The aged caretaker of castle Hogwarts could have been an ancestor of Argus Filch. Riesling Landings was a hunched over man borne down by age. White hair sprouted from his skull in a whither-as-you-please manner, and his watery blue eyes were aided by silver-rimmed spectacles. Unlike Argus Filch, who took to wearing the rudest of clothing most of the time, Mr. Landings wore a simple uniform that consisted of a heavy, woolen coat, a matching vest, a high-necked white blouse, dark brown breeches and heavy leather boots that had perhaps seen better days when the caretaker was younger. At the man's hip hung a set of keys and his wand resided in a slim pocket on the right, outer side of his trousers. The caretaker utilized a hand-carved staff to aide him as he escorted Severus Snape to the office of the headmistress.

Severus Snape had matched his pace to that of the elder man's, despite knowing the way. "Madam Arcahnum tells me that you and your children are old family friends?"

The caretaker had been unsuccessfully attempting to pry information from the tall man in the billowing black robes beside him. Snape simply replied that they were friends and left it at that. His family name was a well known one and he couldn't risk anyone snooping into his family's business. Other than the headmistress, whom Snape had spoken to briefly by Floo at the Leaky Cauldron, he preferred to keep his name to himself.

The caretaker sighed inwardly. The young man was not a talkative sort, to be sure, and so he finally ended his probing questions. They soon arrived at the gargoyle that guarded the moving spiral staircase that led to the office of the headmistress. Mr. Landings tapped the head of the gargoyle twice, and it slowly moved aside allowing Snape to step upon the stairs. Snape frowned at that and wondered, briefly, if the annoying old, sweet-toothed Dumbledore had been responsible for causing the gargoyle to respond to a vocal password. Tapping the statue would be so much... nicer than all the candy sweet passwords.

"I shall see that the elves provide a meal for your children, sir." The caretaker bowed, and backed away until Snape could no longer see the man.

The stairs began to spin and rise slowly. When they stopped, he stepped onto a simple landing. The door was open and he walked into the office.

Candles were the main source of light for this all too familiar office. A few wall sconces with bright flame scared away the last of the heavier shadows. To Snape's right was a large fireplace that burned brightly. In front of it were two, very familiar chairs. The only difference in the chairs was that instead of red velvet upholstery with gold trim, they were of green velvet with silver trim. Between the two chairs sat a table with a full service of tea. The china was also green and silver. The silver twined about in intricate patterns that, when he looked closer, were snakes.

When he had contacted the present headmaster, no, headmistress of Hogwarts, she had given her name as Lyrica Arcahnum. The name was familiar to him as the Arcahnum family was one of several aristocratic wizarding families up until the latter part of the 19th century. Not conversant in wizarding family history before his own time, he had no idea what could have happened to the name. He assumed, that if the headmistress were the last of her family, then it was merely the fact there had not been an heir to carry on the name.

That was one mystery he didn't dwell upon. He was more intrigued by a headmistress of Hogwarts he could not recall. Snape had been sifting through his memories of past heads of Hogwarts. For the life of him, he could not recall ever seeing a portrait for a Lyrica Arcahnum in Dumbledore's office. If her portrait wasn't in existence in his time, it didn't mean she had never existed, though. Not all heads of Hogwarts were remembered by a portrait.

Severus Snape wandered around the office a little more and quite approved of the way it looked. It was uncluttered, neat, and he was unable to spy any cobwebs in the corners. Dumbledore's gentle, unconventional nature not only allowed the spiders free reign in his office, but he had even named some of them!

The office was circular, as it was located in one of Hogwarts tall towers. The main office was open and consisted of two floors. The second floor was accessible by a graceful, wrought iron staircase that began to the left of the fireplace, curved upward along the wall until it connected to a sturdy, wrought iron balcony that encircled the upper floor. The majority of the upper floor consisted of bookshelves. Some of the shelves did not hold books, but held a variety of artifacts that at first appeared decorative; many of the artifacts were no doubt magical in nature. There was some bric-a-brac, but it wasn't the sort of sticks, stones, and shells that Dumbledore always managed to acquire during his travels. Not to say that the man didn't have taste, but he did prefer such simple things. In this office, though, some of the shelves contained statuary of marble, granite and alabaster. There were also smaller figures, and sculptures of gold, silver, and copper, also from a variety of gemstone materials.

The first floor walls of the office were home to more shelves, full of books that were probably accessed more than the older books on the second floor. To the left, on a slight dais, was the desk of the headmistress. It was the same as Dumbledore's desk, but rather newer looking. Its surface was neatly cluttered (was such a thing possible, thought Snape) with a variety of parchment, open books, and a potions ingredient chart. The chart caught his eye and he picked it up.

Snape studied the chart. It was a hand-drawn and coloured chart of different medicinal herbs. Lines were neatly drawn between groups of herbs. Snape recognized many of the combinations as being used in potions for healing in his day. What he found most interesting were the written notes in a very precise, neat print beside certain herbs. It was obvious to Snape that the headmistress was working on experiments and theories regarding new combinations of herbs for new potions. His eye was caught by one notation that read, Merridwells Skeleton Growth potion - irritating and painful - try infusion of buck bark steeped in clover oil to reduce both symptoms. Beneath the notation were a series of numbers denoting experiments how many were successful and how many were not; standard in potions note-taking. So far it appeared there had been some success. Snape could not recall having heard of Merridwells Skeleton Growth, but he certainly knew of Skele-Gro, of which buck bark and clover oil were part of its ingredients. Is this the potions master that had a hand in the Skele-Gro potion? He put the chart back down and took a closer look at the books on the shelves behind the desk.

As he silently mouthed one title after another, he realized that this was just the tip of a superb collection of books any Potions Master would be envious of, himself included. His heart nearly skipped a beat as he came across a thick tome with the title, Practical Magic in the Application of Herbal Medicine by Darlyle Grailing. That was one of the books Snape had desired to acquire for his own collection for years. A collectible, it was far out of range of his own considerable finances. He let out an envious sigh and turned away from the books.

The envy worship was not to end. In turning, Snape came face to face with a potions shelf. There were some ingredients, those that were considered basic stores for a Potions Master that worked with healing potions. The potions on the rack did consist of long storable healing and health potions, but there were also other potions such as Wit-Sharpening potion, Befuddlement Draught, and Veritaserum. This last was half-full and he was curious as to why such a powerful potion would be needed at Hogwarts.

Snape was startled by the sudden movement of a large, albino raven cawing and shaking out his wings behind him. The bird had been so still when first he saw it by the bottom of the staircase that he'd immediately dismissed it as a fine piece of sculpture. The bird lifted off its perch and flew the short distance up to the second floor balcony where a simple door was opening.

When he had contacted the headmistress from the Leaky Cauldron, the light had been dim, its usual shadowed self. The impression he'd had of the woman was of a pleasant smile, green eyes like emeralds set into patrician features, and dark hair tightly pulled back off the face. The woman that emerged from the upper private chambers was tall and breathtaking. Snape had to quickly remind himself to breathe as he watched her stroke the white bird's head and then descend the staircase.

The headmistress of Hogwarts was a classic beauty with ivory skin – those startling green eyes! – and long, straight hair that fell in a silk curtain down to her mid-back. The woman's lovely hair was a deep chestnut red that fell against an outer robe of rich green velvet. The edges of the robes sleeves and the hem were embroidered with silver; again the sinuous form of the Slytherin snake was prominent in the design. Under the outer robe was a simple dress of black velvet that fell in a soft drape to her feet.

When she reached him, Snape chastised himself for not meeting her halfway as she stretched out her hand. Falling easily into his courtly manners, he took her hand in his, bowed slightly and brought her fingertips to his lips. He noted that her fingers were long, slim, but the nails, though smooth and unbroken, were neatly trimmed short and there were shadows of deeper potion stains that were the unmistakable mark of the devotion of a Potions Master (mistress, he silently corrected himself). His study of her hands was only for a second as she had quickly withdrawn her fingers from his hand.

She curtsied slightly. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Master Snape. I'm very glad to meet you beyond the green light of the Floo. I'm Lyrica Arcahnum." Her voice was rich with a genteel smoothness, another mark of her aristocratic birth. The tone was not the high-pitched quaver his ear was used to from the females in his family, but slightly lower, controlled with a hint of the brogue that was so strong in Minerva McGonagall's voice.

Slipping her arm over his right arm, she led him over to the fireplace. "Could I interest you in some tea, Master Snape? I know it's late, but I hope it will soothe after your adventure."

"Please," he nodded and seated himself after she seated herself across from him. "I'd like to extend my gratitude for you having come to our rescue so quickly, Madam Arcahnum."

She smiled and handed him the steaming tea in a cup on a saucer. "I am glad that we could be of help. And please, I am only Madam to our caretaker, Mr. Landing. It's Professor or you may also address me as Lyrica." She waited for him to sip his tea before taking her own sip of the fragrant tea.

As he took another sip, he tasted the delicate touches of orange pekoe and bergamot enhanced by the subtle bite of cinnamon. "Then you must call me Severus."

For a few silent minutes they just enjoyed their tea. Snape was finally beginning to relax for the first time since this harrowing day had begun. Placing the half empty tea cup on the table, he took a moment to lean back in the softness of the chair.

Lyrica allowed him this moment as she refreshed his tea. After a minute, she asked, "I hope the guest quarters in Gryffindor tower are sufficient?"

Reluctantly he shifted and sat up straighter. "More than adequate, thank you... Lyrica." He took another sip of tea.

"The children, Severus, are they yours?" Her question was polite, but he sensed the undercurrent of curiosity. Curiosity for who they were, how they came to be here, and what they had needed rescuing from.

The thought that those four terrors, hopefully asleep, were his was laughable. However, he restrained his more sarcastic self and replied, "They are students of mine. I am their Potions instructor at Hogwarts. I hope that they are asleep, but I suspect only Mr. Weasley is the one out like a light. No doubt Miss Granger is already working upon a solution to our problem, and hopefully Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter are not taking this opportunity to kill each other."

Lyrica laughed; a charming sound that fit her aristocratic upbringing. "They sound like a handful!" Snape's only reply was a simple rolling of the eyes and another sip of his tea.

Lyrica put down her tea cup and eyed the dark-haired man seated across from her. She'd been curious from the moment he'd Floo'd her so directly. How he'd managed that was a puzzle until this moment. Only a teacher of Hogwart's could have accessed her office fireplace. It didn't answer all her questions, though. He had alluded to an accident involving time travel and that alone had been enough for her to send a carriage to fetch them from the disreputable Leaky Cauldron. Although it was late; nearly two in the morning, she needed answers before they went any further.

"Master Snape, when you floo'd me, you made mention of an accident that involved time travel. I think that before we can suitably call it a night, you should tell me what you can about this accident. How did a teacher and his four students wind up in 1898?"

Despite the fact that he wished he could go bury himself in a bed, he knew an explanation had to come sooner or later. He appreciated the forthrightness of the headmistress. Taking a last sip of his tea, he made himself comfortable.

"It's rather a long story since it all begins yesterday morning, in my Potions class. The year for us is 1994, just barely two weeks into the new school year..."

Severus Snape couldn't believe what he was seeing in his classroom; Draco Malfoy had neatly leapt over his desk and across Harry Potter's in order to strangle his despised rival. He'd been in the midst of one of his lectures about the importance of knowing the antidotes for certain potions when the fight broke out. So startled by the rude behavior from one of his own house, he was not in time to stop Ronald Weasley diving into the fray. He had to admit, later, that he was doubly surprised to see a Muggle-style fist-fight break out, instead of a wanding duel. Snape finally snapped out of it just as Hermione Granger decided to try and pull Ron off the other two boys.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Roared Snape as he flourished his wand at all four students. Like dominoes, Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione froze in place and dropped away from each other. Professor Snape strode over to the frozen foursome and glared darkly down at them. "25 points each from Gryffindor." He caught the hint of a smug smile on Draco's lips and snarled, "50 points from Slytherin!"

"Fifty points?" cried Draco. Further protest was cut off by a deadly glare from the potions teacher.

"All four of you will also meet me at eleven o'clock for detention. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," came the beleaguered chorus.

Snape unfroze them and ordered them back to their seats. "But sir!" Draco began to whine, again, and Snape whirled upon the boy. Any color that was left in Draco's skin fled at the sight of the anger in his head of house's eyes and he plunked down like a stone in his seat. "Not a word, Mr. Malfoy. Not. One. Single. Word."

The lesson continued for the rest of the hour and then the four miscreants were allowed to escape; at least for the time being.

Eleven of the clock came much quicker than any of them expected. Despite this, they were all on time as they entered the classroom. Snape was at his desk, hunched over and grading papers. With his quill, he sharply indicated they were to sit. Ron was about to say something to the professor when Hermione slapped a hand over his mouth. Ron glared and peeled Hermione's hand off his mouth.

After only a few, but agonizing minutes, Snape spoke up, although he did not look up from his work. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter, front and center. Now."

Neither Draco nor Harry hesitated. Within seconds they had vacated their seats and were standing in front of Snape's desk. The man finally raised his head and his cold, black gaze settled like a lead weight upon them. He glanced back and forth between the two... enemies, and then settled upon Draco. Draco had the fleeting feeling that he was going to burst into flame right there.

"Mr. Malfoy, explain your actions in class today."

"S-sir?" stuttered Draco.

"What precipitated your... fisticuffs with Mr. Potter? And do not incur another loss of points for Slytherin by making me define the big words for you, Mr. Malfoy. Prove to me that you're much more intelligent then your two cotton-headed, Slytherin cohorts, Crabbe and Goyle. Now. Talk."

Draco could have said any number of things and all of them would have sounded ten times smarter and more plausible than what he did say. His brilliant explanation was, "Potter looked at me!"

Snape had to remind himself, silently of course, that blasting students with a blasting spell wasn't allowed at Hogwarts. He was about to lambaste the boy with a scathing remark when the Boy-Who-Didn't-Know-When-To-Keep-His-Mouth-Shut shot back with his own, succinct explanation.

"Malfoy looked at me, first!"

Ron, not one who was known for his fine words, or his timing, leaned over and whispered to Hermione, "Brilliant that. We're dead."

Hermione just glared at Ron. Snape cast the girl a quick smirk. At least she was learning to keep her mouth shut.

Snape let out a dramatic sigh and dropped his quill into the inkwell. Sitting up straight, he crossed his arms across his chest and stared at the two idiots for a moment.

"I am hardly against a healthy house rivalry but the two of you are taking your hostilities even beyond my tolerance. As much as I am tempted to allow the two of you to work out your frustrations upon each other until you both warrant a month in hospital, I am unfortunately not permitted such an action." He smiled, yet there was not one whit of warmth or joviality in it. "However, I can give you both detention," both boys sagged visibly, "for the rest of the semester," this caused them each to gasp, "every... single... night!"

At the same time, both Draco and Harry cried out, "That's not fair!"

"That's 50 points from Gryffindor and Slytherin. One more word out of either of you and it will be another 100 points and both houses will be behind Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

"Uhm, sir, won't that mean that Slytherin will be in the negative?" Draco pointed out.

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously as he peered at the young snake. "Your point being, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape was rather pleased to see the sharp elbow of warning that came from the heroic Gryffindor. Draco was just about retaliate when Snape stopped him with an icy glare.

Snape rose from his desk, walked past Draco and Harry, eyed Ron and Hermione and quietly indicated they were all to follow him. They hadn't even crossed the threshold of the potions classroom when Hermione hissed to Harry, "Now you've done it, Harry. Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?"

Harry's jaw just dropped open. He didn't dare say a word, but he promised himself he'd remind her later that it was Malfoy that had started the whole bloody fight. Snapping his mouth shut, he gave her a nasty glare and purposely strutted ahead of them until he was in the wake of Snape's robe.

After several minutes of wending their way through the castle, they were soon outside with the moon shining down upon them from a clear night sky. There was a chill in the air, but the brisk walk was keeping them each warmed up, as were their heavy winter robes.

Seeing the direction they were headed, Ron began to visibly slow down. Looking toward the Forbidden Forest at this hour of the night only served to remind the red-head of the acromantula, Aragog and his children that lived deep within the forest. Harry saw Ron hesitating and grabbed him by the sleeve. Harry mouthed a quick "c'mon" and dragged Ron beside him.

"Professor!" Hermione's voice cut through the silent night. "What are we going to do in the Forbidden Forest?"

Without stopping his long stride, or looking back, Snape replied, "We are going to harvest a particularly rare orchid that will bloom almost every night until the end of September. Would you care to tell us what flower it might be?"

Hermione, delighted to have been asked, smiled happily as she replied, "The Star Moss Night Blooming Orchid?"

"Very good, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor." Snape began to lecture as they neared the Forbidden Forest. "It takes a delicate hand to properly harvest the Star Moss. One must wait until the flower blooms fully, then grasp the stem close to the ground, and pull with a firm hand straight up. Sight isn't enough to allow one to determine if the blossom has completely opened. The flower will release its perfume upon full bloom. It is a heavy perfume and after the harvesting of five or six blooms, it is almost impossible to continue the harvest as the senses get overwhelmed by the fragrance of the flower. I expect each of you to harvest at least five blossoms with the roots intact. If you manage a sixth, intact bloom, you will earn points for your house."

They entered the Forbidden Forest and Snape gathered them so that Harry and Ron were to his left and Draco and Hermione were to his right. They didn't have to go too far into the forest, a fact Ron was only too happy to discover. Their destination was an area of the forest where several trees had fallen decades ago and had begun to rot on the forest floor. The entire area was a moist, nutrient rich place for the Star Moss Night Blooming Orchid to thrive.

The flower grew close to the ground. Its leaves were plump, waxy and dark green and the flower itself was of two colors. The side of the petal that faced outward was a sharp crimson. The inside of the petal ranged from pale pink at the outermost petals to pure white in the middle. The petals also were waxy, but thin and bruised easily. Its name, Star Moss, came from the shape of the blossom, which was star shaped, and the way that the flower grew closely to its siblings; tightly together and like moss, it covered the decaying trees.

Snape positioned each of his students near a patch of the flowers. Soon the flowers were to begin opening and they had to be ready for the first expression of perfume. As the flowers began to bloom, it was a fascinating site that distracted all of them for a moment. The entire area appeared to come to life as the petals slowly responded to the night.

Draco was the first to pull up a Star Moss. He tugged at too much of an angle, though, which broke the root. The broken flower wilted quickly and the petals began to shrink. He glared at the flower as he was suddenly assaulted by more of the heavy perfume from other blossoms. He wrinkled his nose at the offensive smell.

"Smells like my grandmother," he muttered and pulled up an intact blossom. He grinned triumphantly.

Harry harvested the next successful flower and Snape came over to take it from him as Harry was soon waiting for another blossom to finish opening. Ron was right behind Harry and managed to harvest two of the flowers at once. He grinned happily as he handed his blossoms over to Snape. Snape turned to see how Hermione was doing and saw that she was just harvesting her third flower. He walked over to gather hers just as Draco let out a terrified scream.

"Blood faeries!" gasped Lyrica. "They're not indigenous to this part of the world. Whatever were they doing in the Forbidden Forest, Severus?"

Severus shook his head and stared at the flames. "Should we find the way back to our time, that is a question I intend to find out. As to what they were doing, I've no doubt they had nested amongst the grove of dead trees and seeing us as intruders upon their territory, they attacked."

Lyrica waved her hand over the tea service and it vanished. Snape noted the expert use of wandless magic. "Do you think it possible that the curious property of the the Vohlfayr to travel a few seconds ahead of their prey was the catalyst for sending you back in time?"

"Catalyst? I'm not certain, but no doubt it was part of the cause. I distinctly recall seeing Miss Granger with her wand out just as I cast a defensive shield." Snape sighed. "It will be a difficult puzzle to unravel."

Lyrica leaned forward. It appeared she was about to place her hand upon his arm, but she halted the action quick enough that her finger barely brushed the fabric of his sleeve. "I hope that what we have in our library will be enough to help in your research, Master Snape. I cannot begin to imagine what strides there have been in time travel between 1898 and 1994."

"Unless the Department of Mysteries is hiding something from us, then the farthest we've gotten is the Time Turner." Remarked Snape. "In short, none."

"I must admit to curiosity as to what you were thinking of in bringing children into the Forbidden Forest. Even we adults dare not cross the wards alone."

Snape's right eyebrow arched slightly. "Wards? Do you have warding spells in place around the forest?"

Lyrica paused a moment before replying. "We do. Quite strong ones. They've been in place for a little over two centuries. The Wizengamot Gathering of 1720 decided to put the wards in place, partly to protect the Muggle population on the other side of the forest, but also to keep in its inhabitants. Do you not have wards in place in your time?"

Snape shook his head and quickly brushed at an obstinate lock of dark hair that fell across his eye. "I do not ever recall a time when the forest was warded. A constant reminder when I was a student and now is that the forest is strictly off limits unless one is escorted by a teacher." Snape did not elaborate upon the fact that the class of Care of Magical Creatures took place just on the outer edge of the forest. Suddenly he began drumming his fingers upon the arm of his chair as a thought coalesced in his mind. "Professor Arcahnum, the wards in place... would one of them be a simple deflection ward?" Snape wondered if the side-apparition he'd cast had also been at fault. It had been risky, but he was rather skilled.

"Of course," she replied just as a pop sounded behind them. A table laden with a modest selection of food and drink appeared just behind them. "Ah, a late night meal from our tireless elves! Are you hungry, Master Snape?"

As the aroma of roast and steaming vegetables tickled his nostrils, he discovered he was a little hungry. With a nod to the headmistress he rose from his chair in front of the fire just as she conjured two chairs. She indicated that he was to seat himself and while he served himself, she poured some wine into a glass for him. Placing the crystal glass before him, she then took a warm roll and seated herself across from him.

Snape felt himself suddenly conscious of her eyes upon him. He had just scooped up some of the mixed vegetables when he felt a familiar energy in the air. His eyes met hers and he kept his expression like stone. The headmistress may have been shouting for all the finesse she was showing in her attempt to use Legilimency upon him. Before she could even finish casting the spell silently he had already countered with a much more forceful use of Occlumency. As soon as Lyrica felt the sharp block to her Legilimens spell, she lowered her eyes and tore a piece from the bread roll she held.

"You must forgive the attempt, Master Snape," she said softly as she placed the piece of bread into her mouth, chewed it and swallowed. She had not looked up, yet, but she could feel the dark look of his gaze upon her; the force placed behind his counter was comparable to a physical slap. The man was insulted by her stumbling intrusion. "Think, Master Snape, a man has access to my office fireplace, has four children with him and tells a wondrous story of time travel, Blood Fae and Star Moss blooms and I, custodian of Hogwarts, its staff and children, am to take him at his word?"

Lyrica then raised her eyes and challenged him. "It is not my intention to be rude, sir, but I take my duty as the headmistress of this school seriously. I would prefer to believe you, but you must understand my caution."

Snape had to concede that Lyrica was within her right to verify what he said. His expression relaxed, but only a little. The woman's beauty and charm were a formidable spell, but he could not let the slight go so easily. "It is a difficult story to ask anyone to believe, Professor Arcahnum. However, I must be a strict guardian with the knowledge here," he tapped his right temple lightly, "in order to preserve our future. I cannot allow you within my thoughts without some warning."

The abashment was a subtle one; much more subtle than she would have received from the teacher who'd taught her the Legilimens. It was enough to cause her cheeks to bloom with a rosy shade of embarrassment. Lyrica knew that he could provide her with any false thought he wished and she would not know it for its deception or truth as he was certainly more skilled in Occlumency. Nodding deferentially to him, she conceded her faux pas.

"I shall take your story as truth, Master Snape." Lyrica smiled wryly as she now had no choice but to trust Snape. "I am more skilled with my potions than I am with Legilimens."

Snape nodded and ate a forkful of vegetables. He then spoke, "I hope in time, Professor Arcahnum, that you will come to accept that I shall always offer you the truth. As long as I do not jeopardize our future." He then lifted his glass of wine toward her and took an appreciative sip.

"Indulge my curiosity if you would, Madam, I noticed a book upon your shelf by Darlyle Grailing. Was the man, by any chance, your mentor for your masters in Potions?"

Thankful to take the discussion away from her aborted Legilimens, she was also intrigued by his astute observations and conclusion. "He was. I apprenticed with him, but not right away. To the chagrin of my parents I could not decide upon a career in Enchantment, Potions or Herbology. My Enchantment mentor ended my apprenticeship when, according to his words, I had less skill than an Antipodean Opaleye dragon and the attention span of a Diricawl." She chuckled and poured herself some wine. "In less time then it could take for me to dwell on the insult, my father had me apprenticed to Master Grailing with the admonishment that I had better keep my nose in my books and concentrate upon my future."

"How did you find your apprenticeship?" asked Snape slicing the roast he had on his plate.

"It was wonderful! When I was a student at Hogwarts I'd had a fascination for potions. There was a gracefulness, a rhythm to the creation of a potion that I found... lyrical." Her head dipped as she blushed slightly. "In working with Master Grailing I also found that my love of herb lore was indulged. He taught me to appreciate fresh ingredients over those prepared by another. It is a philosophy I maintain to this day. If I choose to remain as the headmistress of Hogwarts then I shall plant my own herb garden."

Snape finished his slice of roast and washed the last of it down with his wine. "Is there a possibility you'll leave this post?" he inquired with interest. Perhaps this was the reason her portrait did not appear on the wall of Dumbledore's office.

"This is my first year as Headmistress and it was an unexpected appointment. My plans were to take a position at St. Mungo's as head of their Potions Department." She shifted uneasily. "I believe it is my family name, only, that the Ministry desires as head of Hogwarts. You see, my father was to take the position, but he died this summer."

A name from history and one he'd heard from the lips of Lucius Malfoy hit his memory. Of course, Snape thought to himself, as he mentally smacked his head. Her father was Ebenezer Arcahnum, a very ambitious wizard of this time's wizarding age. An aristocrat who desired power and whose ideas were part of the foundation of a certain Dark Lord of Snape's acquaintance had. In 1898 the Ministry was just beginning to get undermined by those with more than just ambitions of power. The prejudice growing amongst pureblood families found seed in the likes of one such as Ebenezer Arcahnum. If he remembered his history, the term "Mudblood" originated with Arcahnum who had been quite vocal in his prejudice. Such dislike, no hatred, had flourished with the likes of the Malfoys, the Blacks, and even his own mother's family, the Princes. A wave of hate was a palpable thing and it was no wonder that a wizard of Voldemort's ilk had seized upon it to sculpt himself in the form of one of the most Dark Wizards of history.

Snape wanted to express his condolences for the woman's loss, but in all honesty, he could not find it within himself to do so. Before he could say anything, Lyrica's next words caught him off guard.

"I have no wish to carry on my father's legacy, Master Snape. I am not the sword to divide, but am a healer to unite. As much love as I do have for Hogwarts, I am... uncertain as to my role here. I believe by the end of the year I shall know what I want."

At that moment there came a knock on the office door. Lyrica finished the last of her wine, stood and went over to the door. She opened it slightly, but did not allow the visitor in. Snape listened to the brief exchange as he ate.

"Mr. Dumbledore, have you gotten our young guests settled in their rooms?" she asked. Snape almost choked when he heard the name.

"They're all set, Professor. The elves should be sending something for them to eat and drink probably about now. Is there anything else that you need?" The voice was younger, perhaps even a pitch higher, but Snape clearly recognized it.

"You may retire for the evening, then. Thank you and good night, Mr. Dumbledore."

"Goodnight, Professor Arcahnum."

Lyrica waited a moment and then closed the door quietly. Raising the hem of her gown, she made her way back to the table.

"That boy..." Snape asked worriedly, "By chance is his first name Albus?"

Lyrica noted a brief flicker of worry cross the man's features. "It is. How did you know?"

Snape slapped his fork down angrily against the surface of the table. "Bloody Merlin!" growled Snape.

Hermione felt she'd really bollixed everything this time. She was seated in a chair in the corner of the guest room that was Draco's. She hadn't touched any of the food that had been sent by the elves. Hermione just sat there, a perpetual glare stuck upon her features. Ron and Harry had given up trying to soothe her. They couldn't understand why she was completely blaming herself when they'd never have been in the Forbidden Forest if it hadn't been for Snape and his stupid idea for detention. Ron had also tried blaming Draco who had started the whole thing by fighting.

Draco was also pouting as he stood in a surly pose by the fireplace. Here he was stuck with the three people he hated most in the world and he was in the Gryffindor tower. He didn't understand why he couldn't just bunk with the Slytherins until Snape had gotten them out of this mess. He was also disgusted about being blamed for the fight. He knew it was Potter's fault by starting the day off by calling him 'Goldilocks' in the courtyard.

Harry and Ron were faring better than Hermione and Draco. Ron and Harry were tucking into the very late night meal with abandon. It was distressing that they'd travelled back in time, but it was also a great adventure. Clearly their appetites had been unaffected.

"Can you believe that was Dumbledore?" Ron asked of Harry. "He's no taller than you are!"

Harry chuckled. "But he's head boy. He ought to be taller. Wouldn't he be about 16... maybe 17? I almost lost it when he offered you a sherbet lemon!"

Ron shook his head, grinning as he stabbed a small roasted potato with his fork. "Mione, do you want some roast beef?" Hermione ignored Ron and he shrugged.

"Hermione?" Hermione heard Harry, but she didn't acknowledge him. "Hermione! Give it up will you?"

"I'm not hungry," she grunted.

"Neither am I!" snapped Draco.

Ron scowled at Draco. "Did we ask you?"

Harry didn't even bother to acknowledge the Slytherin boy and this earned the Boy-Who-Was-A-Git a sneer before he turned his attention to Hermione. After several long minutes, Draco's voice hissed, "I don't know why you tried to help me, Granger."

"The customary response is thank you, Malfoy," she snapped.

"I was doing just fine..."

Hermione bristled and turned to stare at him. Ron and Harry stopped stuffing their mouths to watch the exchange.

"Were you, Malfoy? I seem to recall you were about to be turned into faery fodder! As loathsome as you are, not even you deserve that."

Draco crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. "All I needed was my wand," he grunted.

Hermione sighed. "Are you being obtuse on purpose, Draco?"

"What?" Unaware of what 'obtuse' meant, Draco wasn't sure whether or not he'd just been insulted on top of everything else.

"The faeries had you above Snape's head, Malfoy. You're lucky that you came away with just a few scratches. If I hadn't... well, you would have been dead by now."

There was a long silence and then Draco asked quietly, "What did Snape call them?"

"Vohlfayr. Blood faeries, I think," Harry replied from the table.

"Yeah." echoed Ron. "Mum used to tell us the Blood Faeries'd get us, when we didn't behave. Never thought they'd be real."

After a long silence Draco quietly muttered, "Thanks, Granger."

To Harry and Ron's shock, her frown lifted and she smiled at their mortal enemy. "You're welcome, Draco."

The headmistress quickly recovered from Snape's outburst and demanded to know what the trouble was. Snape refused to say anything. "The boy." Lyrica knew she should have made the connection the moment Snape had said his name. "You know him as an adult, don't you?"

Snape nodded. He finished the wine and pushed away from the table. He had lost his appetite. "Young Albus has just spent over an hour with my students. He knows their real names as well as mine. Short of Oblivating his entire memory..." Snape shook his head.

"The be-fogging memory charm," began Lyrica.

Snape shook his head sharply. "Albus was a very talented wizard, even in his youth. I doubt that a be-fogging memory charm will have little effect on his mind." Snape had begun pacing. He didn't have a doubt about the young Dumbledore's ability to resist the effects of any sort of memory charm. This was the man who defeated Gellert Grindewald, for Merlin's sake!

"If he's able to resist such a charm, then he must have known what was going to happen to you. Why would he not have warned you?" she asked in puzzlement.

"I've known that old man for almost fifteen years now and I've yet to understand how the wretched man thinks! I can only speculate... but no," sighed Snape suddenly. "I can't even say for certain he did remember us. He is over century old in our time and as sharp as he is, his memory is not infallible."

Lyrica stepped toward Snape and caught his arm in order to stop his pacing. The man's anger, whether at himself or at Dumbledore, she couldn't quite determine. It was late and he needed to calm himself and not worry about such things now.

"Severus," she said softly as she stepped up behind him. "It does no good to worry about this now. I shall talk to Mr. Dumbledore tomorrow and make certain he understands that as far as our guests go, he must be discrete."

Snape's shoulders slumped visibly. He knew that the one thing Dumbledore could be counted on for was to keep a secret. At times, he was far too good at that skill. Turning to face the headmistress, he gave her a resigned, slight smirk. "I must take my leave, Prof... Lyrica. I need to make certain that my students haven't killed each other by now. That, and I am exceedingly in need of sleep."

"I quite understand, Severus. I can call Mr. Landings for you, or do you know the way?"

"I know it very well. Goodnight." He turned away, a little too sharply, and walked out of her office.

"Goodnight, Severus," the headmistress said after the door was closed.

Severus Snape walked the dark corridors of Hogwarts that he knew all too well. His direction was nearly faultless except for turning toward the dungeons, at one point. Mentally correcting himself, he made his way toward Gryffindor tower and its guest wing.

How could he have made such a blunder? He berated himself silently. When they had tumbled into the back alley of the Leaky Cauldron, his guard had gone up immediately. Of course he hadn't realized they'd traveled back in time, but as they had emerged onto the street known as Diagon Alley, he began to ascertain that they'd done more than simply side-apparated from the Forbidden Forest to Diagon Alley.

The Leaky Cauldron was much the same as ever it was but many of the businesses were different. There was no Madame Malkins. In the place of that shop was Milady's Fine Hats. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor was absent but ahead of them stood the imposing structure of Gringott's. Knockturn Alley managed to appear more dangerous then ever before and Snape had quickly caught a too inquisitive Draco by the collar, keeping the boy close. Harry had discovered the vital clue they needed to orient themselves at the Daily Prophet headquarters. Posted on the front window was that morning's issue of the Daily Prophet, dated September 13, 1898.

1898. Snape's mind had not been ready to accept the information as truth. He hauled the teenagers, who were beginning to make a scene, back toward the Leaky Cauldron. He found a dark corner for all of them to congregate, ordered them, upon threat of a painful death to keep quiet, and then he'd sat in silence amongst them as he weighed their options. He was at a loss until he saw one of the patrons use the fireplace to Floo home. The proprietor charged him an outrageous two galleons to Floo directly to the office of the headmaster of Hogwarts. The exchange had been a quick one, with his usual abruptness taking center stage, but the headmistress had chosen to take him at face value. A carriage had been sent for them.

They had been met by two people, a slim red-headed boy who had obviously been wakened from a deep sleep, and the caretaker Mr. Landings. If Snape had had any sense, he might have known who the boy was.

"I also should have known better than to use our real names," he muttered tightly to himself. He turned sharply down a short hallway that was right before the stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room and sleeping quarters for students.

Draco and Hermione had finally joined Ron and Harry at the table. The food was soon gone, and Ron was the first to begin yawning.

Harry leaned over to Ron and whispered, "I still think we should have used aliases."

Draco interrupted, "That's what Snape suggested. Aren't we going to change history or something?"

"That is precisely why each of you must be on your guard during our stay in Hogwarts." None of them had heard Snape arrive. Their Potions professor did not look like his meeting with the headmistress had gone well. "Starting now, I want the four of you to stick together like glue and to refrain from associating with the students here. The headmistress has a spell that will... diminish our imprint on the memories of staff and students, but it will have less affect on those that spend more time with us."

"What about Professor Dumbledore?" asked Ron, suddenly awake.

"Head Boy Albus Dumbledore is a problem, Mr. Weasley. We are going to have to count on the boy's discretion, for the time being."

"Sir," Hermione nearly raised her hand, "What about our affect on history?"

"We cannot be wary of every second, Miss Granger, but each of you knows to keep as much future information to yourselves as possible. Including magic. I am loathe to imagine what havoc some of the spells you've learned just as first years could cause here." Squashing the thought from his mind, he addressed them one last time. "You'll retire to your rooms now. Mine is across the corridor from yours. IF you need me, do not hesitate to disturb me. In the morning we shall meet in my room for breakfast. After breakfast, we shall all go to the library where we shall begin research into the nature of just how we managed to arrive 96 years into our past."

"We should have just stayed at the Leaky Cauldron," muttered Ron.

"As inviting as the Leaky Cauldron is," Snape replied with a voice heavy with sarcasm, "Its disreputable reputation is much worse now than in our time. We would have been killed in our sleep and robbed of every last knut."

Ron's eyes widened at the hissed outburst. "Well being killed would have solved our problem of getting home!" He snapped.

Snape couldn't believe what Ron Weasley had just said. A sudden weight of another facet to this time travel fiasco settled on him and he shut his eyes involuntarily against the migraine that threatened.

"If you'll excuse us, Master Snape," Harry interrupted as he grasped Ron's arm. "We'll go to our rooms now." Harry rushed past Snape with Ron in tow and without a word he was followed by Hermione.

Snape watched them vanish into the adjoining corridor. Normally he would have dressed Weasley and Potter down, then and there, but this had been a long and trying day.

"Professor Snape, sir," Draco's voice reminded the Potions professor of his presence. "Do you think we will be able to get back home?"

"The future of our world is at stake, Mr. Malfoy. We'd better get back to our own time, and soon." His voice was low and full of exhaustion.

"You mean Potter ought to get back home." Draco sneered disdainfully.

Anger rose like a volcano in Snape's dark eyes as he whirled upon the younger Malfoy. He could understand the rivalry between the two boys and in fact he'd done little to discourage it. He was there to teach and to prepare his students for the harsh realities of the wizarding world they lived in. The Malfoys and Voldemort and the Death Eaters were all a part of that reality, so there had been no reason to ease the tensions between the boys. He took a deep breath to quell the frustration building, choosing not to take it all out on Draco.

Placing a hand upon Draco's shoulder, he spoke somberly, "When the time comes, Mr. Malfoy, the Boy Who Lived is going to need more than just his wand and a handful of spells to face He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He will need all of us." He stressed this last by forcing Draco to look into his eyes. "All of us, Mr. Malfoy."

Lyrica Arcahnum could not immediately retire to bed. Removing her green robes, she laid them over the chair Severus Snape had so recently vacated, kicked off her shoes, and then curled up in the other chair with her feet tucked underneath her. She had no doubt about helping her guests, but this was not the way to start off her first year as Headmistress of Hogwarts. Her father would be... disappointed. Staring into the fireplace took her back to a memory of a similar fireplace in her family home.

Ebenezer Arcahnum was a tall man whose girth gave a hint to a variety of indulgences over the years. He couldn't, yet, be called fat, but he was headed in that direction. His features were classically aristocratic and sharply carved into a wide face. He'd never been a handsome man, but he was imposing. His most striking feature was his red hair and striking green eyes. The eyes his daughter also possessed.

Lyrica's father had had a good day as he paced in the parlor that had once belonged to her mother. He had "accepted" the position as Headmaster of Hogwarts; a position he'd long been working for. He had plans of a great "reformation" for Hogwarts; a cleansing, as he put it. It wasn't to be overt, but he expected that by the time he was ready to retire as Headmaster he would have expunged all Muggle Born from Hogwarts and had succeeded in changing the school charter that allowed such a "vile practice".

Lyrica was not there to congratulate her father, though. He had brought her home to tell her of the marriage contract he'd signed with Phineas Nigellus Black. Not many pureblood families practiced the art of arranged marriages, but to Ebenezer the only reason he had a daughter was to effect a secure alliance of his family to another; preferably the noble family of Black. As Ebenezer had no male heir, then the only way to carry on the family name would be through marriage. Lyrica had arrived earlier that evening to learn that she had been "sold" to Phineas' namesake, his only unmarried son.

Lyrica rarely spoke against her father. It was unwise to ever cross the Arcahnum patriarch, but she could not abide such a thing as an arranged marriage. Her own mother had been sold by her family, the Karkaroffs of Bulgaria, for a casket of galleons. Alexandria Arcahnum had no choice but to accept her fate, and she had done so with grace. Her only failing had been in producing a son for Ebenezer. Three sons had been stillborn before she could produce no more. Although Ebenezer had several mistresses, none of them bore him either a son or a daughter. Alexandria's daughter was nothing more than a piece of property.

His frustration in this area, though he wished to take it out upon his unwanted child, was instead taken out upon his wife. Alexandria did her best to protect her daughter, even if it meant taking her beatings. Alexandria rarely showed Lyrica affection, as it was discouraged by the tyrant, Ebenezer. However, she made up for it by teaching her child the art of healing herbs, potions making, and the skill of natural magic. Alexandria died when Lyrica took her first apprenticeship. From that point on, Ebenezer was the absolute ruler of his daughter's destiny. His voice cracked like a whip, and those few times when Lyrica made the attempt to disobey her father, his rule was emphasized by a well placed strike. Ebenezer had always been careful not to strike his daughter's face; a scar would easily lessen her value.

At Lyrica's first negative response to the marriage contract, he had slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. The blow had very nearly unseated her. Now sitting quietly, staring into the fire, the bruise began to bloom beneath her eye. She listened with obedience as Ebenezer outlined the marriage contract. In a few weeks, Phineas, her fiance, and she would meet in the Black family home, sign their names to the contract and after a brief hand-fasting ritual, they would live as man and wife.

"Daughter," said Ebenezer who never addressed her by name in private, "you shall remove your application to St. Mungo's. As the wife of Phineas Black it would be unseemly to work in a place that caters to the health of the Mudblood."

"But I would be able to continue my research at St. Mungo's!" she protested and immediately regretted saying anything as Ebenezer's hand connected with the other side of her face. This time a ring had drawn blood from her cheek. She did not give him the satisfaction of crying out.

Fate had other plans, though, for Lyrica. Before the summer was out, Ebenezer had gone on a dragon hunt in Romania where he was killed. She and Phineas Black had yet to complete the marriage contract and regretfully, Phineas Nigellus Black allowed that she was permitted not to fulfill it. When Black was asked to remain a year past his retirement as Head of Hogwarts, he declined and suggested that the daughter of Ebenezer Arcahnum take the post. At least for one year. Black agreed to return to the post if she did not find it to her satisfaction.

The scar upon her cheek was very faint. Faint enough, that only in certain light could the mark be properly seen. Touching her cheek briefly with the back of her hand, Lyrica's memories faded as she slipped into sleep. One word escaped in a gentle breath, "Severus?"

Although each of them had separate rooms, Harry, Ron and Hermione gathered in Ron's room. The fiery tempered Weasley kicked an ottoman across the floor. "Does anyone remember anything about time travel in our classes?"

"There's an entire section in the restricted area of the library on time travel, Ron." Hermione sighed with exasperation.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, 'Mione." He glared at the girl. "You just said it was restricted. That probably means you're the only one in here who's had a look at those books."

"Well, I haven't," she snapped right back. "As a matter of fact, a good deal of Muggle science fiction deals with time travel and it seems..." Neither Ron nor Harry were listening to her, so she just gave up.

Ron slumped in his chair and Harry sat down on the bed. "I'm more interested in Dumbledore." Harry's eyebrows beetled closely together. "All the time he's spent with us. That forgetting spell isn't going to work on him."

Hermione sat beside Harry. "You think our Dumbledore remembers us from this past, Harry?"

"I think so. If he did remember us and we weren't able to get back, I think he'd have told us. He's never given any indication to me that I wouldn't be around to deal with Voldemort." Harry didn't want to think about having to deal with Voldemort. Twice now he'd dealt with that Dark Wizard, each time hoping that it was the last, but the wizard was much more resourceful than he looked. Dumbledore had warned Harry last year that it wouldn't get any easier.

A sharp rap on the door startled all three. The locked door was rattled for a moment as they stared. "Alohomora!" It was Snape's voice and he was soon standing in the doorway. "Potter! Granger! To your rooms, now!" He moved back against the door frame as Harry and Hermione said goodnight to Ron and sullenly made their way past the potions professor. Once they had each disappeared into their rooms, Snape gave Ron a quick glare and pulled the door firmly shut.

Snape was finding it difficult to sleep and so he sat by his fireplace with his outer robe wrapped around himself. His thoughts kept drifting to what had been a few minutes to midnight in 1994. Snape had stonily listened to Draco's explanation of why he'd jumped Potter in Potions class. Of course it had begun that year on the Hogwarts Express. According to Draco, Harry had set the entire insult-fest off with a dubious remark about Draco's parentage and snakes. During classes the slander had continued via well-placed looks and expressions. Before Potions class that fateful morning it seemed Harry had called the Slytherin boy "Ferret-face", an unfortunate reference to the polyjuiced Mad Eye Moody who'd taken great pleasure last year in turning Draco into a pure white, bouncing ferret. Draco, unable to contain himself any longer, threw the first punch.

