Philomena

***Wizard's Honor***

Snape smiled in satisfaction when Lupin accepted his offer. He hadn't thought the other man would accept so easily. He had been prepared for a whole evening of persuasion, but apparently the man either trusted too easily, or was simply desperate.

"I would like to be here when the girl arrives," said Snape, throwing himself into an armchair across from Remus. "We will have to talk to her. People will surely try to get answers from her, when they begin to suspect."

Remus frowned. "I'm sure Ralf has already told her that she is to meet her father. I'm not sure whether he explained why she happens not to have a mother, or how he's explained his own relationship with her."

Snape made a gesture of dismissal with his left hand. "She has probably already been given an explanation of some sort, if she ever asked. Children accept the world they grow up in as normal. She won't ask why she hasn't got a mother, any more than she would ask why she has a father. As they grow older, they may realize something is a bit off, but they generally think up some explanation on their own."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "I didn't think you knew that much about child psychology," he said at last. "I never thought you even liked children."

"May I remind you, Lupin," said Snape, "that I have been teaching children for a good many years and, contrary to popular belief, it isn't just because Albus wants to keep an eye on me. As Head of my House, I've had to deal with a great many children on a level more personal than you might think. The Slytherin House is problematic, and I am sure I do more for my students than the other Heads. From what I understand, Minerva hasn't even set foot in her Common Room since Sirius Black attacked it. Besides, I have had plenty of experience, raising my nephews."

"Your nephews?" Remus asked, nonplussed.

"They are in France," said Snape shortly. "Twenty, and eighteen."

"I never knew," began Remus, startled, "that you -"

"That I what?" interrupted Snape. "That I had a family, that I actually did my job, that I am not just a tool of various people?"

"That's not what I meant," said Remus, chastised. "It's just... I never knew much about you at all. I never even knew you had siblings."

"That would be because Mordred never went to Hogwarts," said Snape bristling. "I don't think any of this is any of your concern. I am here because of your problems. Besides, the less people know about me the happier, or at least the safer, I am."

"What do you suggest I tell her?" asked Remus, hoping Snape wasn't too offended. "So that when the Order inevitably tries to learn the truth from her, she'll know what to answer?"

"Simple," said Snape, relaxing slightly, "we tell her nothing. As soon as she gets here, you tell her that I am Professor Snape, and that you are Remus Lupin. She will live with you, of course, but I'll be by often, so that she will learn to think of me as a friend. Then, at some convenient point, she'll be able to confuse everybody by not acting like a scared rabbit in my presence, as most children end up doing."

"Tell her nothing?" asked Remus. "Nothing at all?"

"The less she knows," said Snape, "the better. People will simply believe she is being stubborn, or that I have threatened her, when she refuses to give them the answers they want to hear."

"That's true," said Remus. "I finally realize how difficult your job actually is. If it's this confusing for a deception this small..."

"I am a Slytherin," said Snape, matter of factly. "This is what I do. It is only confusing to those not used to it. I don't understand how you can be the way you are, or how a Hufflepuff can be so stubborn, or a Ravenclaw so exasperatingly canny."

"It's late," said Remus. "You need to sleep."

"How much I sleep is none of your concern, Lupin," snapped Snape. "I have precious little time as it is. I promised Albus a report when I get back, and the longer I keep him waiting, the less likely it is that he'll try to give me a sherbet lemon."

"You mean," asked Remus, "there are times he doesn't offer them?"

"When he's angry at you," said Snape, "or when the house elves have inexplicably removed them from his office."

Remus' eyes widened in surprise. "You didn't..." he asked, on the verge of actual laughter for the first time in months. "You?"

"I'm sorry, Lupin," said Snape rising, "if I told you, I would have to kill you. Clichéd, I know, but unfortunately rather true. Thank goodness tomorrow is Saturday. If you do not mind, I will barge in here at a ghastly hour of the morning, so as to be sure to meet your daughter first thing. If you do mind, I will barge in anyway."

"Good night, Snape," said Remus, getting up and following Snape to the door. "I will see you tomorrow."

Snape took his cloak from the hook and threw it about him. "Oh," he said, as he stepped out into the night, "and I will be expecting your formal Oath on the matter as well."

Snape disappeared down the path. Lupin watched until he came to the edge of the wards, and Disapparated. Remus went back inside and sighed, sinking into a chair. The girl would have to have a room, he thought, and a bed. He would also have to prepare the formal Oath for Severus in the morning.

Resigned to a night with little sleep, he got up and started work. His cottage was small; his room, the kitchen, the living room, the loft, and the basement. The basement was his laboratory, so she would have to be in the loft.

He climbed the ladder to the loft and entered the room. He got out his wand got rid of the layer of dust that covered everything. Second, he transfigured a few pieces of debris into the furniture needed. A few spells later and the room had a cheery coat of paint, no holes in the wall, and a window.

He climbed back down, and conjured the flight of stares with a trapdoor that he made sure could be opened from beneath as well as above. He supposed it was just too bad that his living room was now going to be used partly as a hallway, but there wasn't anything for it.

For once, Remus was thankful that his cottage was as simply furnished as it was. She would not have cause to complain that her room was stark or bare, as the rest of the house was the same. Still, he wished he could better provide for her. Then again, he had never thought he would have a chance to do anything for her at all.

He stumbled into his room, and grabbed a large sheet of parchment, a quill, and some ink from his desk, and then made his way down into the basement to his laboratory.

