Philomena

***Pure Blood, Plans, and Plotting***

"Ah, Dolohov," asked Malfoy. "Is it done?"

"Thanks to your help it nearly is," said Dolohov.

"Blood Magic," sighed Malfoy. "Such a nuisance, you know? Tricky, that."

Malfoy smiled lightly and poured himself a drink. Dolohov groaned inwardly. It wasn't easy to deal with Malfoy, especially when he was in one of his moods.

"It does need a few more ingredients, we think," said Antonin. "And there are some more key Spells we need to locate but for the most part..."

"Ah, yes, that one 'key ingredient,'" Malfoy interrupted. "You have a blood-taker with you, I suppose?"

Dolohov blinked in confusion. "Whyever would I? We already have the blood. A bit the worse for the wear on account of all the congealing it's been doing, but our tests show the Essence is still there. What we really do need are the Ashwinder eggs, and-"

Antonin stopped abruptly when he realized the horrified look on Lucius' face.

"You ... you already have the blood?"

Antonin nodded. "Yes, our Lord had it sent to us the day we started the project."

"Whose was it?" asked Malfoy, looking uncharacteristically panicked. "Do you know whose it was?"

"Snape's, actually," answered Antonin. "Apparently, our Lord thought-"

"Grindelwald's Curses!" Malfoy swore, breaking the glass in his hand. "Merlin condemn it all!"

Dolohov jumped backwards in shock. "Damn the man!" ranted Malfoy. "How does he do it?"

"Malfoy, I..."

"Peace, you fool," snapped Malfoy. "This is terrible. I'll never be able to fix this. It'll all go to hell, after all I've done..."

Dolohov shut his mouth with a snap, and decided he had better wait until Malfoy calmed down enough to explain, or ranted enough for him to understand on his own.

Malfoy, however, was not in the mood to talk or be talked to. He hurried over to his desk, ignoring the shattered glass, and opened it up, revealing a jumble of parchment rolls.

"Damnit, all of it," he muttered to himself, quickly finding one and unrolling it.

It had obviously not been unrolled in a while as it snapped back as soon as Lucius had spread it open on the desk. Malfoy growled in frustration, and unrolled the scroll once again. Antonin leapt forward and set a candelabrum onto one corner, while Lucius weighted the opposite one with a large book on the origin of Tree Worship.

Malfoy didn't appear to notice Antonin's presence, but began rapidly scanning the parchment for the passage he needed. "Life debts," he muttered, "bound in Essence... damn, damn, damn!"

Antonin blinked, and attempted to read over Malfoy's shoulder to no effect. The parchment was written in French.

"Passed on by Primogeniture," muttered Lucius, along with a great deal of rapid fire French that was lost on Dolohov. "Overrides Intent, Blood Purging..."

Antonin grimaced, as he realized that Lucius had gone into battle mode, full concentration on one object, and absolutely no recognition of anything beyond that. Dolohov sighed, and seated himself in an armchair, resolved to wait until Malfoy finished.

"...de Sang," whispered Lucius to himself. "Il est impossible au determin les résultats d'une telle expérience, parce que il n'a été jamais essayé."

"And if you take whortleberries, and stew them like lacewings, they taste more like Pepperup than Polyjuice does," muttered Antonin.

The roar of the Floo did not perturb Lucius, but caused Antonin to start considerably, when he saw Snape tumble onto the hearth. "Ah, Dolohov," he said silkily. "Fancy meeting you."

"Afternoon, Snape," nodded Antonin. "Are you all right? You're looking a bit under the weather."

"None of your concern, Dolohov," sneered Snape. "But I assure you, outside of a slight touch of anemia, along with lack of sleep, I am in perfect health."

Dolohov swallowed as Snape's eyes stared into his own. He was struck again with the thought that Snape knew. Finally, Snape dropped his eyes. For a moment, Dolohov almost thought he saw satisfaction in the man's eyes, but it was gone too soon for him to be sure.

"Is Malfoy approachable or is in he in one of his sulking fits?" asked Snape, carelessly pouring himself a finger of Malfoy's Scotch.

Antonin sighed. "In one of his moods, I'm afraid. Worked up apparently about the Sanguinary Watchimihoozits."

Severus turned to look at Malfoy, and while his back was turned on Antonin, he discreetly transfigured the Scotch into tea, and added a simple Glamour to disguise it. It would interfere slightly with the tea's taste, but Severus didn't care.

"Blood Magic, by any chance?" asked Severus.

"He can't know," thought Dolohov to himself. "None of us would have told him, and our Lord certainly didn't tell him. He's only bluffing. How does he do it, though? How does he make me so sure he knows?"

"Yes, Blood Magic," Dolohov said aloud. "He's just had a brainstorm of sorts, and I can't get him to react to the outside world anymore. Something's apparently wrong with the, er... 'primogenitive sanguinary whozywatzit."

Snape strode forward and pulled the parchment away from Malfoy. "Pardon me, Lucius," he said, "for disturbing your... research. I need to use your lab, and you've changed the password."

Malfoy snarled when his concentration was broken. "To know I changed the password, you must have tried it, and if you tried it, you know why I changed it."

Snape made an impatient gesture. "It's urgent; I knew you had work to do."

"How badly do you need the lab?" asked Malfoy silkily.

"Very," answered Snape. "Matter of using your Sanguinanalyzer, and your Deoxyribonucleicacid Synthesizer."

Malfoy struck the desk with his fist in anger. "Don't tell me you're on the project, too! You knew your blood wouldn't work! You knew it would all go to hell!

"Relax, Lucius," soothed Snape. "I don't know what our Lord's ... project entails, beyond that I was asked to give blood and I have. This has nothing to do with the Cause. It is a personal vendetta. Hence, I did not wish to disturb you with it, as it would take to much of your time for me to explain."

"Listen to me, Snape," said Malfoy seriously. "You have more influence with our Lord than most of us. For Merlin's sake dissuade him from this project! Make him give it up! It'll be a miracle if it works, considering certain circumstances, and miracles have an alarming propensity to favor the other side."

"I'm not in favor at the moment," snarled Snape. "Not since that blasted affair about sending Potter a Portkey went to pieces."

"That was nearly half a year ago," protested Malfoy. "It was on the damned child's birthday."

"There's more to it," insisted Severus. "He... hasn't been happy with me of late. Many Potions he's requested I develop are impossible according to the laws of physics. Of course, you can't expect me to explain that to him, or even suggest that he might have an impossible plan in mind. And so I keep coming up with failure after failure..."

Antonin grimaced. "He has been that way of late," he muttered. "I'm beginning to think he's..."

"Insane?" put in Malfoy. "Of course he's insane. We all know he's insane! We simply have to make sure we use that to our advantage, the advantage of the Cause as far as possible before it becomes necessary to... alleviate the problem."

Antonin fidgeted nervously with his cuffs. He felt dreadfully uncomfortable, knowing he'd got himself into something deeper than he'd intended. He hadn't meant to imply his Lord was insane, just stricter than he had been. If Malfoy was bluffing, perhaps to trap him into an act of treason, then he wasn't sure how long he would live. After all, it'd be Malfoy's word against his.

Snape was shocked to the core at Malfoy's blatant disrespect for his Lord. He allowed only some of what he felt to show up on his face, prompting Malfoy to explain.

"Oh, it's simple, really," chided Malfoy. "None of us ever really liked him after he came back, did we? He's been obsessed, deranged, sadistic... who wants a master like that? But, we remained faithful to the idea that returned to feasibility: to gain control of the Government, Wizard and Muggle. To deport all those of imperfect Lineage to other countries, so that we may have a pure and illustrious Empire.

"To do that, however, we need to get rid of the powerful Wizards on the so called Side of Light. Alone, we can't get rid of Dumbledore. We can't destroy the Ministry. That's why we need the Dark Lord.

"My plan, Antonin, Severus, is to assist our Lord in every way. Our Lord is the only one powerful enough to kill Dumbledore. When Dumbledore is dead, the Ministry is bound to fall apart. It's no secret that he directs all of the least flashy, but most important offices. Once we eliminate Dumbledore, we destroy the mysterious Order, if it even exists.

"Then, we take the Ministry. The Banking systems of the world. European domination. When we have that, we allow the Potter child to eliminate our madman, and it will be simple to kill the boy once he's done us that little favor. With them out of the way, we can run the world as we see fit. Our Lord is, despite his original fervor, but a halfblood, and we all know we won't live long once he comes to power.

"He would follow the old pattern of all Emperors. Seeing a rival in every fool that crosses his path, killing and ruling with no thought to his people, but only for power. Destroying those who brought him to power, because he fears their influence will grow too great."

