Late afternoon sunlight streamed through the high arched window. Its rays illuminated the slumbering red and gold bird perched on a bronze stand beside the headmaster’s mahogany desk and fell across the faded rug covering much of the stone floor.

A man sat in an armchair across from the desk, perfectly still although his tensed muscles betrayed his impatience. He was in his mid-thirties, although the deep lines on his face made him look older, and had jet-black hair that brushed the collar of his ebony robes. Just like Albus, he thought crossly. To insist on this meeting and then not even be here when I arrive.

But it really wasn’t like Dumbledore and considering the grievous injury his old friend and mentor had recently suffered, his absence was worrying. Abruptly, the man leaped from his chair and stalked around the room, his robes billowing as he made his way by several spindly-legged tables with interesting silver contraptions atop.

“Impatient, aren’t we? Students today have no---,”

The man glared at the speaker, a disagreeable-looking older man in a portrait hanging on the wall. “I have not been a student for some years now, Phineas, as you well know. And my time is valuable.”

Resuming his pacing, he scanned the rest of the collection of portraits, all former headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts. “Do any of you know where Albus is, and why he is not in his office after practically demanding that I see him this afternoon?”

“Despite what you may believe, Professor,” Phineas Nigellus replied loftily. “Dumbledore does not confide his every move to us.” A hint of concern played over his features. “Although after his last escapade, perhaps he should.”

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” A woman with silver ringlets spoke from several portraits down the wall.

The black-robed man was in no mood for reassurances. “Go and visit St. Mungo’s, Dillys.” He turned his back on the portraits and walked over to the window.

At the same instant, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the doorway behind him and came to a halt. To observe Severus Snape without the the other man’s awareness was a rare thing. Severus was naturally very alert to his environment and his service as a spy had only improved his abilities.

Usually people only saw what Severus wanted them to see—an aloof, disdainful man with a perpetual sneer, always ready to intimidate or wound with an acerbic comment. Only with Dumbledore did Severus lower his defenses and then only briefly. Now, as the Potions Master stared out the window, his expression seemed sorrowful. His shoulders bent slightly as though the burden he carried had grown too heavy.

Dumbledore wondered if anyone else had ever seen the pain and aching loneliness behind Severus’ mask. Perhaps one girl; a pretty kindhearted girl with long red hair and emerald eyes that pierced the façade. But in the end Severus had pushed her away, too. After all, not very many people can help an injured dragon. It spits fire at anyone who gets too close and a person can only take so many burns. In any case, the girl had died long ago.

Thinking of her reminded Dumbledore of the reason for this meeting and he swept into the room, saying lightly, “Ah, Severus, I’m so sorry for making you wait. I had to speak with Kingsley Shacklebolt and it ended up taking a bit longer than I had anticipated.”

Severus had turned from the window at the words, and watched silently as the headmaster entered. Although his movements were quick and energetic, Dumbledore looked tired and uncharacteristically rumpled. His rich green robes were wrinkled and his snowy hair and beard mussed. A thick white bandage covered his right hand and arm and from the way he held it, Severus could tell it pained him.

In spite of himself, Severus’ irritibability slipped away when the headmaster could not hold back a weary sigh as he sank into his chair and motioned for the Potions professor to sit with his left hand. Ignoring the request, Severus walked over to stand beside Dumbledore and started to reach for the injured arm.

“Do you need more elixir, Albus?” He questioned, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“No, no, I’m well enough. Thank you, Severus. I’m more tired than anything.” Dumbledore again motioned for his companion to take a seat and waited until Severus had settled into his chair before speaking. “I need a favor.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. What is it?”

“Last week I moved Harry from Privet Drive to the Burrow—“

“Are you sure that was wise, Albus?” Severus couldn’t keep from interrupting. “Now that You-Know-Who has declared open warfare, I would think Potter should be with his relatives more than ever. It is the safest place, correct?”

“Yes, I’ve had doubts about moving him,” Dumbledore replied. “I admit I may have made a mistake in this. But Harry is grief-stricken and in great emotional pain. He needs to be with people who love him.”

Severus waved a hand. “His physical safety must be our top priority. People recover from emotional pain.”

Do they, Severus? But Dumbledore knew better than to voice that thought aloud. “Molly, Arthur, and I have gone to great lengths to ward the Weasley home. Minerva and I have been taking it in turns to keep watch over Harry as well. There is still some degree of risk, but I believe it is an acceptable one in exchange for Harry receiving the care he desperately needs.”

“Well, since you’ve already made up your mind, let’s move on,” Severus arched his eyebrows. “About this favor you need?”

“Yesterday Minerva had to leave for a family emergency. Her niece has disappeared.”

Severus remembered the girl from her years at Hogwarts. A tall girl with long black hair, pale skin, and dark blue eyes. She’d been rather good at potions, even if she had been a Gryffindor. She’d be in her mid-twenties now.