As a Defense Against Dark Arts expert, Remus studied not only defensive Spells, but in a well rounded field of magic. Part of subjects could be used either offensively, or defensively, and Remus studied all of them. Herbology, Potions, Charms, and even Arithmancy.

His laboratory contained a little of everything. A formal Oath was a specialty Charm he had never thought he would need, but was nevertheless familiar with. He spread the parchment out on his worktable and got out his ink and quill. He wrote: "I, Remus Lupin, give my word as a Wizard, to Severus Snape, that I will grant his boon."

He blotted the words, carefully, and then got out his knife. The Spell required blood to activate. He nicked a finger and squeezed a few drops onto the parchment. They spattered down and stared back at him; bubbles of red, reflecting his face.

He got out his wand and canted the Charm. "Prevehte sanguine. Iusiurandum venefici iuro."

The blood sank into the parchment and saturated it, staining it slightly pink. The words he had written began to glow before they too sank into the parchment, adding their Essence to the blood, and binding the Spell.

Remus stared at the stained parchment, and thought about what he had just done. The Oath was not used regularly for a reason: It was not breakable, no matter what the circumstances. Whereas a Wizard could understand if something happened which prevented the carrying out of a promise, the Spell was absolute. The promise would have to be kept; resistance resulted in a trancelike state, rather like Imperius, which forced the Caster to act out his promise to the letter.

Remus shut his eyes, wondering again just what it was Severus wanted of him and whether, when the time came, he would be able to live with giving it to him. For the thousandth time, Remus cursed Ralf and himself.

He shook his head to clear it and got back to business. He cast his eye out for something to hold the Charm, for parchment was a bad Binder for any Spell and he knew Severus would not accept it in that form as only the Caster had the power to transfer it.

His eye fell at last on a cloak pin, on which he had cast several experimental Protection Charms, that he had intended to give to the testing committee later. It would do, he supposed, as well as anything else, and the committee had given him several in case the experiments damaged any. The clasp was a milky opal set in silver, an ideal Binder for any Spell.

Remus placed the clasp on top of the parchment and cast the Charm for transference of the Spell: "Transmitte Iursurandum in Fibulam." The parchment began to glow, and the Essence of the Spell slowly leaked into the opal, which began to glow as well. The blood, the ink, and the Spell itself began to swirl in the center of the stone as the parchment fell limp and powerless to the side.

Instead of fusing together, as they had with the parchment, the blood and the ink threaded out into strands of color. The strands began to knot themselves in a complicated weaving pattern throughout the stone. They bound their Magic with the Magic of the stone, and whatever was left of the Charms cast upon it earlier. Finally, the Magic stopped, and the Charm was complete.

The stone looked nothing like what it had earlier, not with the black and red strands crossing and twisting inside of it. They continued to twist and pulse with a slow rhythm and Remus knew they would continue to do so as long as the Charm was active. It was deep, strong Magic, and anybody who saw it would know that it was a powerful object; though recognizing what Charm was bound in it was impossible.

It was just too bad, Remus thought, that nobody would ever be able to see it, for he suspected Severus would place it in some drawer or cranny for safekeeping and never look at it twice. It was a beautiful thing, made to hold a cloak shut at the throat and the silver setting, though plain, was elegantly worked.

Remus pocketed the clasp, and headed, exhausted, to bed.

***Breakfast***

The next morning, Remus awoke early, in spite of the trying night he had had. He made himself tea and wondered who would invade his home first, Snape, or those who were to bring his daughter to him.

He wondered idly what his daughter looked like. All Ralf had said, after all, was that she had Remus' mouth. Remus had never really considered the shape of his mouth. In fact, he was sure he probably wouldn't recognize it separated from the rest of his face.

He drank his tea, ate his toast, and decided that if he had to meet Snape early on a Saturday morning, the best way to do so was not in his pajamas. Briefly, he imagined what Snape would look like in pajamas and gave up immediately. He couldn't even imagine Snape in anything but formal wizard robes. Snape was always dressed to the impeccably.

It was hard to reconcile his childhood memories of Snape as a boy with his knowledge of Snape as he was at present. Snape was a very severe, always proper. That is, he was proper when he wasn't having a fit of anger. His dress was always meticulous, neat. True, one rarely saw him in anything but black, but even so, he knew more ways of wearing black than anybody else.

Remus shook his head to himself and went back into his bedroom to dress. He chose his least shabby robe, which happened to be a light blue wool one, tossed aside his pajamas, stepped into it. The buttons ran down the left side of his neck, straight across his shoulder and then down his side at an angle, ending at his navel.

The skirts of the robe were full and wide, reaching to his ankles. The reason he didn't normally wear it was that the bell shaped sleeves swept to the floor making it unwieldy to work in.

He sat down on the bed, pulled on his knee high black socks, followed by a pair of black shoes, which he buttoned to the ankle. He stood, and smoothed his robes, and surveyed himself in the mirror. He grabbed a brush and attacked his shaggy hair, until he improved it to what could possibly be described as 'windswept.'

Just then, his wards rang out, warning him that somebody had entered the Disapparation field. He waited for the visitor to reach the door, so that the Wards would tell him who was there.