There was a silence after Malfoy had finished. Antonin twisted his fingers nervously, his eyes darting from Snape to Malfoy and back. Why was Lucius telling him this? Surely, if he wanted allies, he would turn to somebody more powerful. It was most likely a trap. They wanted him to say something, do something that would cause the Dark Lord to eliminate him for treason.

Snape raised an eyebrow sardonically. "And when you've eliminated our Lord, Malfoy, what then?" he asked. "You expect us to bow down to you, I suppose? You do realize, your rule would have the same problems as his, do you not? Merely replacing one despot with another."

Malfoy made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. "No, no," he cried. "Absolute power must never rest with one individual! It's never worked, in all the history of the world. I want an aristocracy! A group of the leading Pure Blood Families, to run the land. Perhaps... Three. Or four. Lead by the head of each family. All laws passed, officials selected, decisions made, would have to be unanimous."

Snape frowned thoughtfully. "Any particular three families in mind, Malfoy?"

"Mine of course," he answered. "It is the oldest. Yours, Snape. Yours, Dolohov. Perhaps the Black family, but, unfortunately, their head is currently a woman, and women have no place in such matters."

"A few years ago, you were saying they had no place in battle, either," Snape pointed out.

"That," said Malfoy, "was before I got married."

"But..." said Dolohov slowly, "this... would mean we had to protect the Potter child. Until everybody else was out of the way..."

"Which means the Blood Magic Project MUST fail!" Malfoy said. "We can't lose him. He's the only one who can destroy the Dark Lord."

Snape shrugged. "What makes you so sure of that?"

"I have a friend, runs a shop in Knockturn Alley," said Malfoy. "Gave me access to a prophecy made by a Seer, which stated, explicitly, that only the Potter child could kill Voldemort."

Dolohov flinched at the name, but Snape held his ground. "How do we know we can destroy Potter, though?" asked Snape. "Did it say anything about that?"

Malfoy shook his head. "It was only concerned with how the Lord could be killed."

Dolohov shrugged. "Divination is notoriously less than accurate."

"Even so," insisted Malfoy. "We cannot allow Voldemort to attain full power, nor can we allow Dumbledore to win. A second defeat would destroy the little fervor left in our Side. We would never survive."

Dolohov nodded slowly. "Right," he agreed. "We have to keep Potter from dying. That will be difficult in the extreme considering how our Lord is obsessed with his demise. I suggest, therefore, we make the rest happen fairly quickly. We won't be able to protect him for long."

"Exactly," said Malfoy. "Therefore, this Blood Project must be sabotaged."

"What is the Project, exactly?" asked Snape. "I do know my blood is involved, and that Antonin and Rabastan are working on it, but I do not know the aim of it."

"Ah," said Dolohov. "We were instructed to take the Intent to destroy Potter, inherent in you, and the Essence of Hate in your blood, and bind it to some object. We are also supposed to add Potter's blood, for the trigger, and somehow get him to come into contact with the object. Which would, according to plan, leech his blood and destroy him."

Snape grimaced. "Getting Potter's blood is nearly impossible. We can use that to stall."

"Unfortunately," said Malfoy, "the Dark Lord used Potter's blood to bring himself back to Corporal form. He still has Potter blood in his veins, at least, enough of it to trigger."

"Wouldn't our Lord's Essence be present as well?" asked Snape. "It's contaminated, so to speak. That would interfere..."

"Worse than that," snapped Malfoy. "You're forgetting that damned Sacrificial Protection provided by Potter's mother. It's inherent in the blood as well. He'll be using a Protective Essence as the trigger."

"Which would, I suppose, merely protect the boy further, correct?" asked Severus. "As long as he doesn't die, I don't see why we should prevent it."

"You're forgetting, your blood has problems as well. Your life debt to James Potter was never repaid. Those debts are passed down to the next of the line if unfulfilled."

"Yes, yes," sighed Snape. "I know that. But I've repaid the damned thing, haven't I? I saved the child in his first year, in his third, in his fourth..."

Lucius sighed. "Severus, has he paid you back?"

"Me?" asked Severus, nonplussed. "Of course not. Why would he? It's my debt, not his."

"But," protested Lucius, "the Life Debt, being passed down, is far more complicated than the original. If we use your blood, the Life Debt will activate with a tremendous amount of Protective Magic for the boy. And if he ever repays you, it will activate the Cycle of Debt, which-"

"What about Intent?" interrupted Severus. "Surely, if our Lord's, or my, intent is to harm..."

"Sacrificial and Debtor Protection overrides that," explained Lucius. "So, we would, in effect, be making the boy the most protected item in the Magical World, save perhaps Nicholas Flammel's laboratory."

"I don't see then why it has to fail," said Dolohov. "We want him protected, don't we? So that he can kill our Lord when the time comes, right? What better way to do it than this? We could put it down to Lilly Potter's Sacrificial Protection in his Blood, and protest we didn't know it would have that effect..."

"But we also want to be able to kill the child later," snapped Malfoy. "We won't have a chance if he's as protected as all that."

"What can we do, though?" asked Severus. "He's already got the spell. Nothing will stop him trying to use it, unless of course, we let him know what we've found out. That will only get us all killed, you know. He doesn't like being proven wrong."

"Damnit," cursed Lucius. "I thought it would be my blood requested all this time. Mine wouldn't have any Protection in it at all, and a good deal of Maledictive Essence. It would have worked. Protection enough to prevent our Lord from killing him, nothing to prevent me from doing the same thing."

"We could always tell our Lord about the life debt," suggested Dolohov, "and beg him to allow us to use somebody else's blood..."

"He'd kill me," snapped Severus. "You think he'd allow me to live if he knew I had an irresistible compulsion to protect that idiotic child?"

Malfoy sighed. "I feel for you, old bean. Seeing him every day, hating him like poison, and having to save him every chance you get..."

"It's bearable," said Snape stiffly. "I'd appreciate it if we dropped the subject."

"Then what DO we do?"

Malfoy shrugged. "We wait for something else to go wrong," he said. "Perhaps Rabastan will... make a mistake?"

"No," said Dolohov. "We can't do that. He's from a more respected family than mine. Our Lord would never believe it was his fault. Never. Besides, what would your wife think of you, killing off a family member that way? She has few enough relations as it is."

Snape shrugged. "Then, we wait, watch, and hope against hope that something in this mess turns out right."

"We could always... replace Snape's blood with yours, Lucius," suggested Dolohov.

"Do you think our Lord won't test that?" said Lucius tiredly. "He tests every last Charm, Hex, or Trap we set for the child, to make sure he can blame it on one of us rather than himself when it fails."

"Then Severus is right," said Antonin. "Waiting is our only option."

"This has been fascinating," said Severus after a pause, "but I really need to use the lab. The matter is rather urgent, and terribly important."

"You've a 'personal,' matter?" asked Lucius, smiling at last. "Congratulations. The betting pool might just be mine after all. Who is she?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "It's nothing like that," he snapped. "We're related. The passwords, if you please?"

"Aristocracy," said Lucius silkily.

"Just a moment!" called Antonin before Snape could leave. "What guaranty have I - has any of us got, that we won't be betrayed on this matter? The Dark Lord doesn't take betrayal or plotting very well."

Malfoy smiled, and pulled a parchment from the desk. "I'm prepared for this," he said. "I knew I would have to enlist help at some point, and I knew I would have to be sure of their loyalty. This is a Fidelimortus. We shall all sign this, and if a word is said to betray this, the speaker will die a nearly instantaneous, but nonetheless painful, death."

Snape drew his wand and tapped the parchment. "Confirmare."

The parchment glowed pink. Snape nodded in satisfaction. Lucius smirked. "Don't trust anybody, do you?"

"I find it rather unwise to do so without assurance," answered Snape. "A quill?"

The Parchment was signed, with Severus' precise script, Lucius' characteristic flourishes, and Antonin's scribble. Snape nodded to his new allies, and Flooed himself to Malfoy's labs.

***Frogs and Quills***

Severus rubbed his temples as he clambered out of the fireplace in Malfoy's labs. He was here, rather than in Hogwarts, because Lucius' equipment was far more sophisticated than anything Hogwarts had on hand, or Severus could afford.

Malfoy didn't actually use any of the equipment he had. Lucius did make sure his Lab was the most sophisticated in Britain because he knew it annoyed Snape. It also gave him a way to bargain with Snape. So many hours in the lab, for so many Potions.

Snape growled as he poured half of Philomena's blood sample into the Deoxyribonucleicacidsynthesizer, and half into the Sanguinanalyzer. The devices began to pulse, and soon Snape had several large pages worth of diagrams and charts.