From that point on in their walk to the Forbidden Forest, Snape was the unwilling recipient of four different viewpoints of the fight and who was ultimately to blame, at once. Snape nearly threw a silencing spell upon the lot of them, but since even a teacher couldn't be entirely prepared for what one might come across in the Forbidden Forest, he had merely silenced them with a whip-crack of his voice and a glare. Once they were sufficiently cowed, he launched into a lecture on the Star Moss Night Blooming Orchid.

The grove of dead trees had been a place that Snape had chosen his first year as Potions instructor for the patch of the rare flower to grow. The seeds were expensive, but it didn't take many as the Star Moss was a self-propagating plant. It thrived on the rich nutrients to be found in rotting trees.

Snape's lecture faded as the reached the grove. It was a beautiful, tranquil clearing and the light of the full moon gave an edge of the ethereal to everything it touched. For a brief moment, his four students were silent and he could see that each of them appreciated this quiet beauty offered by nature. Time was slipping inexorably forward and Snape quickly instructed them on how to harvest the bloom and its root and then he positioned them. The harvester had to work quickly as the blossoms opened; they expelled a heavy perfume that could easily overwhelm. Snape explained that most seasoned harvesters barely managed five blooms before being overcome by the Star Moss perfume. The enmity between Potter and Malfoy momentarily forgotten, Snape had promised points to anyone who could manage to harvest six intact blooms.

The attack from the Vohlfayr had taken Snape completely off guard. There was no time to think about what had brought the Blood Fae to a part of the world that wasn't native to them; Snape and his students were under attack. The Vohlfayr were vicious and quick in their attack; distracting the others while setting up the most vulnerable as their prey. Weasley, nearest him, was trying to help Snape while Potter, Granger and Malfoy were struggling on their own.

"Protect your eyes!" he ordered as he felt tiny, needle-like fingers just miss his own right eye.

Malfoy let out a horrified scream and Snape could see that the fae had chosen their victim. He had begun to cast a defensive shield at the same time Miss Granger was casting a spell to save young Malfoy. Although he approved of the girl's quick thinking, something had gone wrong with the spell she cast. Their only chance, in the midst of Miss Granger's miscast spell, was to remove them as quickly as possible; he side-apparated with his students.

Deep in the replay of the memory, he slowed everything down and concentrated on the memory image of the girl. By blocking out the distractions surrounding himself and her, he was now able to clearly hear the charm she cast; Dispercio. It was advanced 6th year magic. A charm the girl could only have found in a book. It shouldn't have surprised him. Miss Granger often had her nose in advanced spell books. Books could only teach so much, though, and that is where the child had made her error.

A very timid knock upon his door stirred the Potions master from his thoughts. Utilizing a quick dressing charm, he was back in full robed regalia as he answered the knock. Standing at his door was the very child he'd been mulling over. "Miss Granger? Are you well?" It appeared she had been weeping.

Hermione swallowed. She felt like she was standing before the Lord of Judgement himself. The last person she wanted to face was Snape, but she had no choice. "Professor... if you... I have to know... what did I do wrong?"

Ohhhh Snape could have told the girl in no uncertain terms just precisely where she'd gone wrong and quite scathingly, but he swallowed the desire. He was not a cruel man, despite his reputation at Hogwarts of being the "meanest and slimiest git" to ever teach at the school. Her fear of him was evident in her eyes and had Dumbledore, or McGonagall been in reach, Hermione would have gone to them. She was unable to do so and so it was his responsibility to counsel her. With the exception of his Slytherins, the students of the other houses generally did not realize that his duties in regards to the welfare of ALL the students in Hogwarts was one he took very seriously.

"Come in and sit down, Miss Granger." His tone was conciliatory, but hinted that she was, indeed, going to get an answer. Once she'd gingerly seated herself upon the chair he'd so recently occupied, he inquired, "In which book did you find the Dispercio charm, Miss Granger?"

"Defensive Charms & Wandless Incantations by Elgar Dreath." Hermione watched Snape pace and silently berated herself for wandering so willingly into the snake's den.

"Elgar Dreath is an adequate author, but that particular book is one lacking in detailed information. I'm surprised that you hadn't noticed, Miss Granger. Normally your research goes above and beyond what is normally required." He turned just in time to catch a small smile from the girl as she caught the wisp of a compliment he'd extended. His dark glare wiped the smile from her face.

Hermione kicked herself mentally. She should have known that no compliment given by the dreaded potions professor came without thorns. "What was missing, Professor?"

"The Dispercio charm has three permutations, Dispercio, Dispercium Incantatum, and Dispercious Excorius. Each permutation has distinct and rather complex gestures. In Dreath's book, he not only left out two of the permutations of the dispersal charm, but he made a grave error in which the gestures for Dispercious Excorius were mixed up with the Dispercio charm."

Hermione felt her heart leap to her throat. One of the first things a first year student learned before they were even allowed to use their wand was to NEVER mix gestures and charms. Many charms were simple and used a basic waving motion of the wand. There were some charms though, whose magic were enhanced by particular gestures that further helped to focus the magic. This type of magic was taught only to fourth year students. "I... I had no idea," she whispered and her voice quavered tremulously. "I'm so sorry, Professor. But, how... why did it send us back in time?"

"It wasn't entirely your spell, Miss Granger. Little is known in our part of the world about the Vohlfayr except in children's faery tales. We don't teach about them in school, although after this incident," he glowered thoughtfully, "we ought to start. What I can tell you about the Blood Fae is that they create a field that allows them to phase slightly between our reality and time. Blood fae are difficult to attack because they are moving a few seconds ahead of us." Snape paused briefly to allow Hermione the chance to grasp the concept. He was pleased to catch the glimmer of comprehension in her eyes. He continued to elaborate. "I believe that your particular gestures with the Dispercio charm reacted with the time field projected by the Vohlfayr, opening a rift in time that we fell through. We were not followed by the fae because part of the original intent of the charm, that of dispersing the fae, was fulfilled."

Hermione nodded slowly. "So I separated us from the enemy by sending us back in time."

"That is what I just said, Miss Granger." Her glared down upon her. He purposely neglected to elaborate on his own contribution as he felt it more important to impress upon the little know-it-all the gravity of her mistake. "Now, does this answer your question?"

"It does, Professor. I am so very sorry, sir."

"Just see that you don't practice spells and charms from the books you read without more thorough research. And ask, if you wish to practice more advanced magic. You are more than capable and I'm certain that Professor McGonagall would be more than happy to indulge her favored student."

This caused a grin to light up Hermione's face and she jumped up from her chair. "Thank you, Professor. I promise, I'll ask for help from now on." She raced for the door and pulled it open. Relief flooded her body language, but Snape could also tell she was ready for escape. "Goodnight, sir!"

"Goodnight, Miss Granger." The door closed firmly and soon after he heard the girl's own door shut as well. A sudden yawn escaped him and he wasn't sure why, but he suddenly felt as though he would now be able to sleep.

Severus Snape was not a morning person and he chose to sit before the cold fireplace while the teenagers were seated at a table covered with a luxury of breakfast foods. With his hands around a large cup of coffee, he did his best to ignore the four students he would be putting up with on a regular basis. To his blessed relief, Draco, Hermione, Harry and Ron chose wisely to keep their conversation low as they ate. After a second cup of the bitter brew, he was drawn into the day and indulged in some eggs, bacon and a honey biscuit. He seated himself between Draco and Harry.

"I, for one, am glad I don't have to go to Divination today," snorted Draco with a gleeful grin as he bit into another piece of bacon.

Ron chuckled. "But Trelawney's made some fantastic death prophecies for you, Malfoy."

"Yeah," smiled Harry. "I think the one where your head is supposed to be eaten by the squid was amazing!"

Draco shook his head. "No Potter, I liked the one where I was going up in flames while catching the snitch against Gryffindor."

Ron's eyes widened. "Oooo yeah. That was particularly descriptive!"

Honestly!" chided Hermione. "Why do you encourage her? It's such a load of rubbish anyway!"

"Once you get used to the incense," said Ron as he ate some orange slices, "it's not that bad. She's crazy, but fun."

"Hey! I don't have to take Professor McGonagall's test in Transfiguration today!" Potter grinned as he grabbed the last honey biscuit.

"I suppose you'd studied rather diligently for the exam, Mr. Potter?" Snape drawled. Harry only had a moment to scowl at Snape before his lovely expression was interrupted by an anguished cry.

Hermione's face fell. "I had a test in Arithmancy today. I studied for it all week!"

Draco scowled. "What is it with you and your books, Granger?"

"Hey!" Began Harry, but he paused. That same question had been on the tip of his tongue.

Draco eyed Harry. "Don't play innocent on that one, Potter. Everyone knows Granger is a know-it-all teacher's pet."

Snape looked up from his breakfast just in time to catch a flash of fire in the Potter boy's eyes and he spoke slowly, "Unlike the three of you, Miss Granger intends to make something of her life. At the rate you boys are going, I expect to see you cooking greasy food for the patrons at the Leaky Cauldron and Miss Granger will have published her second paper in the Wizarding Journal of Academic Magic."

Hermione's blush dipped down to her toes and Ron scoffed, "Too right about that, Professor!" Harry laughed and Draco glared darkly then rolled his eyes.

"I'd just like to see her play at least once," the blonde boy growled as he glanced quickly at Hermione.

"Sir, what are we going to do until we get back home?" Harry asked.

Snape poured himself a third cup of dark brew. "Research, Mr. Potter." With the exception of Hermione, the general reaction around the table was one of disgust. "It is our only way to return, Mr. Potter."

"Professor Snape," Hermione began tentatively. "What about a Time Turner? I know it allows for turning time back and forward, so wouldn't it..."

Snape shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Miss Granger. A Time Turner is very limited in regards to how far forward or how far back it can go. Time Turners also work upon a 'reciprocal balance' method." He caught the blank stares, took a sip of his coffee and continued. "What that means is if a Time Turner is turned back by three hours, it must then be balanced by turning forward three hours."

"So if we used a Time Turner to take us forward 96 years it would have to go back 96 years," Harry spoke carefully as he tried to understand. He then shrugged. "So why wouldn't that work?"

"There are two problems with your reasoning, Mr. Potter," lectured Snape with a slight tone of exasperation. "The first is that a Time Turner is restricted to going forward or back by no more than 12 hours. The second problem is that the person who went forward 96 years would then be forced to go back 96 years."

"Back to square one, mate," muttered Ron. Harry scowled and flipped a cold bit of egg on his plate.

"While I work upon the circumstances that precipitated our journey to the past, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley will be researching the Vohlfayr in relation to time travel. As for you, Miss Granger," Snape aimed his gaze at Hermione and she gulped like a skewered fish. "I want you to expand your research on the Dispercio charm. Look for all three variations, with their gestures and prepare an essay on the differences."

"An assignment?" she asked in disbelief.

"Certainly, Miss Granger. Did you not just voice disappointment in missing your schoolwork?" The girl nodded amidst muffled snickering from all three boys. His smile was a smug one. "Then I have just given you what you desire most." His smile quickly vanished and was replaced by a very serious expression. "I also want to impress upon you the error of inadequate research."

Ron grinned cheekily at Hermione and she gave him a glare that Snape approved of. "Yes, Professor."

Once breakfast was completed, Snape led his small entourage to the library. Two by two they followed at a quick pace behind the long-legged professor. They looked like a brood of black birds obediently trailing behind a large raven. Many students were curious about the visitors, but an announcement from the headmistress, and emphasized by their instructors, warned them all to respect the privacy of the visitors; in essence, to ignore them. Fortunately the library wasn't far from Gryffindor tower so the stares of the curious were minimal.

The librarian, a pinched faced wizard who looked like he spent long hours reading by candlelight, greeted them. Although the man was quite a bit shorter than the Potions Master, he had a sharp, stern demeanor that matched that of Snape's.

"I am Librarian Adelbard," he introduced himself, speaking with a voice that was as pleasant as fingernails on a chalkboard. "Permission has been given to you by the headmistress to receive unrestricted access to the restricted section of our library." His scowl showed his disapproval of the order he'd received from the new headmistress.

"Thank you, Librarian Adelbard." Snape pointedly made no introductions and it seemed the man was not awaiting any.

Adelbard skewered each of the teenagers with a pointed look that caused each of them to draw a little closer to Snape. The man then aimed that penetrating gaze at Snape. "While you are in my library I expect you to have perfect control over your... children. If your research requires access to our Dark Arts restricted books, the children are under no circumstances to go near those books. They are allowed in the second story stack but only if they remain within the white labeled shelves. Anything marked in red, green, yellow or black is to be left where it is."

The librarian paused in his instructions and indicated with a crooked finger they were to follow him. He led them to a gated area and using his wand released the wards that sealed the gate from the rest of the library. The restricted area was dominated by a long, crude wooden table set with five chairs. Sitting on the table were several large, old books. Also on the table were a dozen quills, three inkwells, and a neat stack of parchment. Surrounding the table were three floors of shelves with grillwork screens. Each screen was marked by a simple colored stripe and the books were behind these screens. The second and third floors were accessed by a simple spiral staircase attached to each floor by an iron balcony. The area was cramped and claustrophobic feeling.

"I have selected a number of books on the theory of Time, as requested by the headmistress." Adelbard indicated the books upon the table. He then eyed the teenagers once more. "I expect your elder to have already instructed each of you in the care of such old books. If I find any damage to my books..."

Snape interrupted as he found he was irritated by the man's gall in daring to threaten his charges. "There will be no damage done, Adelbard. You have my word." Snape's fists had gone to his hips and his full height and cold tone of voice were enough the send the librarian scurrying back to his desk without another word.

"Oy professor!" marveled Ron. "If you taught a class in fear and intimidation, we could scare Voldemort to death!" Ron suddenly realized what he'd just said and to whom and he shrank visibly as Snape glared down upon him.

"I shall take your suggestion under advisement, Mr. Weasley," he said smoothly. In the blink of an eye he cuffed Ron in the side of the head and leaned into the boy's shocked face. "Do not give me cause me to remind you again, Mr. Weasley, to keep silent in regards to the future and most particularly we do not mention the name of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Snape then rose and cast a warning gaze upon all of them. "That goes for all of you."

Snape had seated himself at the middle of the table and began to work on the books the librarian had put out. He glanced at the titles, chose one that sounded promising and opened the book. The boys didn't hesitate to head up the stairs to the second floor. Heading in three different directions into the depths of the stacks, they each perused the dozens of shelves looking for anything that might aid in their research.

"Professor," Hermione asked softly. He glanced up at the girl. "Would you have any suggestions for books on the Dispercio charm?"

Snape tapped his chin thoughtfully with a long, slim finger. "Go out into the main library, Miss Granger and look for a book titled Complex Defensive Spells by Elspeth Plume. That was a new book for this time and is still considered an authoritative missive on defensive spells. I'd like you to also look for The Art of Wand Gestures by Rowena Ravenclaw. It will be a text you'll want to be familiar with for your fifth year with Professor Flitwick."

"Thank you, sir," Hermione said and then exited the restricted area.

Up on the second floor, Ron quickly found a book and sought out Harry. He soon found him just two shelves away. He showed Harry the book but Harry didn't look at it. He had opened one of the grillwork screens and was staring at a slim book that showed its age in its discolored leather binding.

"What is it, mate?" Ron whispered sensing that something had given Harry a chill. Harry just simply pointed at the book and Ron squinted at the gold embossed lettering. "Love And the Killing Curse...? Harry stretched out his hand for the book just as Ron spotted the color of red on the other, unopened screen. He caught Harry's hand. "We're not supposed to touch these books, Harry."

"Dumbledore told me that I survived that curse because of my mum's love for me, Ron. What if there's something in there that could help me against Voldemort?"

Ron was torn between helping Harry and risking the wrath of both Snape and the little squint of a librarian. Three years as Harry's friend quickly decided for him. Snatching the book off the shelf, he shoved it into his best friend's hands, shut the screen and hissed, "Hide it and then find something else to work on while we're here."

Harry nodded and stuffed the book under his sweater, against his back and slightly in the waistband of his trousers. It wasn't a thick or heavy book, but it felt like it was secure. Just as Harry adjusted his sweater, Draco came around the corner, looking for them.

"I found an interesting book!" He held out the book so they could see it. The title was, How to Catch a Faery: And What Are They Good For Anyway?

"Mine's called A Question of Time," said Ron, holding it out so they could see it.

"What's yours, Potter?" asked Draco.

"Haven't found one, yet," he muttered.

Draco grabbed Ron's elbow. "Well, hurry it up, Potter! Find something and I can show you how to make flying dragons." Draco dragged Ron over to the balcony and they both sat down on the floor so their legs were through the rails and dangling over the balcony.

For a moment Harry watched the two boys, his brows beetled together. When, he thought, had those two become such buddies? He patted the book stashed against his back and then quickly scanned the grillwork screens. He found one marked with a white strip, opened it and found a promising tome that had a very long title that had the word 'time' in it. Slamming shut the screen, he hurried over to Draco and Ron, just as Draco was showing the red-headed boy how to make an origami dragon out of a small piece of parchment. When the dragon was complete, it was no bigger than two inches and it sat on Draco's open palm. He quickly charmed the dragon with his wand and it lifted off from the boy's hand and flew in circles until it dive-bombed Harry.

"Wicked!" Harry whispered as he plopped down beside Draco. "Make another one, Malfoy!"

They had kept their voices down to whispers, but it was the short outbursts of laughter that first got Snape's irate attention. Just as he sent a dark look upward at the three pairs of dangling legs, the dragons vanished and their laughter was silenced. It was a full minute before Snape returned his eyes to the book he was reading. The dragons were immediately back out and there were six of them flying between the three boys. They swooped upward toward the third floor and then came diving downward at whatever target they'd been sent after. One dragon missed its target, Harry, and kept heading downward until it struck Snape right on the crown of his head.

Snape rose to his feet, kept his voice low and snarled, "Get down here at once!" The three boys scrambled up from their perches and noisily tromped down the spiral staircase. Their eyes were wide, obviously expecting to be blown apart. "Give me your wands!" He held out his hand as they each produced their wands. Snatching the wands from their fingers, he put them into the sleeve of his robe and pointed the boys toward the end of the table. "Read your books and use those quills to make notes."

The boys managed at least fifteen minutes of quiet and studious reading and Ron had even made or note or two before their antics began again.

Draco had slouched down in his chair and held his book so just his eyes were peering over the top edge of the book. A quick sidelong glance at Snape and then his head shot up and he made a face at Harry. He ducked back down quickly, his eyes once more crocodilian grey orbs swimming warily above his book. Harry, seated across from Draco, slowly slid down in his chair so that his pose mimicked Draco's. He glanced over at Ron and silently indicated that Ron was to be lookout. Ron affected a more scholarly pose in his chair, picked up his quill and scratched some nonsense on the parchment under his hand. His eyes kept darting back and forth from his book to Snape. When Ron was satisfied that Snape wasn't paying them any attention, he gave Harry a quick nod. Harry's head shot up from behind his book, made a quick face at Draco and then ducked back down.

It was Draco's turn and with a quick look to Ron, he recruited the boy as his lookout as well. Ron eased into another nonchalant pose, wrote down more nonsense with a quill nib that was empty of ink, glanced at Snape, and then gave Draco the go-ahead. Draco's face was neatly twisted with a lopsided leer, crossed eyes and a wrinkled nose. He ducked down behind his book.

Harry was impressed. Draco had cast a very simple glamour charm to make his face. And without a wand! Ron nudged Harry's arm, leaned over and then whispered. "Can you beat that, Harry?"

Harry nodded and whispered back. "Yeah, I know that same charm."

Ron leaned away from Harry just as Snape eyed him suspiciously. Ron feigned innocence and dipped his quill into the inkwell. Forgetting to tap the nib just before moving his quill to the parchment resulted in a large blotch of black ink obscuring the one genuine note he'd taken down. Ron did his best to mop up the spill and took a moment to cast a glance at Snape. Snape's long nose was back in the book he was reading. Ron nodded to Harry and Harry's head snapped up. His glamour charm had thickened his eyebrows and brow bone, twisted his mouth and given him a large bulbous nose. He ducked down back into hiding and Draco let out a loud snort of uncontrolled laughter. That caused a chain reaction and Ron and Harry were both laughing, unconcerned about the deadly look the potions professor was casting their way.

The laughter was too infectious and when Harry glanced at Snape, he only laughed harder. Snape slammed down the book he'd been reading with a look of pure murder on his face. He was about to verbally tear into them when a sharp command came from the quiet one at the end of the table.

"Silencio!" The silence was immediate. Without a glance toward Snape, Hermione calmly put away her wand, picked up her quill and resumed work on her essay.

Professor Severus Snape rarely found himself at a loss for words, but as he stared in astonishment at the bushy-haired girl that was working, very seriously, on her assignment, he could only draw in a deep breath and return to his book. As for the three comedians, they were effectively silenced and the charm had also temporarily deflated their desire to continue with more diverting activities.

A few minutes later an elf popped in just outside the restricted area. It walked in and spoke in a raspy whisper, "Master Snapes, sir, a note from Headmistress." The elf handed Snape a folded and sealed note. He nodded at the elf who quickly stepped out of the restricted section and then vanished.

Snape broke the seal and read the letter:

Master Snape,

I have spoken to Head Boy Dumbledore this morning and have impressed upon him that discretion must be taken in regards to you and the children. He has assured me that he has spoken to no one else about any of you and I am inclined to trust him as you seemed to put much store by his ability to keep a secret.

Headmistress Arcahnum

Snape folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket. He would burn it later.

Draco had read his book for about ten minutes before realizing he had no idea what he'd been reading. He had just been biding his time. Grabbing a some parchment, he tore off a piece, which made no noise since the parchment was within the sphere of silence Hermione had cast. He quickly wrote something, folded the parchment, punched Ron in the shoulder and handed to him. Ron opened the note and read it.

I'm hungry!

Ron quickly penned a reply, folded the note and tossed it at Draco.

I am, too! When do you think we'll get to talk again?

Draco took a second, then wrote a reply. He crumpled the parchment into a ball and threw it so it hit Harry in the forehead. Harry's head snapped up and he glared darkly at Draco. Draco shrugged apologetically and then pointed at the parchment ball that had landed on the floor. Harry bent over to pick it up, uncrumpled the parchment and read what Draco and Ron had written and then the reply to Ron's question.

Potter, tell Snape to let us talk again.

Harry crumpled the parchment and shook his head. Draco fumed silently. Tearing another piece of parchment off the first, he quickly scratched one word and shoved the piece across the table at Harry.

Harry ignored it for a second, then peered up from his book and glanced at the torn piece of paper.

CHICKEN!

Harry snatched for the note but it was suddenly whisked away from him. Harry shrank down in his chair as he felt the presence of something very tall, dark and snarky standing over him.

"Mr. Potter," said the voice that was like silk brushing against bone. "Do you have something to say to me?"

Harry couldn't sink down any further into his chair. He glanced sideways at Snape and shook his head no.

"I thought not. Take this quiet opportunity and apply your mind to the book in front of you before I decide to apply it vigorously to the back of your head."

As soon as Snape glided back to his seat, Harry shot a dangerous look at Draco. Draco just laughed silently until that sepulchral voice slithered over to him with an order.

"Mr. Draco, get reading before I demonstrate the effect of an overused glamour charm upon your face." Draco blanched and his eyes went wide in horror. He then slammed silently into his chair and yanked his book angrily toward himself.

A little more than an hour later, Hermione, who had quite forgotten the now very quiet boys, closed the book she was reading, made one last note on her essay, and stood up from her chair. She surreptitiously stretched her upper back, reminding herself once again she had to watch her habit of slipping into such a hunched over posture.

"Professor Snape?" she asked in a low voice so as to not startle him from the notes he was working on. He put down his quill and looked up at her. "I've finished my essay, sir."

Snape extended his hand for the parchment pages and tucked it beneath the notes he'd been working on. He noted the slight sag to Hermione's shoulders; she was disappointed that he wasn't reading it now. He gave the girl a slight smirk. He wasn't about to admit it to the little lion cub, but he appreciated her single-minded pursuit of knowledge.

The gate to the restricted area squeaked audibly as its hinges protested at the entry of the headmistress. Her robes were more severe today, so dark a blue that in the shadows of the restricted area, they were black. The dress beneath her robes was dark grey velvet with an intricate, black bodice heavily embroidered with black satin thread. Her long hair fell into a single braid down her back.

"I think you've all lost track of time," she said as she ushered in two elves laden down with trays that held sandwiches, fruit, and pumpkin juice. Lyrica held a carafe of fragrant coffee for Snape. She placed it near him, but away from his books and notes.

As the elves put the food upon the table, Lyrica saw the boys bouncing excitedly, but entirely silently at the other end of the table. She glanced quizzically at Snape.

"Ahh! I'd forgotten." Snape reversed the silencing spell. "We had a bit of trouble with noise."

"It's about time!" crowed Ron as he grabbed a couple of sandwiches and tucked in immediately.

"I'm starving!" Draco echoed the sentiment and snatched at a sandwich Harry was going for. Harry veered off for another one and grabbed a large, red apple, too.

Lyrica poured a cup of coffee for Snape and he accepted it with a grateful smile. The smile stunned all four who had their mouths full. Just in time, Snape cast a dark look at them and they went back to eating.

"If you can stop eating for five seconds," he said slowly, "I'd like you to properly introduce yourselves to our benefactor." Full mouths were quickly emptied, a couple with the help of generous swigs of pumpkin juice. Snape's eyes rolled a bit. "I assure you, they usually have better manners than this."

Lyrica smiled and chuckled as she seated herself beside the Potions Master. Hermione, back in her chair, neatly wiped her mouth with a napkin and introduced herself first. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Ron Weasley!" Ron said through a mouthful of sandwich. "Hi!"

Draco, schooled from the moment of birth in etiquette, rose from his chair, made his way around the table and was soon standing at Lyrica's side. "Draco Malfoy, Professor Arcahnum." He bowed perfectly. "Thank you very much for helping us."

"You're very welcome, Draco." Lyrica inclined her head and smiled at the boy. He suddenly blushed and caught a quick gesture from Snape to sit back down. Ron shook his head.

Draco made haste to obey and Harry smiled at the headmistress. "I'm Harry Potter, Professor."

"I'm very pleased to meet each of you. Don't let me stop you from enjoying the lunch."

The repast was greatly appreciated as the four youngsters nearly wiped out all the food. Snape stuck with the coffee and a couple of slices of orange.

After a few minutes of quiet interrupted only twice by muffled burps, the headmistress spoke. "I understand the importance of this research, Master Snape, but if I'm not mistaken, these children require some fresh air." She caught Ron trying to stifle a yawn.

"With the exception of Miss Granger, the library is more a prison than anything else." At that moment, one of the dragons fluttered down from the second floor balcony. With the palm of his hand, Snape flattened it.

"I wouldn't mind staying here," Hermione added helpfully.

"I think not," Lyrica glanced meaningfully at Snape in case he had intentions of keeping them all there until the sun settled. Of course, that was his intention, but to be honest with himself, he was getting annoyed with most of the company.

"Very well," he agreed. "You can have two hours outside. That includes you, Miss Granger. Remember what I said last night and do not go too far." All four stared at him. "Go on!" he barked.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco jumped up from their chairs, each grabbed a piece of fruit, and raced each other out of the library. Following them was a hissed shout from the librarian to behave themselves.

Severus took a long draught of his coffee and caught the headmistress looking toward him. "You need those two hours as well, Master Snape. Will you walk with me?"

Snape supposed he could use a break as well. Perhaps he could discuss his findings with the comely headmistress.

Lyrica's manner and body language was that of a woman who had been raised since birth with courtly manners, and the knowledge that a woman was secondary in status to a man. Women in the aristocracy of the Wizarding world were charming companions to their husband, proper hosts to guests, ran the home, gave birth to sons, and were bargaining chips in pureblood familial alignment. Severus mused that this archaic tradition, though changing, was still to be found in some of the older pureblood families in his century. A tradition that the Dark Lord would have no problem reviving if he were to win.

There was a spark in the young woman, a hint of rebelliousness. She kept it clearly under control and was willing to subdue it, if the situation called for it. Severus had seen this small bit of fire right after her attempt to Legilimens him. He found it appealing and hoped to see more of this.

Turning those thoughts quietly over in his mind, Severus observed that Lyrica was of age to have been contracted in an arranged marriage. Had her father's death freed her from such a contract, or had he not had time to negotiate one?

"Lyrica," Severus began, "if your father had lived to take this post of headmaster, would you now be at St. Mungo's?"

They had come to a washed out portion of the path and Severus stepped down, then turned to offer his hand to the headmistress for assistance. She hesitated briefly and then took his hand as she stepped carefully over the break in the path. Once steady, she quickly let go of his hand.

"If that's too personal a question..." he said uneasily as she had not yet replied.

Lyrica walked slightly ahead of him. "As a Potions Mistress my skills would provide me with a status suitable to Phineas Black, the only unmarried son of Phineas Nigellus Black. Baron Black has lofty plans for his son and I would have been... an agreeable match. It was an alliance my father had long been waiting for. However, my skills are status only, and for the home I would have been to run. Employment at St. Mungo's would not have been encouraged." She stepped carefully over some loose stones. "I am fortunate that with my father's death, Baron Black did not feel it necessary to enforce the contract." She had stopped on the path just as it evened out and crossed her arms over herself. The breeze blew a stray strand of hair over her face, but she did not move to brush it away. As Severus moved to stand beside her, he could see she was smiling. "I am a woman allowed to make my own choices now, Severus." She gave him a sidelong glance and whispered, "I hope I make the right ones."

Lyrica veered suddenly off the path and for a moment Severus watched as she crouched down to pluck a few of the Autumn flowers that dotted the landscape. He watched with interest as she plucked a wild violet close to the ground and pinched off any portion of the root that had come up. She then shook the flower and leaves to brush off insects and dirt and tucked the flower into her palm as she repeated the motions with another wild violet. Severus appreciated the rhythm in which she worked and was slightly startled when she addressed him.

"How has your research gone this morning, Severus?" she asked while stretching for another of the wild violets.

"Not as well as I'd hoped." Lyrica glanced back at him and with her empty hand, she motioned him to join her. Stepping off the path, he was soon crouched beside her. Lyrica indicated he should harvest the white snakeroot by his knee. While he did so, he explained, "I spent far too much time disciplining the boys. They make very poor research assistants." Severus sharply tugged upward on the wildflower, bringing a length of its spindly root out of the ground. He tapped his fingers against the root to remove the loose dirt and then harvested another.

"Perhaps they've yet to understand the seriousness of the situation they are in." Lyrica carefully pocketed the violets she'd picked. For a brief moment she glanced sideways at him. The pale light of day glanced off of a pale scar upon her cheek. Seeing his eyes settle upon the scar, she covered it with her hand, and turned her attention back to the violets.

Severus turned his gaze away from the scar and groused, "They seem to view this as another adventure." Severus examined the white snakeroot he'd harvested and brushed off an insect before handing the flowers to the headmistress. While she pocketed the wildflower, he rose to his feet. He offered his hand to help her up.

Lyrica hesitated once more before taking Severus' hand. This time he noticed the hesitancy. After a few more seconds the headmistress took his hand and he helped her to her feet. As soon as she let go, Lyrica busied her hands with pulling her robes closer to her and picking up the hem of her skirt. She returned to the path and began to ascend slowly.

Severus paused briefly, wondering about Lyrica's reluctance to being touched. The scar. Both clues to behavior he was well acquainted with. Could Ebenezer Arcahnum...?

"Severus," she asked as he fell into step beside her. "What do you know of the Vohlfayr?"

"Beyond the fact that the Blood Fae are well-named and have the ability to move a few seconds ahead of their prey, I've only known them as a myth. They figure mainly in teaching stories a parent tells to a child to warn them of the dangers of wandering too far from home." For a moment, he thought back to the stories his mother told him. He chose to reveal this small bit of knowledge to the headmistress. "My parents and I lived in one of the wizarding muggle communities when I was a child. To protect me and to remind me that it could be dangerous revealing who and what we were to... outsiders... she would tell me a story of Vohlfayr that protected Muggles by killing little wizard children." He glanced over at Lyrica's look of horror. He shrugged. "The story served its purpose, for a time. I became very wary of Muggles, especially those who lived near us. It gave me... a rather... isolated childhood." Leaving the memory quickly behind, he concluded, "To my knowledge, there has not been a nest of the Vohlfayr seen for several centuries."

Lyrica sensed the difficulty Severus had in revealing such an intimate detail of his past. It was awful knowing that he'd been raised with the use of such fear to keep him in line. As he returned the subject back to the real Vohlfayr, she respected the small gift of his memory and put it aside, along with any sympathy.

She spoke matter of factly, "You might want to look for the book The Origins of Vampirism by Abraham Van Helsing. He made quite a study of the origins of vampirism and his research, as outlined in this book. It was the study of a large nest of the Vohlfayr in Germany in 1822. His father and grandfather had both been dedicated to ridding the world of the Vampyr, yet their efforts were... ineffectual and not to mention altogether brutal. Innocents paid the price of their superstition, as well. It was Abraham who felt that in order to rid the world of vampirism, it must be studied and understood; its origins had to be discovered. Abraham's theory was that normal wizards or witches were infected by the bite of the Vohlfayr and were the carriers amongst the Wizarding world. In the Muggle world, vampires are a rarity."

Lyrica paused in her lecture as they had just come to the beginning of the path down the slope they'd been walking on. She was looking toward the magnificent castle that was Hogwarts. Taking in a breath of the cool Autumn air, she continued. "Abraham then began developing potions to help those stricken from the bite of the Blood Fae. The potions were to eradicate the Blood Fae and to cure the victims. There was, though, little help for the Muggles. Those afflicted Muggles, fortunately, did not have the fabled long life of the vampire."

"It apears I've been remiss in my Wizarding History," mused Severus.

"I am curious, though, how did the Blood Fae get past your wards?" Lyrica had turned back to face him and saw Severus glance toward the Forbidden Forest.

"Wards?" asked Severus with a frown.

"Do you not have the Forbidden Forest secured by warding spells?" Lyrica asked.

Severus shook his head. "I have never known it to be warded."

"We have very heavy wards around the forest, both to protect unwary Muggles from stumbling into it and to protect the inhabitants. The centaurs help us to maintain the wards."

"Deflection wards?" asked Severus. Lyrica merely nodded. "That may be why we wound up behind the Leaky Cauldron instead of in the Forbidden Forest."

They continued their walk toward the castle as Lyrica changed the subject. "Severus, I realize it's far too soon to think of such a thing, but if there is not a way back to your time...?"

Severus shook his head once, sharply. "It is not something I can consider, Professor Arcahnum." Lyrica just briefly caught the hint of urgency... or fear cross his features. "I can only say that it is of the utmost importance for us to return to our future; to our fate. This I must concentrate on until I know for certain there is no chance of returning home."

As he spoke, his tone of voice had devolved into the cold dismisiveness his students were most familiar with. For Lyrica, it was a tone of voice she'd heard often as she grew up. When she replied, her voice held little emotion. "Then so I must aid you to the best of my ability, Master Snape."

As Lyrica walked ahead of him, her spine stiff and ramrod straight, he had the sense that he had offended the headmistress. He had not meant his reply to be so cold, but how could he reveal to her that in such a short time, a very short time, he would do anything not to have to return to Fate and whatever destiny had in mind for him? His right hand strayed to his left forearm, all too conscious of the mark of Voldemort. Remembered pain pulsed like an obscene lover's touch over the mark and his heart skipped a beat in fear as he wondered, just briefly, if it were possible for the Dark Lord to summon him in this peaceful past.

Impossible, his mind sneered at him, it is only a memory. He forced his right hand to his side and began walking. The headmistress had yet to slow her pace and she was almost to the castle.

Draco, Harry, Ron and Hermione found their way to the Quiddith field. It didn't look too much different from their time, although there seemed to be more gold and silver ornamentation. There was a practice going on between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, and so they sat in the bleachers, watching the game. Harry had listened, somewhat in awe, as Draco and Ron good-naturedly argued statistics over their two favorite Quidditch teams. Hermione was working on some notes, as usual.

Harry leaned forward with his arms resting on the rail in front of him, his chin on his hands. Only one day here and Harry was realizing he really didn't want to go back to their time. He knew that he would have to, if they discovered the way home, but a part of him wanted to stay away from the specter that was Voldemort. How would it be to have a life; be just a kid who simply had a funny looking scar that meant nothing to no one? The Boy-Who-Lived just wouldn't eixst. Harry wondered if Snape might feel the same way. Dumbledore had stressed, more times than Harry could count on his fingers, that his trust in the man was unquestioned. Would Snape be a different man if he didn't have to worry about Voldemort as well? Maybe, just possibly, Snape might not hate him so much. Glancing over his shoulder at Draco laughing at a joke of Ron's, he wondered if maybe they all wouldn't be different without the shadow of the dark wizard over their lives.

Sighing, he leaned back and flicked Hermione's parchment to be annoying. He couldn't remain in his thoughts. It was too much for him. Hermione looked up and gave him a wry smile.

"Thinking again, Harry?" she asked.

He nodded. "Can I show you something 'Mione and you won't go spare?" he asked quietly as he pushed nervously at the fringe of hair that obscured his lightning scar.

"What is it, Harry?" She watched as Harry pulled the book from under his sweater, glanced quickly at Ron and Draco, and then handed it to her.

Hermione gently took the very old, slim book into her hands and read the title which had been deeply stamped into its thick, leather binding. "Love And the Killing Curse by Perenelle Flamel. Harry, what are you doing with this? You know we're not to take anything out of the restricted section."

Harry shrugged. "It's a red book, Hermione. One of those the librarian said we couldn't touch." The look on Hermione's face panicked Harry and he scooted closer to her on the bench. "Look at the title, Hermione!" he hissed. "Remember what I told you about what Dumbledore told me? How my mum saved me? I survived the killing curse because of her love. What if there's a clue in there... maybe... well, look at it!" His voice was still low, but he was frustrated and snatched the book back from her.

"Harry, I won't tell anyone, all right? You know I won't. Read it and if you think it can help then keep it."

Harry stared in astonishment at his friend. She was the one who always seemed to be throwing the rule book in their faces. Yet, she'd changed... relaxed recently. He smirked at her. "You sure you shouldn't have been sorted into Slytherin?"

Hermione huffed. "My second choice was Ravenclaw!" Harry chuckled, re-hid the stolen book, and turned his gaze out onto the Quidditch players.

After awhile Harry looked back at Hermione who had, of course, brought a quill, ink and parchment with her. Three things she never was without. "What're you writing?"

"While working on my essay I was reminded of something I read in one of those Muggle science books I told you about. Well, I'm trying to remember the book because I think it might help."

"A muggle book," Harry grunted as he shifted slightly. "I don't think Snape's going to let us into the Muggle world to look for it."

Hermione looked up from her notes and rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty certain the book was written in the 1960s or 1970s, Harry. That's why I'm trying to recall exactly what I'd read." She went back to her writing, taking a brief second to swipe a wayward curl out of her face.

"Potter, what do you think Gryffindor's chance is against Slytherin this year?" Harry was startled to be addressed by Malfoy. Even stranger was the lack of the boy's normal, Slytherin hostility. It was, frankly, making him uneasy. It was also bugging him that he kept getting into mischief with the younger Malfoy as though completely forgetting they were supposed to be enemies.

"They'll be using your brooms to sweep the remains up off the pitch," grinned Harry. He grinned. What's with me? Harry thought. Only one day and I'm grinning, getting into trouble with Malfoy. "This is just weird."

"We can beat each other up if it will make it seem less weird, Potter," offered Draco. Ron and Draco came to sit down beside Harry and Hermione.

"I'd take you up on that, but then, we'd serve more detention and probably wind up back in the Middle Ages." Harry stared at Draco and couldn't help asking, "What have you done with the real Draco Malfoy?"

Draco sneered good-naturedly. "He's back in 1994." Draco leaned forward on the railing. "As the only Slytherin in a group of Gryffindor, I figure it's a survival tactic to keep my enemies as my friends." Harry's eyes narrowed at this. "Look, Potter, it's just not worth the energy. I don't know how long we're going to be here, so I'm trying to make the best of the situation. Don't suppose you could try to as well?"

Harry scowled at how noble the Slytherin was sounding to his ears. Ron, catching the scowl, punched him in the shoulder lightly. "Look mate, if we get back to our own time, we can all go back to insulting and hexing each other." Hermione glanced up at Ron from her writing, seeing a side to the fiery-tempered red head she'd not seen before. Ron shrugged. "The way I look at it, we've only got Snape and the four of us. It kind of doesn't matter right now what houses we're in or who we are; we're all in the same place. So, like the snake said, I guess we ought to make the best of it."

There was a long silence between the four of them. Hermione and Ron wanted to maintain peace just so they wouldn't have to be pulling Harry off of Draco, or scraping the blasted remains of Harry off some castle wall. Harry wasn't about to be friends with Draco, but figured that at least he could hold up the flag of truce until their situation changed. As for Draco, he had no illusions about the three Gryffindors becoming his friends any time soon, but he was feeling a freedom in this time he couldn't, yet, articulate. For him, it somehow didn't matter that he and Potter should be enemies or that Hermione wasn't a pureblood, and that Ron was from a family his father, Lucius, considered pureblood traitors.

"Potter, do you think we'll ever get back to our own time?" asked Draco.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

"I'd rather stay here," declared the pale, blonde-haired boy.

Harry stared at Malfoy for a long minute. He was about to ask why, when Hermione chimed in, "I like it here, too. Although, I'd miss my parents, terribly."

"It's all right," mused Ron, "But, I'd prefer going home."

Harry smiled at Ron. At least someone was thinking rationally. "Why do you want to stay, Malfoy?"

Draco's eyes widened at Harry in disbelief as if to ask, 'don't you already know why?' "I don't want to be a Death Eater!" spat Draco. The boy abruptly made his way out of the bleachers.

Harry honestly had no idea what to say. He stared, not entirely comprehending, as Draco disappeared down into the depths of the stands. "A Death Eater? But, isn't that what all purebloods want?" The second he said it, Harry realized he'd insulted someone else besides the younger Malfoy. Both Hermione and Ron were glaring at him. "I'm... Ron... I.. didn't mean... I..."

"Not all purebloods, Harry!" snapped Ron and he, too, left the bleachers.

"Are you deliberately stupid?" asked Hermione in a huff.

"I didn't mean it!" he shouted. He put his face in his hands for a moment and then dropped his fists to his knees. He waited a few seconds and then headed after Ron. "Ron!"

For a few seconds, Ron just ignored Harry and kept stalking away until he was out of site of the Quidditch pitch. After a third time of hearing his name, he whirled on Harry. Ron's face was nearly the color of his hair. "You just don't think, sometimes!"

"No, I don't, Ron and really... I am sorry. What I said... that was just really stupid of me!"

"Yeah, it was!"

"Ron, your family has never been anything but accepting of me." Ron shrugged at Harry. Harry was at a loss as to what else he could say. He really did need to learn to think before he opened his mouth. He just decided to ask what was on his mind in the hopes he and Ron could get over his blunder. "Can you tell me, Ron, what in Merlin's green socks did Malfoy mean by that?"

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "Not everyone in Slytherin wants to be a Death Eater, Harry." Ron suddenly rolled his eyes as he couldn't believe what he'd just said.

Harry cursed under his breath. "No... but... well, don't you think he'd at least miss his father?"

Ron snorted. "Lucius Malfoy doesn't have love for anyone, Harry, and that includes his own son. I knew the Malfoys as I grew up and I can tell you, even without his feelings about Muggles, Lucius is scary."

This was too surreal for Harry. "I'm not going to apologize to the git," he muttered.

Ron slapped Harry on the shoulder and grinned. "Didn't ask you to, mate."

Draco stalked away from the Quidditch field, clenching his fists tightly together. What was he thinking in letting down his guard like that. And in front of Potter, too. They were so damn wrapped up in themselves, in being heroes, Gryffindors, that they never thought about anybody else. They had no clue what he went through. He was Lucius Malfoy's son, his only child and he had an obligation to show to the world that he was capable and worthy to carry on the proud, Malfoy name. Did it matter that he was frightened most of the time? Did it matter that he was terrified of the day his father would present him to Voldemort? Since Lucius Malfoy was sacked as school governor and they'd lost their house elf, Draco's father was angry all the time and constantly espousing the virtues of the Dark Lord. And, that cane of his. Draco shuddered and not from the chill in the air. Never his face, but there had been more bruises, more broken bones then he cared to think of.

"Superior! Self righteous...! You don't bloody well know!" He shouted and then sat down amongst the boulders that were around him. Tears burned behind his eyes, but he refused to cry. Slytherins did NOT cry.

When Snape finally caught up with the headmistress, it seemed there was no more for him to say. He had offended her, and she had dismissed him. He silently escorted Lyrica back to her office and after a curt, 'good afternoon', Snape turned away and made his way to the library. Later he would consider an apology. He realized his tone of voice, cold and abrupt, was most likely what she had taken offense at. It was a tone he'd become familiar with as a child when his father was telling him how stupid he was. Putting aside such thoughts, he walked into the library and back to the restricted section.