About a minute later, the Wards activated and words formed in smoke in front of him:

Recognized: Greasy Git Armed: Wand Emotion: No reading available

Remus smiled. The Wards had never been able to read any emotion in Severus, whatsoever. Remus waved a hand to alter the memory of the Wards, and changed "Greasy Git," to "The Enigma," before dispelling the reading with another wave.

He grabbed the Oath and pocketed it before hurrying to the door and flinging it open. Snape fell into the room, looking tired and a little the worse for the wear. Wordlessly, he sank into the nearest chair and shrugged out of his cloak.

Remus took the cloak and hung it up, staring at his visitor over his shoulder. "Are you all right?" he asked, concernedly.

"And a good morning to you, too, Lupin," said Snape, "I am perfectly fine. I wasn't a moment ago. Have you any Murtlap?"

"Of course," said Remus, "I'll be right back."

Remus hurried down the steps into the basement, and rummaged among his ingredients, finally finding a bottle and hurrying back up with it. Snape had removed his gloves to reveal a bloody left wrist.

Biting his tongue to prevent his questions from spilling forth, Remus quickly got out a bowl and filled it with the foul smelling liquid. He placed it gently in front of Snape, who sank his hand wrist deep into the bowl and let out a sigh of relief.

Remus raised his eyebrows as he watched the blood disappear from the wound. It was very deep slashing a good inch from the base of his hand, down the vein ending just short of touching the Dark Mark. Remus could tell that the standard first aid Spell for stopping bleeding had been preformed on it, but seemingly some time after it had been inflicted.

"Before you ask, Lupin," said Snape blandly, "no, I haven't tried to kill myself, and no, I won't tell you about it, and if you tell Albus I will hex you senseless."

Remus seated himself across from the man, and said, simply, "Of course."

"Has she arrived yet?" asked Snape.

"No, she hasn't," answered Remus, far more lightly than he felt. "I've made toast. Are you hungry?"

"I'm famished," admitted Snape. "I've missed breakfast."

"I'll make you something," said Remus, hopping up and crossing the floor quickly. "It'll only take a moment."

"Don't bother," said Snape. "There is no need to go into extra trouble."

"It's no bother," said Remus easily, handing him the plate of toast. "Here, eat that."

Snape grabbed a slice and began to eat it slowly, obviously holding back.

"I have some eggs," said Remus, getting them out from the cabinet, which was charmed to keep cool and preserve the contents. "I'll make you an omelet."

"I suppose resistance is useless?" asked Snape tiredly. "You're beginning to sound like Albus, to tell the truth. Did you know that the main reason I followed you around in school was that I was trying to prove you were related to the old man?"

Remus laughed. "No," he said, breaking a few eggs into a bowl, "I didn't. But I do know that you nearly always eat a cheese omelets at breakfast."

"Do I?" said Snape. "I didn't notice."

"Not paying attention to what you eat," remarked Remus, adding milk, and whipping wildly with a fork, "can have rather negative results, as a potions master, like yourself, ought to know."

"I make sure it's safe," Snape said, his eyes closed, "and I eat it. I don't very much care what it is."

"Really," said Remus, dryly. He dropped a lump of butter in the frying pan, and activating the heating charm. "And just why did you think I was related to Albus?"

"You had a weekly tea in his office," remarked Snape, "and nobody else had the privilege. It was the only reasonable explanation, besides the rather obvious one that he was checking up on whether or not his pet had eaten anybody lately."

The butter began to sizzle loudly. Remus poured in the eggs and sprinkled cheese into the mixture, along with some chopped parsley. Remus outwardly appeared calm, but the Wolf had taken quite an offense to being called a 'pet', and wanted desperately to do something drastic.

"Down, girl," Remus mentally commanded. "Not now."

The Wolf subsided sulkily and Remus flipped the omelet, keeping his back to Snape. Snape bit his tongue to prevent a worse insult from flying into the air, reminding himself that he was trying to keep to Lupin's good side for the time being.

Remus took the pan off the heat and cooled it, but not the contents, before setting it next to the Murtlap. He handed Severus a fork. Snape raised an eyebrow but took it anyway.

"If you wondering why I haven't given you a plate," Remus said, "it's because my scrubbing brush has a feud with the plates on account of a unfortunate incident involving the affections of one of my teaspoons. I don't fancy having another argument with it, either."

Snape smirked. "You could always Deanimate the blasted thing, Lupin. Or are you not capable of that field of magic?"

Remus sighed. "If I Deanimate the scrubbing brush," he said, "I'd have to Deanimate the entire kitchen. The spoons would never forgive me and then they'd be angry with the plate for starting things, the plates would then blame the glassware..."

Snape raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "You make a good omelet," he said, after a taste. "I wouldn't have thought you could cook, after seeing you for so many years in potions class."

"It's not quite the same thing," said Remus. "I don't have to stir in a particular directions, I don't need to measure carefully, and adding ingredients in the wrong order doesn't have life threatening consequences."

Snape shrugged, concentrating on his food. His wound on his wrist had closed, and was pulsing quietly with the energy of the Healing Magic.

"Here's the Oath," said Remus, taking the clasp out of his pocket. "I did it last night."

Snape lay down his fork and took the clasp.

"You bound it in this?" he asked, nonplussed. "Are you sure you can spare it?"

Remus gave a shrug. "I have a dozen from the committee, for my experiment on personal Protective Charms. One won't make a difference, and opal is a far better binder than anything else I had on hand."

"It's the best binder there is," said Snape, "except for the claw of a Phoenix and they aren't legal."