Severus gave the charts a cursory glance to make sure they were complete, and gathered them together, rolling them up and stashing them in his inner cloak pocket. He thought vaguely that it was about time he went through his pockets again to be sure he hadn't forgotten anything important, but decided he had to get back to Hogwarts before Albus realized he'd been Floo hopping.

With a sigh, he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and made the stomach-wrenching trip back to Hogwarts.

XXX

Philomena frowned as she stared at the frogs on the desk in front of her. She supposed her father would have a fit if he knew she wasn't 'going to lie down for a bit' as she'd told him. Sighing in frustration she tried for the tenth time to draw a Pulse from one of the animals without touching it.

Alternately, she had been trying to touch a Pulse without experiencing a Vision. Snape had said she would be able to See voluntarily. From what she'd experienced thus far, however, it rather seemed that she would have to refrain from all contact with people in order to avoid having Visions about them.

She watched the blue flames dance between the frogs. Concentrating on one, she tried to will it towards her, the way she performed an Accio Charm. Nothing. Not even the slightest flicker in her general direction. Philomena had also tried Accioing the Pulses. They didn't react to the Charm, or indeed, to any Magic whatsoever.

"Stupid Kalgra blood," she muttered. "I'm not a pigeon, dash it."

The flames flickered, the frogs croaked, and Philomena felt a headache coming on. "Here goes nothing," she thought as she reached her hand out. She concentrated completely on blocking the Vision, but it was no use. The second her hand brushed the Pulse, she Saw that perhaps, in the next twenty minutes or so, frog number three just might catch a fly.

She sighed, and wondered how long she'd been working at this. After Snape had left, Remus had closeted himself in his lab, presumably working on the Counterspells. That had been about noon, lunchtime. Her stomach growled.

The nearest Pulse flew towards her, and another Vision struck. Apparently, frog number one had a good chance of hopping off the desk. Confused, she wondered what had triggered the jump. She certainly hadn't done anything magically, and hadn't touched the Pulse physically.

She groaned, letting her head drop to the desk, resting on her arms. If the Pulses were going to fly at her without warning, then it would be just as before, only without the seizures. Suddenly, she didn't feel quite as hungry.

"Stupid Potions, stupid Seer, stupid Bloodline," she muttered to herself. "Stupid Kalgra, stupid..." She stopped abruptly; when she noticed frog number two had edged up to her hand. A Pulse was dancing between her fingers, but there was no Vision.

Frowning she moved her hand away. The Potion could be faulty, she supposed, and that could account for the lapse. But then what had caused the other Pulse to snap towards her? It didn't make much sense.

Frog number three zapped out its tongue, and snagged a passing fly. Philomena shrugged to herself, thinking that it made sense that the frog had managed to catch something despite its laziness. The fly was sluggish and would have died sooner or later from the cold... and then the frog might have died of hunger, and -

Abruptly, Philomena shot to her feet. "Hunger!" she yelled. "That's IT!"

"What's that, love?" called Remus.

She winced. "Sorry," she called back quickly. "Odd dream."

She shook her head to herself. She remembered laughing at the story of Archimedes, leaping from the bathtub to run through the streets yelling that he had found it. Now Philomena knew how he'd felt. The elation of suddenly realizing how simple it was; what a small silly thing it was that ended up making all the difference.

"Kalgra don't have Visions!" she thought excitedly. "They eat the Pulses! Draw them in for nourishment! Live off them! They don't call them unless they're hungry!"

She stared at frog number one. It had already developed a new small flame. Concentrating on the feeling of hunger, she stared at the Pulse. It leapt strait into her hand, and another Vision danced quickly through her head of herself replacing the frogs.

"Eureka," she whispered.

Philomena then concentrated on the feeling of being pleasantly full. She touched frog number four. The Pulse danced between her fingers, but the Vision didn't come.

She quickly put the frogs back into the box, completing the latest vision, and preventing an earlier one. Gladly, she flew down the stairs to see her father, only to find him completely absorbed in his work.

A number of books were spread haphazardly across the table. There was a quill stuck in Remus' hair, and an inky smudge on his forehead. Remus scribbled frantically onto his pad, a second quill gripped in his right hand, as his left scrambled to find the correct of the books he was working with.

His lips were working silently, and Philomena wondered whether he was mouthing the words he was writing or the ones he was reading. She checked the clock. Already seven. No wonder she was hungry.

She smiled as she watched him take an absentminded gulp of coffee. The pot itself was nearby, and nearly empty. The Pulses danced about him. She watched as more flames added themselves, presumably to compensate for possible futures involving what he was working on.

Decided to test her resistance to Visions from greater beings than frogs, she moved silently over to him and touched his shoulder lightly, while envisioning having eaten. The Pulse remained where it was, but Remus started.

"Oh, hello love," he said, disoriented blinking up at her. "Is something wrong?"

She pulled the quill out of his hair, Pulses glancing harmlessly from her fingers, and handed it to him. "You seem to have misplaced this, father."

He took it from her and looked at it, puzzled. "How in Merlin's name did that get there? I was writing with it just a second ago..."

"You're writing with the other one," she said gently, noticing that his right hand had managed to smudge half the page when she'd startled him.

"Oh, right." He was embarrassed. "Sorry... I tend to ... drift when I'm working. Dreadful nuisance. I've even been known to do the same homework essay three or four times over without noticing it in school. That is, until I saw my friends hand them in, later."

***Counterspells and Fidelius***

Snape stepped out of the fireplace into his room and, to his horror, saw Dumbledore perched on his desk with a smug smile on his face.

"Have fun, Severus?" asked Albus.

"Had a jolly time, Headmaster," he deadpanned. "I just went off for a chat with the wife and kiddies."

"Are you quite all right, Severus?" asked Albus. "You look tired."

"That would be because I am, Albus," sighed Severus. "You might remember that I got back quite late last night, or shall we say early this morning. I'd have slept longer than I did, but certain pesky students of mine saw fit to wake me. I've been running about Britain getting things done ever since. Kindly add whatever it is you're here for to my to-do list, and I'll be sure to get it to you before somebody kills me."

Albus blinked and stared at Snape in confusion. Severus was nearly always grumpy, but one rarely saw him complain about anything. Perhaps he'd been hurt again, and didn't want anybody to know it. The last time he hadn't said anything about a curse, it had taken Albus months to realize it, and by that time Severus had been nearly past saving. Albus knew that Severus hated to be seen as weak, and would gladly add more to his workload to prove that he could do it rather than admit that he'd got himself injured.

"Are you quite all right, my boy?" asked the Headmaster.

"Just ducky," snapped Snape, taking out the scrolls of data he'd gathered, and spreading them out on his worktable. "Never better."

"I haven't heard you use the phrase 'ducky' for quite some time. It must be really bad. Sherbet lemon?"

Snape groaned. "No, Albus, I do not want sweets. I have work to do, and this can't wait. Just let me know what you need and I'll take care of it."

"I was just here because I was worried," soothed Albus. "You don't normally use your Floo."

"You don't normally monitor my Floo activity," grumbled Snape. He kept his back to the headmaster, getting out a quill to highlight the important parts of the analysis.

"Blood magic, Severus?" asked Albus, looking over his shoulder. "I thought you said he'd given up the project?"

"I said he'd given up trying to get Potter's blood," replied Snape. "And this isn't for the Dark Lord anyway. It's for your Werewolf."

"Severus! For the last time, stop trying to throw suspicion on Lupin. He has done nothing wrong."

Severus shrugged. "I wasn't trying to throw suspicion on him. I was simply answering your questions. Truth is, I have a bargain with Lupin. I owe him a favor."

"You expect me to believe that Remus owes you something? That you would allow yourself to be in his debt?" Albus was incredulous,

"Sweet Merlin, Albus!" swore Severus angrily. "Make up your mind! Do you trust me, or not?"

"My boy," said Albus, "I trust you. You know that."

"Hm..." said Severus mockingly, "here's a man who accuses me left and right of betrayal, openly acknowledges that he doesn't believe me, monitors my comings and goings without my knowledge or consent. I suppose he must trust me."

"Very impressive Wards they were, too, Severus," mused Albus. "I couldn't get into your Private Chambers at all, and your Storage Cupboard... You ought to work with Remus."

Severus lost his temper, and got up, knocking his chair over with bang. "Damnit, Albus! Just this afternoon you repeatedly accused me of trying to kill the man. A second ago you expressed doubt that I could actually have had an agreement with him. Now you want me to work with him."

Albus spread his hands out in a gesture of helplessness. "I don't know what to believe, Severus," he said. "You've always had a second meaning under what you say. When you tell the truth, you hide some of it. You do bring priceless information to us, and we must trust your judgment on what to tell us, and what to keep to yourself. You've hidden, at times, that you were injured. I can only infer that you've hidden other things as well."