"Where is Mr. Malfoy?" Snape stood before the doorway to the to the restricted section with a deep scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. He stared down at the Golden Trio, their noses in books. There was no sign of Draco.

Ron shrugged. "He left."

"Ah." Snape bit out as though that explained everything. Like a cobra striking, he leaned abruptly over the redhead. "That is not sufficient, Mr. Weasely. Where did Mr. Malfoy go?"

Ron's book was now over his head so Hermione spoke up, "We were at the Quidditch practice and then he left. We just assumed that he'd come back here, Professor."

"Mm hmm." Looking around as though the boy in question might be there, but hiding, Snape then drawled, "He doesn't appear to be here, Miss Granger." Finally he snapped. "Did any of you think to look for him?" The guilty looks were answer enough, but Potter had to add his piece.

"We thought he'd like to be by himself for awhile, Professor," Harry muttered. Snape's dark, glittering glower settled on the boy. Clearly the man was waiting for much more than that. "We had an arguement!" Harry matched Snape's glare.

"Go. To. Your rooms. Now." Snape's tone brooked no argument and without a word, they headed, very nearly at a run, as quickly as possible for Gryffindor tower.

For several minutes Snape stared at the empty table. Had he not told them to stay together? Didn't any of them realize this wasn't a simple adventure? "Those mutton-headed Gryffindors!" he muttered as he swept out of the library.

Almost an hour later Snape made his way to Lyrica's office. It was dusk outside and Snape's irritation with Draco had now become concern. Lyrica opened the door of her office and ushered the obviously distraught man inside. "What has happened, Severus?"

"Draco Malfoy has wandered off someplace. I summoned a house elf to check his room, but he hasn't been back there." He began pacing. "I have tried a Locator Spell, but it is not working. I'm not certain why. I've never had trouble before."

"I wouldn't expect a Locator spell to work in this time. Your imprint and that of the children isn't sufficient." She rose from her desk and came round it. "He will be unable to leave the grounds of Hogwarts and with the wards around the Forbidden Forest, he's safe from there." She stepped in front of him to stop his pacing. "Severus, you're more than the boy's teacher; you're his head of house, correct?"

Snape frowned, irritated at any delay in searching for Draco, but was curious about what the headmistress had in mind. "I am. If it helps, I am the boy's godfather, as well."

"Perfect. My mother was a practitioner in Bulgaria of elemental magic. It is a powerful discipline of magic, but a dying art since it is still considered derogatorily as 'female magic'. Quite foolish, really, since any wizard worth his salt could easily enhance his power by drawing on the elements."

"What are you babbling about?" snapped Severus. He was concerned about Draco and wasn't in the mood for a lecture in ancient magical practices.

"I am helping you to find your godson!" she snapped right back. Her gaze blazed warningly for a brief second, before she was once again calm. "Take out your wand and hold it just as you would if you were casting a spell."

"What are you attempting?" Snape asked quietly as he removed his wand from his sleeve.

"Castle Hogwarts was built here for a reason; it is located over one of the most powerful ley line configurations to be found in all of Europe..."

"Ley lines?" Snape interrupted. "I had no idea!" A chill suddenly went down his spine as he thought of Voldemort. Snape had always wondered what continually drew the Dark Lord to Hogwarts and now he wondered if the ley line power source could have something to do with it.

"Severus?" Lyrica had not missed the ashen expression that flitted, nearly ghost-like, across his features as she mentioned the ley lines. Just as she was about to touch his arm, he shook his head sharply and asked, "Tell me, what are we to do next?"

"It's simple. Just close your eyes and picture... Draco in your mind. Get as strong an image as possible. When I tap into the ley line, I shall take your hand. You must retain your balance, as well as you can." She smiled briefly. "You're much taller than I am and I cannot both support you and contain the ley line force."

Snape's eyes were already closed and he said curtly, "I have his image."

Lyrica closed her eyes and opened herself to the elemental magic energy of the ley lines beneath Hogwarts. The energy was like a living flame that sought the door she'd opened. As her mother had taught her, she drew in the power she needed, controlling it carefully so that it did not overwhelm her and draw her into its very chaos. She then began to channel the power into Severus.

Snape's body stiffened as he felt the power hit him. It was fire but did not cause him pain. It swelled within him and he fought, for just a moment, to hold onto the image of Draco in his mind. That focus caused a window to open in his mind and he was instantly able to see just where the boy was.

"I can see him!" he declared hoarsely. The abrupt sensation of that power being drawn away sent him to his knees. His wand fell from his hands and he felt momentarily unable to breathe. Lyrica was immediately at his side, but she was not touching him.

"Breathe, Severus." He drew in a shallow breath as he struggled to make his lungs expand. "Don't force it," she spoke softly. "Now, slowly and evenly, breathe." Doing his best to relax, he finally drew in a breath, let it out and drew in another. He was able to open his eyes and did so as he rose to his feet. She could see the questions in his eyes, but she could not allow him to dwell on those, yet. "Where is Draco?"

Snape could not comprehend precisely what had happened, but he knew he would be asking the headmistress about this power. For now, her reminder of Draco, brushed away his questions. He replied, "He's in the maze." Snape spoke softly. He wondered if the maze was as dangerous now as it was in his own time. "Is he safe in there?"

"No, but I'm able to apparate to him."

"I'll go with you," Snape began but Lyrica shook her head.

"I am not very good at side-apparition; we could easily get splinched. Go to the hospital wing and ask Madam Aisling to meet us at the entrance of the maze." With a pop, she was gone. Snape left the office, making his way quickly to the hospital wing.

Once in the hospital wing, Snape was met by quite possibly the most frightening woman he'd ever seen. As skinny as a scarecrow, she was and with a stern, hatchet face that would give a child nightmares. She was a bony thing and Snape's mind observed that it was quite possible that her starched uniform was the only thing holding her together. This was Madam Aisling. The medi-witch could see there was trouble immediately. She grabbed a black bag and led Snape to the entrance of the maze as soon as he relayed the headmistress's message.

Just as they arrived, Draco and Lyrica were outside the maze. Draco cringed as soon as he saw the fearsome looking medi-witch, but a single smile, filled with warmth and concern for his health, amazingly softened the woman's features. Waving her wand over the pale haired boy, she quickly diagnosed him.

"Nothing that a good dinner and a solid night's sleep won't cure," Madam Aisling declared as she administered a pepper-up potion and conjured a warm blanket to put round his shoulders.

Draco was marched back to Hogwarts and as he walked between his potions instructor and the headmistress, he got the sinking feeling that he wasn't free from trouble. No one spoke, but as Draco knew all too well, silence from Snape only meant something far worse than the imagination could create.

"Wait here, Mr. Malfoy," Snape ordered gruffly as he escorted Lyrica to her office entrance. His voice was low and he did his best to remove the anger and upset from it. "Lyrica, I want to extend an apology for this afternoon. I did not intend to offend you. I'd also like to thank you for your help in locating Mr. Malfoy."

She smiled and briefly lowered her gaze. When she spoke, her green eyes settled on his. "I should not have taken offense so easily. You are welcome, for everything." Very lightly she placed her hand upon his. "Please don't be too harsh on Draco, Severus," she said quietly.

"I shall... endeavor to be fair," he said with a slight smile. He turned his hand so that her fingers now rested in his palm. He sqeezed, gently, and then let go. Speaking loud enough for Draco to hear, he spoke, "However, I must impress upon all of them that this cannot happen again."

She sighed, understanding but feeling sympathy for Draco and for the other three. She could clearly see the anger and the worry in Snape's eyes and knew he would not confuse the two. Lyrica turned but was stopped by a tentative touch upon her arm. She stared a moment at Snape's hand and then into his eyes. In that brief pause, she was unaware of his silent casting of Legilimens. He was quick, however, and with a slow blink he broke the contact. Very gently he squeezed her arm. "Thank you," he said softly. He then turned with a quick billowing swirl of robes. Touching Draco's shoulder he nudged the boy ahead of himself. Lyrica watched as they disappeared at the end of the corridor before disappearing into her office.

Up in the guest wing of Gryffindor tower, Snape rapped sharply upon the doors to Hermione, Ron and Harry's rooms. At some point in the march to the guest wing, Snape had grasped Draco by his collar so he'd keep up. He'd finally let go of Malfoy as the other three emerged from their rooms. Malfoy straightened his robes with a look of disgust upon his face.

"Attend my words carefully," he said so darkly that Draco practically jumped beside Hermione and all four of them moved closer together for protection. "I will not be repeating this again. Until we discover whether or not we can return to our time, all four of you will remain together as though you were attached by the hip. I do not care if you do not like each other. I do not care about the bloody Gryffindor/Slytherin house rivalry. We cannot get out of this situation unless we work, civilly, as one. From now on, you take your meals together as you will also take your breaks together. If you," and here he eyed Harry and Draco, "get into an argument, then I expect you to work it out. If you are unable to resolve the matter, then come to me and I promise... I promise you I will put an end to it." He swept his scowl across them all. Draco suddenly slipped his hand into Hermione's and she gripped it tightly. "Now. Have I made myself perfectly clear?" They all nodded, eyes wide. "Speak up!" He snapped.

"Yes sir!"

"Good." Suddenly he smiled thinly. "I want an essay, from each of you on what you did wrong today and how you should have acted otherwise. You have until dinner to complete it." Just as he was about to turn dramatically away, Hermione stopped him.

"Sir, how long should the essay be?"

"Two feet, Miss Granger," he snapped and turned away, but not before he caught the three matched pairs of murderous looks from Draco, Harry and Ron aimed at Hermione.

Snape stalked into his room and flung himself into the plush chair in front of the fireplace. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers to dissuade the migraine that threatened to settle behind his eyes. Opening his eyes he glared at the cold fireplace. He was frustrated, angry and very much at a loss. Hardly 24 hours had passed and the behavior of the four teens was enough to give him reason to jump off the Astronomy tower.

He had known from the moment of their arrival in 1898 that the solution to getting back home was slim, at best. The odds were strongly against them and that meant... Snape didn't wish to consider what it meant and he forced such thoughts from his mind.

As for the headmistress... he shifted uneasily in his chair. After he had Legilimens'd her, he realized what a concession she had made in touching his hand. It had also confirmed the reason behind her obvious hesitation. Only a few seconds, but it had been enough to allow him to see what he shouldn't have.

As he had guessed, Ebenezer Arcahnum had beaten his only child, but only after Lyrica's mother had died from an accidental death a year into her first apprenticeship at 18. It was all that he saw, but it was enough for him to understand the woman better. He had also seen Lyrica's desire to trust him and he decided he would make certain to earn her trust.

His thoughts turned back to his own days as a student at Hogwarts. He really hadn't been very good at history, but it was Lucius Malfoy who had made him pay attention to the subject of Ebenezer Arcahnum. Despite the fact that history did not paint the man in a flattering light and summarily condemned his prejudice and his backward politics, Malfoy thought the man to be noble, passionate and brilliant. His excesses had been luridly reported and his politics were everywhere. He had not been a subtle man; far too open in his prejudice against Muggles and Muggle-Borns. It was this uncouth behavior that, possibly, kept a Dark Lord such as Voldemort from having risen in this age. Ebenezer's hatred, though, lived in those pureblood families that felt the same way, but kept their beliefs close. Families such as the Blacks, the Malfoys, the Notts... they were politically savvy and they were patient.

"The man had no control, Lucius," muttered the young Snape who was seated in the courtyard watching with his dark eyes as the blonde-haired Malfoy paced excitedly before him.

"The man had no fear, Severus!" chided Lucius with that oily smile that had long since become second nature to him. "What did it matter to Ebenezer Arcahnum that he dared to speak what others kept to themselves? He was bold and you know that he was right!"

Snape jerked back just as Malfoy made his point by aiming his wand right at Snape's crooked nose. "He was a fool," muttered the dark-haired boy.

Lucius Malfoy's grey-eyed gaze narrowed and he leaned menacingly toward Snape as he hissed, "Then you think our Dark Lord is a fool as well, Severus?"

"Yes, Lucius, he is," muttered the much older Snape as he forced his thoughts to the present.

Any thought Snape might have briefly harbored to change the future was useless. Even IF he were able to destroy the Riddle family so Tom Riddle wouldn't be born, there were others equally ruthless and just as mad who would be more than willing to take the place of the Dark Lord. Any one of them could be worse than Voldemort.

Snape's thoughts drifted away and soon he was sleeping lightly in the chair. He awoke an hour later to find the fire burning in the fireplace and the table set with dinner. Rising to his feet, he stretched as he worked out the stiffness in his neck. Leaving his rooms he walked into the corridor.

All four doors to the teenagers' rooms were open. Voices were coming from Draco's room and Snape practically glided across the floor like one of the many shadows that flickered in the torchlight. Snape remained in the shadows to watch and listen.

Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron were seated in a circle in front of the fireplace. Hermione had a quill in one hand and a parchment in the other. An inkwell was at her knee. She was jotting down notes as the boys instructed.

"Be sure to emphasize what a git, Harry is," Draco said with a smirk.

"Thoughtless git," amended Ron. "OW!" Harry punched him in the shoulder and Ron grinned at him.

Harry pointed at the parchment, "Okay, I'm a repentant git. How about that?"

Hermione raised a very Snape-like eyebrow. She scratched out something, wrote for a minute longer and then lifted the parchment. "All right, how does this sound?" She began to read, "In conclusion, we realize that we must put aside House rivalries and personal animosities..."

"Animosities?" snorted Harry.

"Animosities," stressed Hermione and continued, "...in order to make the best of a bad situation. Even though the danger is not as evident as it blatantly is in our time, we must 'remain vigilant' at all times and take care not of just ourselves, but each other. In doing this we will be better able to preserve our future from our stupidity."

"I don't like the word stupidity, 'Mione," muttered Ron.

"Well you were stupid," sneered Malfoy.

"So were you, Malfoy. Kind of stupid to get lost in a maze." Harry snickered.

"I'd like to see you get out of it, Potter, when you're being eaten by the walls." Draco glared.

"So why didn't it eat you, then?" Potter glared right back. "Probably gave it indigestion."

"Oh just stop it!" snarled Hermione with menace. "Honestly! Maybe I ought to suggest to Professor Snape to put some boxing gloves on you both and just let you two beat the stuffing out of each other! Can't you even hold a truce for more than an hour?"

"He started it; three years ago," Harry said sullenly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Merlin, mate, I've got you beat," chuckled Ron. "His father punched my father in their fourth year at Hogwarts.

Draco let out a laugh. "Your mum broke my dad's nose, Weasely, sticking up for your dad!"

Harry couldn't stop the snicker that slipped out, "Sort of like when Hermione broke your nose, eh Malfoy?"

Draco's laugh sobered. He glanced warily at Hermione and touched his fingers to his nose, remembering the young girl's right hook, the blooming pain and the blood. "Yeah... well, s'pose I deserved it, didn't I?"

"Yeah you did," declared Ron with narrowed eyes.

Hermione dropped the parchment in disgust. "Could we please be civil for the rest of the evening? I wouldn't put it past the professor to find a way to give us detention, especially after he sees this!" She threw her quill at the parchment.

"Let's just turn it in, okay Hermione?" said Harry as he began to roll up the parchment. "He ought to be happy that we sat here for over an hour without killing each other."

Ron grinned suddenly. "You're right, Harry! And, we always have tomorrow!" Harry, Ron and even Draco chuckled while Hermione snatched the rolled up parchment from Harry and stood.

"Dinner is ready," Snape's voice rose from the shadows. He appeared just enough to show a flourish of robes before vanishing back into the shadows of the corridor.

"Merlin's teeth!" gasped Ron. "That man's gotta be a vampire the way he sneaks around like that."

"Who cares, Ron. I'm hungry." Harry tugged Ron by the arm and led the way out of Draco's room, across the hall and into Snape's quarters where he was seated himself at the table.

"C'mon, Granger," smiled Draco. "Weasely will eat all the honey biscuits before we even sit down!" Hermione laughed and followed him across the corridor.

Dinner was completed in relative silence. Once the table was cleared of the empty and dirty dishes, Snape settled his "potions instructor" gaze upon them. "Your essays?"

Hermione picked up the rolled up parchment that had sat on the table on her left side throughout the evening meal. She tentatively extended it toward Snape. He quickly snatched the parchment and unrolled it. Scanning it briefly, he then looked up.

"I see only one essay. Did I not assign each of you an essay?" Snape knew full well from having overhead them earlier that they had chosen to work together on one essay. It was a solution he approved of, but he wasn't above letting them squirm; for a bit at least.

"We know you asked for an essay from each of us, sir, but..." began Hermione.

Ron interrupted, "We were comparing notes, Professor, and... well..."

"Before we knew it, sir," added Draco, "we just all worked on that one." He let out a dramatic sigh.

"We worked together, Professor Snape," Harry spoke firmly. He gave Snape a look that said, 'wasn't that the point?'

Snape put down the parchment and crossed his arms over his chest. With a roll of his eyes, he waved his hand at them. "Stay in your rooms or the corridor, but get out. Now!"

"Sir?" questioned Draco.

"English is your first language is it not, Mr. Malfoy?" The boy nodded abruptly. "Good! Then I trust I need not repeat myself."

Ron grabbed Draco by the sleeve of his robe and they trooped out behind Harry and Hermione.

Snape's demeanor changed very little in the next few days. Consequently, his four charges made certain to follow his rules and kept as quiet as possible while they did research in the library. At least, that's what they thought they were doing. Boredom was a constant irritant. The longer they remained caught in 1898, the harder it was, for the boys, at least. Snape wished he could assign detention, but essays were his only weapon for now and every night it seemed there was one handed in by someone. Even the usually obedient Hermione Granger had been assigned an essay addressing her bossy attitude. Technically, Snape rather appreciated having Hermione in his corner to help keep the boys in place, but even she managed to step over her bounds by tattling. Something Snape really couldn't abide.

Hermione had finished her essay an hour ago and now had her nose, along with her stinging pride, deep within the comforting pages of a book. She was seated at the end of the long table which had become her usual place to sit and work. Snape took the middle and Harry, Ron and Draco were perched on the second floor balcony.

"Psst, Malfoy." Potter was between two rows of books in the restricted section and trying to get Draco's attention on the other side. "Malfoy!" He whispered harshly.

"I heard you, Potter," Draco sneered through the stacks. "What is it?"

"Is he like that in your house?" asked Harry.

"Is who like what?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Him." Harry pointed in the direction where Snape was below them, quietly taking notes.

Draco was silent a moment, deciding whether or not to throw the snide remark on his tongue at Potter. "Yeah, he is." Draco whispered back. "You think he's scary in class? You don't even get half of it."

Harry scowled. "I didn't know..." he mumbled.

Draco came round to Harry's aisle a large book clutched in both arms. "Believe me, Potter, there are times we'd like to exchange our head of house for McGonagall. At least with her you can get a smile now and then."

Harry snorted. "That perpetual frown must give him migraines."

Draco laughed and Harry joined in. Snape's gaze rose up from his notes. Ron, who caught the professor's warning gaze, shushed the other two boys. Their laughter was abruptly cut off as they went back to search for books the professor had asked for. Snape shook his head and went back to his notes.

As the afternoon drifted on into the evening, Draco and Harry were now deep into their books at the table. Both blessedly quiet for once, with the exception of their quills scratching down notes.

Up on the second floor of the restricted section of the library, Hermione and Ron were arguing in hushed whispers. They were both seated on the floor with large books open in their laps. "... well if you think it's important, 'Mione, then you need to say so." Ron said with exasperation.

"But it's a Muggle book." Hermione had said this several times and Ron rolled his eyes, finally tired of it. Leaning toward the railing, he looked down upon Snape's head. "Oy! Professor!"

"What is it, Mr. Weasley?" Snape's voice drawled without looking up.

"Hermione has an idea she wants to... ouch!" Hermione had just punched Ron smartly in the upper arm. Ron flashed a dark look her way and continued, "She has an idea, Professor!"

This time Snape ceased his note taking and looked upward. "Miss Granger!" Her pale face and bushy hair peeked through the railing at him. "Come down here and tell me about your idea."

"Yes, sir." Rising to her feet, Hermione gave Ron a look that could kill and then she flounced angrily down the spiral staircase. Her righteous indignation fled at the sight of Snape eyeing her critically with those dark, glinting eyes of his.

"Spit it out, Miss Granger. We've a half hour before dinner and I want all of you to get some exercise before bedtime." He sat in the chair, turned slightly toward her and waited expectantly.

"Go on!" hissed Ron. Draco and Harry had put down their quills and were listening.

Hermione coughed and composed herself, "Professor, there is a book that I think might help us, but it isn't in this library." Hermione's throat felt like it suddenly went dry and she was certain the Potions Master's look had gotten even darker.

"Continue, Miss Granger."

"The book isn't available to us here, but the subject is one I think might help us. It's about wormholes."

"Ah." Snape tried to find some patience before letting the girl finish. He couldn't allow his temper to discount any possibility. "Wormholes. This is a Muggle invention, is it not, Miss Granger?"

"It's a theory proposed by a Muggle scientist, sir. A wormhole is a hypothetical "tunnel" connecting two different points in spacetime in such a way that a trip through the wormhole could take much less time than a journey between the same starting and ending points in normal space."

Snape's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Miss Granger, who is this 20th century scientist?"

Hermione hesitated. "Uhm, Stephen Hawking, sir. He's considered one of the..."

"He's a squib," Snape said flatly. Hermione blinked and her jaw dropped. "Both of Stephen Hawking's parents were wizards. Several years after Hawking became debilitated and required the use of a wheelchair, he turned his back upon the wizarding world. Not before leaving behind his one most significant work, The Practical Mechanics of Apparating. In his book, Hawking describes apparating in almost the exact same words as he describes your wormholes. The only difference is that apparating is through space, only, not Time. It is a pity we do not have access to it."

Hermione smiled, "I haven't read that book, but I have read his Muggle book, professor. Physics is rather above me, but I believe I can make notes on the gist of his theory which regards wormholes and time travel."

"I still don't understand what a wormhole is." declared Harry.

"Very basically, it's a way to open up a controlled hole in space and time so that you can travel from point A to point B. Wizards apparate in space, from point A to point B, but Hawking theorized that you can apply the same principle to time as well.

Snape gave Hermione the barest hint of a smile. "Work on recovering all that you can about... wormholes, Miss Granger.

Hermione smiled broadly up at Ron and he grinned back. Taking a seat at the other end of the table, Hermione began to write down everything she could think of.

Draco shrugged and whispered to Harry, "I still don't get it."

Harry watched as Hermione wrote. He shook his head. "Neither do I, but maybe we don't have to get it."

"Miss Granger? Miss Hermione Granger," Snape's voice was a timbre louder and Hermione looked up sharply. She felt slightly disoriented after having buried herself so deeply in what she was writing down. "Has your memory cast a spell over you?"

Hermione looked at Snape and then at the three boys that stared at her. She felt a blush rise to her face and she quickly put down her quill. "Time for dinner?" she asked simply.

Snape ushered her out of the restricted section and all five were summarily ushered out by the librarian who had wanted to lock things up five minutes ago. They were quiet as they made their way to Gryffindor tower and to Snape's room. They found the door open and the house elf assigned to them was setting a larger table. Seated at the fireplace was the headmistress. She arose when she heard them and extended a greeting.

"Good evening, Master Snape, children. I thought I might join my guests for dinner and see how your research has progressed."

"I wish that we had some progress, Professor Arcahnum," he pulled out a chair for her and Draco quickly knocked Ron out of the way in order to emulate his professor as he pulled out a chair for Hermione. Hermione seemed oblivious to the gesture as she seated herself. Snape continued, "Our research hasn't given us much toward finding a way back to our time, I'm afraid."

"That is..." began Lyrica.

Hermione interrupted, "No, we have found something." Realizing that her outburst had interrupted the conversation between the adults, she quickly apologized.

"Tell me what you've discovered, Hermione," encouraged the headmistress.

While everyone helped themselves to the generous feast, Hermione enlightened them. "Apparating. I've never apparated, since we don't get to learn it until 7th year, but the way Professor Snape described it, it sounds just like what the Muggles call a wormhole." Suddenly the girl launched into a litany of theoretical science until Snape finally stopped her.

"Get to the point, Miss Granger. How does this apply to our predicament?" Inwardly Snape admired the girl's enthusiasm, but he wasn't about to let her know it. If, when they got back home, he had a class to teach and she would be in it. It was too early, yet, to relax in this time period.

"There's a reason that apparating isn't taught until seventh year, Professor. Apparating is 'intent' magic. I mean, to a certain extent, all magic is based in intent, but apparating is also wandless. It requires fine-tuned concentration not only on where you are, but where you will be. As far as magical energy goes, one must not only draw on the power within, but one must draw on the magic around themselves. The very act of apparition is the opening of a wormhole, or more precisely, a portal between two points in the fabric of space." She caught Snape's steady glare. "I'm getting to the point, sir, I promise. Professor Snape, of the five of us, you're the only one that can apparate and I remember Professor McGonagall telling us that of all the teachers, your skill at apparation was incomparable. She told us that you were the only student to ever side-apparate up to four people at once without splinching any of them. Professor Dumbledore is only able to apparate two people."

Lyrica raised a delicate eyebrow at that revelation. Snape sighed. "It's not something I practice on a routine basis." He returned his glance to Hermione. "What is your conclusion regarding apparition and our situation, Miss Granger?"

She finished chewing a bite of roast and then continued, "The wizard Hawking that I told you about? His theory is that a portal can be created not just from this space to the next space, but from this time to another time. A portal in space and time. I think it is possible for us to do this, I'm just not... well, I'm not sure of how."

Snape leaned back in his chair and eyed Hermione, catching her gaze in his own. Hermione tried to pull away from the intense gaze, but she couldn't. It was Snape who finally withdrew his glittering gaze and he drew in a deep breath. "Fifty points to Gryffindor if we get back, Miss Granger."

Draco, Harry and Ron stared at Hermione who beamed with her accomplishment. The triumph was short-lived, though as Ron blurted, "I don't get it!"

"Doesn't make a bit of sense to me," muttered Draco, who was more peeved over the points for Gryffindor.

"I don't see how this helps us," Ron spoke up. "I sure don't know everything about apparating, but I've never heard anyone use it for time travel!"

"It isn't, Ron," said Hermione as she stared glumly at her dinner.

"Well then?" Ron's glare was full of frustration. "What's the point?"

"Mr. Weasely, the point that you are so blithely overlooking is that this is merely a theory. It is likely we shall be exploring more such theories until we are able to discover a way back home. As skilled as I am at apparition I cannot, in all honesty, say that I would begin to know how to use the skill for sending us home. Merlin forbid if even one of us were splinched between 1898 and 1994!"

Draco and Harry chuckled at the absurd thought of being splinched between two time periods. Snape shot them a dark look.

Ron huffed, crossed his arms over his chest for a moment and then relaxed. He smiled at the girl. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Really I am. You have a good... theory there."

Hermione's brown eyes lifted and she smiled back at Ron. "It's all right."

There was a brief quiet as they continued to eat and then Harry spoke up. He was addressing Snape, but he kept his gaze on his half empty plate. "You apparated us, didn't you, sir?"

Snape blanched visibly. That was a fact he'd intended to keep to himself. He realized the mistake of keeping quiet on that score as Hermione's expression was one of betrayal; he'd allowed her to think the situation was all her fault. Throwing down her fork, she left the table and flopped into the chair by the fireplace. Snape pushed slightly away from the table, cast Harry a dark look and then crossed his arms over his chest.

"I did make the attempt to side-apparate, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up at him, aghast. "We weren't even close to you! I side-apparated a couple of times with Ron's father and he held me so tight I thought I was in stranglehold. How could you apparate 5 people when they weren't even close to you?"

His eyes narrowed. "As Miss Granger pointed out, I'm very skilled at side-apparating."

"Oh well, if Miss Granger said so..." said Harry as his voice dripped with sarcasm.

Before Snape could strangle Harry, it was Lyrica who intervened, "Miss Granger also pointed out that learning apparating is a seventh year skill, Mr. Potter. Thus, none of you would know of Involunatary Survival Apparation. It follows the same principle of a man who can raise a stone three times his weight with his bare hands off of someone injured. Adrenaline is behind that man's actions. In Involuntary Survival Apparation, a skilled wizard receives a survival burst of magical energy. This means that if normally Master Snape is able to side-apparate up to four, then under an ISA he could easily transport anyone not close to him."

"So what happened? Why are we here?" The angry question came from Hermione. Her brown-eyed gaze was directly upon Snape.

"Vohlfayr, a mis-cast Dispercio spell, a defensive ward, my side-apparation, wards on this time's Forbidden Forest and further wards around Hogwarts." Snape said simply, without any defensiveness.

Hermione rose from the chair, faced Snape, and mimicked his crossed arms. "I'd like a foot long essay on why you consider cruelty to be an acceptable educational tool!" Hermione spun on her heel, stomped out and a few seconds later her door slammed shut.

Snape's jaw had dropped slightly. Ron and Draco were absolutely horrified. Harry, though, had caught Lyrica just as she covered the smile that broke across her features. Her green eyes were filled with laughter. She quickly rose to her feet as she caught the look that was simmering in his eyes.

"Draco, Ron, Harry, why don't we take a short walk outside?" The three boys quickly scrambled away from the table and headed to the door. "I believe, Master Snape, you ought to begin work on that essay?" Lyrica turned away so she did not have to face the shocked expression on Snape's face.

An hour later Snape heard the three boys return. Their doors closed in quick succession. He rose from the chair he'd been sitting in and snatched a parchment off the table. At Hermione's door, he knocked once. There was no reply and he knocked again.

The door opened and the little spit-fire Gryffindor looked up at her professor. She'd been crying, but the redness was nearly gone, as was the puffiness. She stiffened at seeing him, but didn't back down. Hermione was still very angry at him for making her think their travelling back in time was all her fault.

Snape held out the parchment to her. "As you requested, Miss Granger. My essay."

For a moment Hermione stared incredulously at what she was seeing. Then she took the scroll. "Thank you, professor."

"Good night, Miss Granger." He spun away and Hermione closed the door quietly. There was a tiny smile upon her face before the lock snicked into place.

A few days later found Snape in the restricted library by himself. It was still early in the afternoon and he had chased the obnoxious teenagers off. With the exception of Hermione Granger, the boys had finally proved themselves useless as research assistants. And more annoying than the Weasley twins. Hermione had wanted to stay and continue her research, but Snape sent her with the boys since she was rather good at keeping them somewhat in line.

Slowly he closed the book he'd been reading and stared, unseeing, at his scattered notes. The morning's research had offered up no new clue on how to get back to their home. "Back to the Dark Lord," he grumbled. Resisting the urge to give in to frustration and to scatter his notes, he methodically gathered them up, placed them in a leather folder, and then put away the books the teenagers had left behind. He then went through the gate of the restricted section, closed it behind himself and left the library.

Snape wandered about Hogwarts castle for an hour, trapped by his thoughts. He hadn't paid any real attention to where he was going allowing his feet to fall into a long familiar routine. At one point he was slightly disoriented when he found himself down in the dungeons and facing the door to the large, dark classroom that would one day be his. Slipping into the shadows, he observed the class in silence.

At the front of the classroom was a very elderly man who was at least a century plus a few years. Upon his bald pate was a skullcap of red silk and his robes were of dark green velvet. His eyes were a deep, clear blue that belied his age. He paced the front of the class slowly, while leaning upon a tall, gnarled staff of white pine. The potions professor's voice was a rich tenor that instructed with the practice of decades of teaching.

"As in all potions, care must be taken to grind and dice your ingredients properly. The Wit-sharpening potion has only three ingredients, scarab beetle, ginger root and armadillo bile. The complexity, the beauty of this potion comes in the preparation of your ingredients, the adding of them, the simmering and the preciseness of your stirring." The man smiled beatifically; a smile that broadcast to all the students the love their professor had for his craft. "Now who can tell me the preparation for the armadillo bile in this potion?"

A very eager hand shot up into the air. Not unlike a certain know-it-all of Snape's acquaintance. He had to suppress his need to laugh when he discovered who the hand-waver was.

"Do enlighten us, Mr. Dumbledore." The professor seated himself momentarily as Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet and began to recite his answer.

"Armadillo bile must first be chilled using a focused chilling charm. It must be chilled to the point where crystals begin to form. Once it begins to crystallize it needs to be put into a warmed iron cauldron."

"Very good, Mr. Dumbledore. Can you tell me why an iron cauldron is required as opposed to a copper one?" Dumbledore's mouth opened and there were a few snickers from some of the other students around him. "Tis a good thing we're covering this before we start our potions, Mr. Dumbledore or you would have cracked another of my cauldrons." Dumbledore slumped down in his seat as the lecture continued.

Snape backed further into the shadows as he listened to the rest of the lecture and observed as the wizard taught his class. The man's voice was steady and deliberate. Despite his age, he kept a sharp eye upon each of his students and what they were doing. He moved smoothly and silently among their desks and was quick to praise, and equally quick to correct. He was rather less generous with House points and made Snape's gifts of points to any house comparable to Christmas. Professor Grailing slapped students, equally, with point losses and drummed caution, attention to detail, and the appreciation of potions into their heads.

This was Darlyle Grailing, one of the most famous Masters of Potions, and one that Severus Snape had worked all his life to emulate. In his private library, Snape was in possession of all of Grailing's potions books. The man had been one of Hogwarts most brilliant teachers. Had there not been the yoke of Voldemort around his neck, Severus Snape wondered if he might have been a different sort of teacher.

The class ended and Snape shrank further into the shadows as the students swept by him in a flood of robes and chatter. Professor Grailing moved around his classroom picking up leftover potion ingredients and tidying up each desk by hand instead of with magic.

"Come in, young man, and give me a hand if you would? My final class isn't for fifteen minutes." Snape froze. He couldn't risk revealing himself to anyone, yet he really wanted to meet this wizard. Making his decision, Snape stepped out of the shadows and into the dungeon classroom. He gave a short bow to the older man, who smiled and handed him a basket of small potion ingredients bottles. "You are familiar with these ingredients, sir?"

Snape took the basket. "I am, Professor."

"Rack them for me, if you would?" Snape walked over to the large rack of potions, noting that it was the same one still in use in his classroom. "As terrifying as I believe myself to be, I have never been able to get these children to put their ingredients away."

"Very few children seem to have the discipline required," Snape mused.

"Indeed," the old man chuckled. "Indeed you are correct. I am told by our headmistress, that you are quite an accomplished Potions Master. I looked you up in the registry..." Snape finished replacing the last ingredient and turned to face the man who was dusting rapidly at one of the desks. "You don't exist." Snape was about to offer an explanation, but the old man held up a hand. "You owe me no explanations, sir." He smiled at Snape. "After bringing such a discrepancy to our headmistress, she took me into her confidence in regards to your situation. An unwilling traveller in Time."

Snape sighed audibly. "Unwilling is far too true, Professor Grailing."

"Master Snape, I would like us to talk more. I believe you might be able to use my expertise, even if it is only to run theories past someone that doesn't have the mind of a child." His eyes twinkled momentarily.

"You must know of my research assistants," chuckled Snape.

"Are they capable?"

"They... are capable, but boredom is a constant curse. At least for the three boys. On the other hand, Miss Granger's first love are books, research and study. She makes for a very capable assistant." The noise of the final class approaching interrupted.

"We shall talk again, and soon, Master Snape." Professor Grailing bowed stiffly and Snape then turned and left the dungeon classroom before he could get trampled.

Severus Snape was pleased that his path had taken him to Grailing. Perhaps his assistance might help in solving their problem. It would at least give him a break from his four students. Putting his mind once more to the question of their arrival, he resumed his walk.

Soon he was down in the courtyard. Most of the students were at their final classes for the day, so the courtyard was reasonably quiet and pleasant. Briefly Snape allowed his thoughts to be distracted by where Ron, Hermione, Draco and Harry might be and what they were up to. He hoped that they were keeping to themselves... and out of trouble.

"Why are you such a git?" Ron asked Draco as he skimmed rocks across the lake. Draco scowled at the redhead, but had the sense to realize that although the question was a bit insulting, Ron really wanted an honest answer.

Draco threw a rock that skipped beautifully and was then caught by a mermaid. "I'm Slytherin..."

It was Ron's turn to scowl. "Not that I'm at all fond of Slytherin, but bein' Slytherin isn't an automatic 'be a bastard' card. Corso Bedane, you know who is?"

"Course I do!" snapped Draco. He frowned a moment, then asked. "Who is he?"

"Hermione told me this, but Corso Bedane, a Slytherin, is one of the most famous Animagus' known to wizards. Oh yeah, and one of the very first, too."

Draco paused before skipping another rock. "Really?"

"Yeah. And he wasn't a git, either." Ron paused and stared at Draco. "So what's you're excuse."

Draco shrugged and threw another rock. He hated being put on the spot. "I don't know," he shrugged. "It's kind of expected."

"Uh huh. Upholding a long time Malfoy family tradition?"

Draco dropped his rocks and turned on Ron, catching him with a fist to the nose. "Just because my father's... well... and my aunt is in Azkhaban... it doesn't mean I'm just like them! Is everyone alike in your damn family, Weasel?"

Ron touched his nose gingerly and swiped at a small trickle of blood. "No. Even mum wonders sometimes if Percy isn't a changeling. How he ever got in Gryffindor, I'll never know."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. He'd run into Percy a few times himself at Hogwarts and the head boy's exactitude was intimidating, to say the least. Goyle once called the odd Weasley 'mini Snape'. "Where do you think he should have been sorted?"

"Honestly?" Ron asked. Draco nodded. "I think he'd of been right at home in Slytherin."

"Too right!" chuckled Draco. He picked up a couple of rocks and handed them to Ron. He threw one that didn't skip but arced across the water. Another mermaid leapt from the cold water and caught it. "You know, if we ever get back, it's all going back the way it was."

Ron shrugged and skipped a rock. "Can't be helped."

"S'pose not," muttered Draco.

"By the way, punch me again and I'll make sure Hermione breaks your nose a second time." Draco saw the smirk on Ron's face at the jibe and snorted with laughter.

For several minutes both boys were silent except for the sound of rocks skipping and plunking into the lake. "Do you really hate Hermione?" Ron was referring to last Autumn when Draco had shocked everyone, including a few Slytherins, by openly calling Hermione a 'mudblood'; a derogatory term for anyone that was half muggle and half wizard.

Draco threw a few more rocks, not really paying attention to where they were going. One flew wide and pinged off of a large boulder that sat out to the side. The blonde-haired boy sighed heavily. "She's irritating, but... well, that's all she is. A know-it-all show off." He sat down upon the bank of the lake and stared at the now stilling waters. "My dad bought me a Durmstrang 5000 when he heard... when Dumbledore told him about that."

Ron looked down at the pensive boy. "I've never seen you with a Durmstrang 5000!" The broom, custom-made for Durmstrang Academy students was one of the most expensive brooms in the world.

"Nope. It's kindling now. I threw it at the Whomping Willow." Disturbed by how much he'd opened himself, and to of all people one of the boys who was supposed to be his enemy, Draco stood up and stalked off some distance away from Ron. Ron didn't run after him. He felt a little off-kilter as well.

Several feet away from Ron and Draco, Hermione and Harry sat beneath a tall tree. Hermione was weaving tiny little flowers into a crown. Harry was watching the strange exchange between the Gryffindor and the Slytherin. He'd missed the punch Draco had given Ron.

"I never thought I'd see those two speaking civilly," Harry mused.

"It's good practice," murmured Hermione.

"What? Talking to Slytherins?"

"They're not all Death Eaters, Harry." Hermione tossed the unfinished crown onto the ground. "Do you think Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw would have created Hogwarts with Salazar Slytherin if they'd felt he had nothing but evil to contribute?"

"Salazar Slytherin was a blood purist, Hermione. He created the Chamber of Secrets and his pet killed Moaning Myrtle and almost killed Ginny!" Harry crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

"Oh calm down," Hermione chastised Harry. "I know Salazar Slytherin wasn't a saint, but because Slytherin House has a reputation for producing dark wizards, that doesn't mean they all are. There happen to be a couple of Death Eaters that came from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. You know, Harry, if you're not careful, Draco might wind up being an unexpected ally someday."

Harry snorted derisively. "You're daft, Hermione."

"And you're stubborn. Maybe you ought to have been sorted into Ravenclaw." Hermione jumped up to her feet and walked away from Harry.

For a few seconds Harry stared at the edge of the lake and looked up just as Draco walked away from Ron. Rising to his feet, he went after his friend. "Hermione! Wait." He jogged up to her. "Look, don't get mad at me. I've had two years of Draco, Snape, most of the nasties in Slytherin and Voldemort. I think I have a right to have a cynical opinion of them."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose you do, Harry, but... well, when the time comes, don't be surprised if you greatest ally is someone you least expect." Draco was walking toward them and Harry studied the boy.

Draco was unaware of the scrutiny as he approached Harry and Hermione. "It'll be dinnertime soon. I'm going back. You two coming?"

Hermione fell into step beside Draco and Harry waved to get Ron's attention. "Oy! Ron! Let's go!" Ron paused a moment and then began to run toward them. All four were silent as they made their way back to Hogwarts castle.

Lyrica stood upon the gallery between the owlery and the Astronomy tower. A breeze drifted through the open windows, brushing across fine wisps of her chestnut hair, irritating the scar upon her cheek. Lyrica's hand pushed away the annoying strands, but lingered upon the tell-tale scar. Of all her scars, this small, pale reminder, was the most visible. Ebenezer Arcahnum had, until that moment, never struck her face. The man had preferred to use his hands, but there were times, though few and far between, when he'd used the Cruciatus curse to emphasize a point. Her dismissal from the Enchanter apprenticeship had been one of those times. Though never forgotten, the scar that shamed her the most was the last one she'd received; the pale, crescent upon her cheek.

Glancing down into the courtyard below, she caught sight of a familiar figure. Severus Snape, tall and elegant, the breeze giving an added drama to his robes. Lyrica smiled lightly, wondering if he was aware of the supernatural figure he cut in his black robes, defined features, dark hair, and those billowing robes.

The headmistress continued to watch the curious man from the future as he made his way to the edge of the courtyard and seated himself beneath a tree. He was partly obscured by the branches and the last of the leaves that clung tenaciously to their branches. He brushed an errant lock of his hair from his forehead and glanced away just as two students, obviously late for class, ran across in front of him. Lyrica only realized how intently she was studying him, when his gaze rose up toward the gallery where she stood. The surety of his obsidian eyes startled her, but she drew closer to the window where she stood. Allowing him to see her. He did not smile, but she understood he was pleased to know that it was her that watched him. And that pleased her.

Severus Snape was aware of being watched the moment he had strolled onto the courtyard. Although it was quiet, no doubt due to classes being in session, his original intention had been to continue his walk. However, he was curious about his unseen observer and so he chose to sit down upon one of the many stone benches that outlined the courtyard. He would be partly hidden by the branches of the tree that stretched above his head. It was a subtle way of drawing out his observer, causing whomever it was to expose their hiding place.

There were many places above the courtyard for one to observe the goings on below. He had employed such niches in his own patrols throughout Hogwarts. Such subtlety gave rise to rumors that the potions professor was a vampire, or a ghost. Passing through the corridors via the shadows, knowing where to conceal oneself in order to listen in upon students who thought they were pulling something over their teachers eyes, and intelligence, wasn't a game to him. It was the way he'd learned to survive.

These skills were beyond skills; they had become as second nature to him as breathing. The closing off of his emotions, the protection of his mind, these were disciplines that had become survival instinct. As he brushed the lock of hair from his forehead, the gesture allowed him to see a sparkle in the upper gallery between the owlery and the Astronomy tower. His observer was closer to the owlery. Perhaps they had stopped on their way to sending a letter. He ignored the two students that ran past, obviously late to class. He now raised his gaze to where he'd seen the tell-tale shine. Either his observer would run off as soon as they realized they had been caught or...

There she was. The headmistress. He could not make out her features, but he was very familiar with her bearing and the green robes that she had worn when first they'd met. Her robes were fastened at the neck by a silver snake. No doubt the jewelry glinting in the afternoon sunlight had given away her position. Although his expression did not betray him, he was pleased to see her. Rising from the bench, he gave a nod of his head.

Fifteen minutes later, Severus Snape was striding down the gallery toward the headmistress. As soon as he had left the courtyard, she'd seated herself upon a wooden bench and began reading a small, slim book. When she was aware of the approaching potions master, she stopped reading, but kept her eyes upon the page.

"May I join you?" Lyrica shifted slightly on the bench to make room for him. He seated himself beside her. The bench was narrow in its width and so he was very close to her. "Your book seems to have your full attention."