"The silver has had a leaching effect, though," said Remus. "It gradually pulls the Charm out of the stone and into itself, if the binding charm isn't strong enough, which drastically reduces effectively. In this case though, it won't make a difference, because the leaching only starts when the spell is not active."

"The committee should have known better," said Snape, "considering the danger involved in such things."

"The committee got them at a good price," countered Remus, "and it's rather short of funds at the moment, considering how it's an illegal, or at least, not an officially recognized organization."

Snape stared at the clasp for a moment, fascinated by the knotting and unknotting threads of red and black. He turned it over and over in his hand. "They ought at least to have known better than to give you anything silver."

Remus shook his head, and laughed softly. "The silver story people love to tell is a myth," he said. "It was started by jewelers and knife smiths to popularize expensive items. If you ever meet a werewolf on the rampage, I recommend running as fast as you can, starting a fire, or having a very large axe handy for a quick beheading."

Snape opened his mouth and shut it quickly with a snap. "It's all right," said Remus casually, "nobody actually bothers to ask the experts on things questions. They're generally too frightened, too arrogant, or just too stupid. That bit of a lie is all over most textbooks, and so called research material available on the subject."

"I don't see how it managed to persist for so many years," said Severus disbelievingly. "It's in texts as old as sixteen fourteen."

"Simple," said Remus. "We started it."

Snape blinked in surprise.

"Can you imagine what a good it's done us?" said Remus. "The grand business for those who work in that area, and the safety it gives to the rest of us?

"Safety?" asked Snape, staring at Remus in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Don't you see?" said Remus. "People begin to suspect you and confront you about it, threaten you with the Regulation for Control of Magical Creatures. You laugh at them for being paranoid, touch a bit of silver, and they leave you alone."

"Very Slytherin," said Snape. "But very Gryffindor of you to actually tell an outsider."

"Nobody would believe you if you told them," said Remus, casually sitting down opposite Snape, "because nobody has bothered even to try to test it. When a Werewolf is discovered, he's either someone like me, who's registered with the Ministry, and makes sure, to the best of his ability, that nothing happens, or a savage beast. The registered Werewolf is then ostracized from his community, and restarts elsewhere, and the beast is put down, in either form, in the usual method."

Snape had no answer to that and removed his arm from the frothing Essence. Remus immediately handed him a dishtowel from nearby. Snape dried off his arm and quickly hid it beneath his robes as per usual.

He then took up the clasp again, along with his wand. "Confirmare," he intoned, and a faint pink smoke hovered above the claps for a fraction of a second before Severus dispelled it with a wave of his hand.

Remus refrained from commenting on Severus' lack of trust and simply cast a purifying charm on the Murtlap Essence before returning it to the bottle. Severus gave the clasp one last considering glance before shocking Remus completely by wearing it at his throat.

"There's no need to actually wear the thing," said Remus, not sure why he did so. "I just used it because of the bonding quality."

"You're asking a Slytherin not to wear a constant reminder of a debt a Gryffindor owes him?" sneered Snape, before taking up the fork again and attacking his eggs with renewed vigor. "Impossible."

***Philomena***

Remus sighed, and took the bottle of Murtlap back to his lab. He was re-shelving it, when the warning ring of the Wards startled him.

So, he thought to himself, it was time. He slipped an annoying lock of hair back behind his ear where it belonged, brushed some butter off the end of one of his sleeves and walked up the stairs. He reckoned they had a few minutes before they reached the house.

Amazingly, knowing when his daughter was about to arrive made him more nervous than being uncertain had. At least before he could tell himself that he had plenty of time, that perhaps they would be delayed, that Ralf would spring up from behind a bush and say, "April Fools! You really ARE a murderer."

Remus shook his head. That last mental image had been silly even for him as it was October. He hurried up the stairs, and found that Severus had finished the eggs and polished off the toast.

"Feeling better?" Remus asked.

"Much," answered Snape tartly. "What was that blasted gong?"

"My Wards," explained Remus. "They've crossed the Anitapparition line."

"Ah ha," said Severus. "Then, please, let us go over this one more time: We hope against hope that Dumbledore thinks your argument with Ralf was an elaborate ploy, by me, to make everybody believe she is yours. You pretend to be just what you are. I pretend to be pretending that I'm not what I'm pretending to be. We tell this girl nothing at all about who's pretending to be whom. We are content to behave like civilized people for the duration of the present situation.

Remus blinked. "Let me see if I've got it straight. I have to pretend to be pretending to be me, while pretending I'm not, so that they can think you're pretending not to be me, while you pretend to pretend you're not me, so everyone thinks you are me, while we both pretend to be civilized people?"

Snape tried to think out what Remus had said for about a second, and gave up. He settled for a curt nod and hoped to goodness the Gryffindor wouldn't foul up his plans. Finally, the visitors had reached the house, and the smoke words formed in the air before Remus:

Parties Not Recognized.

1st Party Sex: Male Age: 42 Armed: Revolver Emotion: Exhausted, angered, frustrated.

2nd Party Sex: Female Armed: no weapon. Emotion: Nervous, tired.

Remus dispelled the smoke and tried to muster up a confident attitude. "That must be them," he said, and opened the door.

A short, dark haired man stood there with two large trunks. Beside him was a girl. She was small and looked about twelve. Her face was pale and thin with starkly defined features. Her nose had a sharp angle and her chin came to a point. Dark hair curled about her face, giving it a heart shape, as it jutted down her forehead in a widow's peak.