"I know, I know," muttered Snape, setting the chair back upright. "Nobody trusts a spy not to turn..."

"I trust you not to betray us," said Albus. "Frankly, I cannot trust you not to work in your own interests against... certain individuals on our side."

"Of course I work for my own interests," snapped Severus. "Doesn't everybody? The main reason I do this, let me remind you, is so that I, personally, survive this war. That's the same reason I did it last war. Frankly, I don't trust half the Order not to act in their own interests and kill me. If they don't do it, the Death Eaters will. I am not trusted, Headmaster, by anyone, anywhere."

Albus made a move to protest, but Severus stopped him with an impatient gesture. "I'm tired of saying this over and over again, Albus," he said icily, "but you can trust me to do anything in my power to protect those I know to be on our side, to give you all information that will help our side. As to working against others, how many times must I assure you that I never have killed another human being, nor shall I ever do so?"

"You still persist in telling me that Voldemort cannot subvert Fidelius," protested Albus. "You deliberately-"

"Albus, listen to me," grated Severus. "For the last time: There is no way to subvert Fidelius. I have been trying to find one for the past twenty years. If I had one, I would use it to find out the Dark Lord's current location. I did not let Potter and Lilly die. I shall not let the Order be found. I, in fact, cannot let the Order be found."

"Then how did-"

"You know how he did! He was Remus Lupin's bloody Alpha! A Bond of that strength cuts through Fidelius, indeed just about any Ward, like a hot knife through butter. If anybody in the Order had a Soulmate Bond, they could be found as easily. Fortunately, nobody has, and we are safe."

"Remus assured be that he didn't know the Wolf that had bit him," snapped Albus. "He wouldn't lie to me."

"To begin with," said Snape, "how old was he when he told you that? Under what circumstances? I'm willing to bet you only asked him once, when he was a first year straight off the train. Do you think he'd have told you? He wouldn't have been able to, as his Alpha would have forbidden him. The Bond would have prevented him from harming his Alpha in any way. Telling you would probably have got him turned over to the law, and even as a child Remus would have known that Ministry policy was to kill Werewolves who had turned anybody. Secondly, he told you he lied to you. That day, after the meeting, he admitted that he'd lied to you. What more do you want?"

"Severus..." began Albus, "I've trusted Remus for a long time, and I still do. If he'd betrayed me, I'd know it."

"He didn't betray you, you stupid old man," snapped Snape. "He told a lie when he was eleven. It didn't have anything to do with your trust, or any promises he made later. Besides, when in the name of Hagga did you begin to trust him? After the first war, when you were completely sure he hadn't gone Dark. You'd had no reason to distrust him all those years, and plenty of reasons to trust him."

Albus smiled blandly. "You're defending him," he said finally. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"I'm not defending him," protested Snape. "I'm simply pointing out to you that you've absolutely no reason to demand unconditional truth or loyalty from him. Only loyalty to the Cause and the Order. No reason to expect him to tell you his life story, or to let you know his secrets. Who and what do you think you are? You are his employer, nothing more, nothing less. You need to realize that he doesn't belong to you, that none of us belongs to you, that I do not belong to you. Yes, we have duties, obligations to you, but what we do in our own time, whom we see, whom we decide to help, whether you like it or not, there is nothing you can do about it."

Albus blinked, started to say something, but decided against it, and swept out of Snape's lab. He hummed thoughtfully as he walked back to his office. Albus knew it wasn't quite fair to bait Severus, seeing as the man had been working at dozens of different projects for the Order and the School. Albus supposed that Voldemort wouldn't think of these as an excuse for not working as hard as always. He felt, however, that his Potions Master needed to vent to somebody. If getting him angry was the only way to make him speak his mind, or let loose his frustration, then Dumbledore would be happy to give him the opportunity.

Albus didn't actually distrust Severus, or believe half the things he had just said to him. He brought them up again and again partly to give Severus an excuse to explode, and partly since he was interested in the man's reactions. He knew, also, that Severus was run down on account of all he was doing. He was sure, too, that Severus was doing a great deal more than he admitted to. "So," he thought to himself, "Snape has a deal with Remus, has he? Must have something to do with that Alpha fellow... interesting..."

Severus, meanwhile, decided he would work out the idiosyncrasies of Philomena's blood later, and concentrate on the time analysis of the Potion she had already been given. If the Potion wore off before Remus found the Counterspells, the results would be grim.

XXX

Philomena was watching Remus work. He was quite absorbed in what he was doing, and seemed to have forgotten she was in the room. It was getting late, and Philomena was tired.

"Gotten anywhere?" she asked at last, trying to ease the silence in the room.

"Yes," Remus answered, looking up. "Nearly have it. I hope to goodness we've enough time before..."

Remus broke off with a shudder, and went back to his book.

"Father," she said slowly, "I... I wanted to say I was sorry."

Remus looked up and blinked. "Sorry? Whatever for, love?"

"I've been... distant, I suppose," she said. "I ... I'm ... a coward. You're my father, and I feel I ought to love you, and I'm afraid I simply won't measure up. It was so much easier to be friendly with Snape because... because I didn't have to, and he didn't want me to, and he wouldn't care if I didn't. Does that make sense?"

Remus blinked, and started to say something, but she cut him off. "I know it doesn't make much sense. I just saw how hurt you were when I called Snape 'Daddy', and I just... I didn't think it was fair. To hurt you like that, after all you've done."

"It's all right, love," sighed Remus. "I'm afraid I get a bit ... overprotective, you might say. I haven't a whole lot to be jealous about, you see."

She sighed. "I shouldn't be so afraid."

"Afraid of what?" asked Remus.

"A lot of things," she answered. "I'm afraid of making a mistake. I'm afraid that once you find out certain things, you will be angry with me. I'm afraid I'll... have to go back to Ralf..."

"You know, love," said Remus, "I had a terrible dream. I'd failed with you, and you'd ended up going back with him. Maybe I've already have failed, by not getting to you sooner."

"You couldn't have," she sighed. "You didn't know I was alive."

"I know," sighed Remus. "Doesn't stop me feeling guilty about it. Somehow, I ought to have known. Moony ought to have known..."

There was a silence, as Philomena fidgeted uncomfortably, and Remus went over his notes again, trying to get himself back on track.

"How do you do it?" asked Philomena. "Create a Counterspell, I mean?"

"Creating Counterspells is simple in theory," began Remus. "You have the Spell already, so you simply need something that counteracts everything it's done. In practice, that means I have to first pinpoint what results I want... for instance, if I simply reversed a balding hex that made your hair fall out, it would simple stick all the hair that had fallen back onto your head. But it wouldn't make sure that the roots were correctly implanted."

"Can I help?" she asked.

"Eh... I'm nearly finished. All I need now is the wand movement... but for that I need the wand movements for the original Spells..."

"And for that you have to develop them, too," she finished. "I'm sorry I can't be any help. I can't remember them... nothing."

"The thing about wand movements for Counterspells, is that they're nearly always the exact opposites of the original Spells. So, with luck, once I find the original wand movements, I should be set."

"Never used a wand," she admitted. "What difference does the movement make?"

"The movement focuses the Energy," answered Remus. "It's complicated Metaphysics, and I don't even understand half of it. Simply put, your wand channels your Magic, and depending on what direction you move your wand, your Magic is directed out at a different tangent, and that ... connects with the object Spelled in a certain way. For instance, Wingardium Leviosa. If I use that, with, instead of the upwards flick, a downwards flick, the Magic is forced downwards, while trying to force the feather upwards. The result is very weak."

"I think I understand," she answered. "Like ... with wandless, you need to concentrate on which fingers to use..."

Remus blinked. "Not many Mages use wandless. Not many can, really. It's not a human gift."

Philomena looked up, surprised. "Not human?"

Remus shook his head. "I can use... a little," he mused. "Because of my Beast side. I know most other partial humans can use it as well. Vampires, Veela descendants..."

"Do you suppose I'm fully human?" Philomena asked. "Considering the way I was born..."

Remus shrugged. "I haven't any idea. You were born of a Wolf, to a Wolf... perhaps that makes you partially Wolf. I'd hate to think what sort of classification the Ministry would give you, but since you were never registered anywhere..."

She grimaced. "You bet I'm registered in the Muggle world. I have a certificate of birth on the records, education records, medical... Ralf had connections. He used them." She shrugged. "I don't know why he bothered, really, considering that the less people knew about me, the less likely he'd be found out. Suffice it to say, that when I eventually try to find employment or some such, I won't be legally nonexistent. One headache avoided, I suppose."

Remus shook his head to clear it. "Yes, yes," he sighed. "I suppose you would want to find work at some point. Only natural."

