything actually dangerous."

They wrote the note and decided on how to deliver it. Then, quietly they exited the tiny room without being seen.

Instead of joining the group around the fire, Hermione headed for the door. Curfew was now two hours later; it was one of the privileges that students got in their Fifth year. Hermione intended to use the extra time to finish the only assignment she hadn't completed, the mystery potion still did not have a name.

As she stepped through the picture, she slipped on a quill and almost lost her balance. Someone caught her just in time though. When she turned to thank her rescuer she smiled. "Neville, thank you for catching me."

"No, it was my fault," he blushed slightly. "I dropped my bag and everything spilled out. I guess I missed the quill." Picking up the assassin feather, he smiled sheepishly and asked where she was headed.

"To the library, I can't find a potion that matches the description from class," she admitted. He was heading that way too, so they walked together. "I have a few more ideas," she sighed, "but I already spent one study hall searching and..."

Neville held the library door for her. "I'm having the same problem," he said. "But it doesn't seem so bad," he grinned, "if you're stumped it can't be because I'm a total washout."

Smiling to Miss Pince as they passed her desk, Hermione waited until they had left their bags on separate tables. (It was an entirely independent work class and sharing information was forbidden.)

She caught Neville's sleeve though and pulled him down a book aisle.

"What?" he asked.

"Neville, what are you doing in Potions Theory?" she whispered. "You dread going to potions and now you're taking an extra class with Snape?"

"It's my grandmother Hermi," he grimaced. "She wants me to take it. I know I'm no good at potions, but..." He kicked at the carpet.

Looking away, Hermione tried to tell him that that wasn't what she had meant, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead she tried to sound sympathetic to his tough situation. But there is only so much that can be said about the difficulties of being raised by a rather strict grandmother because your parents are in a mental hospital, if you haven't lived it.

"I have to get started on my research now," Neville apologized while backing into the main aisle way. "I know you're just trying to be polite Hermi, I'm not going to give up yet though." He flashed a quick smile and started his own search.