"Come in, come in," said Remus, taking the trunks quickly from the man, and shoving them out of the way. "Get out of the cold, have a seat."

"Lupin?" asked the man, looking from Remus to Snape. "Ralf sent me."

The girl had stepped in and shut the door, looking curiously about the room.

"Yes," said Remus, seemingly at a total loss for words. "Thank you very much for bringing her over. Would you... would you stay for a cup of tea?"

Snape sighed inwardly. What was it about Gryffindors that made them try to solve problems with tea and sweets? Not that Severus didn't like tea or sweets, but there was a time and place for everything.

"I'll make tea, Remus," said Severus, switching his persona so much that Remus blinked at him in surprise. "Don't trouble yourself."

"So you're Remus, then," said the man sourly. "Good thing you've finally decided to take some interest in your daughter's life. Letting your brother slave over her all these years was unforgivable - and I don't care about all that tosh about you having a terrible disease, because you didn't even write. You just walked out on the poor thing, her mother dead, and all, and..."

"Stop it," commanded the child, in a clear high tone. "Sop that, Uncle Gordon, or I shall tell Uncle Ralf what you did."

Remus gaped at one and then the other in astonishment. Was that the story Ralf had told? That he was her Uncle, and that Remus was chronically ill? What exactly did the girl know?

"I..." began Remus, "that is, I..."

"Oh do stop stuttering, Lupin," said Snape, sounding cheerful. "The man is understandably a little upset. After all, he doesn't know you were comatose until a few months ago."

Remus realized his mouth was open and shut it with a snap. He looked from the girl, to her uncle, to Snape who, to Remus' amazement, had actually put on the green apron that had hung behind the door, had already put the tea on, and was busily washing the breakfast dishes.

"And just who are you?" demanded Gordon. "What are you doing here?"

Snape giggled, and Remus decided he had finally gone crazy. Snape just didn't do that sort of thing. Remus realized just what a great actor Snape really was. Snape was probably seething inside, imagining murdering the newcomer in a number of unpleasant ways.

"Comatose?" stuttered Gordon. "Nobody ever told me anything about..."

Remus realized that standing in the middle of the room wearing a dazed expression wasn't making the best first impression. He smiled in an apologetic manner and said, "Yes, I was, for nearly eighteen years. A bit of a nasty shock it was for me, when I realized that half the people I knew had passed on, and that I'd missed my own graduation. When I got Ralf's letter and realized I had a daughter, I had to at least try to take her in."

"Yes," said Snape, "he had been in a rather unfortunate motorcycle accident. I'm amazed he survived at all and even the doctors didn't think he'd ever regain his consciousness."

"He'd never have let you have her," snapped Gordon, "if he didn't have to leave the country. And you still haven't told me just who you are."

"I'm Severus Snape," said Snape, rummaging about for some teacups. "I've been taking care of Remus for years. I assure you, if I'd known he had a daughter, or indeed, any relatives at all besides me, I would have done something."

Almost imperceptibly, Snape managed to catch Remus' eye for a second, and jerked his head towards the door. Taking this as a cue to leave the room Remus turned to the girl and said, far more easily than he thought, "Come, Philomena, let's take your things up to your room."

He got out his wand and levitated the trunks with a quick "Mobiliimpedimenta," and he walked through the door, beckoning for the girl to follow him.

She walked with a type of serene grace, as though she was completely confident and not in the least nervous. Remus knew enough about children to know it was an act, even without the emotion reading he'd got from the Wards.

He took her through the living room and up the staircase, undoing the trap door. The luggage floated through first and he hopped up into the loft second before kneeling to give her a hand up. She took it, though she didn't seem to need it, and looked around.

"It's not a lot," he said, noticing her eyes flit over the bare room, "but I hadn't really had a lot of time to prepare, or..."

"Why did you lie to Uncle Gordon?" she asked quietly, turning back to face him. "You weren't sick. You were a wolf."

Remus sighed. "Yes," he admitted, "I still am, but..."

"It's all right," she said. "Uncle Ralf told me you had medicine now, which kept you safe, so I'm not worried. I just wondered why nobody ever tells Uncle Gordon the truth."

"I..." sad Remus, squatting awkwardly beside the girl to look into her face better, "you know about Magic? And how... some people can do it, and other people can't?"

She nodded. "Yes," she said seriously. "Uncle Ralf said that I could, and that you could, but that he and Uncle Gordon couldn't, but I wasn't to tell Uncle Gordon about it because he would think I was being silly."

"You see," said Remus, "people who... who can't do Magic, they don't... they don't really understand. They think we're insane, or that they're insane, or they try to make us do what they have in mind. Most people think that the less these people know about our world, the better."

Philomena was silent as she digested the information.

"I'll help you unpack," said Remus, opening the first trunk. "We'll find a place for all your things."

Philomena opened the second trunk. "Uncle Ralf said you knew lots of Magic," she said, "and that you'd teach me."

"Of course," said Remus casually, taking out a stack of folded shirts. "You should have started training a year ago. Unharnessed power is an extremely dangerous thing."

Philomena bit her lip, and began placing various articles of clothing into the dresser. Remus sensed her tension and turned to smile warmly at her. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Do you miss your ... uncle?"