"It is a very good book. A favorite of mine." Slipping in a simple ribbon as a bookmark, she closed the book and handed it to him.

"The Sketchbook of Geoffrey Crayon, gentleman by Washington Irving. Which story were you reading?" Snape examined the well worn book, envious of the volume that was only to be found in his time as a collector's item.

"The Spectre Bridegroom," as she said the title of the romantic story, her cheeks became tinged with the color of rose.

The pale crescent of the scar was stark against the blush. Snape raised a finger to touch the scar very lightly. Lyrica caught his hand in hers, brought his hand down to her lap and squeezed his fingers tightly as though she were afraid to follow her instinct of reducing physical contact. "Tell me about that scar," he whispered gently.

Lyrica did not look at him, but she continued her grip upon his fingers. If he felt any pain from the grip, he did not show it. "My father's last gift to show his displeasure. I dared to disagree with him... selling me to the son of Phineas Nigellus Black."

With his free hand, Snape ran a finger down the length of his crooked nose. "My father showed no such restraint."

Lyrica's grip on Snape's hand relaxed a little bit as she looked up at his face. "A father should treasure a son; he is the family line."

"A father should treasure his daughter for in her is life." His sharp tone was for the father that had so thoroughly denied his only child. "No child deserves the parents we had. Yet it seems we remember them with the scars they left us. Foolish, is it not?" He gave the headmistress a grim smile.

"It is entirely foolish, Severus. But will you deal yet with your scars?" She smiled at him and her grip upon his hand completely relaxed. A slight shifting and he had a better grasp upon her hand.

"My broken nose appears to serve my countenance well in class, so for now, I shall leave it."

"Severus, could you answer some questions about yourself?"

"Perhaps," he spoke with some little suspicion, which she picked up.

She held up her other hand placatingly. "Only answer if you can. If you cannot, then I shall not press the matter. My questions are, merely, about you. How long have you been teaching potions?"

"A little more than a decade." He could have been more precise, but where their future was concerned, it was best to be vague. Lyrica accepted that answer.

"Was teaching what you always wanted for your life?"

Snape sighed heavily. He wanted to answer Lyrica's questions, and they seemed such simple questions. They weren't, though. He knew that what she desired was beyond simple questions. "Lyrica," he began, the pain evident in his baritone. "I cannot..."

She interrupted him as she turned further to face him. "I am a bumbling school girl, Severus, and for that you must forgive me. I know that your future is a commodity that you must safeguard beyond your own gain. I am not asking you to give me anything you are unable to give. What I do ask is that you allow me to be your friend. Allow me to know you as the man you are now. Would that be possible?"

He touched her cheek, briefly. "Perhaps if we proceed as though my past began three weeks ago and that I may leave at any time... would you agree to that?" She nodded and smiled. "Then... all things are possible."

Three weeks, Snape thought to himself as he made his way through Hogwarts to the Gryffindor tower guest quarters. He would not last another three days with those numbskull boys as research assistants. He needed to do something to keep them distracted, busy, and out of trouble. A tall order, but not completely impossible. He smirked at his first idea of make-work. Quite beneath him, but it would occupy them at least two or three days.

As he walked, his thoughts returned to the pleasant conversation he'd had in the gallery with the headmistress. He had not allowed such... pleasantries with a woman since he'd taken the Dark Mark. He had lost Lily Evans with a single word, and then he was responsible for her death. He had become a spy knowing that there would never be a normal life in his future. He neither could afford the risk, nor did he feel he deserved it.

Lyrica awakened something in his heart and it worried him. When he was in her presence he was able to see what could have been; love, family, a normal life.

He paused briefly in his walk, closing his eyes and pressing his fingertips to his temples to end the headache that threatened. Was she aware of how a simple smile from her was undoing him? Did she realize how much her acceptance of his touch sent his resolve toward his responsibilities into oblivion?

Snape forced these thoughts away as he pushed away from the wall he'd begun to lean against. He continued toward the guest wing, his thoughts now returned to the diversion he had planned for the three stooges.

Draco slumped over his table setting and rested one cheek on his fist. He began to slap a breadstick against his empty plate. Ron stared off into space while Harry spun his knife on the table. Hermione had left the table and was seated in the plush armchair reading. They had arrived at Snape's quarters in the guest wing in time for dinner, but as their teacher was nowhere to be seen, the kitchen elf would only serve them breadsticks.

The door banged open, startling all four of them. Snape swept into the room. "Miss Granger, put down your book and come to the table." Seating himself at the head of the table he waited until Hermione had obediently joined her fellows at the table.

"What is it, Professor?" Draco asked.

"I have met with the eminent Professor Grailing who has offered to lend us his assistance. In this time, he is considered the wizarding world's most brilliant wizard. We are fortunate that he is spending his retirement here at Hogwarts teaching and that he has time for us."

Ron grimaced, "Oh well, that's great then," he muttered. He was not looking forward to more time in the library.

Snape glared at the boy. "As for you, Mr. Weasley," Ron's head snapped up at the warning in that very familiar tone of voice that usually signalled he'd lost another dozen or so points for Gryffindor. "And you, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy, I've had enough of you three in the library. At the rate you're handling those books, there may not be any left for our future. So consider yourselves excused from any further research."

Harry grinned at Ron and Draco let out a little whoop of joy. Their brief exclamations at their release was short-lived as Snape lowered an even darker look their way. "Surely you don't think I'd allow you to spend the rest of your time fishing at the lake while Miss Granger and I figured out a way home, do you?" Three forlorn heads shook slowly and Draco took to drumming his breadstick again. Harry snatched it away before a greater sentence could be handed down. "I have an assignment that I think the three of you, if you can cooperate, will help all of us in our quest for home."

The kitchen elf arrived with dinner and began serving. As they ate, Snape went over the assignment that he hoped would take up the boys' time for the next couple of days.

"Where are we going to build it?"

Draco, Ron and Harry were all seated at a desk in Harry's guest room.

"What materials are we going to use?"

"What good is this?"

Harry was about ready to strangle Draco. Despite having asked many of the same questions of Professor Snape at dinner last night, Draco felt he had to repeat them, over and over again. Ron had ignored most of the bickering between Draco and Harry and had gotten down to the serious business of drawing up blueprints.

"Malfoy," Ron called for the boy's attention. "The professor needs something to practice on. We're building a miniature mock-up of ourselves that Snape can try out any spells on he comes up with."

"But..." Began Draco.

"Look!" snapped Harry. "Do you want Snape to practice on us and maybe split us infinitely down the middle?"

Draco let out a sigh of exasperation and went over to see just what Ron was drawing. "You didn't make Snape's nose long enough," Draco critiqued.

Harry let out a chuckling snort, and Draco grinned at him. "Yeah," Ron said, "I was gonna make it longer, but I don't have that much parchment." Ron finished one last bit and then put down his quill. "All right. I didn't want to build this life-size, so I brought all the measurements down to a more reasonable size. I cut everything by 75. Wood, I think is the best material to start with, but I think we ought to also try stone. Weight might be a matter... don't know, yet. We can easily transfigure the wood into figures of us, but we really need some organic material from the Forbidden Forest."

Harry was staring at Ron. He was rather impressed at how Ron had taken Snape's idea and fleshed the whole thing out. Frankly, he hadn't known that his best friend had it in him. "So we can put it all together here, then."

"Right," said Ron.

"You said organic material, Weasley. Plants, that sort of thing, right?" Ron nodded at Draco. "So who's going to take us into the Forbidden Forest?"

"I'm not going in without a teacher." Ron stated.

"Same here," Draco chimed in. He was impressed by Ron's blueprints, yet he scowled again.

"What now?" asked Harry with exasperation.

"I think the professor's having us on." Draco's scowl had darkened considerably as his Slytherin mind began analyzing.

Hermione was seated to Snape's right at the head of the table. There were three books open in front of her and her notes and quill were within reach. Every once in awhile, her eyes lifted briefly from the books to glance quickly at Snape. He was hunched over a large volume and his hair hung down on either side of his face. His arms were on the table and he was busy taking notes and cross-checking notes from the boys. Most of the notes from the boys were being wadded up and tossed over his shoulder in a little display of quickly dissipating flame.

"Miss Granger, if something is on your mind, speak up. Otherwise, keep your eyes upon your books."

Hermione's heart leapt in her chest and she wondered how he could have even noticed she'd been stealing looks at him. For a moment she waited to see if he would move from his predatory hunch over the books and when it was clear he wasn't, Hermione finally found her voice. "Professor, the boys aren't as stupid as you think they are."

Snape slowly unfolded himself from the books and his notes and straightened in the chair. He then turned his head, almost like an owl, to stare darkly at her. Hermione had the brief thought that she was going to die right there in the library. "Explain yourself, Miss Granger, before I find a way to deduct 100 points for your impertinence."

The blood rose to Hermione's cheeks, but she drew in a breath, now determined to finish her thought. "They're going to realize that your project is nothing but make-work to keep them out of your hair... uhm, way."

Turning his body now, to fully face the young Gryffindor, he said, "So it is, Miss Granger. How did you come to that realization?"

"I knew it from the start. Experimenting on a replica isn't going to give us any information that's useful. The only way we'll know that our time travel solution is a viable one is to try it upon ourselves." Snape merely nodded and then turned back to his book. For a long moment, Hermione watched him and then she spoke up, "Professor Snape?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"What if..." Snape's head turned slightly at the sound of her suddenly timid, and quiet voice. He eyed her through the fringes of his hair across his face. Hermione swallowed audibly. "What if we can't return? What will happen to us?"

Snape hated this. He had expected this question to come up at some time and with it would be the emotions of children missing their families. In Potter's case, well, he couldn't begin to guess what Potter's feeling might be. Sitting up again, his face like stone, he addressed the child.

"Miss Granger..." he heard a muffled sniffle and he cringed inwardly. Not tears, please, he muttered in his mind. "Hermione," he spoke softly and she looked into his eyes as she wiped away a tear with a handkerchief. "We shall do our best to get back to our time. However, if it is not meant to be, we will find a life in this time."

Snape had hoped that would be assurance enough, but it seemed only to break her last reserve. Dropping her head over the books and onto her arms, Hermione burst into tears. The thought that she might never see her parents again was too much. As for Snape, he could not deal with tears and a child's tears were the worst. He knew he couldn't let the crying continue; for one, he couldn't take it much longer, secondly, she'd be useless the rest of the afternoon. Snape rose from the chair and went to Hermione's side. He placed his hand upon her shoulder in what he hoped was comforting. Thank Merlin, he thought to himself, she hasn't thrown herself at me for a hug.

Hermione felt her teacher's hand upon her shoulder and inwardly shook herself. She was no good to anyone in this mess if she was going to let her emotions get the better of her. Pulling herself up, she wiped away the tears. Snape's hand remained briefly, and then was gone. "I'm sorry, Professor." She caught a last sob that tried to get out. "If you don't mind, I'm going to get a little fresh air."

"Of course, Miss Granger." Snape watched Hermione leave the library before he collapsed back into the wooden chair. He glared at the cluttered table, the notes and the utterly useless books. If it were just him, he would end the research today and seek to make a life for himself in this time. He had no family. He could live here and create the family he'd always thought would be completely out of his reach. The image of Lyrica's face fluttered briefly in his mind, but like a candle flame, he snuffed it out. He hadn't that choice. Until they'd exhausted all possibilities, he had a responsibility to get the children back home. And getting Mr. Potter back to his destiny.

"Will the little girl be all right?"

Snape shot to his feet at the sound of Professor Grailing's voice behind him. "Sir, I... oh yes. Miss Granger will be fine. She just needed some air."

Grailing smiled and took Hermione's chair. "One of my students blew up his cauldron, so it seems I have an hour while the elves clean up the worst of the mess and cast clearing and scourgify charms. If you have any theories about how to get back to your time, I'd like to review them."

Snape pulled his chair closer to the old man and placed several pieces of parchment in front of him. Snape first explained about the Dispercio charm and how Hermione had combined one charm with the motions of another. At the instant she'd cast the spell to disperse the Vohlfayr, Snape had attempted to apparate all of them back to Hogwarts. "Those spells combined with the phase shift field generated by the fae sent us back in time. We would have landed right where we left if your Forbidden Forest wasn't surrounded by warding spells. My apparate was possibly still in effect and so we wound up in an alley behind the Leaky Cauldron."

Grailing frowned as he scanned some of the notes. "Attempting to reverse those exact circumstances would be impossible. Blood Faeries are extremely dangerous and we couldn't risk bringing some here."

Snape shook his head. "If we get back, I will have to discover how and why the Vohlfayr showed up in our forest. They should not have been there." Snape grimaced. "I have dismissed tracing our footsteps and so we have been researching alternatives in travelling through time to the 20th century." Snape went through another set of notes and then placed them before Grailing. "Our most promising theory is the application of apparition. Miss Granger believes it possible for us to expand the capability of apparating to allow us to travel forward in time."

Grailing carefully studied Hermione's notes for several long minutes. "A sound theory, but at this moment, I do not see how we might manage this."

A few hours later, what Hermione had predicted came true.

"Damn that beak-nosed git!" cursed Malfoy. He kicked angrily at the partial mock-up he, Ron and Harry had begun to work on. They had soon come to the conclusion that a mock-up was absolutely useless and agreed that Snape had set them up. Hermione had not gone back to the library but had sought out the boys and confirmed what they'd already figured out for themselves.

Draco was handling the news destructively, while Harry paced and brooded darkly in the corner of his room. Ron really wasn't terribly concerned and he just watched Harry and Draco and did his best to keep Hermione from apologizing again.

"Fine," Harry growled from the corner. Draco looked up a moment from destroying the mock-up. "If he doesn't want us bothering him, then let's just go and do something else."

"What are we going to do, Potter. We can't even leave the school grounds without an adult tagging along behind us." Draco flopped himself sullenly into a chair.

"Ron?" Harry glanced at Ron, asking a question with his eyes.

Ron stared at Harry, expecting a question, but one didn't seem forthcoming. "What?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders in frustration. "I know a way out of Hogwarts that leads right to Hogsmeade." Ron suddenly knew what Harry had up his sleeve and he couldn't believe that his friend was going to reveal such information to a Slytherin. Ron was about to protest, vehemently, but Harry indicated that it was all right.

"You do? Let's go!" crowed Draco.

"Wait a minute," said Harry. "If I show you the way, you can't tell anyone about it when we get back to our own time. You've got to swear, Malfoy."

"Well, that's not fair. How do you expect me to keep quiet about a secret like that?" Draco's scowl was back on his face.

"You either promise, or when we do get back, I'll ask Dumbledore to block it." Harry scowled right back.

"All right, I promise. If we get back to our own time, I'll keep the secret to myself and never tell anyone else." Draco smiled as his fingers crossed behind his back.

They quickly left the Gryffindor guest wing and followed Harry as he led them down stairs, through corridors, turning corners until they came to a familiar area. Ron held back, his eyes going wide. "That's Filch's office, Harry!"

Harry laughed. "It isn't, yet, Ron. Watch this." Standing to the right of the door that would one day lead into Argus Filch's depressing office, he began to touch, in sequence, a series of stones that were a slight shade darker than the surrounding stones. Draco watched carefully and realized it was a simple sequence. He'd have no trouble with this passage, despite the presence of Filch in the 20th century. What Draco didn't know was that this passage was one of four that Filch knew about that had been blocked by Dumbledore since Salazar Slytherin's basilisk had used it to access the upper halls when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened.

"Harry," asked Hermione. "Are you sure this leads to Hogsmeade?"

"It does. We'll wind up near The Three Broomsticks." The wall shimmered as Harry touched the last stone and they were able to step into darkness. Draco paused for a moment, but Hermione grabbed his hand and yanked him through. Doorways such as this didn't have a habit of waiting for those who hesitated. The wall shimmered back into substance once Draco had crossed the threshold.

"Harry, it's very dark in here." Ron's voice quavered.

Hermione and Draco both came to the rescue with the 'Lumos' charm. The passage sloped downward and then vanished in a sharp curve to the left. Harry charmed his wand also and continued to lead the way. Twists and turns continued, but that wasn't the worst part of the passage. The floor was dangerously slick. This made them more cautious and slower. At one point Hermione nearly took a rough spill but Draco caught her and helped her back to her feet.

After almost an hour, they finally came to the end of the passage. Blocking their way were sharp thorns and heavy vines twisted together. Hermione came to the rescue with a charm that parted the thick growth just enough to let them out.

It was still early in the afternoon and Hogsmeade was busy. The chief mode of travel was horse and carriage and then one's own feet. The Hogwarts Express station was behind them and the Three Broomsticks was just ahead.

"I hope they serve butterbeer!" Draco forged ahead now and the three Gryffindors fell into step behind him. He pushed through the door and they were soon met by a pretty woman with a long, blonde braid down her back and a pair of silver spectacles upon her nose.

"Hello my dears! What can I get you?" she asked.

"Do you have butterbeer?" asked Draco.

"Aye, that we do, young sir. Will there be four of those?" She received four quick nods. "Take any table you'd like and I'll bring your drinks straight away."

The young maid bustled off, followed by the open-mouthed stares of Ron, Harry and Draco.

"Oh just stop it!" muttered Hermione. She made her way to an empty table and they soon stumbled after her. A few minutes later the maid returned with their butterbeer.

"I'm Delouisa. Did school let out early today?" she asked as she placed their drinks upon the table.

Harry spoke up, "Our uncle is doing research at Hogwarts. We got bored." Harry took a galleon from his pocket and paid for the drinks.

Delouisa laughed as she took the coin from Harry. "I always thought school was rather dull meself."

For a few minutes they sipped their butterbeer and then Ron leaned back and sighed happily. "Oy it's good to get away from there."

Draco stared into the amber liquid. Hermione addressed him. "What's on your mind, Draco?" It startled him to hear his first name used by Hermione, yet he found he quite liked it.

"Just thinking about my family. My ancestors, actually. My... great-grandparents they'd be. I think." He took a sip of his drink. "If we got stuck here, d'you think I'd have to go live with them?"

"I doubt that," said Harry firmly. "Do you know how much that would mess up your family's history with everything you know about the future."

"I don't get that," snapped Draco. "Why can't we tell someone here about the Dark Lord? If they know, maybe someone could kill him before he even became trouble. My father would never become a..." he halted suddenly.

"My parents wouldn't be dead," Harry said sullenly.

Ron leaned forward. "Yeah, why couldn't we do that? We could warn Dumbledore!"

Hermione was the voice of reason. "We couldn't do that, Ron. We can't change time. According to much of what I've read so far, the theory that one can change the future can be done, but if one evil is done away with, a greater one can take its place."

"But that's a theory!" Draco said.

"I know, but would you want to take that chance?" Hermione shook her head. "I'm worried about just what our presence here has caused. We didn't even bother to change our names."

"Professor Snape said there was a spell that would take care of everyones memories of us." Ron reminded her.

"He said it wouldn't work on everyone. The headmistress will remember us and so will Professor Dumbledore." Hermione took a long sip of her butterbeer. "I expect if we can't get back home, we'll have to live someplace else. We probably won't even be able to go to Hogwarts."

"I just thought of something really awful," said Ron with a shocked look on his face, "We'd be stuck with Snape as our guardian. He really would be our uncle!"

An old house elf stood on the headmistress's desk and whispered in her ear. When he was finished with his message, he vanished. "The children are nowhere to be found, Severus," Lyrica told the Potions professor as he paced angrily in front of her desk. "The house elves have looked everywhere. They've left Hogwarts. I don't know how..."

He snapped, "Oh but I do! It's Potter! When there's trouble, I can always expect him to be leading the way. He managed several times to leave Hogwarts." He stopped his pacing. "Fortunately, the place they generally run to is Hogsmeade."

"Then we should go at once before it gets any darker."

"Lyrica, I'm very sorry for this inconvenience. I had hoped I'd distracted the boys sufficiently, but it seems I miscalculated."

Taking the Floo powder from the mantle of the fireplace in her office, she took a portion of the black powder into her hand. "Children will always be underestimated, Severus. And truly, it's not that troublesome." She threw the powder onto the flames. "The Hogshead Pub!"

They soon arrived in the darkened pub known as the Hogshead. The place had a disagreeable smell and a quick look proved that the runaways were nowhere to be seen in the establishment. Outside, night had fallen and the street had a yellowish cast from the gaslamps lining the street. A few shops were closed for the day, but there were some businesses still open. Snape pointed down the way.

"I think we ought to try the Three Broomsticks first. That's always been a favorite haunt of Hogwarts students."

"As it is in this time as well," remarked Lyrica.

Their quick pace brought them to the door of the quaint establishment. Snape pushed the door open and could see their quarry at once.

"A triple? That's impossible, Potter! You charmed those darts!" shouted Draco.

"As if you didn't charm yours to keep knocking out everyone else's darts, Malfoy!" Both boys laughed and resumed their game of darts.

Severus Snape, when he wanted to be, could move as stealthily as a snake and could strike as quick as a cobra. He left Lyrica at the door and glided through the crowd of patrons and right up behind Draco and Harry. His hands clamped down upon their shoulders like lead weights.

"Professor?" squeaked Draco.

"Oh hell," muttered Harry.

"If you didn't want our help, you might as well have just locked us in our rooms!" Harry shouted. "Do you think we're stupid?"

"You left Hogwarts." He glowered angrily. Snape vowed he would find out, someday, how Potter kept managing to sneak out of the castle. "We don't belong in this time and as benign as it appears, it's not safe and our mere presence around others risks the future as we know it. So yes, Mr. Potter, I do think you're stupid. Why none of you can even THINK before doing anything is beyond my comprehension! And you, Miss Granger," Snape's gaze zeroed in one her. "I would at least have thought you'd come to me with your co-horts' plans."

"No she wouldn't!" snapped Ron. "Hermione's not a snitch!"

"Another grave error on her part," he bit back.

Hermione remembered the recent "bossy" essay she had to do and snapped, "Grave error? Didn't I just hand in an essay because you didn't care for my 'tattling'? Something about my 'Gryffindor honor eclipsing my loyalty to my housemates'?"

I could kill them all, right now, Snape growled inwardly. No one would blame me. They're insufferable, unruly, stupid... He paced in front of them for several seconds. Snape had exhausted his vocal chords yelling at them. In turn, Harry, Draco and Ron had yelled right back. And now the so-called brightest witch of her age (and insufferable know-it-all) was using his own words against him? It was enough to give him a stroke. Instead of surrendering to the pounding of his head, he conjured four chairs and faced them into the four corners of his quarters. They stared at him with four puzzled expressions.

"If you're going to act less intelligent than first years, I have no choice but to treat you as such. Sit down! Shut up! Contemplate your combined idiocy and what I'll do to each of you should this happen again." Without a word, the four teenages each took a chair and began to stare resolutely into the corner.

Snape, now seated in the chair by the fireplace held a book in his lap, but he wasn't reading it. He stared into the crackling flames and wondered, for the umpteenth time, why this had to be so difficult. It wasn't enough that every minute was spent worrying over the non-existant solution to getting them back to their time, but he had to deal with the emotions and hot-headed tempers of these four excuses for wizards and a witch. Oh yes, they were intelligent. That showed in their classes and their grades and their work. But, as human beings, they were, frankly, as useful as an exploded cauldron. Even Neville Longbottom showed more sense then did they.

"Professor?" came Hermione's tiny voice. "May I have a book to read?"

"No, you may not," he said firmly. A snicker came from one corner. "Quiet!"

The hour ticked by slowly. Ron's head drooped as he slept off his butterbeer and Harry kept a steady beat by sending angry looks toward the Potions professor. Draco had recently begun to kick the wall.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape's voice rose darkly from the chair he'd taken refuge in, "if you persist in kicking that wall, I will take great pleasure in removing your legs." The kicking stopped abruptly.

A snort came from Ron and he lifted his bleary head. "I'm hungry."

"You mean to tell me that your meal of butterbeer, nuts, and chips weren't enough, Mr. Weasley?" Ron chanced a dark look of his own at the professor. Snape shot him a grim smile, "Pity, but it will have to serve you until morning." Snape rose to his feet. "Go on. Get up." One by one they turned to stare at him. "All of you get out of here and go straight to bed."

Draco was out the door in a flash, not even leaving behind a blur. Hermione, Ron and Harry huddled together and made for the door, but Snape wasn't done quite yet. "Miss Granger, stay a moment." Ron and Harry both gave her worried looks, but she waved them on and turned back to face Snape.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" she asked as Harry pulled the door quietly shut.

"Professor Grailing was reviewing your rather copious notes this afternoon and informed me that you had an intriguing theory you dismissed? I'd like you to explain your theory and why you felt it irrelevant to our research." He motioned for her to take the chair opposite himself. Hermione sat down.

Hermione beetled her eyebrows as she frowned in thought. She'd actually had quite a few theories she'd crossed out during the course of their research. She wasn't entirely sure which one Snape could be referring to.

Seeing the confusion in the girl's eyes, Snape prompted, "Wild portals, Miss Granger."

"Oh." She thought back to the theory she'd sketched out one night. "Well, apparating, Floo Network, portkeys... they're all related. They're controlled portals." Feeling a bit more confidant in her subject, Hermione recited, "In the Muggle world there are places, referred to as hot spots of supernatural activity. In the wizarding world, we know that those hot spots have to do with residual magic. The Ministry of Magic neutralizes the worst of these which are often portkey stations, or areas along the Floo network. Smaller hotspots have caused speculation and a bit of mystery for Muggles, but they dissipate and are often harmless. However, there are some hotspots that don't go away, that aren't even explained by residual magic. The wizarding world has no more of a clue than the Muggle world what's going on." She took a deep breath and continued. "One of the most famous of these hotspots is the Bermuda Triangle." Snape nodded. He knew of the Bermuda Triangle, that place in the northwest Atlantic legendary for the disappearances of ships and Muggle planes. "A lot of these hotspots are marked by regular disappearances and I wondered if it was possible that a wild portal, an uncontrolled one, could be at fault. As intriguing as I found this research, I was unable to see how it was relevant to us."

Snape was quiet for a minute. "Miss Granger, Professor Grailing believes that Hogwarts castle is home to a 'wild portal'. Tomorrow we shall visit it."

"We will?" she asked and as intrigued as she was by seeing a wild portal, Hermione was still puzzled. "I don't know how we could use it, though, sir."

"Professor Grailing thinks we might be able to harness it. I am, to be honest, dubious about such a prospect, but we cannot afford to dismiss any possibility without exploring it thoroughly first."

"What about the boys, Professor? Can they help."

Snape sighed as he glanced momentarily toward the ceiling. "Miss Granger, if you would, please tell your erstwhile compatriots that they will be required tomorrow." The corner of his mouth quirked slightly. "After all, at this rate their escape paths might end them up in the Colonies, so it's best we keep them within sight."

Hermione was stunned by the professor's small touch of levity that she could only nod and run out of his room. The door slammed behind her and soon she was knocking on Harry's door, rapidly.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry peered cautiously into the corridor, worried that Snape might swoop down on them.

"I'm supposed to tell you and the others something. Let me get them." A few minutes later Hermione had dragged Ron and Draco out of their rooms and they were congregated in Harry's room.

"All right, spit it out, Granger," snarled Draco.

Hermione was about to launch into what she and Snape had talked about when she noticed the remains of a meal on Harry's table. "You had dinner?"

Ron replied. "Yeah, the kitchen elf snuck us some food. Said he couldn't bear to see us starve to death. Nice elf." He grinned.

"I wasn't finished with mine, so what's going on?" complained Draco.

For the next several minutes Hermione did her best to explain about the wild portals and that Professor Grailing believed one existed in the castle somewhere. "I still don't see how this will help get us home, but I suppose we'll find out."

When Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco were first year students at Hogwarts, they had been warned on more than one occasion to avoid the forbidden corridor on the third floor. No other thought had been given to that corridor after it was discovered that it led to a room where the Philosopher's Stone had been placed and guarded by 'Fluffy' the great three-headed dog. None of them had ever thought to inquire further into the reason why the the forbidden corridor was forbidden.

It was a Saturday and many of Hogwarts students were on an outing to Hogsmeade. Most of the staff, acting as chaperones, had gone as had the headmistress. Professor Grailing, who refused to indulge in such outings escorted Snape and his four charges to the forbidden corridor on the third floor. The corridor was behind a simple door that wasn't just merely locked, but heavily warded as well. An ornate key unlocked the door and Grailing removed the wards. They stepped just inside the corridor, and he halted any further exploration as he launched into the legend behind the corridor.

With a wave of his wand, Grailing lit the torches that stretched down the corridor revealing it. It looked plain enough. It was wide, wider than many of the most trafficked corridors in the castle and it was the length of a Quidditch pitch. Down its center, placed every five feet, was a statue of a gargoyle. Each gargoyle was different. The cathedral arched ceiling stretched high above their heads. Between each supporting arch there was the outline of a window; but the windows looked out upon nothing. In each of the windowed niches were carvings; swirls, eddies, marvelous patterns in the grey stone that caught the eye.

"This corridor was created by Rowena Ravenclaw. As I'm sure you know, the moving stairs and changing walls throughout the castle were designed by Rowena as well." Grailing walked over to one of the windows. "The corridor was meant to be her crowning achievement, but something went wrong. Before it was discovered for certain that there was a problem, several students and a teacher vanished from this corridor. Rowena tried to discover what could have gone wrong, but was unable to determine what the problem was. She was resigned to destroying the corridor, but discovered that became a problem as well. It was impossible to be rid of it and so the door was placed at its entry point, locked with the Key of Ravenclaw, and warded.

"That's it?" asked Draco. "There's far more dangerous places then this empty thing."

Snape whacked Malfoy on the back of his head. "Be quiet and listen!" He hissed under his breath.

Draco gave the appearance of being more hurt than he really was and almost complained further until Ron shot him a warning glance. Draco scowled, but was quiet for the rest of the story.

"Look at the windows," said Grailing as he drew one liver-spotted hand over the deeply carved patterns. "These were stain glass when Rowena created the corridor. It's the first thing in the corridor that changed itself. No one has been able to figure out if the patterns mean anything, or if they're just pure decoration." Grailing moved toward the center.

"Professor Grailing," Hermione's questioning tone was in full force and Snape had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Here, the girl needed to be allowed her questions. "Do you have any idea how the corridor has increased in length without growing straight through the walls that should confine it?"

Grailing smiled down upon the bushy-haired girl. "Miss Granger, that is a question I believe you answered in your notes. You asked if the Vohlfayr were the only magical creatures, or things, that could shift time and space in such a manner that they exist a few seconds ahead of us. This corridor, I believe, is your answer."

Hermione frowned, unaware of the rather slack-jawed and completely puzzled expressions of the three boys. "I'm not certain I understand, sir."

"When I chose to live out my retirement in teaching here at Hogwarts, I didn't just have the welfare of my students uppermost in my head. From my first days as a student at Hogwarts I'd been intrigued by the mystery of the forbiddden corridor. I came here to observe it and to see if I might uncover what wonder Rowena Ravenclaw had inadvertently created." He wandered over to one of the gargoyles and rested a hand upon one that had a thorny head. "As a teacher, I have had complete access to the corridor and I have been able to discover certain things."

Suddenly the professor shoved the gargoyle off its perch. Snape remained in place, but the children reacted out of instinct. The professor held up a hand, silently indicating they were not to cast any spells. They soon realized why. The gargoyle was not crashing to the floor, but was slowly drifting down to it. When it was barely a few centimeters above the floor, it gained speed and hit the floor with a very heavy and solid thud. Oddly enough, there was no sound. Pieces of the gargoyle broke off. It wavered back and forth until it was still. A few seconds later the sound of the gargoyle hitting the floor followed.

"Oh my...!" Hermione's eyes widened and she started to launch into an excited speech. She was stopped by Professor Grailing putting a finger to his lips and pointing to the fallen gargoyle.

In the blink of an eye, the gargoyle's path down to the floor was speedily reversed until it was once more seated firmly upon its pedestal. Once in place, Ron was the first to let out a whistle of appreciation.

"Wicked!" remarked Harry.

"I want to see that again," said Draco, suitably impressed.

"Try it, Mr. Malfoy," Grailing encouraged.

With great enthusiasm, Draco used all his weight to push the gargoyle from its perch. This time the gargoyle swiftly smashed to the floor and Draco was caught by a small piece of flying marble that cut his cheek. "It didn't work!"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Malfoy," Snape spoke quietly. He turned the boy toward him and examined the cut. Snape felt the surge of power, a crackling, invisible energy that swept around him and muted all sound in the corridor. Against his will he moved in reverse and said, "yoflaM .rM, flesruoy mlaC."

The reversal continued as the shard of marble that struck Malfoy's cheek swept back across his cheek, sealing the cut and returning to the statue. Malfoy's words were also reversed. The statue repaired itself and rose swiftly back onto the pedestal. The roiling energy sensation stopped and Malfoy sank to his knees and deposited the remains of his lunch upon the floor. Snape tried to glower at the boy, but his stomach was threatening to do the same.

"I think that's enough time in here," stated Grailing as he returned to the door they'd come through. Hermione was helping Draco to his feet. "Never mind the mess. It will be gone, soon." Draco looked in horror at the old professor as he remembered the cut on his cheek reversing itself.

Grailing ushered everyone out of the forbidden corridor, locked the door and re-established the security wards. Harry, Ron and Snape followed Grailing back to the library. Draco was still feeling out of sorts, so Hermione volunteered to escort him back to his room. Just as another wave of dizziness hit him, Hermione was easing the Slytherin onto his bed.

"Accio wastebasket!" The small wastebasket flew across the room and Hermione deftly caught it and slipped it under Draco just as he threw up again. There wasn't much left in his stomach and he was paler than usual. His body trembled. Hermione put down the wastebasket and put her arm across the boy's shoulder. He leaned into the Gryffindor. She stroked his head, his shoulders and upper back.

"Draco?" she asked worriedly. "Maybe I should take you to the infirmary?"

Draco's arms slipped silently around her waist, tightly and his face was now pressed into her abdomen. She realized that his trembling was no longer from the nausea; he was crying. Hermione knew Draco didn't deserve any sympathy from her; he'd made a quick career in their time of letting everyone know how he felt about Gryffindors, and even more of a show about how he felt in regards to Mudbloods. Hermione was not a vindictive creature, though, and when someone, even a Malfoy reached out to her, she would help.

Gently she brushed her hand over the boy's head and began to softly sing a lullabye her mother would sing to her when she was little. Soon his sobs eased and he slowly raised himself. His eyes were puffy and his face flushed. A wary scowl began to darken his features as he realized he'd just been crying in the arms of Hermione Granger.

"Don't," she said. "I promise, Draco, no one, absolutely no one will ever know about this." She stretched out her hand and brushed lightly at a tear upon his cheek. "Why were you crying?"

A variety of emotions warred inside Draco. He was a Slytherin. He was a Malfoy. He was a pureblood. And in these few weeks the girl in front of him had never brought up any of that with any kind of animosity. She hadn't acted at all superior to him, except insofar as school went and it seemed that personality flaw even bugged her Gryffindor friends. Draco sagged slightly.

"I know you won't say anything to your friends, Hermione," he said softly. He wondered himself why he'd been reduced to tears. "I just..." he scowled, but it was not directed at her. "This is so damned confusing!"

Hermione got up from the bed, went into the bathroom and wet down a cloth. She brought it back and even though he flinched with renewed, typical Slytherin caution, she took his hands. One by one she pressed the cool cloth to his wrists. She then brought it up to his face and applied it gently to his cheeks and forehead.

Draco grasped her wrists, stopping her ministrations. "You're not helping my confusion, Granger. You hate me! Why are you being so blasted... nice?" He tried to glare but it failed.

Hermione sighed. "Hate you?" She frowned slightly. "Draco, I never hated you! You've annoyed the hell out of me. Irritated me, even. But no, I don't hate you."

"You broke my nose," he reminded her.

"You deserved it," she asserted firmly. "I don't understand why you question me being nice. Hasn't anyone ever treated you nicely because they just wanted to be nice?" Draco shrugged. He wasn't sure he liked where the conversation was going. "Look, I know that the world we're in really isn't conducive to you and I being friends, but you even treat other Slytherins like they're beneath you. Yes, you're the son of Lucius Malfoy, but don't you realize you're not your father? You have a right to choose what you want in life. The thing is, you don't get to choose later. You have to decide now."

Now Draco did glare. "So I'm just going to turn a new leaf and embrace heroic Gryffindors and Mudbloods?" His eyes widened as Hermione jerked her wrists from his hands and looked away from him. "No! Hermione, I'm sorry. That was stupid of me. I... dammit." He took a deep breath and then reached out a hand toward her. For a brief second he hesitated, but felt the need to have that touch of hers to ground him. He laid his hand on her arm. "You said it. My father is Lucius Malfoy. And I'm..." he sighed heavily. "I don't have a choice, Hermione. Until this war is over and the dust has settled, I am my father's son."

His tone of voice had such a chilling finality to it, that Hermione shivered. She turned back to him and placed her hand over his that was on her arm. She whispered, almost as though the subject of their discussion was eavesdropping. "Are you afraid of your father?"

His eyes looked deep into her amber brown eyes, looking for any sign that she might be playing him for a fool. He saw nothing but an invitation to her trust and confidence. "Terrified," he whispered even lower.

There was a long moment and time almost felt like it had stopped, but Hermione's voice broke the spell. "Draco, if we get back to our own time, we will all go back to the roles we have to play. None of us have a choice to change that. So, play the son your father wants you to be because I'm certain it will someday save your life. Get into fights with Harry, insult Ron again, and... and call me a Mudblood. Let everyone see that, but know this, and I promise this now, I am your friend. I know that there is a Draco Malfoy that no one else knows. Someday, when you do have the choice, maybe you'll want to be him."

Draco threw his arms around Hermione and as they hugged each other tightly, time did stop. All the world was quiet as it allowed them this one breath. They both clung to each other, understanding that whatever promises fate held for them must be kept in the dark, must be kept secret. As time began to slip forward again, Draco reluctantly and slowly released Hermione. Knowing he had nothing to lose, he leaned in and brushed her soft lips with his own. It was brief and it was all he could allow, for now. He did voice one hope, "I wish we didn't have to go back."

Harry and Ron wanted to follow after Draco and Hermione, but a sharp look from their potions master caused them to quietly fall into step behind the two older men. Back in the library, Snape was able to ask the question that was on his mind.

"Professor Grailing, do you believe the corridor has trapped one of Miss Granger's wild portals within its walls?"

"Not at all, Master Snape. It is my belief that the corridor itself is a portal. How it is activated is anyone's guess. People can go in, walk its length, and 90 of the time they are able to walk out without any ill effects. Seven people; five students and two teachers vanished before Rowena locked the door and forbid anyone to cross its threshold. Tell me, what is the corridor like in your time?"

"Since this time, there have been no other disappearances. Over the years, though, the corridor has begun to shrink in length, the carvings in the windows are eroding, and the gargoyles have long since crumbled to dust. A few of their pedestals have fallen and broken in recent years. No one is able to light the torches either by magic, or by the manual application of a flame. About the time I came to teach at Hogwarts, the last of the wards failed. Dum... Our headmaster is of the opinion that the corridor is dying. I am inclined to agree with his assessment."

"I wonder what event could have changed the forbidden corridor." Grailing eyed Snape and the two boys pointedly.

"If the corridor itself is a wild portal and it's so random, how can we even hope to use that to return to our time?" asked Harry.

"That is the big question, Mr. Potter, is it not?" Grailing replied with a smile.

"Seems pointless to me," whispered Ron to Harry.

"I'm afraid I must agree with Mr. Weasely." said Snape resignedly. Ron gaped in astonishment at the potions professor. "We could spend a lifetime just trying to discover how to tame the portal and we'd still not have a way to get to our own time."

"By then, it wouldn't much matter," muttered Harry.

Darlyle Grailing settled himself into one of the chairs at the long table in the restricted section. He leaned his forehead for a moment against his staff, and then sighed. "I had hoped that the young lady might have more than just the threads of a theory, but it seems our little field trip was for naught."

Midnight drifted over Hogwarts castle and found five souls unable to sleep. Ron had crept over to Harry's room and the two boys sat upon Harry's bed talking quietly. They were both looking forward to returning home despite the shadow of Voldemort that waited for them. Ron missed his family and Harry who had only just recently learned of his godfather, wanted to return in the hopes of seeing Sirius Black again. Their enforced isolation from the students in this time was also getting on their nerves.

Hermione sat quietly in her room in a plush chair by the fireplace. There was an open book in her lap, but her attempt to read it had failed. As she stared into the flames she was able to re-awaken the feeling of Draco's embrace and the feather-light kiss upon her lips. She desperately wanted to yell at herself for such foolishness. Was she a mad thing to have pledged her friendship to a boy who might one day follow in his father's footsteps and turn into an evil monster capable of killing her?

She wanted to brush such dire thoughts from her head, but this was the reality of her world. Death Eaters and Voldemort. Draco's family was in the center of that evil, as were many of the parents whose children were in Slytherin House. She could well understand his desire to stay and that is where her heart beat tightly within her chest. Hermione wanted to go home because she loved her parents. She had to know that they were safe. Then again, would they not be safer without her presence?

In his room, Draco sat by the window looking out across the moonlit landscape of Hogwarts. Was it a coincidence that his window looked across the mountains toward Wiltshire, England where his family's home existed? He wondered what his great-grandparents were like that were living there now. His parents constantly drummed into his head that his family had much to be proud for, but he couldn't honestly say just what exactly it was they were proud of beyond their wealth and influence.

Draco did not miss his parents and he certainly had no love for any of the Slytherins. They were there to cater to his whims, not to be his friends. He could barely admit to himself that since going back in time and being forced to spend nearly every hour with Potter and Weasley that he'd discovered he liked them. And then there was Hermione. Draco did not question having broken down in front of the girl or having kissed her. He would certainly never, EVER allow anyone in his house to know about it, but the simple fact was, even before he'd known that she was Muggle born, he had found her fascinating. It was a fascination that he'd had to actively quell with insults and constant dirty and hateful looks. This was in no small part an act to both protect himself and her, for if his father ever were to discover that his son, his pureblood heir, liked a Mudblood girl, Lucius Malfoy would have Hermione killed and Draco would be beaten within an inch of his life.

No. Draco Malfoy did not want to return to the 20th century. His greatest fear was to be caught on the wrong side of the war, fighting in something he had no belief in and fighting for a madman who wouldn't think twice about wiping his existence from this earth. He wished in his heart that Professor Snape was unable to find them a way back home. He wanted a life here.

Severus Snape had vacated his quarters nearly an hour ago. An insomniac and a workaholic by nature, when sleep eluded him he chose to prowl the shadowed halls of the castle.

He was annoyed at the waste the day had been. He had hoped that Professor Grailing held some knowledge of the wild portal within the forbidden corridor, some trick up his sleeve. The forbidden corridor had been nothing but a small adventure that had wasted most of the day.

Then, there was Lyrica Arcahnum. Not since Lily Evans had he even dared to hope that someone worthy of his attention might feel the same way toward him. He was captivated by the woman and wished to pursue the mutual attraction. Yet, he was constantly drawn back to the fact that he had no right to even dream of the possibilities. Not when he had to do his best to find a way home.

With his robes billowing behind him and blending into the shadows, he strode purposefully down corridors, up and down staircases long familiar to him. He did not stop until his path took him to the gallery between the owlery and the Astronomy tower. Once near the middle, he stopped his walk and leaned against the open window as the wind blew around him. He did not pay attention as his long, black hair was blown across the bridge of his long nose.

Snape needed the cool wind to give him clarity. He was dreading the possible return to their present. Not that he'd looked at all forward to becoming the sole parent of his four students; that would have been cruel of Fate to saddle him with that responsibility. What awaited him in the year of 1994 was a life that had been slowly breaking him down.

His loyalty to Dumbledore and to the Order of the Phoenix was without question. He was protector of the Boy Who Lived and he was a spy who delicately juggled the whims of a madman with the needs of those who would one day destroy that madman. Snape generally could not sleep because of what he knew of his own future in the world terrified by Voldemort's shadow; death. If by some slim chance he were to survive, he would then be in hiding for the remainder of his cursed life. There were too many dreamers, those complacent thinkers that believed with the death of Voldemort all would be well and beautiful. Life after a war was picking up the pieces, dealing with years of fallout; that meant those loyal to Voldemort who had survived as well would be hunting traitors. Snape would someday be a traitor in their eyes.

Here, in 1898, there was freedom. There was also anonymity. With no one to know of his dark past he could become the man he had always wanted to be. There would be no ghosts to haunt his dreams. Here he would be free to love someone, to make a life and have a family.

Snape snorted as he pictured himself surrounded by a bunch of brats. Well, maybe the idea of a family was a bit much to consider. But being able to love someone... it was a dream he could never allow in the present.