"I was rather thinking of helping your Order," she said. "After all, a Seer is a valuable asset to anybody. Of course, I can't be introduced as your daughter, seeing as it is illegal..."

Remus ran his hands through his hair. This was why he'd agreed to Snape's terms, after all, so that the Order wouldn't know who she was. "Well," he said, trying to sound careless, "I suppose we could always... pretend you were somebody else."

"I'll think about it," she said.

He nodded absently, and rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Wish I knew how much time we had," he grumbled. "As it is I have no idea what I'm up against..."

"Snape said he'd get back as soon as he'd worked it out," assured Philomena.

Just then, an owl knocked on the window. Philomena crossed the room with a swirl of her robes to let it in. She took the scroll from the owl, and it flew off immediately.

"Speak of the devil," she mused, "and you step on his tail. It's from Snape."

She handed the message to Remus, who unrolled it, and held it so that both could read it. It was short and too the point, which considering the writer wasn't surprising:

Two Days

***Various Illegal Subjects***

Snape was waiting in the classroom that had been set aside for Potter's Occlumency lessons, or to be precise, his Occlumency and Various Illegal Subjects lessons. He smiled to himself, as he tallied points for a Ravenclaw exam. Harry would be late, by at least twenty minutes.

Harry arrived on the run wrenching the door opened, and slamming it behind him. He leaned against it, breathing heavily.

"Mr. Potter," said Snape silkily, replacing his quill in the inkwell, "you're late."

Harry looked flustered, as he swung his bag of books to the floor. "Sorry, Professor, but I ran into Peeves, who yelled down the corridor about belligerent boys invading the dungeons after hours, so naturally Filch arrived and I've spent all this time getting away from him."

"We will just have to stay later to make up for your tardiness, Mr. Potter," returned Snape. "Now, tell me, what have you learned over the week from your reading?"

"Well... that Avada Kedavra isn't just used to kill," Harry answered. "And that-"

"One thing at a time, Mr. Potter," interrupted Snape. "First, the Killing Curse. We will not be referring to it by name for obvious reasons. How does the Curse work?"

"It's a very primitive Spell," answered Harry. "It is activated less by the Intent of the Caster, and more by Desire. Theoretically, if I wanted to ... heat up my cocoa, and that was either all I wanted, or the only thing within reach of the spell that I wanted, that would be the result. However, any deeper desire will take over the spell regardless of my immediate Intent."

Snape nodded. "Your imbecilic brain does manage to hold a few facts after all, Potter. Now, tell me, what is your deepest Desire at this moment?"

Harry sighed. "I'm not sure."

"You don't know?" Snape mocked. "Surely, you have some idea of what you desire most of all, Potter?"

Harry bit his lip. "I ... for a while I thought I wanted to kill Voldemort, and destroy those loyal to him. But then I got to thinking... if I simply mercilessly slaughter them, am I not descending to their level? Using their methods doesn't seem right to me, but I can't see another way to do it. I am certain that what I want most in the world is to destroy his evil, but I don't think I'm capable of killing anybody."

"Mr. Potter," sighed Snape, "a person's soul is an immensely complex thing. It is impossible to separate a person's 'good,' side from his 'evil' side. Or to even say just what part of him makes him the way he is. Similarly, you can't separate a man's humorous side, from his serious side. A man is too knit together to divide into elements of himself. It's simply not possible."

"I know," said Potter quietly. "But it shouldn't matter, should it? If my Desire is impossible, my Intent should be enough. And if I intend to kill him, I should be able to."

"You don't want to kill him, do you?" asked Snape, his eyes glittering keenly, as he leaned forward over the desk, rising out of his chair slightly.

"What difference does it make what I want?" asked Harry bitterly. "It's never made much difference before. Why should it now? It's not important. I have to do this, and I'm here to learn how from you. I don't want the threat of Voldemort hanging over my head my whole life. The sooner I eliminate him the better."

Snape rose and walked around the desk towards Harry, his cloak a swirl of gray, with a billow of black robes. "You must understand, that even if you do eliminate the Dark Lord," said Severus softly, "the war will be far from over. Some of the Death Eaters will not stop with his demise, but rather see an opening for their own ascension to power."

"That may be true, professor," answered Potter, "but that won't be... my responsibility. Other people can do that. My plan... once it's over, and I'm out of school, is to leave. I want to go somewhere, anywhere. Far away, where nobody has ever heard of me. Muggle if I have to. So that I can simply live like an ordinary man, doing things an ordinary man can do. Once I kill Voldemort, there will be nothing to make me different anymore. Nothing to make people fall over themselves to keep me safe, or attempt to kill me. Where people will get to know who I am, and not who they expect me to be."

Severus sighed. "What we want is not always possible."

"I know," admitted Potter. "But I need a dream."

For a moment there was a silence in the room, as both thought about what had been said. Finally, Severus brought his hand down onto the desk with a slap. "Enough," he said. "Let's get on with this."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, immediately bringing himself back to full attention.

"Since your deepest Desire is impossible, your Intent will have to do as a focus the Curse. I am going to teach you to cast the Killing Curse. We will start small, to get over your natural aversion to casting it. Gradually, you will become accustomed to using it, so that when push comes to shove you will not make the fatal error of hesitating."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, drawing his wand. "What shall I start on?"

Snape pulled his quill from the inkwell, and dropped it unceremoniously onto the desk. "Transfigure that," he ordered," into a twig." Severus stepped back from the desk, one hand fingering his cloak pin as he watched.

"Yes, sir." Harry stepped up to the desk and drew his wand. He took a deep breath, and brought his wand down, practicing the jagged line that had been the last sight of so many Wizards. He called into mind the same feeling he used when Transfiguring for McGonagall; the wish to force one thing into the form of something else. He brought his wand back up, and brought it back down in the same movement. "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light erupted from his wand, and enveloped the quill. Harry squinted at it, as the green light pulsed for a moment before it dissipated, leaving a slightly quillesque twig lying on the desk.

Snape picked up the twig, which was hollow and had a pointed nib on one end, examining it critically. "Not much for Transfiguration, are you?"

"Not very," admitted Harry, "but at least it did something."

"You are afraid of using the Curse," said Snape simply. "You are holding yourself back. Put every ounce of willpower into the Curse. Feel it. Feel the Power, and channel it through your wand. Try again."

Snape Retransfigured the quill, and Harry tried again. Focusing deeply on the quill, and imagining a perfect twig in his mind's eye, Harry raised his wand then brought it back down in the lightning slash. "Avada Kedavra!"

The green light shot out and immediately the quill became a twig with a soft swoosh. Harry blinked at it. "I ... I did it."

"Progress, indeed, Potter," agreed Professor Snape. "My Wards, however, shan't hold out much longer. After all, there are only so many Unforgivables I can filter out without the Headmaster noticing."

"Professor," asked Harry, "can I ask a question? If... the Ministry can detect underage Magic, why can't it detect an Unforgivable?"

"It can, Mr. Potter," answered Snape, "but it doesn't. Even the Underage Magic Detection System has limits. I believe you are familiar with the fact that the Caster cannot always be identified correctly. We are, however, not here to discuss the Ministry or its policies."

Harry nodded, and stared at the twig on Snape's desk. The enormity of what he'd just done washed over him. He had committed a felony, which could land him in Azkaban. He had used an Unforgivable deliberately. He had simply Transfigured a quill into a harmless twig, but at the same time disobeyed Dumbledore's express orders not to meddle or learn any Dark Arts, broken the law, and taken the first step towards his ultimate goal of eliminating Voldemort.

"A beautiful twig, Mr. Potter," said Snape suddenly, "but surely not worth staring at for the rest of our lesson."

"Sorry, sir," apologized Harry. "It's... it's a bit overwhelming."

"Well, if they taught elementary things like this in Defense, we wouldn't be here," said Snape. "However, we aren't here to talk about School Policy either. You are here to learn Occlumency, and the Headmaster is waiting for progress in that department. He's seen precious little this year."

"I've finished the book, sir," said Harry tightly. "It was a bit difficult. I'm not sure I understood all of it, or that I could do it, but I know how it works."

"In general terms," said Snape, slipping into lecture mode, "how does Legilimency work, and how does that effect your options for Defense, both with Occlumency and by other means?"

Harry smiled. "I am prepared for this," he said. "I've written you a four foot essay on the subject. I was sure it would be one of your questions."

"Potter," snapped Snape, "I do hope that this essay is your work, and not that of Granger. I must stress that your foolish Gryffindor tendency not to ask for help apply to these lessons. May I assure you, Potter, that if we are caught at this endeavor, the consequences will not include tea with the Headmaster."