"It's not that," she said. "It's... is... is magic really hard?"

Remus grinned at her. "Not all of it," he answered lightly. "There's some that's really easy, so easy a baby could do it. And there's some of it so hard that I can't do it. Or even so hard that Dumbledore can't do it."

The child just stared at him, before answering slowly, "It's just that Uncle Ralf couldn't do it. It would have to be very hard for Uncle Ralf not to be able to do it. Uncle Ralf can do everything."

"I... haven't seen your Uncle Ralf in a long time," said Remus diplomatically. "What sort of things does he do?"

"He teaches me things," said Philomena blinking. "What else would he do?"

"What kind of things?" pressed Remus.

"Oh, he taught me to read, and to write," she rattled off. "To do maths, and some history, and biology, and geography, and geometry, a little bit of French, and Latin. I don't know why he wanted me to learn Latin, but he always just said it would help me later. He taught me some fighting, and he was going to start on fencing when I got big enough..."

"And when he's not teaching you?" prompted Remus.

"Then he isn't home, of course," she said simply. "He has business."

"He doesn't do anything else?" asked Remus. "He just teaches?"

"He has business," said Philomena. "Lots and lots of important business. It's so important, I'm not allowed to know what it is."

"What happens when he isn't there?" asked Remus, trying to keep bewilderment and anger out of his voice. "When he's ... on business?"

"Then I have to stay with Uncle Gordon," she said, "which isn't bad because I can play with Hanna and Sidney."

"Are they your... cousins?" hazarded Remus.

"Oh, no," she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "because Uncle Gordon isn't my uncle. I just call him that because I like him."

"Oh," said Remus, a bit nonplussed, starting to shelve the girl's numerous books.

"Do you have lots of business?" asked Philomena, tossing a box onto the bed. "What do you do?"

Remus smiled, easily. "I don't have a lot of business, no," he said, "and most of what I do, I do at home, in the laboratory downstairs. I make Protective Spells, against Dark Magic."

"Then you'll stay with me?" she asked, "You won't go away?"

"I won't ever leave you alone," he said seriously, "I promise."

***The Potions Master***

They were silent, as they continued to unpack. Remus drew his eyebrows together when he noticed something odd. The child had clothing, and books, but nothing else. Every book was strictly educational.

Suddenly, they heard the door slam with a crash. Alarmed, Remus charged down the stairs. Philomena followed in a stately, ladylike gate. In the kitchen, they found Snape, sans apron, looking murderously at the shut door.

"What happened?" asked Remus.

"Oh, nothing," said Snape, sounding like he had just given two weeks' detention to a Weasley. "I simply remarked to Gordon that if he cared so much for the welfare of the child, he might as well take her in himself."

"Not to worry," said Philomena serenely, seating herself primly on Remus' chair. "Uncle Gordon doesn't like me very much."

"But I thought you just said that -" started Remus, but he was interrupted when she held up her right hand.

"I did say I liked him," she said, "but that doesn't necessarily means that he likes me. I'm afraid the feeling is not reciprocated."

"He's... very protective," said Remus warily, wondering, for the hundredth time, just what he'd been thinking when he'd let Ralf walk out of Grimauld place unharmed.

"Well," said the child, "that's because he is in denial."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Just who," he drawled, seating himself languidly, "was responsible for your education, Ms. Lupin?"

"Uncle Ralf, of course," said Philomena. "Who else?"

"You were not enrolled at a school thus far?" asked Snape, pretending he honestly didn't know the answers. "You stayed at home?"

"Of course," she said nodding. "I have an... illness. My Uncle said I shouldn't be around other people, much. He said Remus would be able to fix it."

Snape raised his eyebrows to Remus, who shrugged helplessly.

"What sort of illness?" asked Snape. "I am a Potions Master, and I should be able to find something for whatever it is you are afflicted with."

Philomena fixed her eyes on him. "I... have fits," she admitted. "And ... I see things. They aren't really there. Sometimes they happen, later. Sometimes they don't."

Remus blanched. Of all the things for Ralf to forget to tell him, that the child was having visions was perhaps the worst.

Snape merely blinked, untroubled. "What are the symptoms?" he asked, with a clinical directness.

Philomena, seemed not to be bothered by either Snape or questions. "They tell me I freeze up and that I stare into space, but I never notice that myself because I'm too caught up with the dreams. I can't tell they aren't real until they are over."

Snape nodded. "I see. You have the gift of foresight."

Philomena blinked. "My Uncle said, that it was a curse."

Snape's face was completely devoid of expression. "That depends on your point of view."

"Do you have something?" asked Remus, finding his voice. "To stop the visions, I mean."

"Of course," replied Snape, "Cassandra's Draught. I'll send it as soon as I get back from Albus. He'll be expecting a report, you see."

"Did he torment you last night about what happened?" asked Remus, who abruptly realized that there was a full pan of eggs on the table. "What did you tell him?"

"Nothing," said Snape serenely.

"Really? Wish I'd been there," said Remus.

Remus turned to Philomena, who had listened to the conversation with interest.

"You must be hungry," said Remus, "Severus made the eggs. I'll get you a plate."

"Willing to brave the wrath of the scrubbing brush for a child you've barely met," said Severus, with a perfectly strait face, "while I, whom you have known since childhood, must be content with the frying pan?"

"I'll simply have to bribe the teaspoon to keep the peace," answered Remus, handing the girl a plate and a fork, "by letting her live in the sugar bowl for a few days."