No, Severus Snape did not want to return to the 20th century anymore than Draco did. He would, though. Just as Potter had a destiny to fulfill, so did Snape and he would not allow his own desires to get in the way of his destiny.

"Did you have to bring a book with you?" Ron whined. He looked askance at Hermione sitting beside him in the stands of the Quidditch pitch. A large book was open upon her lap.

Hermione glanced up, squinting at the sunlight. "Just watch the practice, will you?" Her tone of voice was gentle. Ron gave her a light punch to the shoulder and he went back to watching the Gryffindor team practice.

"Look at that form," marvelled Harry. "I never expected Dumbledore to have such grace." He whistled approvingly as the young Dumbledore deftly spun upon his broom in order to dodge a bludger.

"I knew the old man liked Quidditch, but I never expected this," mused Draco. "Of course, they haven't the speed we have. This is Quidditch in slow motion."

The practice soon ended and as the four were leaving the stands, Dumbledore came trotting over to them. His skin was flushed and his nose was apple red from the flying. "Hello! How do you think we did up there?"

Draco mumbled something and received an elbow in the ribs from Hermione. Harry spoke up, "You're all brilliant! I sure miss playing."

"I miss flying," muttered Ron.

Albus beamed. "We have some extra brooms, not as good as these, but you're welcome to borrow them."

"Really?" asked Harry.

"Sure! Come on and I'll show you where they are." Albus led them into the Gryffindor locker room and over to a storage closet. He opened the closet door and began rummaging around. He picked out four brooms out of a dozen that seemed to be the best of the lot. Draco eyed his with obvious disdain.

A small first year girl came into the locker room and headed for Dumbledore. She whispered to him, eyed the visiting strangers with big brown eyes, and then ran back outside. Albus turned back to them. "I have to go. Would you return those when you're finished?"

"Sure thing, mate!"

Albus left the locker room. "He's still a nosy old man," muttered Draco.

"Oh leave off, Malfoy!" snapped Harry. He held up his broom. "It's no Nimbus, but it's freedom. Let's go fly."

Hermione put her broom back in the closet. "I'm going to the library." She smiled at the disappointed looks on Harry's and Ron's faces. "You know I'm not that great on a broom anyway."

"All right, 'Mione," said Ron. "We'll meet you in a couple of hours, okay?" She nodded to Ron and headed for the inner door that led to the interior of the castle.

Draco stared at his broom and flashed a look at the door closing behind the Gryffindor girl. "Uhm... I think this broom just isn't up to the job," he mumbled. "Wouldn't want to kill myself, you know? You guys have fun." Draco shoved the broom into the closet and walked quickly to the door Hermione had just gone through. Once he was out of sight of Ron and Harry, he raced down the corridor looking for Hermione.

"What's his problem?" asked Ron.

"Who cares?" Harry grinned and grabbed Ron by the sleeve. "We've got brooms! And no Malfoy!"

"A freezing spell is too simplistic!" snapped Snape and as Professor Grailing scowled deeply at him from under his skullcap, he sighed in exasperation. "My apologies, sir."

Grailing's scowl vanished and he shook his head. "No, no. You are quite right. A freezing spell is too simplistic. I am beginning to grasp at straws here, Master Snape. How is one to harness something that refuses to be tamed. It would be horrendous if we sent you into the void."

Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose as he felt a migraine rising. "I think we must put away theory and speculation for today, Professor Grailing."

"I quite agree. I have classes to prepare for tomorrow." The elderly wizard rose to his feet. "Do yourself a favor, Master Snape, and be soon in leaving the library yourself. Good afternoon."

Snape watched the man leave the restricted area and then sat down in a nearby chair. "One day of useless arguing on that damned forbidden corridor," he muttered. "We'd be lucky if we all got splinched down the middle." In sudden frustration he rapped his fist down upon the table. "Merlin's teeth I am destined to be wet nurse to a bevy of prats!"

Hermione was just about to round the corner into the restricted area when she heard Snape's outburst. She flattened herself against the wall and peered cautiously toward the wrought iron enclosed area.

"Hermio...!"

"Shush!" Hermione grabbed Draco and pushed him back the way she'd come. She hissed into his ear, "Snape's in an awful state. Let's leave him be."

Draco, no more eager to encounter an angry potions master than anyone else, jogged quickly after Hermione. He smiled smugly. He didn't want to do more research anyway!

Harry was showing Ron how to do a fancy roll and spin when Ron began to slowly circle him. "Ho! Do you see what I see comin' for us, Harry?"

Harry squinted into the sunlight. "That's looks like Dumbledore!" Ron and Harry curtailed their flight path until they were closer to the head boy. Dumbledore motioned for them to land and they quickly did so.

"What's going on, Albus?" asked Ron as he dismounted from his broom.

"There's been an accident!" exclaimed Albus.

"What's happened?" asked Harry breathlessly.

"Not sure. The headmistress just told me to fetch you two and send you to the infirmary."

"Who was hurt?" demanded Harry as Albus took their brooms.

"Your uncle. I don't know what happened, just go!"

Without need for the last command, Ron and Harry sprinted all the way back to the castle. They did not stop until they'd reached the door of the infirmary where they were met by Draco and Hermione.

"Snape?" asked Harry.

Hermione filled them in. Snape had returned to the forbidden corridor. He had made an attempt to cast a spell that would cause the portal to be seen when all the gargoyles exploded simultaneously. He had protected his face with his arms, but his hands had been badly cut by flying marble. He'd also fallen and was currently unconscious.

"What the hell was he thinking?" Ron hissed. "Even I knew that place was bleedin' dangerous."

"Fool!" muttered Draco. "What's going to happen to us if he gets himself killed."

"He's not dead, Draco," Hermione spoke firmly.

The door to the infirmary opened and they were all face to face with the tallest, skinniest mediwitch Madam Aisling. She had a look that made all of them feel like they ought to take their medicine. She scowled down at them as though the accident was entirely their faults. Madam Aisling declared softly, "You may have five minutes to visit your uncle and then you must return to the guest wing." Long spindly fingers at the end of a dangerously thin arm ushered them through the door and over to a nearby bed where Snape lay.

The four circled his bed and looked down upon the pale face of their potions master. "He looks dead," remarked Malfoy.

"Thank you for that... assessment, Mr. Malfoy."

"Augh! You said he was knocked out!" Draco shouted and was promptly shushed by Madam Aisling.

"Sir, what happened?" asked Harry.

Snape slowly blinked his eyes and stirred uncomfortably upon the cot. "I underestimated the properties of the wild portal. It is far too dangerous for us to consider for our..." he cast a wary glance at the mediwitch who was watching them with one eye while she prepared a potion. "We must look for another solution."

They stared at him for a few minutes and Snape raised himself slightly. "That's more than enough pity, thank you. Go to your rooms. I shall be back on my feet this evening." A snort came from the mediwitch and Snape cast a glare at her. She stopped what she was doing and shot a look at him that made his insides shiver. He waved them out and they said goodbye as they filed through the door.

The mediwitch handed him the potion she'd been working on. "You're a terrifying woman, matron," he muttered as he drank down the bitter concoction.

"Aye, that I am, but I am also a very good mediwitch. Here, eat this." She handed him a piece of chocolate. "Ah, here's the headmistress!"

"Lyrica..."

The headmistress looked glorious in robes of rich purple; a color she pulled off much better than did Albus Dumbledore. As she seated herself next to him, her unfettered hair spilled over her right shoulder and he was caught by the way the last bit of sunlight coming through the dormer windows glinted on the strands. It made him dizzy and he closed his eyes half way.

"I'm glad to see you are conscious, Severus. I was rather afraid of what I might find."

"It is no worse than when Neville Longbottom blows up his cauldron in my potions class. I believe my head is worse than my hands. The concussion of the explosion has given me a rather severe headache. I should be quite healed by this evening, though." He glanced at the mediwitch that had moved to a far corner of the infirmary. "Thanks to Madam Aisling."

"She's a stern thing, but the woman knows her job." Lyrica leaned closer and put a hand upon his arm. "Are you really all right? She brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes.

"I am fine, Lyrica." He allowed himself the smallest of smiles and then grimaced. "I was a fool for what I did." He then explained to the headmistress that one of the theories he and Grailing had come up with he had decided to try. "It was a simple reveal charm. What I did not anticipate was the magical feedback it would cause. I am fortunate that my stupidity did not kill me."

Lyrica took one of his hands into hers. She was careful about not putting any pressure on the bandages over the wounds. "But you learned something."

He nodded and immediately wished he had not. For a moment he shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath until the pain and dizziness passed. The healing potion he'd been given would be taking effect very soon. "I did. The corridor portal is far too dangerous for us to experiment with. We will have to discover another way home." His eyelids fluttered as the soporific in the healing potion took effect.

"Go to sleep, Severus. I'll let the children know that you'll be fine very soon." His eyelids stopped fluttering and he was very quickly asleep.

Madame Aisling was at the bedside without having made a sound. "He'll be able to leave in a few hours, Headmistress."

"Thank you, Madame Aisling." Lyrica rose and left to go to the Gryffindor guest wing.

Severus Snape slipped deeper into the sleepy warmth of the potion and he began to dream.

Dreams were dangerous. Dreams left the mind unprotected; vulnerable to a highly skilled Legilimens.

The sun shone brightly across a clear, blue sky as he made his way through the village of Hogsmeade. He nodded politely to those that greeted him. His stride was relaxed and there was no slouching of his spine, no furtiveness in his movements. The chains that had bound his heart, his mind and his soul, had fallen away years ago. He had an errand, but as the day was so beautiful and there were no Potions classes today, he allowed himself the time to glance into windows of various shops he'd normally ignore.

There was a new herbalist on the boulevard and he paused to review the display in the window. The cold breeze caught up to him, and like a serpent moving in speed and silence, it rushed down his spine. Ice wrapped around his heart just as the sun was covered by heavy, dark clouds. Every nerve in his forearm burned with intensity as the Dark Mark was called to life. Behind him the screaming began. He could do nothing but watch as the inky night was lit up by the ghastly green of the killing curse.

"TRAITOR!"

The voice thundered through his bones and he turned to meet his fate. . .

The fearful beating of Snape's heart woke him. His hand began searching for his wand, instead he felt a softness of spilled silk under his shaking hand. Reality was doing its best to push aside the dream. He was in the infirmary. The lights were dim. Reality was losing. Looking down for the source of the silk at his hand, he saw a head, a slumped over body. Someone had fallen... someone had fallen at his side.

The crack of thunder and the sudden burst of lightning outside the window brought back the screams. His vision tunneled to the cobbled streets of Hogsmeade as his mind heard the maniacal laughter of a monster. He jerked away from the body at his side and tumbled from the bed tangled in the sheets. As he wrestled to extricate himself, a white swath with the face of a skeleton approached him.

"Repellere!" he shouted as his arm extended, focusing his magic toward his enemy. The creature in white was forced backward and crashed to the ground.

"Severus!" The body had come to life. Green eyes he'd seen before. Green eyes that laughed, that wept at his thoughtless slur... she died.

Ghosts. He was being haunted by ghosts. He finally pulled free from the tangle of bedsheets. He sprinted out of the infirmary and ran on bare feet out into the storm. Rain poured from the sky and the thunder cracked overhead like a thousand thestrals stampeding. He ran faster as he desperately tried to escape his demons.

Lyrica had come back to the infirmary after having dinner with Ron, Hermione, Draco and Harry. Snape had been deeply asleep and it wasn't long before she had laid her head down at his side and fallen asleep as well.

The headmistress had been unprepared for the violent waking. As soon as she'd seen his use of wandless magic, she had cried out to him. He had run. Lyrica would follow but not before checking upon the mediwitch, Madam Aisling. The healer was only knocked out. Lyrica turned and followed Snape out into the rain.

Snape ran toward the Forbidden Forest and just reached the edge of it when the Dark Mark pulsed with fire. In silent agony, he gripped his forearm and fell to his knees.

"SEVERUS!" Lyrica ran to the man's side and dropped to her own knees. She reached toward his arm, the one with the Dark Mark, and he thrust her aside.

"No!" he snarled. His eyes blazed with a myriad of emotions, anger, hatred, fear.

Without hesitating, Lyrica slapped him, hard, across the face. She did so a second time. His expression of agony and anger fled his features and he froze, caught in a waking nightmare. Lyrica raised her hand to slap him a third time, when he caught her hand by the wrist.

"No," he whispered. "He's gone." He bowed his head, ashamed to look into her penetrating green eyes.

"Severus, what happened? You were as a man possessed." He dropped her hand and covered his forearm. "Are you injured?"

Before Lyrica could reach for his arm and move the sleeve that hid the dark mark, he pulled her into a tight embrace. He buried his face in her hair and whispered her name several times. She felt a tremor go through his body and after a moment he pulled away and held her shoulders.

"I am sorry, Lyrica. Did I? ... are you all right?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"You did not hurt me, Severus," she said softly. "Please tell me what happened?"

"A nightmare from the future... "

Severus hugged his arms tightly to himself. It did little to stop his shivering. Droplets of water dripped lazily down strands of his hair, and down his face. The headmistress cast a drying spell over him. Despite the fact his clothes and hair were now dry, he still felt frozen to the bone and he shivered. He stared into the flames, not ready to face his surroundings.

"Here, Severus." Lyrica draped a large silk quilt over his shoulders. She arranged it so that it covered his bare feet. Her fingers lightly brushed a strand of hair that had fallen across his eyes. She squeezed his shoulder and then disappeared behind him.

As his shivering body began to warm up, he let his eyes wander around the room. The decor was deep blues, gold, some silver and rich wood. There was an Arabian Nights dreaminess to the room with over stuffed chairs embroidered in elaborate detail, soft pillows of the dominant colors spilling over a wide divan. Over the arched windows heavy curtains of satin and silk cascaded over them until the excess cloth pooled in swaths of blue, white and warm yellow upon the floor. The floor itself was decorated with beautiful rugs whose patterns reflected the colors in the room.

The room was not cluttered, though it easily could have gone that way. Order appeared in the numerous bookshelves of dark mahogany filled with many old volumes. Turning slightly, he was able to see Lyrica at a potions work table he could only ever dream of owning. Heavily carved legs supported a thick, black marble top. The marble was unpolished, not something one would desire in a luxury furniture piece, but for a potions mistress or master, unpolished marble was the best surface to work upon. There was more unpolished marble, black alternating with white, set into the floor. The large worktable was upon this marble floor. Behind the work table was a rack neatly organised with flasks, vials, pipettes, glass, pewter, silver, gold, copper; all manner of implements used in the creation of potions.

Snape wanted to examine the work area further, but he was loathe to leave the comfort of the fireplace. He pulled the quilt tighter about his shoulders as an unexpected chill shook through his limbs.

Lyrica was at the work table brewing something. He thought possibly a calming potion until his nose detected the various herbs she was using. He identified lavender and rosemary, but they were very lightly used. There was another herb, possibly sage? And then the air was redolent with the rich aroma of chocolate. Lyrica poured the contents of the cauldron into a large, ceramic mug and brought it over to Snape.

"Hot chocolate?" he asked accepting the warm mug.

"Not quite. Well, chocolate is the main ingredient, but I always viewed it as a much better substitute for a calming draught. It's from a recipe my mother taught to me."

"I detect lavender and rosemary, but they're very light. Sage, too. That seems an odd herb to mix with chocolate." Snape observed as he took an appreciative sniff.

She smiled. "That's correct. I think you'll find the sage adds a little spice. My father hated it, but I always loved it. It comprises some of my best memories of home." She sat down on a chair beside him. "Try it and tell me what you think, Severus. Be honest, please."

Snape raised the cup and took another sniff of the steaming cocoa. He blew lightly across its surface and then brought the mug to his lips. Despite the heat of the drink, he took enough so he could properly analyze the taste.

The chocolate was smooth as satin and the lavender and rosemary flitted past his senses in the same manner the little French pastilles his mother used to give him did. He smiled, briefly, at that distant, pleasant memory from his childhood. Lastly came the sage. It wasn't heavy, as he'd expected, and had infused with the chocolate to bring out just a subtle, bitter bite to the whole concoction. He did not realize his eyes had closed until he opened them to gaze toward the headmistress who waited, quietly, and frozen in position for his verdict.

"I believe I understand now why women are wont to say that chocolate is a seductive experience," his voice was low and flowed like silk. Before taking another sip, he smiled and his eyes glittered.

Lyrica's breath caught briefly and she tried, unsucessfully, to ignore the lightheaded sensation that drifted over her for a brief moment. The spell was softly broken as she replied to him.

"I could teach you the brew, if you'd like?" He nodded and sank deeper into the luxury of the chair. Lyrica rose to her feet and moved toward him. She brushed her fingers across his cheek and he caught her hand. He pressed a warm kiss to the palm of her hand and then pressed her hand to his cheek. Silently, he wished that Time would just... stop.

Hermione Granger's mind was never silent. Even in her dreams her mind continued to work. For her it was not unusual to work out more complex problems in regards to her schoolwork as she slept. This night, as the storm struck, she was deep within the Hogwarts world of her dreams.

Thunder drummed deeply within the earth and lightning lit the sky as heavy, dark clouds broke and allowed the rain to come down. Down in the dungeons of castle Hogwarts, the orange-yellow glow of torches aided in drawing the dampness that did its best to creep in.

Hermione had taken out her winter cloak, and she walked quickly and with a single minded purpose down the corridors to the Potions classroom. Taking the last turn, she stepped through the open doorway and paused to look around. Snape was a glowering, shadowy figure in this classroom, but Hermione had never seen the classroom as dark and sinister and something to be afraid of. Her view of the Potions classroom was warm and busy. The work table Snape taught from was neatly laid out with colorful ingredients being processed through a dazzling construct of glass, silver, copper and iron. A small cauldron sat over a fire and something bubbled steadily within. In her version of this classroom, there were more books available to her than there actually were in the real class. She went and selected a book and then took it to her customary seat.

"Good evening, Miss Granger." Hermione looked up and was surprised to see the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore." She smiled brightly and relaxed visibly. "I wasn't expecting you." Hermione was very glad to see the adult Dumbledore. She realized for the first time how much she'd missed him.

Dumbledore looked around before conjuring a chair for himself. "I believe Professor Snape could do with some decorating hints from you, Miss Granger. Quite a bit more inviting than I remember." He sat down across from her. "We've missed you, my dear. How are the boys?"

"They're doing rather well," she replied. "It's strange to see Draco getting along with Ron and Harry, though."

Dumbledore smiled. "I hold out the hope that those three will someday come to realize that they're not all that different from each other." Hermione nodded in agreement. "Tell me, my dear, how would you say our beloved Potions instructor is doing so far out of his element?"

"I think he's doing all right, sir, but he's frustrated. Partly with us, of course, but also with the lack of progress in our research. As am I." She leaned forward and stared down at the floor. "I had little hope in the wild portal on the third floor and Professor Snape has proved, to his own injury, that it is dangerous."

Dumbledore nodded and sighed. "The forbidden corridor was the subject of many stories when I was a student here at Hogwarts. I remember visiting the corridor after I became an instructor and discovered then that it was dying. I wonder now, do you think that Professor Snape's reveal spell is what began the decline of the corridor's wild magic?"

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose it's possible." She was silent for a long moment, so long that Dumbledore stood up and went to sit beside her.

"Tell me what is on your mind, my dear child."

"I'm afraid we'll never get back home and it will have been because I used a badly referenced Dispercio spell." Tears began to course down Hermione's cheeks. "It's all my fault!"

Dumbledore took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed gently at her tears. "My dear child, of course it was not your fault!" He took one of her hands into his. "We are human and do our best to control the world around us, but there are times when we are unable to avoid our destiny. This was one time none of you had any control over what Destiny had decided long before you were born. All that you did was play your part."

Hermione leaned against the old man's side and he placed a comforting arm over her shoulder. "I wish I could believe that, Professor."

"Tis small comfort, I know, my dear girl."

A few more sniffles and tears passed, but soon Hermione put her fears to the side. She didn't leave the comfort of the headmaster's embrace, though. As grown up as she sometimes liked to think herself to be, she needed the comfort only an adult could bestow upon a child. "Have you any idea how we can get back, Professor?" Or if we'll get back, she didn't voice.

"I'm very glad you asked that, Hermione. I cannot tell you the precise solution, but a key component is here, in this time."

Hermione shifted slightly and looked up into the twinkling eyes of Dumbledore. "Can you tell me what the key is, then, sir?"

He chuckled softly. "Why myself, of course!"

"I don't understand, Professor." She frowned and glanced up into his eyes that were twinkling. She stared and slowly her mind bloomed connecting the dots. Hermione withdrew from Dumbledore's embrace. "You DO remember us then, don't you?"

"Yes I do and it's a good thing I do." Dumbledore could see Hermione's growing excitement and before she could launch into a dozen or more questions, he rose to his feet, pulled her to her feet and guided her to the middle of the classroom with him. "I know you'd love to spend the rest of the night solving this puzzle, my dear girl, but you really do need your rest." Taking out his wand, he flicked it lightly and clear sparks drifted outward causing the Potions classroom to fade away until the walls of her bedroom were back in place. Hermione climbed back into the soft bed and Dumbledore tucked her in. "Have patience, Miss Granger, you'll be home with us soon."

Hermione closed her eyes and the gears of her mind began to slow down until she was finally wrapped in the gentle arms of Somnus.

Draco didn't realize it, but one thing he had in common with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-His-Life-Hell was they both had nightmares.

Draco found himself standing at the top of the grand staircase in his family's ancestral home. At the bottom of the stairs was Hermione. Her hair had been pulled up beautifully to show off the graceful lines of her pretty neck. Little curls dropped here and there and lower curls brushed against her skin and her collarbone. White flowers dotted her hair and she held a bouquet of the flowers in her hands. The dress Hermione wore was of ivory cream silk and lace. The vision of her beauty quite took his breath away.

"This is what you bring into our home, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy stood behind the unwary girl, his wand pointed at his son. Draco had not heard the freezing charm that bound him fast in place upon the stairs.

"Please, father, don't..." Draco pleaded.

"A filthy mudblood," Lucius spat. The elder Malfoy's wand became a dagger, a dagger that slit silently across Hermione's throat. For a moment she stood as the blood spilled down over her dress, changing the lovely white flowers into red. Tears ran from her eyes and down her cheeks as she sank down upon her knees.

Draco wanted to scream, but anger and hatred burned hotter in his grey eyes than did his grief. "I'll kill you," he growled to his father.

Behind Lucius was the snake-faced Voldemort. The evil wizard planted a chaste kiss upon Lucius' cheek and drew his wand. "Ssssuch a pity, Lucssssiussss. Do not grieve, though, for I ssssshall take care of your ssssson for you. Avada..."

"Finish that curse, my lord, and I shall slaughter you like the Muggles you've killed." The Potions Master ripped off his Death Eater mask and pointed his wand at Voldemort's throat.

"Sssseverusss? You would betray me?" With a laugh the Dark Lord vanished and Lucius Malfoy twisted round, cracking his cane across Snape's skull. Snape fell to the ground as the blood from his wound began to drip down his face.

"Forget that you've betrayed our Master, Severus, you've betrayed me. I know what you did and I know you've turned my son against me. I look forward to killing you both." Lucius' honeyed voice was deceptive. Beneath his careful words was a sharpness that turned Draco's stomach.

Draco watched with horror as his father drew his wand from his cane and pointed it at the helpless potions master.

"Avada kedavra!"

The acid green light enveloped Lucius Malfoy and for one second the look he aimed at his son was of pure hatred. Draco dropped his wand and it clattered to the floor.

Draco jerked awake, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He hated his bed at this moment and slipped from its covers to the chair by the fireplace. He curled up in the large chair and stared at the flames until the horror of his nightmare passed away and sleep, a dreamless sleep, finally claimed him.

Just as lightning lit up the sky and Snape was experiencing the remembered pain of the call of the Dark Lord, the lightning cut through into Harry's dreams. His scar, the real scar, cracked as a single drop of blood escaped.

Harry was choking. He couldn't move but he could see the slithering body of a great snake twisting itself around his frame. He tried to struggle, but the snake's coils only tightened more.

"Harry Potter..." a voice hissed seductively in his ear and he shuddered. "Don't think you can essssscape me sssssoo easssily boy! I promisssse you that time will not ssssseparate ussss!"

Laughter wrapped around his senses and he found himself falling, spinning through a dark void until he found himself tumbling painfully down a set of stairs.

"Harry! Harry, my boy where are you?"

Harry could hear his godfather, Sirius calling him, but he seemed lost in the maze of a darkened house he'd never seen before. The only light was the poor light of old-fashioned gaslamps upon the walls. The house smelled of dust, musty things, things long forgotten. "Sirius! I can't find you!" Harry's panicked voice cried out as he turned a corner.

He was quickly enveloped by strong arms that embraced him. Harry slipped his arms around Sirius Black, losing himself in the hug, afraid to let go. It was Sirius who began to pull away slightly and he drew Harry's chin to look up at him. Sirius looked down into the green eyes, the last remnant of a beautiful and vibrant woman; Harry's mother. Tears unshed glistened in the eyes.

"Tell me what's wrong, Harry." Sirius said softly.

"I don't want to lose you, Sirius. Not after I found you. But... I... " he sniffed and scrubbed his face with his hand.

Sirius drew Harry into a small parlor where a fire was the only light. He settled the boy down upon the settee. "You want to stay, don't you?" Harry just simply nodded. "Do you want to stay because you'll escape Voldemort?"

"I want to escape who I am!" the boy declared vehemently. "I don't want to be The-Boy-Who-Lived anymore. I just want to be a simple kid going to school. Let someone else take down Voldemort. I'm tired of it all."

Sirius looked down upon the boy, the child who was so small, yet destined to face the darkest wizard he'd ever known. He sat down beside his godson and slipped an arm over his shoulder. He spoke softly, "You do know, Harry, that you're never alone. You have me, you have your friends, and I hate to admit it, but you even have that old bastard Slytherin, Snape."

"You're joking!" Harry's green eyes glittered dangerously at Sirius.

"I'm not, Harry. You need to realize the precarious position that Severus is in."

"Precarious? He hates me, Sirius!" Harry shrugged off his godfather's comforting embrace.

"He doesn't hate you, Harry! I wish he did... oh how I wish he did because this would be so much easier. Everything would be in black and white. It isn't, though. Harry, Severus Snape had good reason to despise me, Remus and your father. But look at where he is. Think to what Dumbledore has told you of the man."

Harry tried. He really tried to see what Sirius was telling him, but he couldn't. The frustration was written upon his face and he looked helplessly at Sirius. Sirius smiled at him and drew him close, ignoring Harry's momentary stiffness. "Never mind it, then. But do remember this, Harry, you will not be alone in this war. There are many who care about you that will help you. Just... just let them know when you need help."

"But I'm the one who is the Cho..." he couldn't say 'Chosen One'. The words were like ash upon his tongue. Sirius released Harry for a moment and went to a wardrobe that was out of place in this room. Harry frowned as he watched his godfather opening it. He soon remembered where he'd seen the wardrobe; it was the one in his room in the guest wing.

Sirius handed Harry the book he'd stolen from the library. "Love, Harry. You don't even need to read that book to realize the power that love is. You know that Voldemort couldn't kill you as a baby because of your mother's love. It is love, love of your friends and everyone that surrounds you that will matter. You will lead the fight, but you will NOT be alone."

Harry took the book and turned it over and over in his hands. "I'm just... I'm so afraid, Sirius."

Sirius gathered Harry into his arms and ran his fingers through the boy's unruly, black hair. "Fear can be good and it can be bad, Harry. When you're afraid, let them know so they can help you."

Harry let the words sink in as his godfather began to gently rock him. He couldn't talk anymore and just wanted this single moment. Even if it was a dream. Before he knew it, the dream faded away and he was sleeping peacefully.

Ronald Weasely's dreams were often simple and more often than not they were about Quidditch. There were no storms in his dreams, just the blue, clear sky as he flew at grew speed upon his broom. He twirled, spun and did all those moves that sometimes he didn't quite have the nerve for. At some point in his flying, he felt he was being drawn down to the ground. He resisted for a time, but the pull kept getting stronger until eventually he had to obey.

He spiralled down out of the sky and touched once more upon the earth. The elder Dumbledore was just ahead of him, smiling and applauding. Ron's cheeks colored as he realized he'd been seen.

"You should do more flying like that, Mr. Weasely. I daresay you'd give Harry a run for his money as a second Seeker."

"D'you really think so, Professor?" Ron asked as he caught his breath.

"I do, indeed, my boy."

They walked a little distance away from the pitch while Ron's breath steadied. Finally Ron asked, "Can't say I've ever dreamed of you before, Professor Dumbledore. What are you doing here?"

"I was enjoying the fresh air." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "What do you think of Hogwarts of my day, Ron?"

"Quite nice, actually. I wish we could get to know the students more. Oh! You fly really well, by the way, sir. Never knew you had that in you!"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I love Quidditch, Ron. And flying, too. There is such freedom to be found in the air. Sometimes, it's the only freedom." They reached the lower stands and Ron put down his broom as he sat down beside the older wizard. "Ron, can you tell me about your friends?"

"What about them, sir?" asked Ron rather puzzled.

"Tell me how they are. Harry...?"

Ron grimaced. "He's having a tough time, professor. I think he'd like to stay, but Sirius is in the future, you know? Only real family he's got now."

"Too true, my child," sighed Dumbledore. "I wish we could make Harry realize that there is more to family than a blood kinship."

"I've tried. So has my mum, sir! Mum'd take Harry in a second, if she could. So would dad. Heck, I wouldn't even mind sharing my room."

"Your family, your parents, have an unlimited capacity for love. One of our strongest weapons against the darkness that attempts to overwhelm us."

For a moment they were both silent and then Dumbledore turned to the red-headed boy. "Ron, I need you to remember something for me, if you would?" Ron nodded, paying close attention to the headmaster. "You need to remember me."

Ron frowned. "Professor? I don't..."

Dumbledore just smiled gently at the boy. "Don't let anyone forget me, Mr. Weasely. It's important. Remember that."

Ron really didn't understand, but he felt deep down he didn't need to understand the why. He just needed to remember. He gave the headmaster a smile and nodded. With his acceptance, the Quidditch pitch and the stands melted away, leaving only the walls of the room he was sleeping in. Dumbledore tucked him in and he yawned as sleep finally drew over him.

The next morning Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco were each awakened by their house elf for breakfast. As each of them prepared themselves to face breakfast, their dreams came back to them, each dream as clear as a drop of water.

Harry looked into the mirror of his bathroom and saw a the dried blood on the edge of his scar. He scowled at the offensive reminder of his parents death and what the future held for him. Grabbing a washcloth and running it under the hot water, he scrubbed at the scar until it looked ready to bleed anew. He then arranged his hair to hide it.

Sirius seemed so real last night. Harry glowered at himself in the mirror. So had Voldemort. He could still smell the brimstone that seemed to surround that dark wizard like a cloying cologne. It made his stomach roil uneasily and breakfast was the last thing he wanted to face right now.

Splashing water on his face helped to calm his stomach. He then did his best to shake off the dream and then he made his way to Snape's room for something to eat.

Draco had not made it back to his bed and his body ached in a variety of places from having slept the rest of the night in the chair. Before he'd risen from the chair, his memory flashed to the blood flowing onto Hermione's dress from his dream. He ran to his bathroom and collapsed in front of the toilet bowl. There was nothing in his stomach, so it cramped with dry heaves. Cold sweat beaded his brow and for at least a minute he did not move. He didn't trust his legs could support him.

When he was sure of his feet he rose to his legs and went to the sink where he rinsed his mouth and began brushing his teeth. Once the wave of nausea was gone he found it replaced by something else, something he couldn't quite define. He stared in the mirror and suddenly he realized what the feeling was; he felt like himself. He wasn't the 'son of Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater', he was Draco Malfoy. He grinned sardonically at his reflection. He'd killed his father in his dream without hesitation. He hadn't been afraid.

Hermione brushed her comb through her hair and for once wasn't worrying about the tough job it usually was to tame her wild, brown hair. Her dream hardly solved any riddles for her, but she had been given a piece of the puzzle and that was a good thing. More pieces would come and soon she would have enough to either complete the puzzle, or be well on the way to solving it. Taking one last glimpse into the mirror, Hermione thought briefly of her parents. She missed her parents and wanted to return home to them. She also wanted to go back to the Hogwarts she knew.

"Dumbledore's the key," she mumbled as she pulled some of her hair off her face and clipped it into place. Was it a coincedence that they'd gone back in time to the one connection they had to their future? Hermione didn't believe in coincedence. Destiny, is what Dumbledore of her dream had called it. She frowned darkly. Destiny was another thing she distrusted, along with tea leaves, crystal balls, and Tarot cards.

Ron brushed his teeth vigourously and just as he was rinsing his mouth, he caught sight of his reflection. He wanted to remember the flight on the broom, but that part of the dream was fading. He'd forget before the hour was ended. What would stay in his mind, he knew this without a doubt, was the spectre of Albus Dumbledore asking to be remembered. He still wasn't sure of the reason why, but mentally he spoke to the visage of the headmaster, 'Don't worry, professor. I'll remember.'

Snape was not at the breakfast table as they each gathered quietly. They were met by the Headmistress who used wandless magic to pour pumpkin juice for them from a large pitcher. For several minutes their appetites took over and they put a decent dent in the fare on the table.

"How is Snape?" asked Draco as he took a bite of a raspberry muffin.

"Professor Snape is well, but he needed to rest. He wanted me to make certain all of you would meet him here for lunch."

"So what do we do until then?" asked Harry. "I don't think there's any practices today to watch."

"Yeah," said Ron. He tossed an orange at Draco, but Lyrica's hand snatched it out of the air. Ron grinned sheepishly and Draco glared. "I think I'm actually missing school."

Lyrica put the orange down and studied the children. "You have been rather isolated, haven't you?"

"It's boring!" huffed Draco. He surreptitiously picked up a biscuit and when he thought the headmistress wasn't looking, he lobbed it at Ron's head. Just as the biscuit hit Ron in the side of his head, Harry's hand whacked the back of Draco's head. "Don't mess with my hair, Potter!" Growled Draco. Harry snickered.

Lyrica cleared the table of all temptation and smirked at the three boys. Hermione chuckled and then explained, "Professor Snape told us we had to keep our interaction with others to a strict minimum. I'm all right with that, though."

Ron snorted. "Give you a book and you're fine wherever you're put, 'Mione." Hermione made a face at Ron. Harry and Draco snickered.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Albus Dumbledore. "Professor Arcahnum? You asked me to meet you here?"

"I did, Mr. Dumbledore. Please come in."

Albus walked in and greeted the others with a slight wave. He pulled a small white paper bag out of his pocket. "Anyone want a sherbet lemon?" Draco snorted and Ron groaned. Harry elbowed Ron and reached for one of the lemon candies. Popping it into his mouth, he chuckled, too. Poor Albus really hadn't a clue what was so funny. He grinned anyway.

"Mr. Dumbledore, I've excused you from your morning classes because I'd like you to take care of our guests today. Their uncle is still recovering from his injuries and as Mr. Malfoy so succinctly put it, they're bored." The headmistress removed a key from a pocket in her robe and handed it to the head boy. "Take them up to the 6th floor and show them the Odd Room."

"What's the Odd Room?" asked Draco. "I've never heard of it."

"Neither have I," piped up Hermione. "And I've read every page of Hogwarts: A History."

Dumbledore took the heavy copper key and flashed another big grin at everyone. "Oh, you'll love this! Everyone ready to go?"

"A moment, please," said Lyrica as she rose and gestured that the four should stay seated. "Mr. Dumbledore, would you wait for them in the hallway?" He nodded and walked out of the room. Lyrica lowered her voice. "I need not remind you that you must be careful with your words around Mr. Dumbledore. I truly do not want to have to work an Obliviate upon his mind if he hears something he shouldn't. Professor Snape has informed me that the fact he knows your real names is not a problem. So, be diligent?" She looked at each of them carefully, capturing their gazes, one by one, with her own. They nodded. "Good." She led them out of Hermione's room and reminded Albus to have everyone back by noon.

The younger Albus led Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco to the moving staircases. They waited patiently until one of the stairs made its lazy way toward them. As they stepped onto it Albus tapped the railing with his wand. "Sixth floor, please." With a grinding effort, the stairs moved and then rose upward.

"The stair is rising! How did you do that?" asked Hermione. None of them had ever seen a moving staircase directed by anyone, nor had they ever seen one rise up to the higher floors.

"It's a little known benefit of being a prefect or a head boy. It's much easier to be able to tell the stairs where you want to go instead of having to put up with their whims." The stairs finally locked into place and they stepped out into the corridor. "Over here," said Albus.

Just off to the left was a small hallway that led to a wrought iron gate. Taking out the copper key, he unlocked the gate. "There isn't much on the sixth floor. It's mostly storage now. Lots of armor, weaponry, odds and ends."

"What was the sixth floor originally?" Harry asked out of curiosity.

"The potions and defense against the dark arts classrooms used to be up here. That was a century ago. It's most famous, though, for Corabine the Mad Headmistress. Have you ever heard of her?"

Harry, Ron and even Hermione muttered that they hadn't. Draco spoke up. "I have." He flashed the others a quirky, smug smile. For once he was the one with the answer. "You're talking about Corabine Lockhart who ascended to the position of headmistress after poisoning her husband, Gelgarris."

Ron nudged Harry and whispered, "So that's where Lockhart got it!" Harry smiled and chuckled as Ron reminded them of the erstwhile and vain Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart, who was sadly spending his remaining days in St. Mungo's.

"That's her," smiled Dumbledore. He had not heard the exchange between the two boys. "Now, I warn you, it gets pretty close in here, almost claustrophobic."

They were walking down a narrow, windowless hallway. The walls stretched high above them. Carvings of dragons, battlefields, centaurs, and other wondrous and horrific scenes were carved deep into the dark granite walls. It was heavily shadowed and hard to see. "Lumos!" Dumbledore's wand tip glowed with amber light. The others lit their wands as well and most of the shadows retreated. For the moment, the story of Corabine the Mad was forgotten as they got used to their surroundings and looked at the many carvings.

"There's no rhyme or reason to these," muttered Hermione. She found the carvings, although beautiful in one respect, disturbing.

"They make me wish I hadn't eaten breakfast," gasped Ron as he tried not to look. Even Harry was looking a little green.

Albus instructed, "This artwork seems to disturb a lot of people. It's best to just keep your sight on the floor." They walked in silence a few more minutes as their eyes were either glued to the floor or their feet.

"So who was Corabine the Mad?" Hermione glanced over to Draco for a reply.

"She was from the early 1600s. Back then there was no ministry to interfere in the headmaster position. It was inherited. She took over as headmistress when her husband, Gelgarris Lockhart, died. She used a belladonna to kill him; very painful. Once she took over, she began spending money, mostly upon herself." Draco fell into his story just as the hallway began to curve. "Corabine kept an office in the tower, where it's always been, and also began tearing everything down on the sixth floor and then building a new interior. No one was allowed in during the construction. She built this hallway. It follows the outside of the entire sixth floor with no exit. The only doors are the gate we went through, and the gate at the end of the hallway."

"Why did she do this?" asked Ron who suddenly bumped into Harry.

"Ow! Watch where you're stepping, Ron!"

"Sorry, mate."

Draco continued his story. "The legend goes that Corabine trapped the soul of her dearly departed Gelgarris within the walls of the sixth floor. He had a secret power that she wanted that he could only reveal to her if he were a ghost."

"Dark magic?" whispered Hermione.

"Blood magic and dark rituals. Quite possibly the most evil of magic anyone could imagine. Darker even than Vol..." Hermione slipped her hand into Draco's and squeezed tightly in warning. He coughed slightly and continued. "Well, dark magic is dark magic. So, it was bad. And then..."

They had come to the iron gate at the end of the hallway. Hermione held her wand higher to get a clearer view of the ironwork that made up the gate. It was a ghastly, sinuous mass of snakes circling around dozens of victims. She shuddered. "That's horrible!"

"Must have been from Slytherin house," Harry muttered. He had just seen Hermione's hand in Draco's and didn't approve.

Draco removed his hand from Hermione's grip at Harry's dark look and matched it with his own. "As a matter of fact, Corabine was from Gryffindor!"

Harry balled up his fists and started to advance upon Draco, but he was stopped short by a curt look from the head boy. "Draco's right, Harry. Corabine was Gryffindor. Although, considering all that she did, well..." he gave Draco a sideways glance and chose, wisely, not to finish what he was going to say. "Shall we?" he nodded toward the entrance.

"Wait," said Ron. Albus stopped in the open doorway and waited. "I want to know what the rest of the story is, Malfoy, before we go further. And then... what?"

Draco grinned dramatically. "Students began to go missing. When the daughter of a prominent wizarding family, Tisane Black, disappeared, an aggressive investigation was finally instigated. On the sixth floor, just beyond this gate, they found the bones of twelve students decorating the walls. Corabine was arrested and hanged without a trial."

"That's creepy!" blurted Harry.

"That certainly wasn't in Hogwarts: A History," mumbled Hermione.

"Is that really true, Malfoy?" asked Ron skeptically.

Draco shrugged. "That's the legend I've heard. It's word for word how Sna... how Uncle Severus told it and I expect it's just the kind of thing he'd know."

"Bedtime stories?" sneered Harry. Draco just glared. "What do you say, Albus?" Harry turned to the head boy. "Is all that true?"

"Well, she did do the reconstruction on this floor and she did kill her husband with poison. For that she was hanged and record of her was expunged from the official history. Twelve children did go missing, but nothing was ever found. Not even bones." Albus pushed the gate open and ushered them through.

After the claustrophobic hallway, it was pleasant to emerge into a very large, open area. The windows were long and narrow and of clear glass. They were set high up into the walls, so it was impossible to look out them unless one stood upon a step ladder.

Just as Albus had said, the sixth floor was a storage area. Long shelves stretched the length of the room and were crammed almost up to the high ceiling with all manner of mundane to fascinating objects. Lining the walls and in some cases overlapping each other, were old paintings that didn't move, mirrors, tapestries, and banners. Also against the walls were racks of weapons. Almost enough to outfit an army of 300 men. Everywhere they looked there was armor, both metal and leather. The entire room itself was enough to be distracting and they almost forgot about what had brought them; the Odd Room.

It was Hermione who tore her gaze away from the amazing junk pile and asked, "Albus, what is the Odd Room. Where is it?"

The boy grinned and his eyes twinkled with mischief. "Well, this it. Everywhere, Hermione." Draco and Ron both glared. Neither was very amused. "Trust me, it deserves the name."

"So give, mate," said Ron. "What makes this so bloody odd?"

"Everything in this room, every shelf, stick of furniture, every tapestry thread came to this room by itself. None of it was ever brought here." Albus walked over to a shelf and picked up a magnificent scepter of twisted gold and silver encrusted with emeralds and rubies. Draco's eyes went wide at such a prize. Albus then walked over the threshold into the hallway and the scepter vanished from his hands.

Draco's mouth dropped open. "What happened to it?"

Albus shrugged. "Who knows? It's not back in that mess. Maybe gone back to where it came from?"

Draco snatched at something glittering, a small crown, and walked with it into the hallway. It faded from his hands. "That's wicked!" he marveled.

Draco's actions were immediately followed by Harry taking a goblet out into the hallway. Ron found a large ivory scrimshaw and was suitably impressed when it faded from his hands as soon as he stepped next to Draco and Harry. Hermione had found a large book. She didn't step into the hallway.

"C'mon Hermione," urged Ron. "Try it!"

Hermione cast a stricken look upon the book she held in her hands. "But, it's 'My First Century' by Nicolas Flamel." Harry groaned and Ron shook his head. Hermione replaced the book where she'd found it.

"Well, that was fun," muttered Draco. "So is that it to the Odd Room, Dumbledore?" He grinned at being able to call Albus just by his last name.

Albus shook his head. "Why don't you have a look around. You'll find out on your own what's odd about this entire floor."

One by one they drifted off into different directions. Draco headed for a rack of very dangerous weapons next to a large mirror with a heavy silver frame. The glass was etched with an intricate design of ivy. Of course, he was too busy attempting to remove a spiked mace from its secure perch to appreciate the artistry of the mirror and its frame.

Ron went down one of the aisles of shelves and was astonished to find himself the subject of jeers and insults, in English, Latin, Gaelic, French, Chinese and a dozen more languages. The voices were coming from dozens of chess pieces. He ducked just as a knight tossed a spear in his direction. "Woahhhhh!"

Hermione wandered past several dozen mirrors until she came across piles of pirate treasure just sitting on the floor as if it had all been recently deposited there. She knelt down and dipped her hand into the glittering treasure and drew up a brilliant handful of pearls, rubies, diamonds, silver and gold. A stack of silver pieces of eight fell and slid toward her knee.