"Look here," grated Harry, "I don't much care what-" He stopped abruptly, and took a deep breath to control his temper. "No, I didn't get help," he said quietly. "I just didn't want to waste too much time talking about theory."

Harry rummaged about in his bag and produced a scroll, which he handed to Snape.

"I shall go over this later, when I have time," Snape stated, pocketing it in his cloak. Harry raised an eyebrow, and Snape sighed. "It's charmed to shrink anything I care to put there," he explained. "Must you always think like a Muggle?"

Harry set his jaw, and said nothing. Snape gave him a steady look and said, "As you claim to be quite prepared with theory, let us try practice. You are to attack me, Potter, with Legilimency. I want you to pay attention not only to the mechanics of your attack, but to my defense."

Snape moved to the center of the room, threw his cloak over his shoulder, and braced his feet. "Begin."

Harry shifted his wand about in his hand as he got into position opposite Snape. Harry waited a moment, before suddenly slashing his wand to the left intoning, "Legilimens!"

Harry stared into Snape's eyes fixedly, channeling the magic through them into the darkness of his professor's mind. Suddenly, the room no longer existed, and all Harry could see was a black wall of negative Magic - Snape's defenses. Harry narrowed his eyes, and contemplated simply barreling into the barrier, but then thought that was just what Snape would expect. He skirted his Spell towards the far corner of the Snape's blockade, and tried to slip around it. He nearly succeeded, but Snape realized what the boy's intention, and ejected his Magic with such force that Harry was thrown across the room.

With the spell broken, Harry shook his head to clear it and then looked back at Snape. He wasn't sure what to expect, beyond annoyance, frustration or anger. What he did see surprised him. The look of satisfaction on his Professor's face was unnerving.

"It seems you weren't just looking through the book for the pictures," said Snape with finality, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to help Harry back to his feet.

Harry blinked. Snape was supposed to be angry at his success, or belittle his efforts. Snape would mock Harry's weakness, not hold out a hand to help him up. A smile of satisfaction was out of place on his face, and ought to have been a sneer. Confused at his Professor's change of attitude, Harry nevertheless took his hand, and pulled himself to his feet.

There was a silence as Harry struggled to think of something to say. "Thank you," didn't seem appropriate, and saying something along the lines of "it's good to see you not being a git," would be suicide.

Snape smiled enigmatically, and leaned against the opposite wall, regarding Harry almost lazily with half closed eyes. "Tell me what went through your mind when you attacked. How did you use your advantages?"

"Well, I had several things to my disadvantage as well," said Harry trying to keep his thoughts in a logical order. "I know you to a certain extent, and so I could imagine in advance what sort of attack you were expecting. I know your method of attack from before, and I know memories you find painful that I could use to weaken your defense."

"All of which facilitated your attack," remarked Snape serenely. "What factors weakened it?"

"To begin with, you were expecting the attack, and therefore had put your defenses in place before I could penetrate your mind. You know me, and therefore could anticipate how I was likely to attack. I subverted that, by deducing that you knew that, and going around instead of head on, as I suspect you anticipated I would."

Snape blinked. "Do you mind repeating that, Potter? It was slightly garbled."

Harry grimaced. "Er... let's just say my disadvantage was that you were prepared and were familiar with my more reckless qualities."

Snape nodded. "Continue."

"Also to my disadvantage was the fact that you are very skilled at both Occlumency and Legilimency, whereas I am unskilled at both."

"You are acknowledging your weaknesses," said Snape. "Good, that's the first step in overcoming them."

Harry nodded. "I think that's all."

"Very well," said Snape, sliding back from the wall, and returning to the center of the room. "Now apply those principles to your defense. Legilimens!"

Harry gritted his teeth as he felt Snape's prying magic delve into his mind. He shut his eyes, and concentrated on the mental image of a Beater's bat, with which he repelled Snape's invasion.

Harry opened his eyes, and was greeted by Snape's sardonic smile. "I ought to have known you'd apply Quidditch logic, even to this. I believe we've done enough for tonight. By next week, I expect you to be able to repel me with your eyes opened. If the Dark Lord tries to attack your mind while in the midst of a battle like the one at the Department of Mysteries, closing your eyes to concentrate on Occluding could quite possibly be fatal."

"Yes, Sir," said Harry. "Anything else?"

Snape put his head to one side and considered. "You'll want to get yourself simpler robes," he said. "Those sleeves can get in the way."

Harry blinked in surprise, and nodded. "You can have the books back, sir. I've read them."

"You took notes, I hope?" asked Professor Snape.

"Yes, Sir," nodded Harry, handing his books to his Professor.

"Don't leave your notes lying about and burn them as soon as possible," ordered Snape. "Dismissed."

Harry grabbed his bag, and disappeared through the door and down the corridor, wondering for the hundredth time whether he was actually doing the right thing by trusting Snape as much as he was.

Snape smiled silkily as he ran a finger down the spine of the Legilimency text. At last it was his. He wondered, idly, if it was worth the bother of teaching and being civil to Potter. He would read it as soon as he'd finalized Philomena's Potion. With her life hanging in the balance, she had priority over his personal studies and safety. Pocketing the book in his cloak, he banished the others to his rooms, and made his way back to his lab.

***Antidotes and Counterspells***

Snape had several diagrams spread out over one of the worktables in his laboratory. To the casual observer they were worth nothing and seemed to be gibberish, but to a fellow Potions Master, a Mediwizard, or even a forensics expert they would make a certain measure of sense.

Each chart detailed a myriad facts, possibilities, and problems. There were lists of ingredients likely to have adverse reactions, lists of possible side effects, dosage calculations, and an affectivity prognosis. There were diagrams of blood type and the strength of Philomena's Magical Immune System; tables full of lists of the reactions of different ingredients to each other.

From these Snape had managed to calculate twenty possible combinations for a possible Antidote. That was progress from the hours he'd spent merely preparing the charts, and triple checking all of his results.

Snape scratched a quick arithmetical problem on a scrap of parchment. The twenty possibilities would take ten hours to brew. Testing would probably take another five hours, if all went well. Snape rubbed his temples and hoped to Merlin that at least one of them would work. He didn't want to be the one to tell Philomena there was no Antidote.

"Damn the man," he growled, adding three hours to compare the possible solutions left to each other and to choose a final Potion, then another four or so hours to fine-tune it. "I should be able to do it in time," he muttered, "provided the Dark Lord doesn't decided to make a nuisance of himself."

XXXX

Pacing the length of his office, Albus kept half an eye on the Scrying Mirror on the mantle. Severus was apparently still hard at work on his secret project. As he scratched a short addition problem out on a scrap of parchment, and muttered something. Albus wished for the hundredth time that the Mirror could convey sound. Albus sighed, as he watched Severus rise from the desk, and begin to prepare several large cauldrons. "I hope to Merlin you know what you're doing, my boy," he whispered, "for all our sakes."

XXXX

After nearly half an hour of searching for his frogs, Remus Lupin decided he had better not skip preliminary testing after all. With a growl of frustration, he brought his notes out again, his favorite Dictionary of Magical Formulae, and began a torturous series of Arithmancy calculations, complete with graphs.

Hours later, when he'd corrected several minor flaws, he returned to his laboratory to find his tank of frogs right where it ought to have been. He blinked, checked the frogs for signs of Magical tampering, found none, and got back to work. Philomena smiled, refilled his teacup, and said nothing.

XXXX

Rabastan sighed, and looked at the two containers of blood in front of him. One contained Snape's sample, the other the Dark Lord's. They were both in a rather nasty state of congealment and he wasn't at all sure that was what was supposed to happen.

Rabastan scowled, and returned his attention to the notes Dolohov had left him. They seemed far neater than usual. Perhaps Dolohov had gotten Malfoy to help with the project. With a growl of frustration, he recast the Anticoagulant Spell and wondered how Dolohov had managed it.

XXXX

Severus eliminated fifteen possible combinations, and resignedly started a base mixture for the remaining five. He was completely engrossed in his work, and had lost all sense of time and place as he prepared ingredients for addition once the base was ready.

The combinations that had failed testing had been Evanescoed to oblivion, save for a small sample of each for Severus' notes. If he hadn't been angry about their not testing positive, he would noticed what a pretty line of gradated orange, red, and pink they made.

Snape worked silently, going about each operation in the process with a focus second to none. Watching from his office, Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder whether Severus ever had hummed, or talked to himself.

Snape couldn't help but wonder who it was that had his laboratory under surveillance, and how exactly they had managed it. He carefully positioned his notes so that they could not be read from the direction Severus sensed his watcher, and made sure to work on enough different mixtures at once to avoid his goal from being divined.

XXXX

Remus tested his Counter Spells; and found he still had much revision to do. "The Counterspell is ideal if the color is a complement of the color of the original Spell," muttered Remus. "I knew something was missing..."