"Are you magical too?" asked Philomena, looking at Snape curiously, "or are the Potions just medicine?"

Snape stared at her as he did when he was trying not to hex Albus for offering a sherbet lemon. "I am a wizard, yes," he said silkily, "and I am a Potions Master. Potions are not... just medicine. They are an intricate art, and can be used to heal, to harm, or merely in fun. I will teach you."

"I should like that," said Philomena, "very much."

Snape smiled, yes, actually smiled at her. Remus blinked. He wondered whether Snape had slipped into another persona, as he had earlier to get rid of Gordon, or whether Snape was actually and genuinely smiling at his daughter. For some reason he found the thought slightly disturbing.

"May I use your Floo?" asked Severus. "I don't fancy the walk back to the edge of your Wards, or the one up to the Castle."

"Of course," said Remus. "Travel safe."

Snape rose and nodded politely towards the two of them. "I wish you both a good evening," he said, "Remus, Ms. Lupin."

With that, he swept out of the room. They heard him call "Albus' Office!" followed by the roar of the Floo.

"I like him," said Philomena, matter of factly.

"You seem to like a lot of people," said Remus.

"I don't think it's a good idea not to like people," said Philomena, "except in extreme circumstances. It's safer."

"Did your Uncle teach you that?"

"No. I just learned," she said.

XXX

Severus arrived in Albus' office.

Albus looked up from a bowl of what looked like alphabet soup in Mermish. "Tea, Severus?" he asked.

Snape sat down. "No," said Snape, "I don't want any tea. I had plenty of tea while running about today."

"Anything serious?" asked Albus, tactfully not mentioning the fact that Snape hadn't returned the night before and was nearly ten hours late.

"Nothing of interest to the Order," said Severus, "except the fact that the Dark Lord is sending diplomats to dragon tamers. Personally, I think it won't do him any good whatsoever."

"And his experiments in blood magic?" asked Albus.

"Potter's blood is no longer of interest to him," said Snape, keeping the answer strictly truthful, though misleading. "He's given up that project."

"Thank Merlin," said Dumbledore. "I was seriously afraid of a leech sent in the mail or some such."

"Well, the danger's past," said Snape sourly. "The boy might just live another year."

"I sincerely hope so," said Albus, "for all our sakes."

"Well, there you are," said Snape, rising. "I'll get back to some research I have."

"Wait," commanded Albus, "just what went on there with Remus? Who was that man?"

Snape instantly feigned a guilty look, which wasn't hard, because he was guilty about hiding what had really happened at the last Death Eater meeting.

"He was Remus' Alpha," he said. "I couldn't care less."

"Remus would never betray me like that," snapped Dumbledore. "Who was he, and just why did you let him in?"

So that's it, thought Snape; trust the Gryffindor, distrust your Slytherin.

"I had nothing to do with it," replied Severus acidly. "I object to slaving away for this cause, to be continually mocked in this manner. Am I more likely to betray you than that Werewolf?"

"I do trust you," soothed Dumbledore. "I have told you many times before that I simply don't understand your motivation and as this is a matter which could potentially jeopardize the safety of the entire Order - even the outcome of the war, I must ask you to give me an explanation."

"Ask Remus for an explanation," snapped Snape. "I tried for hours with him to get one and you ruined my efforts by arriving. He was just caving in. Your appearance sparked his Gryffindor courage and he refused to tell me anything."

"Severus," said Dumbledore dangerously, "please, keep your petty dislike of the man to yourself and explain just what scheme you've dreamed up. How far will your hatred go? You made perfectly sure that the man would arrive, whatever his connection with Remus. You knew how he would react, and how the Order would react when they saw him. It's quite clear that you tried to get him killed. You wanted someone to kill him, thinking he'd betrayed us."

"I can assure you, headmaster," said Snape, stung to the core by such mistrust, "that that was not the case and I am prepared to repeat that under Veritaserum."

"That's an empty promise and you know it, Severus," countered Dumbledore. "I want you to swear to me that you will not attempt such stupidity again. For Merlin's sake, for my sake, for the sake of the future of the world, be a man, and forget the past."

"What is past is prologue," said Snape. "Only a fool forgets that. A wise man learns from history."

"Exactly my point," shouted Dumbledore. "You should have learned a lesson all that time ago!"

"Are you talking about my time in school?" asked Severus icily. "You've just told me to forget the past. Just what lesson are you referring to?"

"To set aside differences," answered Dumbledore, "and work with others, even if you did not agree with them, or their methods, for the good of the Cause!"

"Just how was I to learn that?" snapped Snape. "I was nearly killed. For no other reason than that four boys found my physical appearance funny, my capabilities annoying, and my House objectionable. What was that to teach me about working with others? Nothing. Except that one can't fight on one's own. One needs allies, others who share your immediate goals, if not your cause."

"You were supposed to realize," thundered Dumbledore, "that the incident would not have happened if you had cooperated with them!"

"Cooperate?" snarled Snape. "Submit, you mean! They attacked the first minute we met, with no provocation whatsoever. For nearly a year, I suffered their attacks and humiliations in private, believing it better to stay out of trouble than to retaliate. I thought they would grow bored and find another target.

"That's not what happened of course. Your oh-so-lovely Gryffindors, who never did anybody any harm, who were always on the side of light, who were never the cause of a fight, grew to think of me as easy game. They hexed me on a constant basis, often for no other reason but boredom.