In the distance there was a crash. Draco had wrested the mace from the rack and had swung it, lost his balance, and smacked the weapon right into one of the mirrors. "Oh bloody hell!"

"Not to worry!" Albus' voice filtered over toward Harry.

Harry was down another aisle and hadn't really seen anything to catch his eye. However, he was so busy looking back and forth between the shelves he bumped right into the tall figure blocking his path. "I'm sorry!" he automatically apologized.

"Not to worry, son. I think my foot will survive."

Harry's breath caught in his throat as his eyes rose from the shoes he'd been looking at and up to the face of the man he'd bumped into. It was like looking into a mirror, only a mirror that would show one the future. The man wore round framed glasses just like he did and had dark brown hair that also defied taming by a comb as his own did.

"Harry? I think you'd better breathe before you pass out." The man smiled and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

Harry gulped and made a great effort NOT to pass out. He had seen that face in a mirror before. In the Mirror of Erised. "Dad?" he whispered hoarsely.

James Potter smiled down at his son and tousled the boy's hair. "I wish your mother were here," he glanced around hopefully. "But perhaps some other day. She and I have both missed you. How are you?"

"Y-y-y-you can't be real, can you?" he asked, still in shock.

James shook his head sadly. "I wish I were, son, but no, I'm not real."

"W-what are you? A ghost, then?"

James chuckled. "I'm a memory. There are a lot of memories..." he tapped Harry's temple. "... in here."

Harry blinked. "Are there? I haven't been able to remember anything, nothing at all about you and mum. I only know what everyone else has told me."

James leaned down, took Harry's arms in his hands and looked at the scar on his forehead. "Trust me, Harry, they are there, but it may be awhile before you can access them. It will take... facing your destiny and patience."

"Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"Do you know that we're stuck in the past?"

"I do know that."

"Dad, do you... have you any idea how we can get back home? Or if we will?"

James rose and smiled at his son. "You will get home, Harry. As for how to get back, I don't know the how, but the key is in this room." Harry's eyes widened as he looked around at all the stuff and junk on the shelves. His excitement fell. James drew Harry to his side and turned the boy back the way he had entered the aisle. He pointed at Albus Dumbledore.

Harry whispered. "Professor Dumbledore? But, how?"

"Don't worry about that now, Harry. You'll know soon enough." James took Harry's hand in his. "Why don't we make the best of this time we have and explore this place a bit, all right?"

"Yeah!" grinned Harry.

"Reparo!" growled Draco at the shards of the broken mirror all over the floor. It refused to obey his spell. "I know I've got this ri..." A child's laughter broke through Draco's frustration. "Who's there?"

"Can't find me, Dragon!" The laughter was that of a little girl. She began singing, "Dragon, dragon, full of fire!"

An unpleasant chill bit Draco sharply at the base of his spine. The palms of his hands went cold. He knew that voice. He knew of only one person who had ever called him Dragon. "Elydree?" Draco whispered. Looking at all the mirrors in front of him, he caught a flash of black in a mirror several feet away. He ran toward it. Looking into it, he could see his reflection, but he was also able to see the grounds of Malfoy Manor. "Elydree! Is that you in there?"

The face of a precocious seven year old with large, blue eyes and raven black hair popped up right in front of his face. Draco let out a yelp and fell backwards into a suit of armor. The armor shook precariously and Draco scrambled away from it. His eyes did not leave the face of the smiling, laughing child.

"Is everything all right, Draco?" Albus was still near the gate, but he was heading toward the Slytherin boy.

"I'm fine!" he snapped. "Just fine! Leave me alone!" The boy glared and hissed. "Nosey old man." To his chagrin, Albus was still heading toward him.

"It's all right, Dragon. He won't see me." The little girl smiled conspiratorially and put a finger to her lips.

"Pity about the mirror," said Albus as he stepped carefully over the broken glass.

"Why didn't my spell work?" asked Draco as he moved to stand in front of the mirror where the girl stood quietly.

"Just another oddity of this room, Draco. If something breaks, it stays broken, until... look." Albus moved to stand by Draco and pointed at the shards. One by one they began to fade away until every last bit of what had once been a whole mirror was gone. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

Draco nodded. It probably was, but at the moment he didn't really care. "Hey Albus, I think Ron just called you."

"Did he? Well, I'll go see if he needs some help." Albus moved back toward the door and went looking for Ron.

Draco spun round and stared at the little girl. "It is you, isn't it Elydree?"

She placed her little splayed hand against the invisible wall of the mirror. Draco touched his hand to hers. "Hello big brother."

Albus found that Ron was in a bit of trouble. He was under siege by a set of Conquistador chess pieces. "This way, Ron!" shouted Albus.

Ron was protecting his head after discovering that the chess pieces had resisted his magic, just as the broken mirror had resisted repair. Glancing through his arms that were crossed over his face, Ron saw where Albus was and ran down to the farthest end of the aisle.

"Well that was a mess!" exclaimed Ron. "What else is there to see?"

Albus was about to suggest something when Hermione let out a shriek. "RON!" Both Ron and Albus ran toward the sound of her screams. They soon found her near the treasure. A tall, red-bearded, fearsome looking pirate wearing a hat with an ostrich feather in it, had grabbed her around the waist and was holding a cruel looking dagger to her throat. As the pirate saw the two boys, he dropped Hermione and pulled a pistol upon them.

"There be no need for heroes here, me young hearties, so stop in yer tracks, or I'll be doin' it for ye!" growled the pirate.

Hermione had not yet discovered that magic didn't quite work the way one expected. She whipped out her wand, pointed it at the pirate's pistol and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" The only result was that the pirate turned slowly and placed the end of the pistol to Hermione's forehead.

A shot suddenly rang out and the pirate's eyes widened in surprise. He dropped his pistol to the floor and Hermione ran over to Ron. The pirate pulled open his coat and stared down at a widening red stain upon his chest. "I feel... cold." The pirate dropped to the ground dead, and then faded away.

"Well, there goes me last bullet." Hermione squeeked again as she found herself face-to-face with another pirate. This one looked like he had a run in with too much rum and an eyebrow pencil. "I'll be havin' that medallion, lass, if ye don't mind?"

Hermione gulped and looked down at the heavy, gold medallion she'd found in the pile of treasure. "I just... found it... over there," her voice was a hushed whisper. "W-w-who are you?"

"Captain Jack Sparrow, little missy! No doubt ye've heard of me?" He smiled and a gold tooth glinted. Hermione shook her head. He frowned. "Ye haven't?" He tapped his chin and then pointed his pistol at Ron. "You boy, ye've heard of me!"

"Uhm, no, sir," gulped Ron. "Sorry."

Captain Sparrow walked unsteadily toward Albus, eyed him warily, and just as he was about to say something else, he vanished.

"Pirates?" asked Ron. He hugged Hermione who was still shaking slightly. "Why were there pirates here?"

"I was just thinking of Treasure Island... b-b-but those pirates weren't from that story!" Hermione saw the medallion still in her hand and threw it at the pile of treasure as though it had burned her fingers.

"That second pirate looked like a poof!" snorted Ron. Hermione smiled weakly.

"Hermione! Are you all right?" Ron, Albus and Hermione looked over toward Harry and at the tall, dark-haired man in glasses with him.

"Harry?" asked Ron. "Who's he?"

"My dad." Harry spoke so matter-of-factly that all was quiet for a very long moment. It was James who broke the spell. "Harry, I don't have much longer. Why don't you introduce me?"

Harry was suddenly disappointed that James Potter would be vanishing, as had the pirate, but he'd never have such a chance again, so quickly he made introductions. Harry couldn't remember a happier time, but deep inside he wondered why his mother hadn't appeared in the Odd Room. Maybe if he came back later she might. For now they had a few minutes to visit. But only a few minutes.

"I have to go, Harry," said James softly and with regret. Without a word, Harry threw his arms around his father. James returned the tight hug. "Remember us, Harry. We're always with you." James faded away.

"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Ron.

Harry took a deep breath and smiled. "Actually, Ron, I am. I don't know why, but I feel like everything's alright." Harry shrugged. He thought to himself that it was best not to analyze any of this too deeply. "Where's Malfoy?" He asked only to change the subject.

"I can go look for him, replied Hermione. She wanted to get away from the pile of gold and jewels.

"Okay," agreed Ron. "We'll head back to the gate."

Hermione parted from the boys and listened for Draco's voice. His soft tone soon led her to where he was standing in front of a mirror. She was at an angle where she couldn't see what he was seeing. She wondered if he might be talking to himself. If he was, she didn't want to embarrass him so she coughed slightly to alert him to her presence.

Draco turned sharply. Blood rushed to his pale cheeks. "What do you want, Granger?" he snarled before he could stop himself.

"I'm sorry," she muttered as she took a step back. "We're leaving now. Are you ready?"

"Is that your girlfriend, Dragon?"

Hermione was startled to hear the childish voice. Hermione strode up beside him. "Who is she?"

"I thought you said no one could see you!" hissed Draco to the little girl.

"I lied!" the whimsical child smiled and giggled. She then smiled sweetly and waved to the bushy-haired witch. "I'm Elydree. Who are you?"

"Hermione Granger. It's nice to meet you Elydree." Hermione cast Draco a questioning glance, but he was not in the mood to provide an answer.

Elydree turned politely from Hermione and faced Draco. "I wish I could stay longer, Dragon, but the magic is fading." Draco placed his hand against the mirror and she smiled brightly and did the same. "Think of me always, big brother." She laughed in pure delight and faded. With her, the grounds of Malfoy Manor also faded until the only thing the mirror did was reflect Draco and Hermione.

Hermione was stunned by the little girl's last words. She wanted to ask, but a dark, warning look from Draco made her swallow her questions. She followed him quietly back to the gate where Ron, Albus and Harry waited. Draco pushed between them, snapped out his wand and cast the lumos spell.

"What's his problem?" asked Ron.

"Nothing," Hermione spoke firmly. "Just leave him alone." Lighting her wand, she followed after Draco. Ron followed her, then Harry.

Albus locked the gate and was soon bringing up the rear. "Would anyone like a sherbet lemon?"

"NO!" came the chorus from all of them.

It was still a bit early for lunch and Albus departed for his classes when it appeared his presence was no longer welcome. Draco was happy to get rid of Albus and he didn't care if the nosy prat's feelings were at all hurt. The young boy's constant questions were annoying and much of what Albus asked, none of them could answer. In silence, they headed toward the field that would one day be home to the pumpkin patch near Hagrid's hut. Settling themselves on the grass, they were each lost in their own thoughts until Ron broke the silence.

"Your dad seemed kind of neat, Harry." Harry smiled at Ron.

"I wish my mum could have appeared, too." Harry plucked at a wildflower. "Do you think he was real?"

"As real as my dream was last night," affirmed Ron with a grin. "I wish I could fly like that all the time!"

Draco turned slightly away. He was in no mood to be reminded of the dream he'd had. As he briefly shut his eyes, the flash of his father's dagger against Hermione's throat shocked him and he gasped.

"What's with you, Malfoy?" asked Harry. "You've been uncharacteristically quiet this morning. No insults at all."

"Yeah, we might get the false impression you like us," jibed Ron.

"Never," growled Draco. Shifting the attention off of himself, he faced the red-head. "What was your dream about, Ron?"

Ron blinked, surprised to be asked, "What do you care?"

Draco shrugged. "Something to talk about, I s'pose. So, give, what was it?" He grinned sardonically. "Chess or Quidditch?"

"Quidditch, I'll bet," snickered Harry.

Ron glowered. "As if neither of you have dreamt about Quidditch."

"So, come on, Ron. Why do you say this dream was so real?" asked Hermione.

Ron shrugged now as he felt put on the spot. "I just... well, I can remember everything. Flying over the Quidditch pitch and doing rolls and spins I... I well, you know." Ron plucked at some of the grass and held it up. "It felt as real as this grass. I can remember my fingers getting cold, and the wind in my hair... there were storm clouds coming in, too. Oh, and you know how Dumbledore always smells of citrus and dust, Harry? I could smell that, too." Ron frowned for a second and then smiled at the memory. "He said I'd be as good a seeker as you, Harry."

"Not!" Harry glared mockingly and then grinned.

"So that was the dream?" scoffed Draco. "You dreamed about flying and Dumbledore?"

"Yeah. He asked how we were." Ron just shrugged and pulled up random blades of grass.

"I dreamt of Professor Dumbledore, too," Hermione said quietly as she recalled her own dream. "Professor Dumbledore asked me how Professor Snape was doing." She realized all three were listening raptly to her. "I was in the Potions classroom where I wanted to work out a problem, but Professor Dumbledore was there. He asked how you three were and then he asked, 'how would you say our beloved Potions instructor is doing so far out of his element?'"

"Beloved?" snorted Harry. Ron chuckled and Draco just shook his head.

Hermione scowled and crossed her arms defiantly. "You may not realize this, Harry, but Professor Dumbledore happens to care very much for Professor Snape."

Harry just rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back on the grass. He switched his attention to the clouds passing over them. The heavy darkness of one cloud gave him a chill that he tried to shake off. A brief blink and Voldemort's red eyes loomed toward him. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter in an effort to banish the memory.

"Potter, your scar!" gasped Draco.

Harry raised a hand to his scar, felt the uncomfortable twinge he always felt when touching the lightning bolt scar and quickly drew back his hand. There was a smudge of blood on his fingertips. Staring at the blood, he quietly asked, "Voldemort can't reach us here, can he?" None of them answered. "Last night I dreamt, first about Voldemort. He was as real as this..." Harry showed them the blood on his fingertips and then scrubbed them against the grass. "I ran from him and found myself in this dark house. It smelled old and there was dust and cobwebs and spiders everywhere. I ran into Sirius."

"Your mutt godfather, Potter?" sneered Draco as he nudged Harry's shoulder with his foot.

Harry shoved Malfoy's foot, knocking the blonde against Hermione. He rose partway and scowled, "Sirius is no worse than your vampire godfather, Malfoy." Malfoy raised his arms and bent his fingers into claws. He did a rather good impression of a Snapeish scowl and menaced Harry. Harry smirked. "When is he going to teach you that billowing robe trick of his?"

"After your mutt teaches you how to fetch!"

"What did you dream, Draco?" Hermione intervened before Draco decided to kick Harry.

Draco looked down just as Hermione placed a hand upon his arm. "Blood." He said simply as he looked up at Hermione's unmarked throat. "I killed my father." Draco rose to his feet and began to walk away.

Ron huffed. "Why does he keep doing that?" For a minute they watched as Draco strode away from them. Ron rose to his feet. "C'mon, if we lose him again, Snape'll feed us to the elves." Harry and Hermione followed Ron but all three kept behind Draco, allowing him some space to himself.

After trudging up the hill, Harry smirked, "Hermione, what's with the pirates?"

Hermione turned sharply and her cheeks blushed crimson. "Nothing!" She then sprinted ahead of Ron and Harry and slipped her arm into Draco's. Ron glared darkly. His look was very similar to the one on Harry's face as they watched the Slytherin and the Gryffindor arm in arm with each other.

They wandered a bit around the lake until Hermione reminded them it was time to meet Snape for lunch. Dreams, memories, and their future momentarily forgotten, they raced back to the castle. They did not stop as they pushed through the great door and continued to run like mad through the corridors and to the Gryffindor guest quarters. They burst through Snape's door, breathless and laughing at nothing and anything.

The dark figure of their professor stood by the lit fireplace. To his left was the table all set for lunch. At his obsidian glare, they quickly shaped themselves up and lined up next to each other. Snape crossed his arms and sighed as though the entire weight of the world rested on his shoulders. It was enough to wipe the last smile of mirth from their faces.

"I do believe you were told to be here at noon. It is now twenty-two minutes past." Snape stared just a few seconds longer and then pointed at the table. "Sit down and eat."

Without a word they each scrambled to their chairs and began filling their plates with food. Snape relaxed slightly and then went to his chair at the table and seated himself. Pouring himself some coffee, he ignored them while they ate in silence. He savored the coffee and allowed it to relax him a bit further.

"What were you doing this morning that caused such a delay?" he asked and immediately regretted his curiosity.

Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to fill the entire meal with their adventure in the Odd Room. Snape only had enough patience to hear part of the story and that came when he heard Harry mention the name of James Potter. Harry did not catch the change in his Potions teacher at the mention of his father and this gave Snape just enough time to compose himself. It was an old wound that didn't need to be opened here.

"Sir," Hermione asked as their stories began to wind down. "Do you have any idea what might have happened to the Odd Room? The sixth floor is nothing but an empty in our time."

Snape shook his head. "I am familiar with the legend of Corabine the Mad, but I have no knowledge of this Odd Room. I may have to get a glimpse of it later."

Snape cast a sidelong glance toward Draco. Throughout the relating of their adventure the boy had been unusually quiet and sullen. Normally he tried to take center stage, but had apparently been content to let the others speak. He was about to ask when Draco caught his discerning look and turned away. Snape took the hint, but with the intention that he would speak to Draco later. There was more important business at hand. Making sure that everyone was finished, he cleared the table of the dishes and leftovers with a wave of his hand.

"I have made a decision," he said. The tone of his voice did not bode well, for whatever this decision was. Harry crossed his arms over his chest, already prepared to protest. "Our research has reached an impasse and as much as I am loathe to admit any failings to my students," his sharp glare warned that none of them had better make any sort of joke or smart remark. "There is little more than we can do here."

"But professor! We've only been here three weeks!" Of course it would be Potter who would state the obvious. "Isn't it too early to give up?"

"Mr. Potter, did I say that we were giving up?" Snape really did wonder if Potter had a full brain in his head sometimes.

"Sounds to me like you're giving up," muttered Ron. "You just said you failed."

"Be quiet, Mr. Weasely." He faced Harry, knowing that Harry would be the one he'd have to convince before any of them would follow his decision. "We are not giving up, Mr. Potter. At the moment we are up against a brick wall, but I do believe we will discover a way through it. We are, however, presented with a more urgent problem that must be addressed." Snape was pleased to see that Harry's crossed arms were relaxing slightly. The boy was willing to at least consider his words.

"I made an egregious mistake when we arrived here in us using our real names. We are isolated and must be constantly on our guard not to reveal any of our futures. It is possible we may have already altered the future, but we cannot concern ourselves with that now."

"But only Professors Grailing and Arcahnum know who we are..." began Hermione.

"Miss Granger, would you mind holding your tongue until I have finished?" he snapped at the girl who leaned back sullenly in her chair.

Snape continued. "Professors Grailing and Arcahnum are not the problem. You must keep this to yourselves, but Professor Grailing will not survive past the Spring of next year. He is a very old man. As for the headmistress, she will keep her knowledge of us to her dying day." He closed his eyes briefly at his mis-chosen words. Calming himself, he brought himself back to the subject. "Albus Dumbledore is the problem. Professor Dumbledore has quite a skill in resisting memory charms and curses. The only way to keep him from remembering us would be to destroy his mind as Mr. Weasley did to Professor Lockhart. The consequences of that don't bear thinking of. The headmistress will speak on our behalf to Professor Dumbledore and as he has a terribly propensity of keeping secrets, knowledge of us is safe."

Hermione interrupted again, but this time by raising her hand slightly. Snape's eyes rolled in exasperation, but he nodded at her to speak. "Professor, if Albus... I mean, Professor Dumbledore does remembers us, is it possible...?"

"I assume there's an actual question in that, Miss Granger?" Snape prompted.

"I..." she sighed. "No, maybe not, sir."

Snape did not to press the point. If the little Gryffindor chose to voice her concerns later, no doubt she wouldn't hesitate to do so. Snape rose to his feet and began to pace. "We have overstayed our welcome at Hogwarts. If the headmistress is to cast the spell that will wipe out our existence in the memories of those students and staff currently here at Hogwarts, then we can ill afford to spend more time here." He stopped pacing and faced them. The three Gryffindors turned to face him, Draco did not. "Tomorrow we leave Hogwarts."

There was an immediate outburst of questions, outrage, and concerns. He did not have the patience to justify a decision that he'd mulled over since the first day they arrived in 1898. He was frustrated in himself and annoyed at the fact that he'd become the guardian over four children he had no particular fondness for. Everyday they spent in Hogwarts was another day that could bring disaster to their future. Not the least of that being the ever-present temptation to change their own futures. Looking at Harry, he could see that temptation evident in the boy's expression. It had not been enough for him to speak and interact with a suppressed memory of James Potter; he wanted his father back in his life. How could Snape explain to Harry that such a thing could change their time in ways even he couldn't imagine? And as for Snape? He had also felt the temptation to try and change his own future so that he could have a future where he wasn't a servant to the Dark Lord.

With a sharp gesture and a cutting command to be quiet, they fell silent. "Enough," he said softly. "Finish your lunch. Then, get your cloaks. We have a trip to make to Diagon Alley."

Lunch was finished in sullen silence and then one by one Hermione, Ron and Harry got up from the table and left. Harry paused in the doorway, silent for a moment and then he turned back to Snape. "We will get back home, Professor." Harry was through the door and had closed it before Snape had a chance to reply.

Snape shrugged. He now turned to Draco who still sat at the table, silent as ever. "Now that they're gone, Mr. Malfoy, will you explain to me what the problem is?"

Draco didn't look at Snape. He spoke softly, down at the table's surface. "In the Odd Room, sir. I saw Elydree." Snape froze uncomfortably. "I haven't said her name in eight years, Sir, but I've never forgotten her." Draco looked up at his head of house, and there was a dark, brittle look of anger in his grey eyes, but the anger was not directed at Snape. Draco rose quickly from the table and swept past, he only paused a moment at the door. "I'm not going back home, sir." He slammed the door shut behind him.

Harry closed the door to Draco's room softly and looked toward Snape, Ron and Hermione all waiting in the hallway. "He doesn't want to come, sir."

"Very well, then." Snape glowered. "Mr. Potter, you're in charge of making certain we don't forget to provide for Mr. Malfoy."

Harry frowned. "What are we going to Diagon Alley for, sir?"

"Provisions, Mr. Potter. Come, quickly now."

The voices on the other side of his door faded and Draco tossed his robe over a chair and threw himself onto his bed. The apparition in the Odd Room had opened a door to memories Draco had thought were safely hidden away forever. Even his nightmares had been free of the sight of those blue eyes, that innocent face, and sweet laughter. A flood gate had been ripped apart in Draco's mind and he pulled the pillow tightly over his face in a futile effort to block the assault of the memories.

He was falling...

Elydree Malfoy had been born two years after the Malfoy heir had been born. Lucius Malfoy had been noticeably, but not unexpectedly absent for the birth. He had his heir. Anymore children were superfluous to his needs. Lucius tolerated the child for when she came of age, she would be a bargaining chip in cementing a good union between the Malfoy line and another pureblood house. He expected Narcissa, his wife, to raise Elydree as an obedient and proper daughter of Lucius Malfoy.

Narcissa doted upon the child and Draco was charged with keeping the little girl away from her father. He took his responsibility as her caretaker very seriously and did his best to teach Elydree that the tall, silver-blonde haired man was dangerous. He hated to frighten her, but it was necessary for her survival. Elydree trusted her older brother completely and loved him with an open devotion that he received neither from his mother and certainly not from his father.

Perhaps if his father had not been Lucius Malfoy, his mother would have been more open with her love as she was with her daughter. Draco liked to think so when the shadows felt too close and darkness seemed to surround him like a prison. His mother was not permitted to show love to her son, though; it was a weakness and Lucius would not tolerate weakness in his heir.

From the time Draco could walk, his father beat him if he showed signs of weakness. Draco learned, not to eliminate his love for his mother and his sister, but to hide it. He learned quickly to mimic his father and to give him what he desired. Out of sight of his father and within Elydree's world, there was freedom. At the time, he never thought it would end.

Elydree was a curious little girl, though, and one day she wandered into a forbidden area of the manor looking for one of her dolls. She was playing in her father's office when he discovered her. Draco had been looking for Elydree. He'd let his guard down for only a few minutes and she had vanished. He arrived upon the scene just as Elydree was on the floor, weeping. Lucius had his cane raised high above his head and was about to bring it down upon the child's dark-haired head.

Draco could never explain what had happened. He had cried out and the next thing he knew was that Malfoy elder was flying across his office, knocked backward by a strong force of accidental magic. Narcissa had arrived and swept Elydree out of the way. Just before she ran down the hallway to her parlor, Narcissa cast an agonized glance toward Draco. Both of them knew what would happen to him.

It was the first time he felt the agony of the Cruciatus Curse. It was only a few seconds, but the kicks and the cane that cracked his ribs and broke his arm, left his body bruised and bloodied. When he woke in his room, briefly, two days later he could not rise, nor speak. He could hear his mother weeping. He fainted. It was another two days later when he woke. Someone had healed him but had made little effort to remove the blood and filth from his body.

Lucius Malfoy was standing over his son when his eyes fluttered open. "Clean him up," he ordered the house elves.

"Father... Ely... " The name of his little sister froze upon his lips as his father's dark grey eyes bore deep into his soul.

"That name is never to be spoken in this house, Draco." He leaned closer to his son and hissed, "And should you be tempted to mention that... child to your mother, you will know pain worse than the cruciatus curse. Is that understood, Draco?"

Draco could only nod and watch as his father, the man he despised with every nerve in his body, stride out of his room. From that day forward, Draco became the perfect son of Lucius Malfoy.

Shopping with Severus Snape was not a pleasant pasttime. The three Gryffindors noted that the man appeared to have turned back into their acid-tongued Potions instructor overnight. He was liberal with his usual snide insults as he snapped orders and dragged them here and there from store to store. Harry shot a random glare over his shoulder at the man in black. Snape caught the boy's scowl and glared right back. Harry had a fleeting flash of his memory father from the Odd Room. He hoped that the memory of his father had been right; that they would get home. It would be horrible if the whole thing had been the wishful thinking of his own mind.

Snape didn't care, at the moment, what Harry - the boy wonder - was thinking. He had not meant for this trip to be a nice, friendly outing. They had been surviving upon the good graces of the headmistress of Howarts. Now that they were leaving, they would need to rely upon themselves. One of their most prevalent needs was clothing. Cleaning spells could only do so much and they all needed a few changes in clothing that would help them to blend in better with their surroundings.

Snape was annoyed and he wasn't making enough of an effort to hide that annoyance. Harry had implied that he'd given up. So what if he had? It wasn't as if there was anything in it for him. Oh, yes... well, there was Lyrica. Though he smiled briefly at that thought, it was quickly replaced by the scowl-of-the-day. He didn't want to wind up as the father figure to three Gryffindors and a Slytherin. To put it plainly, they were all children!

All right, truth be told, he didn't mind children. He was a bastard and a slimy git, in order to protect the children from their own folly. Potions were dangerous. The ingredients were dangerous. The tools were dangerous. In his tenure in teaching at Hogwarts, he was quite pleased with the fact that no one taking his Potions classes had died, lost a limb or fingers, or suffered any major injury that could not be treated by Madam Pomfrey. Quite a sterling record when compared to Horace Slughorn who'd had three students die, twenty-seven with permanent disfigurements, and nearly a dozen that lost fingers.

The fact of the matter, in regards to Snape's so called hatred of children, was that he didn't molly-coddle them. He preferred to think that all the children he taught were intelligent, until they proved otherwise. Neville Longbottom, for example. He was an abominable Potions student. There were many, even a few Slytherins, who felt that Snape was unduly unfair to the boy. Quite the opposite. Snape was doing his best to toughen the boy's spirit. Unfortunately, Longbottom took class with the penultimate compassionate soul, Hermione Granger. Attempting to teach Neville and to thwart Hermione's generosity of spirit often provided him with migraines. What those sympathetic to Neville's "plight" didn't understand was the potential the child had. He was unbelievably brilliant. It didn't matter to Snape that Potions wasn't of interest; Snape had figured that out in Neville's first year. The boy was a natural where plants were concerned. Neville's problem was that he was so painfully sensitive that it made him nearly unable to function. What the students failed to see was what Snape did see. As each day passed, Neville Longbottom was growing a thicker skin and becoming more himself.

Dealing with children was a tricky business. Dealing with Harry, Hermione, Ron and Draco in 1898 was much harder. Harry was a volatile ticking time bomb, ready to explode when one least expected it. Draco wouldn't explode, but he might just slit someone's throat in their sleep. No, that wasn't a fair assessment at all. Draco held his pain inside, where it tended only to harm himself. When Draco did choose to act out, it came in the form of baiting other students, more specifically, the trio of Gryffindors. Ron had a temper, when it came to his friends, but he also had an analytical mind. He was a child that could adapt, quickly, to any situation. What Snape found interesting about the youngest Weasley boy was that when he did choose to adapt, he did so in his own way and that wasn't always the way others around him expected. As for Hermione Granger, Snape understood her far too well. Her very attributes that others praised were the very attributes Snape had recognized in himself. Hermione bossed people because it was the only way for her to get attention. She relied heavily upon her books because she was awkward and lacking in normal activities. She studied so thoroughly because she was shy in social situations. No one would believe him, but Snape approved of the girl's friendship with Ron and Harry. It was good for her to get into trouble, to sometimes put down the books and play.

Snape had found it fascinating to watch as the sniping and taunts had taken on a softer, more camrade-like mien. Draco, if he was ever to become himself and not his father, needed friends like these. He didn't need idiots like Crabbe and Goyle or the decidedly poisonous Pansy Parkinson. Snape knew that all four of them had the unspoken worry about what would happen to them, as friends, if they returned to their time.

When Snape had been the same age as Draco, he had made the mistake of becoming friends with the elder Malfoy, a mistake that he was still paying for years later. After the deaths of James and Lily Potter, he had vowed to protect Harry. What irritated him about Potter was that the boy often failed to realize that he wasn't the only one caught in events he had little or no control over.

From birth, Draco Malfoy was more than just the son of Lucius Malfoy, he was an heir and he would someday be key to Lucius' desire for power and favor in the eyes of the Dark Lord. Once Lucius' wife, Narcissa, had performed the one duty he'd required of her, she was nothing more to him than an ornament with social connections and wealth. In his eyes, she was to be honored the rare times he chose to spend a moment in her bed. Lucius Malfoy had love for no one and he had no need of anyone that could not serve his purposes. The arrival of Elydree had only meant that he now had a daughter he could someday marry in union to another powerful, pureblood family. She became a liability when Lucius discovered the child was causing a severe weakness in Draco; sentiment and compassion. Elydree needed to be taken care of and he had used a 'friend' to do just that.

These thoughts added to his frustration and he didn't much care, at the moment, that he had allowed his usual irritation toward his students to take over. Unfortunately, he should have tempered himself better. After all, hadn't he thought something about a 'ticking time bomb'?

A shop that sold Quidditch supplies caught the eyes of Harry and Ron. As boys would do that had a love of the popular sport, they could not help but pause and peer into the window.

Snape strode up behind the two boys. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasely, pick up your feet and move a little faster." Snape zeroed in on Harry, grasped him by his shoulder, and shoved him back into step.

It was one nasty remark, one shove too many. Harry spun around and caught the potions professor off guard by shoving him right back. Snape was knocked against a bystander who almost said something, but the man thought better of it as he caught the fire smoldering in Snape's eyes and so he moved rapidly out of the way. Snape righted himself just as Harry snarled, "Why don't you just hit me and get it over with, Snape? The suspense is killing me!"

A dreadful anger lit Snape's eyes with black fire. Grasping Harry by the collar of his robe, he yanked him into a side alley and dragged him several feet away from prying eyes. Ron and Hermione ran after them. Harry tried to wrestle himself from Snape's grasp but the man was taller and stronger than he was. When the potions master came to a halt, he pushed Harry roughly up against the brick wall. It was enough to knock the wind out of Harry's lungs. In the blink of an eye, Snape's wand was out and the tip of it was dangerously close to Harry's nose.

"Don't tempt me, Potter!" Snape hissed with fury. "I'm not in the mood for your Gryffindor sense of injustice."

Harry really didn't care if Snape was going to blow his head off or turn him into a blast-ended skrewt. He was just as frustrated and angry as Snape was and this time he wasn't going to back down. "You're not in the mood? I'm not in the mood! If you hate me that much, why don't you just give Voldemort what he wants? Go on," Harry snarled back with his own fury. "I'm sick and tired of your insults toward me and my father! If you want to kill me, then have done with it, because I don't give a bloody damn anymore!"

"Harry," Hermione warned.

"Shut up, Hermione! Don't you dare make any exuses for him!" Hermione backed into Ron at the unexpected backlash from her friend. Harry raised his hands and Snape was suddenly at the receiving end of unfocused, wandless magic. He slammed against the opposite brick wall and his wand clattered to the ground. Harry didn't give Snape, Ron or Hermione a second glance. He just ran down the narrow alley and back onto Diagon Alley.

Ron looked after Harry and then down at Snape. His voice was low and held a note of warning. "You know, professor, you aren't half as smart as you think you are." Shaking his head he turned away. "I should have guessed the last few weeks was just a Slytherin act, wasn't it?" Gesturing to Hermione, he muttered, "C'mon Hermione, let's go find Harry."

Snape slumped against the far wall. His anger with Harry was gone, but he was still angry with himself. Acting as he did in class worked only in the classroom. What he failed to remember, time and again these days, was that they were not in a classroom. As much as he truly did understand these four, particular children, that understanding only extended as far as Potions classes went. This wasn't Potions. He was not only the only adult, but he was their only connection to what they'd all lost, and were all afraid they were going to lose permanently.

Students didn't go to him for sympathy, for advice. His Slytherins did, of course, but even that was dodgy since most of their parents were Death Eaters and for him, even then, he had to play the spy.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, he crossed his arms over his knees and laid his head down. What he failed to realize, once again, was that they needed what he found so hard to give. "This is impossible," he muttered with his head still upon his arms. He could not, no, he did not want to face this challenge of caring for and nurturing of four young lives. "I must get them back." He had no choice. If he didn't find a way back to their time, he would most assuredly go insane.

"Professor? Your wand." He looked up to see that Hermione had returned. She had picked up his wand from the ground and was holding it out to him.

He stared for a long moment at his wand and then he settled that stare upon Hermione. She flinched, oh so imperceptibly, but that was all. She made no move to turn away. The least he could do was meet her halfway. Stretching out his hand, he took the wand from the girl. "Thank you, Miss Granger," he muttered. He made no move to stand, but remained where he was.

"Professor Snape," she asked softly. "I've always thought you couldn't, that you were doing what you had... "

"If you have a question or an accusation to make, Miss Granger, do so now, if you would?" he spoke tiredly and rubbed one hand across his face.

"Do you really hate Harry?" She blurted. "Do you really dislike us that much? I don't mean Gryffindors, but us." Hermione realized she was asking a desperately stupid question that could only serve to bring her trouble, but her rationalization was that they were no longer in school. They were in a place none of them had any real control over and they couldn't continue on in this manner. It was high time they all began to act civilly toward each other.

A caustic remark was right on the tip of Snape's tongue, but he saw that something deeper, much more serious was stirring in the child's thoughts. And, he thought to himself, wasn't I just thinking to myself that this situation is one that isn't a classroom?

"Miss Granger," he sighed heavily, hesitated and then began again. "Hermione, I have never hated you. Nor have I held hatred in my heart for your friends. There have been times, though, when your know-it-all superiority, Ron's lackadaisacal attitude and Harry's hero complex have gotten exceedingly on my nerves." He could clearly see he'd touched a nerve in the girl. He knew he would, but so be it. Picking himself up off the ground and putting away his wand, he gave her a few minutes to calm herself before he continued.

"What you must understand, Hermione, is the position I have been in up until we fell back in time. I am your teacher. I have never felt that I was here to be any student's friend, to hug them, or to make sure that I'm liked. We live in dark and dangerous times, where trust is a rare commodity and Hogwarts stands as the last safe haven of what we wish our world to be. It is my job to prepare you for a very difficult and uncertain future. My methods are unpleasant, to be sure, and I'm not at all beloved by any; not even my own house."

Hermione let all of what Snape had said sink in. "I understand that, Professor Snape. Believe me, I do. Now look at our point of view. Our chances of returning home don't look good. You haven't family like we do. I may never see my parents again and I may have to live with the knowledge that they'll never know what happened to me. Ron will lose his entire family, and Draco, well, he certainly won't miss his father, but he does speak well of his mother."

"I suppose Harry will miss the Dursleys?" he said with a smirk.

"That was beneath you, Professor," she glowered. Snape had to agree and inwardly, he stomped on his own foot. He would have stopped Hermione there, but she was on a roll. Best to let her continue, he thought quietly, and listened. "Harry's family, whether you realize it or not, are Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, and many of the students at Hogwarts. There is also Sirius Black, his godfather. How do you think he's feeling knowing he won't be returning to fulfill his destiny? Can you imagine what it's like to know that you have the power to save your friends and family from Voldemort, but you dare not do it for fear of unleashing a greater evil through tampering with time?"

He regarded Hermione Granger critically. She was as he'd always known, a know-it-all, but she earned it. She was an incredibly intelligent girl.

Hermione took a deep breath. "However you might feel about us, Professor Snape, we need you." There. She'd said it. She really hoped he didn't hit her with a blasting curse.

Snape closed his eyes as he felt the migraine that had been threatening, settle and fade. When he opened them, he placed a hand tentatively upon her shoulder. "Miss Granger, I shall give you and your friends this promise, as long as we are here, I shall be as a parent to each of you. A poor substitute, I wager, but I shall do my best to provide all of you with what you need. Do you believe me?" He watched carefully as this registered with the girl. A very small part of him, a very small part, was afraid that she would reject his promise.

Hermione didn't like to look into Snape's eyes. He had a disturbing, glittering hawk-like stare that made her always feel as though he was reading her soul, peering into the depths of her fears, her secrets, and her dreams. This time she did not shrink from his gaze. She would never be able to put into words what she saw in his glittering black eyes, but it allayed many of the fears she'd been dealing with since their arrival in 1898. It made her feel more at peace than she'd felt in a long time and she took a deep breath. Tentatively she placed her hand upon his as it rested on her shoulder and hoped he wouldn't pull away. When he didn't, she spoke. "Yes, professor, I do believe you."

Snape took Hermione's hand in his and walked with her out of the alley. "Let us find your friends and see if we might salvage this disastrous afternoon." As they walked down the cobbled street, hand in hand, Snape took a deep breath of the fresh air and wondered if he ought to just go mad. It might be simpler than having to face the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry really didn't give a damn. As he strutted away out of the alley and pushed past other people on the sidewalk, he just didn't care. He also thought he understood the truth of the Odd Room; it was pure cruelty. The memory of James Potter that had manifested in that room was nothing more than his own hopes and dreams. A painful reminder of what he'd never have. He also realized that if Snape had given up then it truly meant they'd never be returning home to their own time.

He'd lose everyone that mattered to him. Of course his destiny preyed upon his mind and certainly he'd wished, one time too many, that he could just run away from it all. He'd gotten that wish, in spades! He'd run away. And now, everyone he loved was going to die. Voldemort would win and the Lucius Malfoys of the wizarding world would finally get their presumptious, prejudicial way.

Why couldn't Snape see this? Why did Snape have to keep on ordering them about as though they were just simple-minded students? Didn't he understand that this was it? They were stuck here and they'd have to live here... with HIM! Harry wasn't going to let that happen. Not with him. He wasn't going to deal with Snape and that was all there was to it. The man hated him and Harry certainly had no fondness for him. Maybe if he just kept walking until he was in Muggle London, then nobody would have to deal with him anymore. Most of all that big, greasy, bat-head!

Behind him Ron and Hermione were arguing, but he wasn't listening. He wasn't aware when Hermione left them to go and check on their professor. "What do I even want to go home for?" Harry whirled on Ron with the vehement question just as Ron caught up with him. The startled red head took a wary step backward from Harry.

"What?"

"Look at this place, Ron! It's beautiful and you know what, there's no He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named lurking around the next corner trying to kill me and my friends!" Harry stepped closer to Ron, who only took another step back. People on the street were starting to look at them, but did their best to avoid the angry youngster.

"Now Snape wants to finish the job, doesn't he? He just can't keep his self-righteous, snarky remarks to himself! He just can't do anything to show... he doesn't give a damn about us!"

"Hey!" shouted Ron. He wasn't following this one-sided conversation well, and as patient as he liked to think he was, he was getting very tired of being shouted at when he'd done nothing wrong. He stepped forward right into Harry's face and hoped he wouldn't have to slap him, like you did with hysterics. "Will you just back off and soak you're head, Harry?"

"Ron?" Harry blinked as his eyes focused on his friend.

"Yeah, me, Ron. Not that git Snape. What're you on about?" Ron grabbed Harry by the sleeve and moved out of the way of the main walking traffic. Just a few feet away were a couple of benches and they sat down.

Harry sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Everyone wants to go back home, Ron, and I've just been going along with everyone, but why? I know there's destiny and all that, but from the moment I got my letter from Hogwarts that I was a wizard, I've been fighting against... HIM. When am I going to just get to be me, Harry Potter, just a kid? Why can't I have a life with my godfather? Everywhere I look someone's either trying to kill me, or hurt my friends. Why should I want to go back?"

Ron frowned, stuck his hand in his pocket and took out a chocolate frog. Breaking it in half, he gave a piece to Harry. "If I were you, I wouldn't want to go back. So, if there is a way home, why not stay?"

Harry gave Ron a wan smile. Ron rarely considered the shades of grey in a problem. Like the chess he was so good at, for him it was either black or white. Choose your side and play to win. That was Ron. Harry placed his glasses back on his nose. "It's a little more complicated than that, Ron. Like it or not I'm a part of the war against Vol... HIM. I sound like a right arrogant Slytherin saying this, but Dumbledore keeps telling me that I'm needed. That the wizarding world won't be free if I'm not there to destroy Voldemort."

It was Ron's turn to shoot Harry an angered glare. "And who says that old man is right, Harry? Look, I remember all the stories I heard about you and your parents before we met. I thought you'd be this fully grown guy in purple robes all set to bring He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named down with one Unforgivable Curse. Thing is, though, you're no different than I am. You're a kid, Harry. I'm not saying you can't take HIM down because honestly, I think you can. But, if the day comes, you're not going to be fighting that snake alone. We're going to be with you."

Harry sighed. "I don't know what to do anymore, Ron."

"Look at me, mate. Am I worried about all of this?" Harry hadn't realized it, but of the four of them, Ron did seem to be taking this whole situation a lot better than anyone else was. Harry shook his head and Ron continued. "That's right, I'm not worried. Sure, I miss mum and dad and my family, and I hate thinking about them facing Death Eaters without me around, but I have to do what needs to be done here. If this is where my life is going to play out, then I'm going to do what my parents always expected of me; to live it the best way I know how." Ron popped the last of the chocolate into his mouth.

Harry just stared at Ron for a minute. He'd always thought highly of Ron; he was his best friend, after all. He also thought he knew everything there was to know about the youngest boy in the Weasely clan. He was mistaken, it seemed, and never was he more happy to be mistaken. Maybe Fate had played a role in the death of his parents and in providing Voldemort as his mortal enemy, but Fate had given him two strong friends, Ron, and the very intelligent, Hermione.

"Harry?" said Ron and Harry focused on Ron again. "All that you said about Snape?"

"Yeah, so?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably. For the first time he acknowledged to himself the hate his friend had for Snape. Ron understood some of it. It wasn't fair of Snape to continually compare Harry to a father he'd never known. He also knew that Harry had a talent for setting Snape off. A talent Harry needed to stop. "Look, mate, I'm not saying you have to fall at his feet and worship him, but you need to get a grip." Harry started to say something, but Ron held up his hand. "I don't care all that much for Snape, either, Harry. But, you've told me before that Dumbledore trusts him and we know he's saved you. I mean, c'mon! If Snape wanted you dead, he could have poisoned you a thousand times by now!"

"Maybe he wants to torture me to death," growled Harry, crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest.

"Yeah, right!" Ron huffed. "Snape lives just to make your life miserable! It's all about you, isn't it?"

That stung and Harry stared unbelievingly at his friend. "I never said that." Harry's voice was almost like a whisper.

"No you didn't, but you really do act like it sometimes, and... well, it's annoying. If it were just you and Snape here, fine. The two of you could just hex each other to death and get it over with. But, Hermione's here, I am, and even Malfoy is. We're as stuck as you are. We're as scared as you are, too."

"I'm not scared."

"Yes you are, Harry. I know, right now, you're worried about Sirius, about McGonagall and Dumbledore. I'm worried about my parents, Ginny and my brothers. Even Percy. I hate to say it, Harry, but we've got Snape. He's not all warm and cuddly like Dumbledore is, but he is taking care of us. Get that through your thick skull before you go and do something you'll regret."

Harry sat back on the bench, kicking his feet against the sidewalk. He hated to admit it to himself, but Ron was right. About everything. It just didn't seem to change much, though, and he didn't know how to voice that to Ron. Even if Snape didn't hate him, Harry knew he hated Snape. He hated that he had to rely upon him and he hated that he was stuck here with him.