Philomena watched her father from the couch. He was as focused as he'd been before she'd interrupted him, so absorbed that he hardly noticed what he was saying. She watched in confusion as Remus began to sketch rapidly with various different colored inks.

"This orange is tertiary making it less than ideal," he muttered. "What I really need is a violet, preferably a secondary shade."

Philomena blinked, and decided she needed to find a text on Chromatic Theory. Apparently, color had far more influence on Spells than she'd guessed.

XXXX

Snape had narrowed his search down to three possible formulae. It was four in the morning, Tuesday. "Twenty hours," he thought to himself, "before I'll have to redo the Spells and the Potion to prevent the girl's death."

Snape made a quick mental calculation, subtracting his class times, and allowing for incidentals including Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, the Boy Who Lived, and allowing leeway for traveling. He was left with roughly seven hours of work time, provided he didn't fall asleep over his cauldrons.

Downing his third Pepper Up, he reminded himself mentally not to take tea, as the caffeine would react badly with the arnica.

XXXX

Remus let out a cry of triumph as his Spells tested positive, even the third one, which he had nearly forgotten to do. It had been the most difficult, considering that the only information he had was the color, and the effect. Iuvenari, as he had determined, was a fairly weak Incantation, which was why Ralf had needed to have it reinforced by the secondary Incantations and the Potion.

"I have it!" he crowed, barely refraining from dancing about the room. "It's finished!" Quickly he grabbed the least scribbled on bit of parchment in the room and dashed off a note to Snape to let him know of the development.

He whistled shrilly, calling the school owl Albus had lent him. She took off with the note, and Remus settled into his chair to wait for Philomena to wake up. Six in the morning, he'd decided, was an unacceptable time for anybody to go to sleep.

XXXX

Snape smiled in satisfaction as he added Remus' information to his notes. Knowing which Spells had been used to reinforce the original Potion helped greatly to narrow down possible Antidotes. After several lengthy Arithmancy problems, he was left with a single Potion.

He stared thoughtfully at the burbling contents of Cauldron Six, before bottling samples of the others, and disposing of the excess. "Five hours," he thought to himself, "Five hours."

XXXX

Philomena noted that her father was particularly groggy that morning, and made sure not to comment on his occasional nodding off. She noted as well, that he continually watched either the window or the Floo in the corner of his eye.

Remus was nervous, wishing Snape had at least somehow acknowledged receipt of Remus' news. As it was, he had no way of knowing how far Snape's research had progressed, or whether it was at all possible to cure his daughter that day.

He knew that Snape had classes and work to attend to, that these duties would naturally distract him from his research, but that didn't prevent Remus from constantly wondering what the man was up to, and when he would receive word.

XXXX

By six in the evening, Snape had tested his Formula to exhaustion, modifying it until he was sure that there was only a token probability of negative effects. Allowing himself to smile, he bottled the final Potion that he had decided to call VeraAetas.

He pocketed the calculated dosage, and made his way up to Filch's office. A quick bargain ensured that his Remedial Class would not go unsupervised, and Snape used Filch's fireplace to Floo himself to Lupin's cottage.

Falling out into the hearth, Snape quickly righted himself, and brushed the ash from his cloak. "Good evening, Lupin," he said curtly, stepping into the room.

"Severus," cried Remus, practically leaping off the couch towards the man. "Did you get my note? Have you finished your research? Do you have an - "

"Control yourself, Lupin, please," interrupted Severus, automatically stepping backwards at Remus' onslaught. "Yes I got your note and a pity you aren't my student or I'd have taken points for sloppiness. Yes, I have finished my research and if I didn't have an Antidote I wouldn't have bothered to come here in person. I suggest we get this done now. We don't want to push our luck with the time."

"Yes, of course," said Remus. "Which shall we do first? The Charms of the Potion?"

"Charms," said Severus immediately. "The Potion's effect is to eliminate her present Form and restore her True one. The Charms are what are holding her present Form in place and depressing the other."

Philomena, having heard Severus come in, descended the stairs, and looked expectantly from one man to the other. "Well?" she said. "Shall we get started?"

"I'm going to cast the Counterspells now," explained Remus. "And then you are to take the Antidote."

Snape withdrew the vial from his cloak. "It may not look very nice," he remarked idly, "but it should taste vaguely like cinnamon, and the pain should be minimal."

"Thank heaven for small favors," muttered Remus sarcastically. "Minimal? How much is 'minimal'?"

"Not enough to bother adding Nightshade," said Snape dryly.

"Ready?" asked Remus, drawing his wand.

She nodded and he began. Snape watched with narrowed eyebrows, as Remus brought his wand about in a bewildering series of twirls, while chanting three distinct series of Spells. The light was uncomfortably bright, the first burst being violet, followed closely by a blue green, and a flash of amber.

Philomena staggered backwards, and clutched her head. "Itches," she groaned. "Under my skin... Trying to get out..."

Snape pressed the Potion into her hand. "I suggest you go to your room and take that. You'll be all right."

Philomena took the vial and disappeared up the stairs without another word. Snape shifted uncomfortably under Remus baleful gaze. "Don't look at me like that, Lupin," he snapped. "I simply thought the girl would like a little ... privacy. All things considered, it would be highly embarrassing..."

Snape trailed off, as they heard a thump from upstairs. Remus made a move for the stairs, but Snape grabbed his arm to stop him. "Leave her be, Lupin," he ordered, pushing the man into a chair. "She is fine. Give her a bit of time to accustomed to things."

"But," protested Remus, "what if she's-"

"She is fine," insisted Snape, "If she weren't I'm sure she'd have yelled before now. Ideally, yes, I would have somebody with her, but neither of us is female, and it would be highly inappropriate to-"

"That is quite enough," interrupted Remus. "You're right."

Snape sighed and sank onto the couch. "Merlin, I wish I could have some tea right now," he muttered.

Remus jumped up and headed for the kitchen. "You only had to ask," he said. "I'll be glad to-"

"I can't," sighed Snape. "Pepper-Up overdose. Been up since... seven thirty in the morning yesterday."

"I'm sorry," said Remus, returning to the room.

"No need to be," returned Snape. "It isn't your fault. It's simply a combination of problems falling at the same time. If you don't mind, I should like to stay until your daughter has sorted herself out so I can be sure she is fine. The possibility of adverse reactions is negligible, but I should like to be on hand in case of an anomaly."

"Quite alright," said Remus, reseating himself. "I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done."

"You will," smiled Snape, tapping the pin at his throat. "You assuredly will."

***Pure Blood Politics and Potions Results***

Remus sat on the couch beside Snape and tried very hard not to fidget. Snape had leaned back, propped his feet on the coffee table, and looked half asleep. Remus knew that startling a man like Severus out of his doze was a bad idea.

"Severus?" he asked cautiously.

The man murmured something indistinct in reply, blinking blearily.

"How long should it take?" asked Remus. "She's been up there..."

"For ten minutes," answered Snape, coming to himself and checking the time. "The change should take a good half hour."

"Half an hour?" asked Remus, starting up. "But why?"

"I'm a Potion's Master," said Snape dryly, "not a miracle man. Think about it, Lupin. She's undergoing a complete change of Physiology. If it happened faster it would be unbelievably painful. I made the formula such that it minimized pain, and that unfortunately necessitated lengthening the activation time."

Lupin simply blinked at him. Severus continued, "You're no stranger to abrupt changes in Physiology. The Change from human to salivating monster is, I understand, quite painful. This is not quite as jarring to the body being simply an aging process, which the body and mind have both been intending for some time. However, it is none the less an undertaking best not rushed."

"Will she be all right?" asked Remus, trying hard not to bolt out of his chair.

"I think you ought to have asked that before I gave it to her," remarked Snape snidely. "Calm yourself, Lupin. I'm sure you have complete confidence in your work. I assure you, I have tested that Potion to exhaustion and it shall be perfectly all right."

Remus took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself down. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's... I'm very protective of her."

Snape nodded. "Understandable. She is your daughter, after all."

Remus sighed. "It's odd, you know. I never thought I'd actually have a child. After Ralf left and I thought I'd killed her, I mean. After that I was sure I didn't want children, and would make a horrid father. But..."

"I'm sure she's wormed her way into your heart," said Snape. "Perfectly normal. It's called family."

Remus pursed his eyebrows, wondering just what had set such a bitter edge on Snape's words. "Have you... have you ever wanted a family?" he asked. "I know you never married, but..."

"And there's my problem," said Snape tightly, "I never married."

"I'm sorry," said Remus quickly. "I didn't mean to-"

"Do stop apologizing, Lupin," snapped Severus. "It's grating on my nerves."