"I repressed my desire to curse them and you know very well how many curses I knew at the time. I went to my head of house. He told me to be a man and take it, or be a man and retaliate to show my worth. He did nothing.

"I spoke to their head of house and he wouldn't believe me. Said I was taking house rivalry too far and if he caught me telling more lies about his precious charges, he would personally see to it that I was expelled.

"I spoke to you. You sighed, and gave me that stupid grandfatherly pout and spouted your usual platitudes: 'It's our choices that make us who we are,' 'The one who concedes a meaningless quarrel is stronger,' and your favorite, 'That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.' Where else was I to turn? What else was I to do?

"I had gone to my teachers. I had done what all of you told us was the right, the just, and honorable way to deal with things like these and you turned a blind eye. Admit it, old man, if it had been the other way around, I would have been out of Hogwarts before I could say 'favoritism.'

"I had gone to my housemates, and they had laughed at me. Told me that if the Gryffindors weren't doing such a good job, they'd have stepped in and given me what was coming to them. I gave their House a bad name, they said, ought to have been in Ravenclaw, should defend our honor.

"So, I turned to the people that would have been any other child's first choice. I turned to my family. I turned to what my father taught me. And I fought. I fought hard, and I fought well. I feel, even now, that I would have won if I hadn't been banned from going near them as though it were my fault I was nearly killed.

"You punished me for being attacked, sir. And they got nothing, not even a detention because, you said, their housemates would ask questions. What about my housemates? Did you think they were deaf, dumb, and blind? They tortured me for having angered you, even though I could no longer move a muscle without some teacher running to report to you.

"Did you think making sure I couldn't go on Hogsmead weekends, or take part in the dueling club would make me any more eager to cooperate with the Gryffindors? I still wonder, was it because these were student outings and you didn't trust me without a teacher, or was it merely your sadistic streak coming into play?

"I was angry. They had tried to kill me. They had wanted me dead, and I had done nothing except defend myself. I don't think we even spoke more than twenty words together in our entire time at Hogwarts. Oh, yes, Potter and Black did a lot of taunting, but that was one sided and I don't think it counts.

"They had caused me to live in virtual imprisonment for their crimes. I wasn't going to 'learn to love them,' Dumbledore. But, perhaps, one of your platitudes was right. It made me stronger.

"I learned how to be devious from them. I learned how to smooth talk my way out of detentions awarded for breathing in Remus' direction. I learned how to avoid areas they haunted. I learned how to mask any emotion I might have had left.

"And when Voldemort came, I knew that it was better to go along with what he said because either way I would be punished more than enough for my choice. Had I sided with you, I would be dead. Side with the Dark Lord? Certain death as well. I would rather have it at the hands of a real enemy than from one that pretended all the time to be on my side, or at the very least open minded.

"Do you have any idea how much I did? Have you any idea how nearly I was killed so many times over? I saved so many lives and still my life isn't worth a Knut to anybody. I'm considered expendable, by you, by the Order, by my students, and even my family.

"Then, you had the gall to demand my service. You didn't even bother to ask what I thought, or whether I wanted to do what I was doing. You simply demanded that I lay my life on the line for you, and your precious Gryffindor children. You didn't realize, did you, that all your 'anonymous tips,' came from the same source? You didn't realize, did you, that so many people were evacuated from buildings before they were attacked?

"You were blinded by your bigotry, old man and don't even try to deny it. Yes, yes, I know. 'Severus, I am an old man, and old men make mistakes.' Damnit! You're supposed to be the wisest among us! You're supposed to learn from those mistakes! Not continue to make the same ones, year after year!

"How many times will I have to prove that I mean no harm? How many times must I prove that I can be trusted? How much blood will I have to spill? How many Crucios will it take?"

Dumbledore stared at Snape in shock. Snape stopped, mid rant, and seemed to come back to himself. He pulled himself together, quickly enough and became the masked man once more.

"Severus," said Dumbledore sadly, "I... I know it's been hard for you, but... I..."

"You thought it would teach me a lesson," said Snape stiffly, "and so you did nothing to stop it. You didn't stop my father. You didn't stop the Gryffindors. You didn't stop my housemates. You won't stop Voldemort."

"Severus, you know that if there were..."

"What? If the danger became more than merely life threatening you'd let me retire to a comfortable country place?" sneered Snape. "You'd risk lives to get me out? I think not. I know precisely where I stand with you. The only reason I am still here is because I have a slim chance of surviving. I don't care about your precious world. I don't care about the Muggles, and the Gryffindors, and the fence sitters. I'm beyond caring.

"I tried to care about them all, before. I tried to be what you wanted, what everyone seemed to want. I was not permitted. They didn't want my help. They still don't. Any good I do will be a side product, unappreciated, unwanted, unacknowledged."

Dumbledore shut his mouth with a snap, and shook his head sadly.

"Don't give me that pity filled stair," said Snape icily. "You see your failure in me, and that's why you bother to keep me alive. I don't care why you do it. I appreciate the results. I am, at last, a Slytherin. I get what I want."

Albus spread his hands hopelessly. "What do you want, Severus?"

Severus leaned onto the desk, and stared the headmaster into the eye. He let his most predatory grin slide over his face. "You need to ask?"

Albus stared back, resolutely. "Yes."

"I want to survive."