When a few minutes went by and it looked like Harry intended to stay silent, Ron punched his shoulder lightly. "Harry, maybe you could just call it a truce for now? Just give him a break."

Harry sighed heavily and released his arms from the tight grip they had over his chest. Would it really kill me, he thought resignedly. "All right, Ron. A truce it is, I guess." Ron grinned, but stopped as soon as he realized Harry wasn't looking at him, but over his shoulder.

"Hermione?" Harry whispered, nudged Ron, and pointed to the pair that were walking down the street.

Ron's mouth dropped open as Hermione, her hand neatly in Snape's approached them. As soon as she caught sight of them, she let go of Snape's hand, ran over to Harry and gave him a big hug.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

"Yeah, 'Mione," he spoke softly and glanced warily up at Snape. "I'm really sorry for shouting at you, Hermione."

She smiled at him, that smile that could forgive anyone and anything. "It's all right, Harry. We're all stressed out."

He smiled his thanks back and then his gaze made its way over to Snape. Snape moved closer to the trio and Harry couldn't help but shrink away. He was pretty certain he was going to get zapped by a killing curse and it would probably hurt. A lot.

"Mr... Ronald," Snape addressed the young Weasely. Ron's mouth gaped open at hearing his professor say his first name. "Please tuck your tongue back into your mouth and then escort Hermione to Grizelda's Treat Shop, over that way." He pulled out his purse and removed a couple of coins and gave them to Ron. "Buy something for all of us, if you would? Harry and I shall be along shortly."

Ron grabbed the coins and stuffed them into his pocket. "Uhm, yes sir." He turned abruptly, grabbed Hermione's arm, and they both trotted on down the street. Snape watched after them quietly.

The silence was unbearable to Harry and so he plucked up his courage to speak. "Professor Snape, sir, I..." Snape turned to look down at him and his voice froze in his throat.

For a long moment he stared. This was really going to be hard, if not impossible. Harry Potter was more than an irritant; he was the son of a man he had despised. Harry's misfortune was to look like James Potter and to behave so much like him. However, Snape did not believe that the sins of the father were the sins of the son. As a teacher, as a protector of the Boy-Who-Lived, it was better for the boy to have no affection for him. At least that's what he'd told himself for the last three years. It was possible for him to be wrong, wasn't it? Snape slowly seated himself beside Harry.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "You're not going to cruciatus curse me, Sir?"

Snape scowled and let out a sharp exhalation. "This is not the moment to try my patience, Potter." Harry relaxed slightly as Snape used his last name. Something felt more right about that.

"Sorry, Sir." Harry felt he should say more, he just didn't know what to say. He decided to opt for silence.

Noting the change in Harry's body language when he'd called him Potter, he continued to do so. "Potter, I hated... no, despised your father. I have persisted in allowing you the impression that my hatred extended toward you for being his son, because it is... was a necessary evil. My past associations did not permit it." Snape did not mention that in playing the loyal servant to Voldemort, neither of them could afford it. "I have never held hatred for you, though." Harry had crossed his arms tightly over his chest. He wasn't getting through to the boy. "I don't expect you to hold any affection for me, now, or later. Nor do I expect my feelings to change for you. I find you to be irritating, willful, hard-headed; in short, a Gryffindor."

Harry snorted. Snape rolled his eyes, leaned back until his back was against the wall behind them, and crossed his arms over his chest. Harry figured it was his turn to speak. "Affection? I don't like you, sir, and to be honest, I don't think I'm asking you for anything."

"Aren't you?" asked Snape behind half-lidded eyes.

Harry frowned. "No! I... " He thumped his fists against his thighs. Why was this so difficult? "I don't know what to say, Professor. When I can't talk to Hermione or Ron, I go and talk to Professor Dumbledore. Now..." Harry shrugged. "Now, he's a kid. He's only a few years older than me and he doesn't have any of the answers."

Snape opened his eyes and sat up straight. "What answers are you looking for, Potter?"

Harry stared down at the sidewalk. "I don't know, Professor and I don't know if I trust you to have them."

Snape realized that whatever it was he was hoping to accomplish wasn't about to resolve itself in the middle of Diagon Alley. For now, it was time to end this misery for both of them. "Mr. Potter, I believe that we must both agree on one thing today and that is that we cannot come to a solution that is agreeable to either of us today. Let us just put this behind us for now and go join Miss Granger and Mr. Weasely." Harry nodded and rose to his feet, eager to just drop everything. Snape also stood and they started to walk in silence toward Grizelda's Treat Shop. "Mr. Potter... I mean, Harry?"

"Yes, professor?"

"I may not have the answers you're seeking, but as you are searching, I am willing to listen. I believe that you know me well enough to know I will not sugar-coat or dumb-down my answers to you. If I know the truth, I shall give it to you. Will that be acceptable to you, at least for now?"

"I think so, sir. Thank you." Harry sighed. He thought he ought to be confused, but then he wasn't sure. He did know that in offering this olive branch to him, Snape had effectively pulled the rug out from under him, again. Am I ever going to understand him?

Inwardly, Severus Snape sighed and smiled grimly. This was not going to be easy. He then wondered if it ever might be.

Night had fallen by the time they returned to Hogwarts castle. Dinner was already waiting for them, as was a message from the headmistress. Snape tucked the message into his pocket. Draco was nowhere to be seen.

"You may start your dinner. I am going to see if Mr. Malfoy has been in his room this entire time."

Harry, Ron and Hermione swarmed over the table, their appetites aroused by the wonderful aromas. Snape walked out of his door and across the hall to where Draco's door was. As he raised his hand to knock, he could feel the ward Draco had put up.

"Quite good, Mr. Malfoy," he whispered softly. Taking out his wand, he tapped the door and murmurered an incantation. A shimmer rippled across the door and the lock clicked. "But not good enough." Replacing his wand, he rapped sharply upon the door. He waited a moment, and then opened it.

The room was dark, but moonlight shone through the open curtain. The fireplace was cold. The castle elves had obviously respected Malfoy's ward, even though they could have easily ignore it. In the light of the moon, Snape was able to discern that the room was in a shambles. The few objects that had been part of the room's decor were either broken, or thrown to the floor. The bed had been torn apart. Draco himself lay curled up on the floor in front of the cold fireplace.

Taking out his wand once more, he pointed toward the fireplace and whispered, "Incendio." A bright fire crackled in the fireplace and Snape leaned over. "Wake up, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco stirred groggily and blinked at the brightness of the flames just a few inches from his face. "Professor Snape?"

"None other, boy. Get up." His tone was firm, but not sharp. Unfortunately, Draco was still lolling on the floor like a drunkard. "Mr. Malfoy! On your feet!" He snapped.

The response was immediate. Draco practically levitated to his feet. He ran a hand through his mussed up hair and had the good grace to appear properly ashamed. He glanced around at the disaster area that was his room. "Sir, I... " he swallowed painfully as he caught Snape's dark look. "I'll be getting this cleaned up, sir. Right away."

"Do that, Mr. Malfoy and then come to dinner. You and I will talk. Later." Turning on his heel, he left the boy to worry and to clean up his room.

Draco soon put in an appearance for dinner. He was neatly dressed and his wild hair had been tamed by a comb. He barely acknowledged anyone and seated himself at the table.

Snape had eaten enough and he rose from the table. "I have a meeting with the headmistress. It's been a long day, so try to retire soon. Mr. Malfoy?" Draco glanced up warily. "Miss Hermione will show you the purchases we made on your behalf today. If anything does not fit, or if there was anything forgotten, make a note of it and we shall remedy the situation."

"Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"I then want for you to wait for me here."

"Sir?" Draco asked, his voice tinged with a frisson of fear.

"It is quite all right, Mr. Malfoy. Just wait for me." Draco nodded miserably and Snape left to go meet with the headmistress.

Snape truly was tired of this day and he still had to deal with Draco. Of course, the matter of Elydree was something he knew would someday have to be addressed, he just hadn't expected it to be so soon. The Odd Room, whatever the hell that was, was another reason they had to leave Hogwarts. The sooner the better.

Caught up as he was in the events of today and his current thoughts, he was just a bit caught off guard by how quickly he'd arrived at Lyrica's office. The gargoyle slid aside and he ascended the circular staircase and approached the open door.

"Good evening, Severus," greeted the headmistress.

Snape had just walked through the door of her office and couldn't immediately see her. He stepped further into the office and a portrait of a previous headmaster pointed up over Snape's head. He turned and looked upward to see Lyrica standing on the balcony shelving some books. Her robes were hung by her desk and she wore a simple dress of dark green velvet.

"Good evening, Lyrica." He smiled slightly as just the sight of her was enough to soothe the headaches of this afternoon.

"I have been working on a variation of Prynne's Concealing Potion. Purely a cosmetic potion at the moment and impermanent. I believe it could be used medically and permanently if I were able to infuse the properties of Stanislaw Root and Avernum." Her entusiasm for the subject sent a frisson of appreciation down Snape's spine. He watched as she put away the last book and hurried down the stairs toward him. She touched his arm briefly and over to her desk where she consulted a piece of parchment. "So far the only permanence seems to come from melting my cauldron. The puzzle is making me feel like a first year."

"Avernum is a difficult ingredient to work with even at the best of times. I've found that its potency is enhanced by its age. The fresher it is, the more trouble it is worth. Have you thought of a scarab carapace?" Snape was drawn easily into the puzzle, quite pleased to take a few minutes to discuss the dynamics of a potion with someone not a student.

"No, I hadn't." Leaning over her desk, she snatched up a quill and made a note. "I can see where it might substitute for the Avernum, but the carapace with the St. John's Wort could be volatile." Lyrica made another note, made a correction and then touched the end of the quill to her lips.

Snape regarded Lyrica's pose and the graceful line of shoulder, back and hip. Her dress, as with all her clothing, complemented her figure as its drapes enhanced her natural grace and fluidity. The quill tapping her lips caused his breath to catch in his throat, and his thoughts were momentarily tossed by the wayside as he felt entirely too jealous of the hawk feather. He coughed awkwardly as he realized Lyrica had said something to him and he hadn't heard it. "Pardon?" he croaked.

Lyrica, still poised over her notes, repeated herself. "Come take a look at my forumlation, would you, Severus?"

Snape walked over to the desk and stood as close to Lyrica as he could without touching her. He then bent, matching her pose, and studied the forumla. The alchemical symbols, her notes, the recipe all settled into his mind and he could see the potion being made. He tapped an area on the parchment. "A flaw," he said simply. Lyrica handed over her quill and he dipped it into the ink and began changing and fixing the problem. "The scarab carapace is enhanced by clockwise stirs. You need the enhancement to effect the permanence but by adding the carapace after the St. John's Wort you would destroy your lab. It you infuse the carapace, first, with a drop of dragon's blood and do fifteen clockwise stirs separately, you can then add the infused carapace before the St. John's Wort." He made a few more notes and then finished. "I would suggest grinding the St. John's Wort instead of dicing it."

Lyrica glanced sideways at the Potions master, "Grinding, are you certain?" His face was a study in pleasing angles and sharp definition. His skin was pale and tended to look sallow in the flame and candlelight that permeated the castle. A little sun wouldn't hurt him. Lyrica was certain his nose, hooked from having been broken at least once, had been a source of torment as he grew up. It fit his grown up face and gave him character. It was a face that one could easily get lost in; and she seemed to be getting lost now.

Severus was aware of the intense study he was receiving, but continued with his instruction. "St. John's Wort was used as a secondary catalyst in your original formulation. By substituting Avernum with the scarab carapace, a secondary catalyst is no longer required. What you do need is a complement. By grinding the Wort, you reduce it to a complement which will link all the other ingredients together."

Lyrica straightened and gave him an appraising look. It took her a few minutes as she glanced between the parchment and Severus. Then it dawned on her. "You saw all of it in your mind, didn't you?"

Snape made one last notation and then rose to his full height. He was all to aware of how close he stood to Lyrica. Her perfume touched his sentences teasingly. It took all his resolve to not pull her into his arms, to kiss those lips... to frighten her to the point she'd never look at him again. He forced his thoughts back to the potion. It was safe there. "It is a habit that has saved me from a melted cauldron or two."

Lyrica laughed and to his disappointment she moved away from him. "You shouldn't downplay such a talent, Severus. Not even Professor Grailing can see a potion in his mind as you do. I must rely on trial and error, most of the time. Once in awhile, I can see the potion, but I'm afraid my mind is not as disciplined as I would wish."

"Work on your Legilimency and you might be surprised at the discipline you gain." His smirk teased lightly.

"You're looking much better, Severus." Deftly she changed the subject. Lyrica was still somewhat embarrassed by her poorly executed Legilimens spell she'd tried to use on him the night he and the children had arrived. "I see that all the cuts have healed well." Taking up his hands, she examined them critically. He allowed himself a small smile as he examined her small hands in his. Although blemished by her work with potions, he found them to be perfect and beautiful. Her touch was light, but not afraid. Her fingertips smoothed over the backs and the palms of his hands and he could not stop the pleasant shiver that warmed him. His eyes caught the blush that rose to her cheeks. With reluctance, she let his hands slip from hers.

"And how is Madam Aisling?" Asking after the mediwitch he hoped might cool the flames that threatened to rise between them. He wanted to fan those flames, but he would not push himself upon Lyrica.

"She is also healed. A minor bump on the back of the head, but it will be gone soon. She has threatened to put you in restraints should you require her ministrations again."

He smirked, "Tis only fair, I suppose."

Lyrica looked up into his eyes as she still felt the heat of his hands upon hers. As soon as she realized she was holding her breath, she spun back to her desk. "Come, Severus, I have something to show you." Pushing aside the formula she'd been working on, she withdrew an elaborate sketch of a three-story house surrounded by an iron fence. A sketched bird flew over the roof and a breeze caused curtains to flutter in an open, second story window.

"This is Ashmere?" asked Severus. She nodded, smiling at him. Pushing the drawing aside, she withdrew a map that was underneath the drawing. "As you can see, it is only a few miles from Hogsmeade. Down this road is a verdant meadow from which you'll find many ingredients for potions. The pond behind the house is still part of the property. Simple wards are in place to keep out trespassers. I thought it might be simpler to take them down so that you can establish your own. I sent some elves this afternoon to ready the place for you and the children. Dorca, the kitchen elf will see to the meals and Snick will defer to you in all other matters in regards to the running of the house."

"Thank you for the use of your family home, Lyrica. It is frustrating not having access to the Snape family fortune." He scowled. He did not want to mention the loan Lyrica had made to him. It galled him to have to accept such charity, but he had to put aside his pride. He couldn't earn any galleons at the moment, so he kept his tongue in place.

As though she read his mind, Lyrica spoke, "I have an idea, which I hope you'll accept. Professor Grailing has been rather stubborn about brewing potions for our infirmary. I was hoping that you might consider supplying us, and you could be paid from the Hogwarts fund. You might also sell premade basic healing potions to in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley."

Snape considered the thought. It did have its merits and did allow him the dignity of providing properly for his wards. "That would be an equitable solution."

Lyrica laughed. "Couldn't you just say thank you, Severus?"

He bowed his head and gave her a sardonic smile. "Of course, my dear, I thank you."

Lyrica shook her head and moved away from the desk. "We were talking a few days ago about how to go about making you and the children legitimate. The Ministry of Magic has so much red tape, that it overwhelms me. I had to ask Professor Grailing for his advice. What we've been able to determine is that it's impossible to register any of you at the Ministry without causing an investigation."

"It was not unexpected," Snape mused.

"No, I'm sure it wasn't. However, Professor Grailing did come up with a solution that shall work. He has extensive connections that he has already contacted on your behalf." Going over to her robes she withdrew a packet that she handed to him. "In there you'll find open tickets on passage with the Aviador, a wizarding passenger ship that will take you to the Colonies. There the Wizarding registering laws tend to be more open than Britain's. The other paperwork you'll find will establish new identities for you and the children."

Snape examined the contents of the packet in silence for several long minutes. He read over the letters of recommendation and his eyes lit upon a certificate. "He forged a Potions Master certificate?" Snape was genuinely surprised.

Lyrica smiled. "All it needs is your new name. You'll find that the document will hold up and of course you can see that your mentor was Darlyle Grailing himself."

Snape sighed. Looking at all the effort put into giving them new lives was both gratifying and disheartening. It had a finality to it that Snape wasn't comfortable with. "We shall keep trying," he said to himself as he replaced everything in the packet and put it into his pocket.

"Severus," she said softly, placing a hand upon his arm. "You realize that leaving Hogwarts does not mean you're giving up."

"I believe I said as much to Mr. Potter earlier this afternoon." He pushed aside the frustration that rose just thinking of the boy. "After today, I'm beginning to think that finding a way back to our own time is an easier problem to solve than the many moods of a teenager."

She chuckled with understanding. "You will find a way, Severus. It is the skill of a Slytherin to do so." She found her hands in his and she drew them to her cheek. Far too quickly, she let go and made her way to the tea between the two chairs in front of the fireplace. "Will you stay for tea, Severus?"

"I wish that I could stay... for tea." He added the last, awkwardly. Only a slight tinge of rose to her cheeks registered his hesitation and he allowed himself a small smile. "I have one loose tie left to deal with before this day is finished." Thinking of Draco, he had one more question before he left Lyrica's side.

"Lyrica, what is the nature of the Odd Room?"

Her smile died upon her lips as she saw the concern in his eyes. "Has something happened?"

"Possibly," he did not elaborate. "What can you tell me about it."

She stepped away from Severus and told him first about the legend of Corabine the Mad. "It is believed that whatever horror she might have perpetrated in that room opened a rift of some kind. Not long after she was hung, the items that litter its floors and shelves began to arrive. No one has ever been able to determine where they come from, but one mystery of the Odd Room we know of for certain. It causes memories to take on corporeal form."

Snape froze in place. "A memory room!" he whispered in horror. A memory room had been a particular device enjoyed by Voldemort to break those he needed information from. It was clearly a Dark Arts way of getting around the protective discipline of Occlumency. "You allowed those children to wander unwittingly into a memory room?" His voice became as brittle as ice."

"Surely they told you, Severus? They were not harmed." Lyrica wished she had not said the last sentence for that seemed to cause something to glitter dangerously in his eyes.

Snape turned away from her abruptly. He was angry, but the innocence in her eyes told him she truly had not seen a danger. He needed a moment before he destroyed their fragile relationship. Merlin bless her, at least she did not come close to him and only waited for him to speak again.

When he turned back and spoke his voice was still ice, but his desire to shout had eased. "Ma... Lyrica, the fault lies with me, not you. You were not aware that these children have not had an easy childhood. They have had to face living nightmares that would make most men weep in their dreams."

"Sweet Merlin, Severus! Had I but known..." The headmistress was truly horrified and had no idea what to do. She seated herself, her spine ramrod stiff. A position she'd often reverted to when her father was disciplining her. "Severus, please, I am so very sorry. My only intention was to occupy them, to give them an adventure."

Snape closed his eyes for a moment then opened them. The brief moment he'd seen into her memories, he'd seen her in the very position she now took. Her stoic poise tore at his heart. She did not deserve the anger that still threatened. She had no way of knowing the darkness that had touched all of them. He moved to kneel in front of her so that she had to look at him.

"When I was younger, a very dark and twisted wizard used the power of a memory room to torture other wizards. He used it to steal their hopes and dreams and to terrify them with their own fears. He would break them in order to take information he felt he needed. He would also use the horror of a memory room to control those he could not subjugate with the Imperious curse or Veritaserum. A memory room is considered, in my century, a forbidden artifact of the Dark Arts."

"The Odd Room has never been used to hurt anyone, Severus." Her voice shook, like a child in trouble.

"You couldn't have known, Lyrica," he said as he took her hands into his. She tried to pull them away, but Snape would not let her.

"No! I couldn't have!" Lyrica snapped. "I feel I should go mad, Severus! I wish to know so much more about you, but your future terrifies me. Children growing up in the shadow of terror? Nightmares that cause you physical pain? Torture? Is this what you truly desire to return to? I don't understand. I just don't."

"We have a responsibility to try and find a way back home, Lyrica. The children have family that they fear for. For all that I may make snide references to them, these children are clever, intelligent, strong and brave. In their own way, they are the future of what we hold dear. They are your future, too."

"And they are not frightened? They don't wish to run away from it?" She searched his eyes, his face for answers.

"Of course they're frightened. I and my colleagues are there to protect them and to teach them to face what's to come. They're lives are not an easy one, but I... we give them what little happiness we are able."

"Severus, you could have a life free of your nightmares." Her eyes dropped to the arm he'd so recently cradled in pain.

My beautiful Lyrica," he murmured as he drew her fingertips to his lips. "Do you have any idea how much I want what you offer? If I could, I would not hesitate." His head bowed and his shoulders sagged in defeat for a brief moment and then he raised his head as his fingertips touched her cheek. "As long as there is a chance, then I must remain resolute. Should a path be open to us, I will be returning to my time. I have no choice."

Lyrica could feel the break in his voice as he spoke those last words to her. In his eyes she could see his desperate desire to be with her, to rid himself of the nightmares. She brushed a strand of hair from his eye as she placed her hands against his cheeks. Tentatively, she brushed her lips to his. When she pulled away slightly, his eyes were closed. She leaned forward again, her kiss more decided, more sure.

Snape rose to his feet, drawing her up into his arms. He returned the kiss, slipping one hand behind her head. The intesity of his desire made her knees weak and she wrapped her arms tightly about his waist, anchoring herself to him. She wanted to lose herself in this kiss and all that it asked for, but his words remained. Gently she pulled away, breaking the kiss. "You must forgive me, Severus, for I intend to ask Merlin that you stay."

Tucking her head beneath his chin, he sighed. He could see a life with Lyrica. He could hope for such a thing, but it would not dissuade him. He would keep trying until every avenue were closed to him. Regardless of whether it took weeks... or years.

Patient was not a word ever used to describe Draco Malfoy. The second he'd been put on notice to wait for Snape, his nerves were jangling. He couldn't finish his dinner and had quickly pushed it aside. Not long after, an elf had appeared and cleared off the table. Draco had gotten out of the way so he could pace melodramatically.

His memory was suddenly stung by the sight of Hermione with her throat cut and he had an irrational impulse to run to her room to make certain she was all right. He stopped halfway to the door. That blood... that damned nightmare! It couldn't be called a nightmare. It had been too real. Everytime he saw the scaly lips of the Dark Lord kiss his father's cheek it made his stomach roil.

Draco couldn't stop the tight unease of his belly and he ran to Snape's bathroom falling to his knees in front of the commode and emptying what little of dinner he'd eaten. Closing his eyes, he could see the dream as stark as any memory against his eyelids. The blood flowed down over Hermione's chest and spread across her belly until she collapsed into it. The snake kissed his father. Again his stomach tried to purge itself and Draco's body trembled.

A cool washcloth was pressed to his forehead and was followed a second later by a glass of water. "Just swish it in your mouth and spit it out." Draco did as he was told and did not question the potion now being brought to his lips. He smelled it and knew it was an anti-nausea.

"Can you tell me what's got your stomach so tied in knots, Draco?" Professor Snape leaned against the edge of the sink. He'd seen Draco like this before. It was a habit of the boy's to bottle up his emotions until they literally made him sick.

Draco closed the lid of the toilet, flushed it and then stood shakily to his feet. "Sir, would you legilimens me?"

This startled Snape. Draco had no problem coming to him to talk which was sometimes a problem itself when he was just whining about Gryffidor injustices or about the unfairness of the other teachers. It worried him that something... was it that bloody Odd Room, he cursed inwardly. There was something more than just bottled up emotions. "I can, but tell me why, first."

"A nightmare... but... it's far too real, sir. You need to see it. Please?"

"Come out here, then, and sit down before you fall down." Draco led the way out of the bathroom and headed for the chair in front of the fireplace. He was almost there when his legs did falter. Snape caught him and helped him the rest of the way to the chair. A new shudder went through Draco's body. Snape was now very worried. An anti-nausea potion would take care of the normal, nausea induced tremors. The boy was clearly frightened.

"Are you ready, Draco?" Draco simply nodded. Tilting up Draco's head, Snape caught the boy's silvery grey eyes with his own. He whispered, "Legilimens."

Snape didn't have to sift through anything. The nightmare was there, stark and malevolent. Snape couldn't understand the fear as at first all he saw was Hermione. Beautifully dressed and smiling up at Draco. He could feel Draco's budding feelings for the girl. There was also guilt for the way he'd treated her in the past.

"This is what you bring into our home, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy stood behind the unwary girl, his wand pointed at his son. Draco had not heard the freezing charm that bound him fast in place upon the stairs.

"Please, father, don't..." Draco pleaded.

"A filthy mudblood," Lucius spat. The elder Malfoy's wand became a dagger, a dagger that slit silently across Hermione's throat. For a moment she stood as the blood spilled down over her dress, changing the lovely white flowers into red. Tears ran from her eyes and down her cheeks as she sank down upon her knees.

Snape watched the rest of the dream, feeling Draco's revulsion as the Dark Lord kissed his father's cheek. What stunned Snape more was when he saw Lucius bring his cane down upon him. He felt the sharp blow of that snake headed cane and it nearly drove him to his knees, both in the dream and in the safety of his room. Snape truly feared for his death as Lucius raised his wand to invoke the killing curse, but it was Draco who sent the curse instead. It was Lucius that the acid green death burned into.

Snape stumbled away from Draco breaking the connection. Just as Draco's stomach had rebelled, so did Snape's. He removed the anti-nausea potion from his pocket and downed a dose.

"Do you see, Professor?" asked Draco in a small voice. "Hermione... I want to make certain she's all right, but I'm afraid to."

Snape took a deep breath, conjured a chair, and sat across from his godson. What the hell was that he'd just seen? That was no nightmare! It had the clarity of a penseived memory. Snape knew it wasn't, though. Lucius was, unfortunately, alive and well in their future. Hermione, of course, was playing Gobstones with Harry and Ron. He'd checked on them moments before arriving to find Draco sick in his bathroom. That dream had been as clear as the one he'd suffered the night before that caused him to run out into the rain. His scar had been burning a clear summons and he would have gone if Lyrica had not awakened him.

"Draco, have you had any other dreams like this since we've been here?" Snape asked slowly.

Draco shook his head. "Not me. But the others had dreams last night." While Snape listened, Draco related the vague content of each of the dreams Harry, Ron and Hermione had. His blood had turned to ice when Draco told him that Harry's scar had bled during the original dream and as he was telling it.

"Why do you think they felt so real, sir?" asked Draco.

Snape shook his head. "I really cannot say, Draco. However, if you or the others have dreams again like this, you must tell me at once, understand?"

Draco nodded. "But what if they don't want to talk to you?" Draco knew Harry would certainly be reluctant to mention such dreams to Snape.

"If they tell you, then tell me." Draco nodded at the steel in his godfather's voice. Snape wanted to pursue what this nightmare meant, but he had another problem to deal with. "Mr. Malfoy, we have something else we need to discuss now."

Draco sat up stiffly and swiped at an unseen tear. He was doing his best to show a brave front to his head of house.

Draco Malfoy was a pale imitation of his father. He spouted his father's words as though they were recorded within him. He was a bully and did his best to put the fear of Malfoy into everyone in Slytherin. Snape knew it was all a sham to hide and protect the child deep within. There were no visible scars, but Snape didn't need to be a Legilimens to see the damage Lucius Malfoy had inflicted upon his son. It was as visible as any physical scar would have been. He had also witnessed the boy's injuries when Draco did not measure up to expectations. The Odd Room had awakened a great vulnerability in the boy. It had ripped through barriers that Snape himself had taught the boy to protect himself when he had to face his father. Those barriers were gone and if they found their way home, a weakness was revealed that could easily kill Draco.

Snape had hoped this day would never come, but he knew it was the nature of sins to eventually rise to the surface. He was not worried about how the boy would react to his part in the story. He worried for Draco and whether or not he would have the fortitude to deal with the truth. Draco coughed slightly; his impatience showing. Snape could not be the boy's godfather in this discussion and so he swept aside that persona for the part of him that was of flint and steel; the spy.

"This afternoon you declared that should we be fortunate to find a path back to our time, you would not be going with us." Snape crossed his arms over his chest and frowned deeply. "Where did you get the idea that you had a choice in the matter, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco bristled at the challenge and he took a deep breath. With his heart beating far too loudly, he nodded and then spoke up clearly. "You know my father and where his allegiance lies. I think you know, too, or at least suspect what he has had planned for me since my birth." Snape nodded an encouragement to continue. "I deserve to live my own life, sir, and to make my own choices. I like the taste of what I've been given here and I do not want to turn my back on it. I refuse!"

Draco had never spoken so forcefully, nor so concisely to Snape before. It was a pity that Lucius Malfoy would never see or acknowledge this side of his son. As Snape had always guessed, there was a strength in him, a tiny spark that had continued to burn through years of abuse. When he'd seen Draco on his first day in school, he had thought that he'd be dealing with a nastly little carbon copy of Lucius. What he soon came to realize was that the son of the Death Eater was hiding himself in an elaborate masquerade. A masquerade as complex as his own.

"Mr. Malfoy, all of us have a terrifying future to return to. Potter is destined to destroy Voldemort if the Dark Lord does not kill him first. Mr. Weasely and Miss Granger are daily putting their lives and the lives of their families in danger just by being his friends. I know, too, that your danger is as great as theirs for you've been promised to the Dark Lord when you are of age. When he has you in his grasp, Mr. Malfoy, the torture he has been waiting so long to inflict will be worse than your greatest nightmares."

"Torture?" growled Draco. "I believe my father has more than prepared me for that!"

Snape slowly shook his head. "Trust me, boy, your father has only given you a taste of what the Dark Lord is capable of." Snape remembered all too well at being the recipient of such cruel measures; his 'lord's' idea of affection for his followers.

Draco gave Snape a wary glance. In the same breath that his father often told him to trust the man seated across from him he would denigrate and insult the man's loyalty to Voldemort. In his family, Snape's dual role had been no secret. The wizard played the role of Dumbledore's lackey so well that Draco rarely knew where he stood with his professor. Up until last year he'd been certain that Snape reported everything about him to Lucius. When he realized that his head of house wasn't acting as Lucius Malfoy's spy, he'd become more frightened then ever of the man. But, then he began to watch him. The younger Malfoy soon began to suspect that there was more to the potions instructor than he, and more than likely his own father, knew about.

He knew Snape had no affection for his father. His father was quite free with jeers and insults about the man. He also knew that Lucius Malfoy was jealous of Snape's closeness to the Dark Lord; a position that the elder Malfoy desired so desperately that his son would be the sacrifice for that position. Draco felt more disoriented than ever as he listened to Snape's words. Was there something missing? Had he misinterpreted what he'd seen and heard the last three years? Then, there was Potter. Draco knew that Potter had come close to grave injury, even death in the three years he'd attended Hogwarts. Draco wasn't sure quite when he'd realized this, but Snape was protecting Potter. It was knowledge Draco had never given his father.

Draco's eyes narrowed, and his question was filled with more suspicion than he was aware of. "If you believe you understand me, Professor Snape, then why do you question my resolve to stay? Or are you here merely to make certain that I am preserved for my father's plans?" Draco smiled smugly, knowing full well that what he said next could very well blow up in his face. "Is it possible, sir, that the only reason you're so stubborn to return is to make certain my father doesn't usurp your favor in the eyes of Voldemort?"

Snape's eyes glittered. Behind their darkness, he felt a surge of pride for the boy. Draco was analyzing and calculating, his mind looking for the many layers of meaning behind a single word, or a well-phrased sentence. He truly was a Slytherin. The problem, though, was that he was far too arrogant and was revealing his own weaknesses to someone who could easily have been his enemy. Had Snape been Lucius the boy would have been bound by a silencing spell and subjected to the pain of the cruciatus curse.

"If I were, do you not think it was foolish to have shown your weakness for your sister to me, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape's voice dropped into the silken tones that sent terror down the spines of foes more deadly than Draco had ever encountered. Snape's smile only chilled his soul further. "Your father is not here, but I am, and believe me, I know a few tricks your father doesn't, and I would not hesitate to employ them." The look he settled upon Draco was predatory.

Draco was the most afraid of Snape he'd ever been in his life. He knew with stark clarity that if this man were truly as evil as many thought he was, here, back in the past, there was nothing to stop him from carrying out his threat. Draco felt the ice coursing through his veins, and he could not stop his body as it began to tremble. His mind screamed at him, Stupid, stupid git!

Severus Snape despised using such tactics upon a child, but Draco was not just any child. He was the Malfoy heir and Snape had never underestimated what Lucius had taught the boy. Catching the boy's chin in his hand, he forced Draco to look into his eyes and he whispered the spell deliberately so that Draco heard it. "Legilimens."

Draco jerked wildly in the grip of Snape's hand. This time he fought against the spell. A tear trickled down his cheek as he was certain he would know great pain, perhaps even death, as soon as Snape let him go. At the sight of the tear, Snape ended the spell, let the boy go, and turned away.

Snape had no intention of ripping through the boy's memories. He deliberately meant to frighten him, to show that this wasn't a game. Snape hated using such a distasteful tactic, especially after what he'd found when came back from his meeting with the headmistress. Snape was all too aware of the education Draco had gotten at his father's hands and as much as he was sympathetic toward the boy and cared for him, if Draco Malfoy were truly his father's son, then there was no more to be hoped for him.

"What are you trying to prove?" the boy whispered shakily. Part of him was wondering why he was still alive and not writhing on the floor in agony under the cruciatus curse. The other part of him wondered what had happened to the man that had cooled his forehead as he was sick, who gave him a potion to feel better. Then, there was Draco's Slytherin side that recognized the manipulation and wondered if he was supposed to learn something from it, or get trapped.

Without looking directly at Draco, Snape spoke softly, "It does not matter to me, Mr. Malfoy, if you stay here and make a life for yourself or go back to the one we left. Considering that our chances of returning are less than one percent, this discussion seems pointless. You ought to know before you choose your destiny that you are missing a vital piece of information that you must consider."

Draco swiped away the tear and did his best to compose himself. "What information, Professor Snape?"

Snape rose from the chair, faced the fire for several minutes. Draco did not twitch a single muscle and was almost prepared to not take another breath. Did he want this slip or information? If Snape knew something about his little sister, whatever it might be, he would be patient, for once in his life.

Snape turned slowly and placed his hands behind his back. "Elydree is alive and I know where she is."

Draco was certain his heart had just stopped. This was not what he had expected. If he'd been blasted with a killing curse, he would have not been as shocked.

"Mr. Malfoy, take a breath before you turn blue and faint."

Draco did so, drawing in a shakey breath. He stared at Snape. He had more than underestimated the man. He had made a grave error, and so it appeared, had his father. And then he said it. He probably should not have, but he had lost complete control and he had no choice. "You're not working with the Dark Lord. You're working against him." The awe Draco felt was reflected in his tone of voice.

Snape did not move and did not confirm or deny what Draco had said. He knew that he had just taken a dangerously calculated risk by showing his hand to the son of his enemy. He'd had no choice and when... no IF they should return to their time Draco's knowledge of Snape's duplicity could mean his own death. It was not a pleasant prospect to think of, but there would be time, possibly, to deal with those consequences.

"Did you not hear what I just told you, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir. You said Elydree was alive and you know where she is." Draco realized that wasn't all that Snape had told him. Professor Snape had just given him the power of life and death over the potions master. It was NOT a good feeling.

Snape moved back to the table and sat down opposite Draco. He could clearly see the gears turning in the boy's head. Now it was time to speak of the little girl. "I have a story for you, Mr. Malfoy. Attend carefully." He noted that Draco's trembling had finally vanished. There was respect in the boy's eyes, and admiration as well.

"At the age of nine years old you were nearly tortured and beaten to death by your father for preventing him from crushing your sister Elydree's skull with his cane. I had been summoned by Lucius to bring a Healer for you, but your father had a more sinister duty for me to perform that night."

Snape had been in the middle of brewing a batch of Wolfsbane when the urgent owl had come from Lucius. As much as he wanted to ignore it, the particular request for a 'sympathetic' healer meant that someone was in need at Malfoy Manor. Snape knew it would either be Narcissa or Draco who had suffered injury. Sighing over the fact that the Wolfsbane did badly under a suspension spell, he cleared it away with Evanesco and left his lab. A few hours later he arrived at Malfoy Manor before ten in the evening.

"Severus! Was it that difficult to find a healer at St. Mungo's?" snapped the elder Malfoy just as Snape apparated into the manor.

"As your request so clearly implied, Lucius, you wanted a pureblood loyal to our Dark Lord." Severus indicated the swarthy man who stood slightly behind him. "This is medi-wizard Ogdred Gallum."

The dark-skinned man bowed deferentially toward Lucius. "I am humbled before thee, Master Malfoy. I have served other families of our Dark Lord and shall do the same for yours with the utmost discretion. Where is my patient?"

Lucius stepped ahead of them and led the way up the stairs to Draco's room. He released the wards, pushed open the door and ushered them into Draco's bedroom.

The room reeked of blood and vomit. Severus made a concealed effort to not react to the sight of Draco curled up in the center of the room. Dark, angry bruises bloomed all over his arms and legs. Severus could not begin to imagine what bruises there might be under the boy's clothing. There were several open and bleeding cuts upon his face and Lucius pointed to those.

"Make certain he bears no scars, Master Gallum. He will require his looks when he comes of marrigeable age." Lucius had no more concern for Draco's welfare than a torturer to his victims.

The medi-wizard clucked under his breath as he took out his wand and opened his bag of potions. "Perhaps you should not strike the face next time, sir. There are only so many times that one can repair facial bones."

Lucius nodded. "I shall take that under advisement."

"May I inquire, Master Malfoy, was this a pure beating or was an Unforgivable applied as well?" The medi-wizard was not gentle as he poked and prodded at Draco's injuries. Though the boy was unconscious, his body still reacted to the pain.

Severus felt sick as he cast a glance toward Lucius' dispassionate expression. Lucius replied, "Cruciatus, but as you can see, the lesson required more than what the Cruciatus provides."

"Thank you, sir. If you permit me, shall I treat that as well?" asked Gallum as he unfolded the boy from his foetal position.

Lucius nodded toward the perverted excuse for a physician. "Certainly. I also require that you remain to attend to my son until you deem him capable of recovering on his own."

"Certainly, sir. It is my duty to you and our Dark Lord. Now, if I may complete my ministrations in private?"

"Of course." Lucius beckoned to Snape as he exited the room. "Severus, I require your assistance in dealing with another problem. Come with me."

Snape followed, not daring to spare a glance toward the wreck of a nine year old child practically near death upon his bedroom floor. He despised the unctuous medi-wizard. The vile troll had healing skills and would bring Draco back to form, but the medi-wizard was much more proud of his reputation for inflicting damage and great pain when an Unforgivable curse wasn't enough. Lucius closed the door, but not before a groan of pain escaped from within along with a soft plea for help.

As they went back down the stairs, they were assaulted by a scream of grief deep within the manor. Lucius ignored the sound. Severus was able to discern that the anguish came from Lucius' wife, Narcissa.

"Dobby!" Lucius shouted. The elf was standing before him, wringing his hands nervously. "Cast a silencing spell around your mistress's rooms and then bring the girl to me." Dobby squeaked and vanished as quickly as he'd arrived.

Another scream was cut off as a silencing spell was dutifully cast by the elf. In moments Dobby had returned. Clutching tightly to his hand was a dark haired little girl. She glanced fearfully to Lucius and then to Snape. The terror emanating from her pale blue eyes cut into Snape and he nearly lost his expressionless composure.

"No, no. This won't do." Lucius shook his head in annoyance. "Must I always think for you, Dobby?" He kicked the elf viciously off to the side and then pointed his wand. The child let out a wail of terror. "Somno." She thudded to the floor, asleep.

"What did you want of me, Lucius?" Snape asked guardedly. He could see that the house elf was fretting silently over his small charge.

Lucius waved a dismissive hand toward his daughter. "She would have been of use in marriage negotiations, but she has proved to be a weakening influence upon Draco. He has discovered a need," he sneered the word in distaste. "to protect her." He nudged the girl with his foot. "Get rid of her Severus." A cruel smile touched the man's lips. "Should you decide to play with her first make the most of it. However, do be sure to dispose of her properly afterward."

Snape didn't even bother replying to repulsive suggestion. He merely picked up the child and apparated out and away from the Malfoy Manor.

"You took Elydree?" Draco's voice rose and he stood, his fists clenched tightly together. "What did you do with her? Where is she buried? Did she even get that much?" He then launched an ill-timed punch at his godfather.

Snape caught the fist in his hand and pushed it away. "Sit down!" Draco slammed back down into his chair, but the look of anger and betrayal in his eyes did not fade. His hands remained tightly clenched. "Have I not explained to you Slytherins before the danger of jumping to conclusions?" Draco did not reply. He wanted answers. "Elydree is not dead, Mr. Malfoy. Do not make me say this again."

"You're lying!" Draco lunged again at Snape. Snape grabbed the boy by the shoulders then shoved him off balanced until he fell to the floor. Just as the boy came at him again, Snape's wand was out and he was caught in a binding spell.

"Merlin's Teeth, Mr. Malfoy!" Snape cursed. With a flourish, he released the boy and Draco fell forward. Snape drew him up to his feet by his collar. "Look at me, Mr. Malfoy! Look. At. Me." Snape's black eyes glittered and pierced the boy's own grey eyes. Draco ceased his struggles, almost going limp in Snape's hands. "Do you really believe me capable of killing an innocent child?" he spoke tightly, commanding Draco's entire attention.

"I would know... " he forced his eyes closed. He could not look into those deep, cold eyes any longer.

"You think you would know if she were alive? Mr. Mal... Draco," said Snape gently. "Listen carefully, but look at me first." He grasped the boy's chin and drew his head up. When he had captured Draco's attention once more, he spoke, very quietly. The dark honeyed tone of his voice wound its way deep into Draco's mind. "I have committed cruelties at the behest of the Dark Lord, but not even an Imperious Curse could force me to kill a child. Believe me, Draco. Elydree is alive."

Silent tears began to course down Draco's cheeks. Snape let the boy go and he curled himself up protectively in the chair. "Where is she, professor? Is she all right?"

Snape conjured a cup of hot chocolate and pressed it into the boy's shaking hands. "Drink." Snape waited while Draco took several sips of the chocolate before answering his questions. When the young Malfoy cast his gaze beseechingly toward his professor, Snape continued. "I cannot reveal where she is, Draco." He caught the imperceptible stiffening in the boy's posture. "I know you want to know, but think carefully. If we found our way back to our time, the first time your father uses the Imperious Curse or Veritaserum on you, you would reveal her secret and put her in grave danger. I can assure you that your sister is safe, she is happy, and more importantly, she is very far from the reach of your father and of Voldemort."

Draco nodded and drank a little more of the hot chocolate as he stared at the flickering flames. He whispered hoarsely, "Sir, we must discover a way back home."

Snape nodded and sighed. He dropped a hand on Draco's shoulder and squeezed. He harbored no hope that they would find the way back to their time. Despite this foreboding, he would not give up.

Lyrica, Snape and the children had left Hogwarts early that Saturday morning. They'd apparated to Hogsmeade where they then took a carriage to Ashmere. There was a cool touch to the burgeoning Autumn air and that was kept at bay by warming spells inside the carriage. Although the carriage was roomy for long legs, it was still an hour's journey of close comfort. Lyrica sat with Hermione to her right and Ron to her left. Snape, his arms apparantly cemented into position over his chest, and a warning scowl plastered on his face, sat with Harry on his right and Draco on his left. Snape's posture appeared to be enough to keep the two boys staring outside their windows.

Their meagre belongings and new purchases from their recent trip to Diagon Alley had all been shrunk down and fit easily into Snape's pockets. He had put away his teaching robes and wore a pair of dark grey, pin-striped trousers, a white silk shirt, and a dark green vest of brocade satin. His outer robe was of matching dark green. The boys wore similar variations on trousers and shirts and outer robes. Ron and Harry shunned the vests, whereas Draco wore a royal blue vest of velvet that matched his outer robe. Hermione had made a fuss over the fact she was stuck in a dress since no shopkeeper would sell her pants. She'd found a simple enough dress of burgundy dyed, fine spun cotton that fell to her ankles. Her robe was of a heavy wool and a russet brown in color. Draco tried to keep his attention on the passing countryside, but he kept sneaking furtive glances at Hermione.

"Mr. Malfoy," smirked Snape teasingly, "if you don't decide upon which view you prefer, you'll get a crick in your neck." Draco's cheeks flushed crimson and he locked his eyes out the window. Harry snorted and Ron wound up unconsciously mimicking Snape by scowling and crossing his arms over his chest.