"Sorry," said Remus, before wincing.

Snape smirked at him. "Not that bright are you?" he sniped caustically. "To answer your previous question, I have, on occasion, thought that a child would ... be nice."

"Really?" asked Remus. "What would you have wanted?"

"Oh, the usual type, Lupin," continued Snape easily. "Reddish, bawling, and about this big." Severus spread his hands in a vague gesture and Remus' eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"Er... just how much of that Pepper-Up have you taken?" Remus asked with a sudden concern.

Snape shrugged. "Enough to make an idiot of myself apparently."

"Why didn't you?" asked Remus after a while. "Get married, I mean."

Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "Why do you think?" he spat acidly.

Remus cringed, barely stopping himself from saying he was sorry again. "I... I suppose it does make sense. With all that you were doing, I'm sure you wouldn't want to put a family at risk, and..."

"Don't be an idiot," snapped Snape. "It wasn't my decision. It's got nothing to do with your Gryffindor nobility. It's simply that I... it was Mordred, really."

"Your brother?" muttered Remus, betraying his shock and confusion, "but... what?"

"He was my elder brother," Snape said, as though that explained everything.

"I don't see what that has to do with it," admitted Remus.

Snape gave an exasperated sigh, and got to his feet. "Have you ever heard of Primogeniture?" he asked.

"Of course," answered Remus. "The tradition of the eldest son inheriting."

"Yes," said Snape acidly. "And have you ever heard of the Inheritance Act of 1745?"

Remus blinked in confusion. "I'm afraid I haven't."

"It states, amongst other idiocy, that Squibs may not inherit, nor may they considered the Paterfamilias."

Remus blinked blankly.

Snape slipped easily into his classroom persona. "My older brother was six when I was born. I was a second son, unwanted, unplanned for, and in general, a nuisance to my family.

"However, when my brother reached the ripe age of eleven, without showing any sign of Magic whatsoever, things took a decidedly different turn. My brother was useless. Every test showed the same unwanted result. He was a Squib.

"It was a horrific time. The family tried their best to hide their shame. Of course, after years of flaunting and fawning over their perfect son, hiding him wasn't exactly easy. They kept him inside, claimed he had gone to a foreign school.

"When I began to show signs of magic things became worse. My parents were less than pleased. Their first son was supposed to be perfect, they couldn't care less what happened to me.

"There was some talk of simply eliminating Mordred, thereby having a proper heir, but I believe my Mother was a trifle too fond of him for that to be an option. Thus Mordred grew up, as did I.

"No pure blood in their right mind would allow their daughter to think of marrying the second son of a family as powerful as ours, and my parents would never have stood for their son marrying a girl of questionable lineage.

"Quite simply, Lupin, I was not considered... eligible. No father would let his daughter marry me, knowing there was a good chance I would never inherit the Snape title or wealth. Matters only worsened when, one summer, about third year, Mordred escaped my parents' tight control and disappeared into the Muggle world.

"I shall always suspect that somehow they knew what help I'd given him and that we were still in contact with each other. Matters were now complicated in the extreme, especially on my brother's eighteenth birthday, at which point, according to tradition, he should have officially been announced as joint Lord with my father. This was in my second or third year at Hogwarts.

"My parents could not acknowledge Mordred's ineligibility had they so desired; they were at an impasse. They could not claim me as their heir without Mordred's presence, and they could not instate Mordred, as he wasn't there, and even if he had been, the initiation ceremony requires a magical signature.

"It was a fiasco. As my father's cousin moved in to the kill he demanded my brother be initiated, and of course, my father couldn't do that. He then claimed that as my brother had run away from home before being instated my father had no right to claim him as an heir. I was still out of the question.

"My father had no choice at this point, but to declare his cousin heir presumptuous. Mordred was, still is, considered, 'missing,' and has the right to inherit if were he to resurface. He won't though, considering that he died at twenty-five. My parents have no knowledge of this, and still resent me for not revealing his location to them.

"Therefore, I am resented from all sides. My parents hate the fact that I am preventing them from instating an heir of their blood by hiding Mordred. My father's cousin, of course, sees me as a threat to his claim. I am still ineligible to marry any pureblood, and with the complication of the Dark Lord I can't consider any other match."

Snape, finished, fell into the nearest chair and put his head in his hands. Remus took a deep breath, and asked, "What if you revealed your brother's death? Wouldn't that automatically put you first in line?"

Snape sighed. "If I reveal his death, I'd have to prove it. If I proved it, it would also bring to light the record of his marriage and the birth of his sons. They come before me in the line, being sons of the first son. They negate any claim I might have. If they were Wizards, they would inherit. As they are not, by the Inheritance Act, two generations of Squibs in the line proves that it is unsound, and the title must revert to the next of kin of the last Wizard to have held it. In other words, my father's cousin. I couldn't care less about my own title or status, and while I know my father does not deserve it, his cousin deserves it even less.

"So, you see, I am at an impasse when it comes to marriage- legal marriage, that is."

Remus frowned. "I don't think legality would stop you if you really wanted to," he said at last. "And you've hidden greater things from You-Know-Who before."

"Yes," sighed Snape, "but unfortunately, when a woman is already married, it does put a damper on things."

Remus' eyes widened, but seeing the look on Severus' face, he knew better than to ask to whom he was referring. An uncomfortable silence fell, as Remus didn't know what to say, and Snape regretted saying what he had.

Philomena chose that moment to stumble down the stairs. Snape got to his feet awkwardly, as Remus jumped up and ran towards her, catching her elbow to prevent her from falling.

Remus stared at his daughter for a moment. "You've grown," he said at last.

Snape made an impatient noise at the back of his throat. "That was the general idea, Lupin."

Philomena certainly had grown; she was nearly as tall as her father. Remus was struck again with her likeness to his mother. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered slowly. "I feel ... right."

"No discomfort?" asked Snape.

"A little," she said, "but that's mostly trying to get used to being this tall."

Snape grimaced. "I do believe I know the feeling, Ms. Lupin."

"You'd better sit down," said Remus hurriedly leading her to the couch. "Sort yourself out."

"If I may say so," said Snape, "you look quite... well."

"Because your potion worked quite well," she answered sincerely. "Thank you."

Before Snape could protest she had given him a hug. "I'll never be able to thank you enough," she said, stumbling to give her father a hug as well, "Either of you."

"That is quite alright," said Snape, blinking.

Philomena faltered to the couch, letting herself fall onto it. She began to stare at her hands with fascination, marveling how long her fingers had become. Remus took a deep breath, then did what he usually did in a crisis. He offered to make tea.

"She shouldn't have tea," said Snape, preventing him yet again, "for at least a day."

Stifling a groan, Remus reseated himself beside his daughter. "I'll need to get back to the School," said Snape after an uncomfortable pause. "There's only so much time I can explain away as a meeting without causing suspicion."

"You can say you were with me," said Remus. "According to your own rules of misdirection, that should cause him to believe you weren't here. Besides, I'm sure he's noticed you've been working on something, and to stave off inquiries, you can say you were giving me some help on the Warding Project."

"Very well," agreed Snape. "I shall see you both soon, I trust."

"Thank you again, Mr. Snape," said Philomena. "And when you have time, I'd still like those Potions lessons you promised."

Snape gave a distracted nod as he headed for the fireplace. "Severus," Remus quickly joined him. "I know you don't want my thanks," he said. "I know you'll just say you'll get returns. I know you'd rather you hadn't said anything a while ago, and the last thing you want is my pity or..."

Remus trailed off as Snape stared at him. Abruptly he stuck out his hand. "Good luck, Severus," he said.

Snape pursed his eyebrows, seemingly at a loss for a moment. Philomena caught his eye and nodded. Snape sucked in a shuddering breath and eventually took Remus' hand. "It was my pleasure," he said quietly, before dropping Remus' hand, and Flooing away.

Remus stared at the green flames as Snape crackled out of sight. "I did it," he said softly. "I shook Snape's hand and I'm still alive."

Philomena blinked. "Why shouldn't you be?"

Remus sighed heading back to her. "We have a bad history," he said at last. "It's... complicated and... I'm sure he'd not want you to know."

She looked down at herself ruefully. "This is going to take some getting used to. For once I'm glad for these ridiculous robes. Being children's they're charmed to change with growth... but I believe this has put a bit of a strain on them."

"I'll see about getting you fitted out again," Remus assured her.

"No need," she said quickly, having figured out that money was a touchy subject with him. "I can transfigure them."

He looked at her in surprise. She sighed. "It's no use keeping it a secret, I suppose. I've done wandless Magic for a long while."

Remus shook his head to clear it and stared at his daughter. "Yes," he said at last, "this will take some getting used to."