“I remember Sara,” He remarked quietly. “What happened?”

“She didn’t show up for her shift at St. Mungo’s. Someone went to her cottage to investigate. It had been broken into, and there was the Dark Mark above it.” Dumbledore said heavily.

Both men were quiet for a few moments. Then Dumbledore spoke again, more briskly. “You know I’ve been working on a special project for some time now, and I’ve stumbled across a particularly promising lead. I must follow it up immediately.”

Severus had already figured out where Dumbledore was going with this conversation. He scowled. “There are other Order members, Albus. Perhaps Lupin could make himself useful for once.”

“Remus is already on a mission and I can’t justify calling him back when you are available,” Dumbledore answered serenely.

“I’m not available,” Severus snapped. “I’m in the middle of brewing some very complex potions. If I abandon them now, they’ll be ruined.”

“But as you yourself pointed out, Severus, Harry’s safety must be our top priority. Like it or not, you are the only Order member who can devote the next few days to protecting him.”

The Potions Master’s lips tightened in impotent anger. To be dragged away from the peaceful solitude of the dungeons, to lose the weeks of work that had already gone into creating his potions, and that he should have to give it up to watch over Potter of all people!

“What if You-Know-Who summons during the time I’m babysitting precious Potter?” He demanded.

“If that should occur, you may contact Mundungus Fletcher and he will stand guard until you are able to return,” Dumbledore answered.

It was on the tip of Severus’ tongue to demand that Fletcher be assigned the task of watching over the wizarding world’s One Great Hope, but as soon as he recognized the thought, it died. Mundungus Fletcher had his uses, but he was not renowned for either his powers or his courage. That Dumbledore would suggest him as even a last resort meant that the other Order members were indeed occupied with extremely important matters.

Glaring furiously at the floor, Severus was strongly tempted to relieve his frustrations with a good, hard kick at the headmaster’s desk, but of course that would be too childish.

“Why do you insist on trying to foist that brat on me all the time, Albus?”

“In the past, I believed that if you could only get to know Harry, that the two of you could be a great strength and comfort to one another,” Dumbledore said softly.

As Severus sputtered at him, he held up his left hand. “Never fear, I have given up that idea. After last year’s disastrous Occlumency lessons, I agree that the two of you should be kept apart as much as possible. But in this case, there isn’t much of a choice. Minerva is unavailable. My project is crucial to the war effort. And Harry needs protection.”

“How long do you expect to be gone, then?” Severus wanted to know. “I assume I’ll be the only one watching him, and even I cannot go indefinitely without sleep.”

“I shouldn’t be gone that long,” Dumbledore seemed more relaxed now that his potions professor had acquiesced. “Three or four days, at the most. You do have plenty of Stimulant Elixir, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“If you do need to rest, contact Mundungus,” Dumbledore told him. “He can take over for brief times. At the very least, he could let you know if anything suspicious happened.”

“When do I begin this delightful mission? At once?”

“In the morning. I’ll keep watch tonight and you can get a good night’s sleep.”

Severus frowned at him again, this time in concern. “You need to get some rest yourself, Albus.”

“Unfortunately there is a great deal still to be done.” Dumbledore gestured towards his wounded arm. “And not a great deal of time left to do it in. However, I will sleep tomorrow before I leave Hogwarts.”

Severus nodded and rose. “I’ll be leaving then.”

Dumbledore stopped him. “Severus, if I could ask one more favor?”

“More than watching over that spoiled, arrogant little imbecile? How he’s going to save us all from You-Know-Who is beyond—“

Dumbledore interrupted. “Severus, I don’t expect that you will have any direct contact with Harry, but if you do, I’m asking you to be kind.”

Severus Snape was rarely at a loss for words. He’d always prided himself on his eloquence and his ability to take any situation in stride. But now he could only goggle at the headmaster in dumbfounded amazement. For the first time he wondered if Dumbledore was completely sane.

He opened and closed his mouth twice before the power of speech came back to him. “Albus, I’m not kind even with the handful of people I do have some respect for!”

“Severus, do you remember when you came to me fourteen years ago?” Dumbledore asked in a very gentle tone. “You had just lost the one person you loved—yes, loved,” he repeated as the Potions professor started to object. “You blamed yourself for her death, and you were lost in grief and sorrow. Do you remember the agony, the despair, and hopelessness you felt? Do you remember how empty and dark the world was then?”

Severus’ face was contorted with pain and fury. “What is your point?” He hissed.

Dumbledore remained unshaken. “That’s what Harry is going through now.”

With great effort, Severus composed himself. “Very well, Albus. I hope that we can avoid contact, but if necessary, I will make an effort to be civil to the Potter brat.”

“Will you, Severus?” Dumbledore asked sadly. “You can’t even speak his name without sneering.”

Without deigning to reply, Severus Snape swept out of the headmaster’s office.