The Arcahnum ancestral manor, Ashmere, was a spacious, three story home of quarried stone over four hundred years old. It had been well-kept with trimmed lawns, gardens and a tall, iron fence that surrounded the house. Ashmere was located at the end of a long, unpaved road so heavily lined with trees that the upper branches had begun to weave and grow together until they had created a green tunnel. The surrounding land on either side of the unpaved road also belonged to the Arcahnum family.

There had been two additions to the manor, a solarium on the west side of the house and on the roof an elaborate observatory that was accessed by a glassed in, circular staircase on the eastern wall of the home. A small path through the woods led to Hogsmeade. This path had been greatly neglected since Lyrica's childhood and was overrun by ivy and blackberry brambles.

The carriage soon turned onto the unpaved road that led to Ashmere. Lyrica began to tell them about her family home. "Ashmere was built in 1472 by my ancestor Sebastien Arcahnum who was appointed Royal Physician to the House of Tudor. The house and land were a gift from King Henry the VII. Sebastien was a Potions Master who created healing potions for Muggles, many of which he used solely on the royal family. He fell into disfavor when Henry's son Arthur died in 1502. Before the king blamed Sebastien for the death of his eldest, Sebastien withdrew from the Muggle world. Sebastien had a few more random dealings with the royal family, but after his death, his children had the property and house permanently hidden from the sight of Muggles. Sebastien's son and daughter had a decidedly dim view of Muggles."

"Was it hidden because it was so close to Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione.

"I'm sure that was part of the reason, my dear, but there was also a rising fear and hatred against witchcraft." Lyrica sighed.

Hermione was about to inquire further about this area of history when she was interrupted by Harry as he caught the first glimpse of Ashmere. "It's glittering!"

Lyrica smiled. "That's the observatory, Harry. It's all glassed in. The equipment is all of brass and copper and often reflects the sunlight. A shading spell usually darkens the glass during the day, or it would roast in there, but I wanted you to see it this way."

Ron was looking toward the other side of the house at a structure that jutted away from the house like a pointing finger. "Do you have a greenhouse?"

"Solarium, Ron. Also glass, but it's stain glass. One of my favorite places in Ashmere."

When they were at breakfast at Hogwarts, Lyrica had shown them sketches of the manor's interior. The first floor was almost entirely devoted to a ballroom-like entryway with a ceiling that rose to the second floor. A wide staircase that split at the second floor landing led to the west and east wings of the manor. A hidden staircase led to the third floor. The entryway was lit by a large chandelier of crystal that hung heavily over the marble tiled floor that was decorated with the inset design of the Arcahnum family crest. The first floor also held a large dining hall, a smaller, private dining room, an intimate parlor for entertaining a few guests, a large kitchen, and the library.

The library was the second room on the first floor that took up most of the area floorspace. Hermione and Snape, both bibliophiles, would find that the Arcahnum library was an impressive collection of books and scrolls from all over the world. Older, more fragile tomes were kept behind enchanted glass and the scrolls were kept in a temperature controlled, smaller room behind a hidden panel. One large desk of imported cypress stained a deep cherry red dominated the room. Smaller tables and comfortable chairs were scattered for reading and research.

The second floor was comprised entirely of large guestrooms each with their own bath. Snape had already chosen a room on the east wing of the house and forbade the children from selecting any room near him. That arrangement was fine with the four teenagers who all secretly felt a certain freedom in having the entire second floor west wing to themselves and out from under the shadowed sight of their 'keeper'. A long, open corridor, lined with ornate portraits and paintings, connected the two wings.

The third floor had once housed living quarters for servants, but Lyrica had remodeled the entire top floor for her own use. That floor was locked and completely forbidden to her guests.

The carriage finally came to a stop. Draco was the first out of the carriage, and despite the stiffness of his legs, he gave his hand to Hermione and helped her out. Snape got out of the carriage next and gave his assistance to Lyrica. Lastly, Ron and Harry tumbled out and the driver then left with the carriage.

Lyrica gathered the skirt of her black robe and took charge as she removed several sets of keys from her pocket. She handed them out to Ron, Hermione, Draco and Harry. "There is a key to each of your rooms. If you wish for additional wards on your rooms, that's up to you. Most rooms are open with the exception of the observatory. You're only allowed up there if either I or Master Snape are with you. You've each been given a main key to the house. You cannot get into Ashmere without that key. It has been enchanted to recognize and interpret your magical signature. The small key that each of you have belongs to a desk in the library. Any door that is closed or locked you are not allowed to enter. As I told you at breakfast this morning, the third floor is completely off limits. Finally, you can go anywhere outside as long as you remain within the iron fence."

Snape interjected, "The path to Hogsmeade is also off limits."

"Oh yes, I'd nearly forgotten that," agreed Lyrica.

"For now, stay in the house," warned Snape as he specifically eyed Harry. "And stay out of trouble."

Lyrica patted his arm. "All right, go and try your keys. I'm taking Master Snape down to my lab." The quartet were already at the door and making their way into the manor before Lyrica had finished speaking. Draco was the last to disappear inside. Lyrica sighed. "How long do you think Ashmere will remain standing after those four invaders take over?"

Severus extended his elbow to the headmistress. "Two days? Three, if you're lucky."

While Lyrica took Snape down below the house to her extensive potions laboratory, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco were allowed free rein to explore their rooms and the beautiful, old manor house. Their rooms were located at the furthest end of the west wing. Two rooms on one side of the corridor belonged to Draco and Ron and the other two rooms, opposite, belonged to Hermione and Harry.

Harry's room was richly decorated in red and gold, the Gryffidor colors. His bed sat upon a raised dais tucked into the farthest corner of the room. A large fireplace burned behind a gilded grate. There were four chairs, a table and against the wall was a shelf that held a variety of wizarding games. His window looked out over the front lawn of Ashmere. It was a tall, multi-paned window with a wide window seat. A small door to the right of the fireplace led into his bathroom. Harry jumped up onto his bed and was amazed as he sank into the softness of a heavy quilt, a feather bed, and pillows.

Hermione's room was decorated in cream, gold, and amber. Her bed, also like Harry's, was on a raised dais and tucked into the corner. Unlike Harry's, it was a grand four poster with a canopy and heavy gold drapes that pooled at the corner posts. She didn't have a window, but she had tall French doors that opened onto a narrow balcony. On the other side of the French doors was a wide wardrobe. Hermione opened it and was stunned to find it full of shoes, dresses and robes. A note was attached to the inside door of the wardrobe and she removed it.

Hermione,

I thought you might have fun with these clothes. They were mine as I was growing up and I believe most will fit you and suit your coloring.

Please enjoy,
Lyrica

Hermione could be a tomboy, sometimes too often, she thought. It came from always hanging around Ron and Harry, she supposed. Also, her parents had never encouraged her one way or the other so it struck her as funny that she was delighted to have a closet full of beautiful gowns and robes to indulge in. She finally let out a squeal when she walked into her bathroom and found dozens of fragrant oils, soaps, cosmetics, combs and more. There was also another note. She snatched that one off the gilt-edged mirror and read it.

Hermione,

You'll find that you have an extra key the boys do not. If you go to the portrait over the fireplace, tap the lower left corner with your wand once, it will swing aside. Try the key on the door you find behind the portrait.

Lyrica

Hermione ran out of the bathroom, went over to the fireplace and tapped the left corner of the heavy wooden frame. The portrait swung ponderously aside and there was a small door with a silver lock. Taking out her set of keys, Hermione found a small silver key that she fitted into the lock. The door popped open and tucked inside the small space was a simple wooden box. Hermione tugged the box out and went over to the round table that was surrounded by four chairs. She plunked the box down, flipped up the clasp and opened the lid. Hermione nearly fell backwards as she stared at the wealth of jewels that glittered, sparkled and winked from within. There was one last note tucked within the lid of the jewelry box.

Hermione,

These belonged to my mother. Please enjoy them, with the dresses, during your stay here. I would like for you to choose three pieces that you like the most to keep as my gift to you.

Sincerely,
Lyrica

"Oh my...! But I couldn't!" Hermione, her eyes dazzled by rubies, emeralds, opals and pearls, cautiously dipped her fingertips into the glittering treasure.

Ron's room was orange. It was tempered, just barely, by beige, pastel coral and white. Despite that, the orange in the room still managed to announce its presence in no uncertain terms. Orange, of course, was Ron's favorite color as it was the color of his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. They weren't in existence, yet, but that didn't mean he couldn't support them in spirit. Ron had a large window, just like Harry's that had a view of the back lawn and gardens.

Draco's room could have been plucked directly from the palace at Versailles. It was blue, white, gold and silver. The bed was hung with heavy blue and gold drapes and rich gold fringe around the canopy. The floor was covered with thick, plush carpet in blue and white. The four chairs surrounding a marble topped table were white and silver brocade satin. The window took up an entire wall and at its middle were a set of doors that led out onto a wide balcony. On either side of the cut glass doors were cushioned benches.

The Slytherin padded quickly across the floor, slowly opened the door to the lavatory, peeked around it and abruptly slammed it shut. He grimaced.

"Is this the room of his highness, the Little Prince?" quipped Harry as he took a look around. Ron was right behind Harry. He rubbed his eyes.

"This is a nightmare!" groused Draco.

Ron then snorted. "You forgot what the headmistress said about these rooms, Malfoy."

Draco glared at Ron. "No I didn't. She said these rooms tailor themselves to the guest." He dropped into one of the chairs and slid right out of it onto the floor. "Bloody hell!"

Hermione came in to the room and walked to the center, spinning slowly. "Oh my this is just... there aren't words for this."

"It's hideous! This doesn't suit me at all!" Draco picked himself up off the floor and kicked the chair he'd slid out of.

Hermione giggled. "I think we can fix this." She grabbed Draco's hand and dragged him back out into the corridor. "Harry, Ron, come on out." Harry and Ron joined Hermione and Draco and then she shut the door to Draco's room. "Hmmm, you should probably lock it, too." Draco took a second to look for his room key, found it, and then locked the door. "Good. Now, this time, unlock the door with your key, but have an idea of what you'd like for your room. When you think you have it, then open the door."

Draco shrugged, "Couldn't hurt." He unlocked the door, put his hand on the doorknob, waited a few seconds and then opened the door. "Wicked! Now that's more like it!"

The blue Versailles monstrosity was now gone. In its place was a much simpler room that reflected comfort without overdoing it. The dominant color was again blue but it was more of an accent color along with cream against dark panelling, and dark furniture. The window was much more modest, narrow and tall with a cushioned window seat. The chairs were upholstered in a lighter blue tapestry fabric that matched the carpet. The bed was also simple, without a canopy or tall, corner posts. It was a wide sleigh bed with a patchwork quilt and lots of pillows.

After spending time exploring each other's rooms, they went out to the corridor and began wandering aimlessly. Boredom was settling in, and that wasn't good. Just as the boredom was threatening to send them down to the library, Ron discovered that the rugs in the second floor corridor slid perfectly over the highly polished and waxed floors. It wasn't long before he, Harry and Draco were running and sliding the length like seasoned hooligans. Hermione made a decent show of disapproval, but she was soon laughing and cheering each of them on.

Suddenly, the hallway rumbled ominously and a deep voice came down from above. "Whaaat is this meaning of this foolishness?"

Ron cried out in revulsion as he and his rug slid right through a very angry looking spirit. Right behind him was Draco, who let out his own cry of icky exclamation and promptly collided into Ron.

"Is someone going to explain this nonsense or am I going to have to do some old-fashioned terrorizing?" demanded the ghost in a voice that thundered right through their bones.

The ghost was a great giant of a man, with a broad build and square jawline. His hair and beard were a red-gold auburn, fashionably cut short for a man who succumbed at the end of the Tudor days. The fingers of his hands were decked out with a wealth of rings and his clothing was just as rich in red and gold velvet, gold embroidery and trim. Upon the man's head was a hat of matching velvet trimmed with teardrop pearls and emeralds. The man's legs were clad in gold velvet trews to the knees and a pair of leather boots. For a ghost, he appeared rather more colorful than the silver wraiths that haunted Hogwarts.

"Wellllllll?" he roared so loudly that the occupants in the paintings in the corridor left their frames.

"S-s-s-..." Harry gulped, took a deep breath and began again. "S-sir, we didn't think..."

"I can see that thinking had very little to do with this tomfoolery, young man." The ghost floated closer to Harry and he stepped backwards until he bumped into Hermione.

"Harry, that's..." Hermione whispered into his ear.

"Who? Him?" Harry gaped as Hermione identified the ghost.

"Here now, young lady," scowled the ghost at Hermione. "Surely your mother taught you that whispering before your elders is rude. Speak up!" Hermione let out a squeak. "What secret did you impart to your friend?"

"Your majesty, I only told Harry who you are." She swallowed once. "I told him that you're Henry the VIII. Although, I can't imagine what you're doing here. Shouldn't you be haunting Whitehall?" Hermione was shaking inside, but she wasn't going to show her fear to this ghost.

The ghost yawned. "Whitehall is filled with stuffy politicians and the noise of the city. I much prefer the countryside. My father and brother also had a fondness for Ashmere." He swept closer to Hermione, his face inches from hers. "So, you know who I am, do you, my lady?"

Hermione nodded and her tone was disapproving as she said, "I've read all about you." Henry's eyes narrowed in warning. Hermione narrowed her own eyes and prepared to stare down the once feared King of England. "Don't think that just because you're bigger than I am and can shout louder that I'm going to flatter you. You beheaded two of your wives!"

Hermione wasn't sure what she expected as a reaction, but she was certain that uproarious laughter was far down on her list. "You're a feisty young lady, aren't you?" Suddenly the king spun about and managed to cast dark looks upon the three boys. "Now tell me, what's all this nonsense about in the hallway? Young boys your age ought to be tearing up the lawns outside."

Draco griped, "Snape won't let us outside."

"Snape? Tall, thin caricature of a man? Has the beak of a raven and rather the same sort of bearing?" asked the king.

Draco, Ron and Harry all snickered at the description. "That's the slimy git!" laughed Ron.

"Have more respect for your elders, boy," snapped Henry. He softened the rebuke with a smile and a wink. "Now, before I give you permission to terrorize the countryside, tell me who you are."

"I'm Hermione Granger, your majesty." Hermione gave him a gracious curtsy that he approved of with a smile. She then went on to introduce the boys. "Sitting on the floor are Ronald Weasely and Draco Malfoy." Both boys smiled weakly. "And this is Harry Potter."

"How do you do, sir..." Hermione nudged Harry in the back and hissed something in his ear. "Uhm, I mean, your majesty, sir?"

Henry Tudor floated around Harry and regarded him with a twinkle in his ghostly silver blue eyes. "Harry, are we? My brother called me Harry when we were young. A goodly name. Strong."

To Harry's horror and disbelief, the ghost's large hand came down and thumped him squarely in the back. Harry flew forward and just caught himself before he landed on his face. He righted his glasses and stared back at the ghost. "Your hand didn't go through me!"

"I've been dead a long time, young Harry. I've learned a ghostly trick or two." Putting his hands upon his hips, he glared good-naturedly at them all. "Enough of wasting today's good weather. Snow is on the horizon, so get outside. GO!" He roared with laughter.

Hermione and Harry didn't need to be told a second time. They sprinted down the hall past Ron and Draco and were soon thundering down the staircase. Ron and Draco scrambled to their feet and were quickly bringing up the rear. Henry the VIII vanished through the wall, leaving the disarray for the house elf to clean up.

Any potions master will tell you that a lab should always be buried beneath the ground. The low light provided by torch, candle and firelight along with the coolness of the earth served to enhance the magic of the ingredients and the tools used in the creation of potions.

The potions laboratory at Ashmere was buried deep beneath the house and accessed by a narrow staircase just barely wide enough for one person. The staircase curved slightly in a few spots but finally ended upon a rough floored landing before a tall, wide double door of very thick oak. Lyrica removed the wards and heavy lock. She then used her entire body weight to push both doors open. Casting a light spell, torches in iron sconces upon the walls came to fiery life and illuminated the laboratory.

As Severus stepped into the long, wide room he was silently in awe, and quite jealous as well. His private lab at Hogwarts had been carefully put together and laid out to his precise and exacting specifications. However, it came nowhere near to what Lyrica had fashioned beneath Ashmere house.

The walls were rough granite. A smaller door, almost directly across from the entrance, was flanked by two, ceiling height, glass-fronted shelves containing a myriad of potions that could be stored indefinitely. The door itself appeared deeply sunk into the stone wall and was iron. It shimmered with the heavy wards that sealed it. No doubt that was a storage room for rare and dangerous ingredients for potions, and possibly acted as a storage room for any potions created that generally shouldn't fall into the hands of a novice.

The walls of the lab were all lined with shelves that contained books, ingredients and supplies. The only wall free of shelves was covered with various parchment charts and diagrams. Nearby was a chalkboard that held the remnants of a recent potions experiment. To the right of the chalkboard was a wide, heavy desk of black oak that was neat except for two potions journals.

At the opposite ends of the lab were work tables that were duplicates of the one Lyrica had in her private room at Hogwarts. The pedestals of each table were of heavily carved, dark stained oak that held a thick slab of unpolished marble. One table was black marble, the other was white. The floor of the room was more unpolished marble in a checkerboard pattern of black and white. The floor was heavily stained in places, a usual hazard of a potions laboratory.

From the ceiling hung a variety of bundled herbs that were drying. Their many aromas mingled with the earthy odor of the underground room, giving it a pleasant atmosphere.

Lyrica watched as Severus moved about the room, critically inspecting the devices, the books, and the finished potions. She was quite proud of her lab and enjoyed showing it to someone who understood and appreciated the art of potions making. He paused at a tall shelf that held a variety of cauldrons made out of various materials and of various sizes. His eyes settled, almost greedily, upon one cauldron that was silvery white with a sheen of irridescence to it.

"That can't be..." he gasped as he lifted the cauldron from its space.

"Rhenium. Very rare." Lyrica walked over to the shelf of cauldrons. "It belonged to my great-great grandfather Alaric Arcahnum." She took the cauldron from his hands and gently returned it to its spot. "I've rarely had use for it, but I keep it here in the lab for sentimental reasons."

"It is a true treasure, Lyrica. I have heard of rhenium cauldrons but never chanced to see one." They were both silent as he went to scan the books and then to review the many charts.

"You're a privileged soul, Severus," she said with a smile. He glanced inquiringly over his shoulder. "I have never let anyone else in here."

"Not even your house elves?" he teased.

"Certainly not! I have the utmost trust in their skills, but my potions master taught me the importance of taking care of one's own lab and that includes clean up." She leaned thoughtfully against the edge of the white marble work table. "There is a fundamental peace I find in taking care of my lab. The gathering of ingredients not to be found at an apothecary, the scouring of cauldrons," a mischievous glint sparked in her green eyes, "and the cleaning of experiments gone awry."

Severus glanced up at the ceiling, a usual place of deposit for potion disasters. It revealed the stain of many such disasters and he chuckled to himself. He turned and regarded this remarkable woman who managed to stir devotion in him so quickly. He understood precisely what she was describing. Working in his lab and keeping it to his exact specifications was often the only balm he had when his thoughts were troubled by the machinations of Voldemort and the dangerous game he played.

His voice echoed gently off the stone walls as he spoke, "I have found such peace in my lab as well and oddly enough, in my classroom, too. The students can be annoying lunkheads who destroy more cauldrons and ingredients than I care to inventory, but all it takes is one student that has that spark of talent and the shadows that haunt our world are momentarily lifted."

"I would guess that one student is Miss Granger?"

He smirked wryly. "A Gryffindor, can you imagine? She talks too much, she's bossy and an inveterate know-it-all who can irritate me to the point of distraction. However, the girl has a brilliant mind and I've no doubt that should she ever decide her career is in potions, she will surpass even my skill."

"Does Miss Granger know you hold her in such high esteem?"

"I am not one to praise students." He scowled lightly. "To coddle or encourage my students in any manner is not a trait I am permitted in my time. My students consider me a git, a bat, and in some minds, the epitome of evil." He looked beyond Lyrica toward 1994. He wasn't evil, but he was too close to true evil. Touching his left forearm, he felt a chill that wasn't from this underground lab. "For them and for myself, it is safer."

"More puzzles, Severus?" she shook her head ruefully. Lyrica drifted over to him and he watched as she approached. He enjoyed the grace and elegance in her bearing. In her scarlet dress and black robes, she was a vision of queenly beauty. She enfolded herself so that one arm of his wrapped around her as one of her arms rested around his waist.

"These shadows, Severus, they haunted you that night and caused you pain." She had caught the brief motion he'd made toward his forearm. "That mark... it's cruel, but I see no such cruelty or evil in you."

He brushed his lips to her forehead. He had a desperate desire to confide in Lyrica. To voice his fears, to express his hopes, but he was tied by the future they dared not disturb. He knew his heart would break... he couldn't finish the thought and he drew her tighter into his embrace and kissed her. It was a brief kiss, but sweet and full of longing.

Severus answered her question, reluctantly. "In my youth I made some unfortunate decisions. This," he parted from her and raised his sleeve to reveal the horrid dark mark that appeared on his skin like a deep burn. "is a reminder of my... sins." Lyrica stretched out her fingers to touch the vile mark, but he covered it quickly.

"I wish," she began softly, "that you would accept defeat and stay here, Severus. Raise the children as your own and live free of that dark future." The cold darkness in his soul rose to his eyes and she spoke rapidly. "I do not know what awaits you and I do not ask that you reveal anything to me. But I must be honest with you and what I've seen. You are a man caught between the light and the dark and should the light prevail, I am terrified it may only do so at great sacrifice."

Severus had drawn away as Lyrica spoke. "I chose my destiny, Lyrica, with the full knowledge that it would someday mean my death." The anguish was tight in his voice. "Everyday that we remain in your world makes it more difficult for me to honor the vow I made. I am all too aware that I have let my guard down. What I am here, in front of you, I cannot be in my time. It is a vulnerability my enemies would exploit to not only bring about my death but the deaths of those children."

She grasped his arm. "Then I do not understand, Severus. Forget the future! Save yourself and those children. Would that not fulfill your vow?"

Severus took her hand from his arm. "No, Lyrica, it would not. If I stayed I would become a haunted man because I would never know if those who relied upon me were swallowed by those shadows. Until I know the way home is lost to us forever, I have a duty to them, to myself, and to those we left behind in the future to keep trying." Why do you continue to tempt me? Do you wish me to fall... to fall so far that all I care about is you? He closed his eyes against her green-eyed gaze.

"Please, Severus, do forgive me. I was being selfish." She touched her fingertips to his cheek and slowly he opened his eyes. "You have become very important to me. I, too, would be haunted, Severus."

Severus Snape was torn between two worlds, this quiet life with Lyrica whose kisses held every hope and dream he'd ever dared permit himself against the evil of the Dark Lord. How easy it would be to turn his back up Albus Dumbledore's trust. He drew Lyrica back into his arms, feeling her body against his. She fit so well against him. Cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand, he bent down to brush his lips to her. Soft and full... daring, as the tip of her tongue lanced against his upper lip. His hand traced the gentle curve of her spine as he drew her closer. Temptation. He wanted this.

"Professor Snape!"

Autumn was coming, but the weather had just enough warmth to still be enjoyable. Harry, Ron, Draco and Hermione made their way out of Ashmere House and into a large, well landscaped back yard. There were dozens of artfully laid out flower beds, a fantastical array of topiary, and a variety of trees. Almost all the flowers were experiencing their last bloom of the season. There were places where some flowers drooped or had died, but even that, in its own way was a kind of beauty. The leaves of most of the trees were red, gold, yellow; natural flaming torches leading all the way down to a forest at the end of the property that was a conflagration of Autumn color. At the center of the landscaping was a hedge maze and this is where their curiosity took them. They paused only briefly, and then Harry led the way through the entrance.

The maze was an enchanted maze that closed up behind them. New paths were opened, old ones hidden or closed, and new twists and turns presented a puzzling challenge for them. The goal of such an enchanted maze was to reach the center. Once that was achieved, the path to the exit would be open. It was thankfully free of the hazards of the maze on the grounds of Hogwarts.

"Hermione!" The girl was lifted off her feet and pulled around a corner by Draco. "Hello!"

Hermione fought for release, but Draco could tell she wasn't putting much of an effort into her struggles. She was smiling, too. He leaned closer to her, close enough to hear her heart beating excitedly in her chest. His lips were very close to hers and her eyes shut in anticipation. Draco let go suddenly, chuckled, pecked her on the cheek, and when she opened her eyes, he was jogging ahead. He glanced over his shoulder and was pleased when she began to run after him.

This cat and mouse game went on for a few more twists and turns until Hermione finally tackled Draco. Her hands were pressed against his chest as she sat upon him. Her wild, curly brown hair fell on either side of her face; the ends of some of the curls tickling his cheek. Hermione began to move closer to him, a wicked gleam in her eye and she quickly gave him a teasing, peck on the cheek. In the blink of an eye Draco had her pinned beneath him. This time he didn't hesitate and kissed Hermione soundly.

Draco was roughly body slammed from out of nowhere. "Get off me!" he shouted angrily and landed a wild punch on someone's nose.

Draco was punched right back just when he discovered he'd been hit by Potter. Their fists were flying as they punched and wrestled angrily.

"Don't just stand there, Ron! Get Professor Snape!"

Ron was staring at Hermione as she got to her feet. "Are you hurt, Hermione?" asked Ron.

Hermione's brown eyes blazed as she growled, "Get Snape!"

Ron sidestepped the fighting duo, but had no idea which way to go. Hermione pulled out her wand, pointed at the hedge, and snapped, "Revelio!"

The wall of green parted to reveal a direct path out of the maze. Ron began to run out of the maze and toward the house. Hermione turned her attention to the two boys. Waving her hand wand again, she muttered a binding spell and the two of them were immediately bound tightly in rope.

"'Mione!" complained Harry angrily. "I was trying to rescue you!"

"Did she look like she wanted rescuing, Potter?" snarled Draco.

"You were sitting on her, Malfoy. Seems to me she needed some help!"

"She was having a perfectly good time until you..." Draco was interrupted by Hermione casting one more spell, Silencio.

Ron had made it in record time to the back door of Ashmere, but he had no idea where in the house Professor Snape could be. "Oy! Professor!" Ron shouted a few more times, but there was no answer.

"What is the problem, young Ronald?"

Ron let out a yelp as the deep voice of King Henry rumbled behind him. "I need Professor Snape." He added as an afterthought, "Your majesty. Uhm, do you know where he is?"

"Where are your friends, boy? I'll send your professor to them."

"The maze. I'm going to go back. Tell 'im to hurry, would ya?" Ron saw the ghost king vanish and he ran back outside.

Henry knew precisely where the man in black was and made his way down to the lab. He smiled to see Lyrica in a rather passionate embrace with the dark fellow. "Professor Snape!"

Henry's voice was loud enough to send a rack of empty glass vials to rattling. Henry enjoyed the reaction his shout had caused as Snape broke the embrace as though he were a teenager caught snogging in the corrdors of Hogwarts between classes. To the man's credit, he managed a very severe glare at the large ghost.

"The maze, professor. Trouble with the youngsters." Snape frowned at the ghostly king. Another maze? He hoped it wasn't as dangerous as the one at Hogwarts.

"Thank you, your highness," Lyrica gave the king a half curtsy.

"Can we apparate to this maze, Lyrica?" asked Severus.

She nodded and slipped her arm around his waist. "A little closer, please, Severus. I told you, my side-apparation isn't the best and I'd like to get us there in one piece." Snape pulled the headmistress tighter and they soon apparated to the maze.

"Oy! Professor!" Ron was running toward them.

"What the devil has happened here, Mr. Weasley?" shouted Snape.

For once Ron didn't flinch or falter at Snape's tone. "They're fighting again."

Lyrica pointed her wand, "Revelio!" The hedge parted until Hermione was revealed standing indignantly in front of the bound and silenced Harry and Draco. Snape gave Hermione a glance of approval, strode past her, and then grasped both Draco and Harry by their collars and hauled them to their feet.

"Did I not warn you two that if I had to resolve your disputes I would put a very serious to end to them?" Snape bellowed.

Both boys began to talk at once, trying to defend themselves. Unfortunately, with the silencing spell, no one heard a thing.

Snape glanced over his shoulder at the Gryffindor girl. "Silencing spell?" She nodded. "If you wouldn't mind, Miss Granger?"

Hermione removed the spell and the air was filled with their angry voices. "He punched me in the eye! He punched me first! He shouldn't've been doing...!"

"Silencio!" snapped Snape. "Professor Arcahnum, would you do me the favor of escorting these two hooligans back to the house? I'd like to speak to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasely briefly."

"Come along, gentlemen," urged Lyrica as she stepped behind them and nudged them onward and out of the maze.

Snape then faced Hermione and Ron. "Would either of you care to enlighten me as to who started what and why?"

"Draco was attacking Hermione!" blurted Ron.

That caught Snape off guard. He spoke guardedly, wondering if Draco truly believed the propaganda his father fed him about 'mudbloods' and had finally taken his moment to strike out. "Miss Granger, did Draco hurt you?"

Hermione was caught in the middle of a rock and a hard place. She really didn't want to admit the truth of the matter, but if she lied, the consequences would be so much worse. Casting her gaze to her feet, she spoke very softly, "No sir... he... he was kissing me."

Snape had to bend down to hear her soft whisper. "He kissed you?" He kept his irritation and a sarcastic remark to himself. "Did Mr. Malfoy force himself upon you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione wished she could just disappear. She raised her eyes to look into Snape's face. "No, Sir, he didn't. I... I kissed him first." Her cheeks turned a bright red.

Snape straightened up. He was going to need to brew more than a week's worth of headache potion with these teenagers in his vicinity. If he could deduct points from Gryffindor, he would, purely for the inconvenience. He smiled grimly as he recalled that there was something he could do that was almost as satisfying as deducting points. "Miss Hermione, Mr. Weasely, I distinctly recall telling you and your two battling cohorts to stay inside Ashmere and to NOT get into trouble. As you deemed my orders as unworthy of your attention, I would like to see an essay on the dangers of disobeying an elder by tomorrow morning." Their expressions were priceless. "One foot each," he intoned darkly and then pointed toward the exit.

Sullenly they both fell into step and left the maze, with Snape following behind as his robes billowed in the breeze. Ron whispered to Hermione, "What'd you kiss Malfoy for?"

Hermione didn't get to answer Ron's question as Snape whacked the back of his head.

Lyrica removed the binding spell and directed Draco and Harry into Ashmere. She led them into the library and summoned two chairs for them to sit down upon. "Sit down, please." Although it sounded like a request, her tone of voice was clear; she was no more pleased with their fighting than was Snape.

"Mmmh gmmph mmff, mmffph!" Draco mumbled ineffectively through the silencing spell.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but I think I shall allow Master Snape to dispense with your silence." Lyrica examined their injuries. Bruises, a black eye for Draco, broken glasses for Harry, and broken noses for them both. She smiled in admiration of Hermione's restraining handiwork. "Your friend has quite a way with her spell work. I wonder though, why ever did you both resort to fighting when you might have caused a more impressive amount of damage with magic?"

Both Harry and Draco tried to reply, but it was useless. Lyrica dealt with most of the bruising and scratches and cleaned away the blood. The broken noses would require the skill of a medi-witch, but for now she could protect the injuries with a stasis spell.

"Reversis Silencio!" The spell announced the arrival of Snape. With the return of their voices, the cacophony of both of them talking ended abruptly as Snape stood before them, favoring the two miscreants with his most threatening look. He then turned his attention to Potter. "Mr. Potter, explain to me while you felt it necessary, again, to resort to Muggle means toward Mr. Malfoy?"

Harry threw a scowl at Draco. "He's not worth the effort of expending magical energy!"

"Same to you, Potter," snarled Draco.

"It's quite clear that Professor Lockhart's dueling class made not a whit of an impression upon either of you." He paced in front of them briefly. "I think we ought to resurrect those lessons. Perhaps if the two of you injure each other in a sanctioned activity, you might just learn to control your TEMPERS!

Both boys cringed from the volume of Snape's voice. Draco piped up in defense of himself. "It wasn't my fault, sir! He attacked me!"

"You deserved it, you bloody skrewt!" shouted Harry as he lunged again for Draco. "You assaulted Hermione!"

Snape caught Harry before he could body slam the snivelling Slytherin and shoved him down into the chair. He stood over Harry. "Mr. Potter, you were mistaken in your assumption of what was occurring between Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger." Harry frowned in puzzlement. "Let me repeat myself, Mr. Potter... you were mistaken."

"No I wasn't!"

"Yes you were, Potter!" snapped Draco as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"No I wasn't!"

"Yes you..."

"SHUT UP!" Snape swept away so abruptly his robes snapped viciously behind him. He went to the door of the library and came back in with a very cowed, and still embarrassed Hermione. "Miss Granger, please enlighten your rescuer, Mr. Potter, as to the exact circumstances of what he saw."

Hermione blinked a few times as she tried to meet Harry's puzzled, searching gaze. She looked down at his feet instead. "Draco wasn't attacking me, Harry. I... I kissed him, first." Please let the floor open and swallow me up! she pleaded silently.

Harry was certain his hearing had gone off. Maybe he'd gone crazy. Was she joking? Hermione couldn't have meant what she said. "Are you kidding me? You kissed a Slytherin? You kissed Malfoy? He called you mudblood, Hermione!"

Harry found himself on the floor and with a black eye to match the one Draco had. Hermione had just socked him with her famous right hook. "Whom I choose to like and whom I choose to kiss is none of your business, Harry Potter. If you can't respect me enough to trust what I'm doing, then you don't know me as well as I thought you did." Hermione turned to Snape. "Professor? Would you mind if I go to my room? I'd like to begin on my essay."

Snape nodded to her and she stalked out of the library, but not until she cast an angry scowl at Harry. Snape then glanced at Draco and caught the smug look on the boy's face. "You're not entirely blameless in all of this, Mr. Malfoy. Your lack of foresight in this matter has diminished my expectations regarding your intelligence. You're Slytherin, boy, consider your actions and start thinking!"

Draco now felt about a foot tall. He gulped and whispered. "Yes, sir. I'll do that, Professor."

"Get up, Mr. Potter," Snape said with exasperation. He waited until Harry had gotten up and resumed his seat before speaking again. "You two may think I cannot give you detention, but you are both mistaken. Not only will each of you deliver to me two feet of essay on the consequences of jumping to conclusions, you will also assist me tomorrow in sorting through our notes in regards to time travel. Go to your rooms, now, and get to work."

Harry stood and led the way out of the library. Draco, who just really couldn't help himself, snickered to Harry, "She's a good kisser for a Gryffindor, Potter."

Harry didn't have a chance to punch Draco a third time and Snape was usurped in rebuking the boy just as Lyrica caught the Slytherin by the scruff of his neck. He yelped.

"Mr. Draco, boasting in such an ill manner is insulting to the young lady and is quite unbecoming in a gentleman. For that pitiful outburst, I shall require an additional one foot essay in regards to how a young man should treat a young lady. I expect you to have it completed this evening." Draco was about to plead his case to Snape when the headmistress warned him. "Be wise, Mr. Malfoy, and say nothing more." She let him go and Draco happily made his escape.

"You're very good, madam," Snape bowed his head and gave Lyrica a tiny smile.

She curtsied. "Why thank you, Master Snape." She began to laugh and shook her head.

"I'm glad to see that you find humor in this, Headmistress," he said sarcastically.

"Oh stop, Severus! They're children. Wild and unruly, but you can reign them in."

He sighed heavily and dropped down into the chair Draco had recently vacated. "They're going to drive me to madness, Lyrica."

She sat down in the other chair. "You're being melodramatic, Severus, and I believe you to be above that. Parenting is not that much different from being a teacher." He scowled at her. Lyrica ignored the look and leaned over to brush away a lock of his hair. "I know you're frustrated, but they're frightened. Their immediate future is shaky at best until you either find a way home, or you end the search for a solution. Until the matter is decided one way or another, what they need most is structure and the familiar; they need you as their anchor." Severus rolled his eyes and she touched his shoulder. "You know I'm right."

"Do I?" he asked with a sly gleam in his eyes.

"Yes you do, Severus. You're also not going to be alone in this. I shall help whenever I can get away from Hogwarts and Henry will be more than happy to assist you in keeping the children in line." She leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose.

"Henry. That ghost was a bit large for the thin Henry the VII. His son, perhaps? The infamous husband to six wives?" He drew Lyrica down onto his knee. "Pray tell, what is a member of the Tudor royal family doing residing in your home?"

"When he was a young boy, his father, his brother and Henry came to Ashmere as guests of Elphias. They spent several weeks hunting, falconing and enjoying my ancestors' hospitality. Not long after his death, Henry the VIII was first seen to haunt this house and the grounds. He's very jealous of any other ghosts sharing Ashmere and has kept it quite clear of other spectres."

"Ah. I noticed that he seems a bit more solid than the ghosts at Hogwarts." He traced Lyrica's jawline and smiled as she shivered.

"He does, doesn't he? When I've asked him, his only reply is that he's been a ghost for a very long time." Lyrica kissed Snape lightly. "Don't be surprised, though, if you and Henry happen to disagree in regards to the children. He can be over-protective at times."

Snape frowned. He wanted to ask if the ghost had ever been over-protective toward Lyrica. That was a question for another time, though. For now he drew her close, suddenly hating himself for his promise in finding a way back home.

Four teenagers stood in the grand entry shivering. Draco, Ron and Harry had been broom racing while Hermione refereed. Currently they watched as Snape squared off against King Henry. Both the ghost and the professor had their arms belligerently crossed over their chests.

"This is the fourth time you have overridden my decision for the safety of my wards," growled Snape. "May I remind you, my Lord Gouty Foot, that I am the one responsible for their health and welfare and not you?" He snapped out the last word.

"As long as they exist under the roof of Ashmere, you great, beaked raven, they are my responsibility as well!" One of the teens stifled a laugh and the King shot a sharp grin of triumph their way.

"Shut it, Mr. Malfoy!" cut Snape without even glancing at the offender. Draco choked. "Be that as it may, your pomposity, it is I that must heal their scrapes and bruises and when I say they are to remain in the house I expect my word to be obeyed."

King Henry became even more solid and attempted to intimidate the master intimidator by stepping as close as he could to Snape's face. Snape didn't move at all. Nothing, in his opinion, was more frightening than the Dark Lord. A ghost was a mere inconvenience.

"Gaoler and torturer, you show your true mien! You do intend to imprison these sweet naifs within the walls of this house! Might I remind you that in this century there are no shadows outside these walls prepared to swoop down and destroy their young lives?" His gruff voice was low, "Why not just dig their graves now and throw them in, Sir Raven?"

For a brief second Snape was silent and then he turned to Ron, Harry, Draco and Hermione. "Get into some dry clothes. Now. Dinner will be early tonight." Though his voice was quiet, the command was firm and the quartet quickly made their way up the stairs. When they had vanished to the west wing, Snape faced the King again.

Snape chose to end the insults as he re-stated his position, tightly. "Your Majesty, I must ask you again to respect the decisions and rules I have in place for these children."

Henry drifted away from Snape and then circled around him. "You're strangling them, Snape. You have every second of their lives scheduled and when they do have time just to be themselves, you lock them in their rooms or the parlour. They're children, Snape, not students!" The king shouted angrily and his voice shook the crystals of the chandelier.

"I am doing the best I can for them," Snape ground out.

"You are doing much better than I did for my children, I'll concede that," acquiesced the King. "However, your rules are unbending and you hover over them like a huge, black mother hen. Dictating a schedule each morning, classes and that damned research, then quizzes and tests and essays! They have a rare opportunity, Snape, and you're blind to it. Whatever darkness casts a pall on your futures has stained their childhood. That evil is not here. Allow them a few bruises. Let them breathe the fresh air and to run. Take them away from this house and buy them a sweet."

"It's almost Winter," glowered Snape stubbornly.

"The cold does not steal into the bones of youth as it does ours, Snape," chuckled the King. "Let them be children, now, or you'll have more than sneezes, scraped knees and bruises to deal with. Especially from young Harry." King Henry slapped a firm hand on Snape's shoulder and then faded away, garnering the last word and effectively ending the argument.

Snape sighed heavily and went over to the wide staircase where he sat down upon them. They had only been here two weeks. Wisely he had decided to resurrect their classes in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions (no brewing, as of yet) in the library. It kept their minds occupied and homework tended to keep them out of his way. As far as their research went, with the exception of Miss Granger's help, there was little to be done but to think or scour the Arcahnum library for some tiny clue that might lead to a solution home. Snape had given up in pressing the three boys into service as they did nothing but cause trouble and give him migraines.

"You all right, sir?" Draco had come back down the stairs, now in fresh robes. He sat beside Snape.

"I'm perfectly well!" he groused sarcastically.

Draco smirked, "Yeah I can see the pink of health in your cheeks."

"Thin ice, Mr. Malfoy," Snape warned with a slight smile.

"Professor, I..." Draco hesitated in what he was about to say. Giving advice was one thing, but giving advice to Snape would garner a year's worth of detention scrubbing out mucky cauldrons.

"Spit it out, Draco. I assure you, I'm not in the mood to bite."

"I hate to admit anyone else could be right, but you have been suffocating us, Professor." Snape turned his head and aimed a decidedly acid glare at the boy. Draco held up his hands in surrender. "Just hear me out, sir?"

Snape nodded sharply, but the acidity of his gaze didn't lessen.

"We don't mind the classes, sir. I mean, it's keeping us sharp, and you're a good teacher."

"Drop the flattery, Mr. Malfoy, and get to the point," Snape was getting weary of Draco's verbal dance.

Draco coloured, but persevered. "Fine. You've got every hour of the day planned for us. From the moment we wake up until we go to bed at night. The only time it seems we're free of you is when you're brewing and then the only place we can be is the parlour or our rooms. The other problem is we don't really get to get away from each other unless we're locked in our rooms." He smirked, "Or in Granger's case, the library."

"If you're courting the young lady, Mr. Malfoy, do her the respect of using her first name when referring to her."

"Uhm... yeah..." Draco gave Snape a puzzled stare and then shook his head.

"You do realise, Draco, that if I were to escort you and your Gryffindor compatriots to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade for an outing you'd still be 'suffocated' by my presence, and you'd still be stuck with each other?"

Draco sighed and leaned back so he was supported by an upper step with his elbows on the soft carpet of the stair. "I suppose we have to deal with that, for now." Then the Slytherin boy's grey eyes sparked with an idea. "Sir, what if you took one or two of us at a time, once in awhile."

"Ah. And that is supposed to be more bearable for me than suffering with all four of you at once?" Snape's wearisome sarcasm was too much for Draco. He shrugged, giving up. Sometimes Snape was as stubborn as Potter. "I've got an essay to finish, sir."

Snape said nothing and didn't watch as his godson left his side. After several minutes, Snape rose to his feet and retired to the potions lab; the only place where things seemed to make sense these days.

Harry was leaning against the corridor wall. He'd heard the conversation between Malfoy and Snape. He narrowed his gaze at the son of his enemy.

"Courting, Hermione, huh?" scoffed Harry.

"Shut it, Potty. It's none of your bloody business." Draco tried to step past him, but Harry soon had his wand to Draco's throat.

"She's my best friend, Ferret. Unless the two of you are planning a life here, you'll only wind up hurting her. So leave off."

"I wasn't aware you spoke for Hermione, Pothead. You're assuming a bit much, don't you think? Maybe we just want to flirt and that's it."

Harry advanced upon Draco and jammed the boy up against the far wall. "Leave her..."

"Expelliarmus!" Harry tumbled off to the side and down onto the landing of the grand staircase. Hermione was immediately in his face with her wand, and she was very angry.

"What the hell...?" Harry spluttered indignantly.

"I'm not going to tell you this again, Harry James Potter. What I do and whom I chose to do it with is of NO concern to you."

"He's only going to hurt you, Hermione!" spat Harry.

"And if he does, Harry, then I expect you and Ron to let me come to you and cry on your shoulders. Until then, leave it or I'll hex you into next week." Hermione put her wand away. Ron who had been standing behind her, walked around the fiery Gryffindor and helped Harry to his feet.

"C'mon, mate. You need a game of chess." Harry shrugged off Ron's hand. "No I don't." Picking up his wand he headed down the stairs and disappeared to the west side of the house.

Ron sighed heavily, glanced at Draco and Hermione, and then sauntered after Harry.

For the next three days no one talked to each other. Snape was immediately aware of the problem, but decided, unless he was asked, he would not step into the middle of it. Besides, he rather liked the quiet.

Ron was having problems with the quiet. Harry still spoke to him, but Harry's subject matter always was some insult or slight about Draco or how Hermione was just going mad. On the third day of silence, Ron had had enough.

He and Harry were in the solarium working on their Charms essay when Harry, out of the blue, started in on 'Hermione's Madness'.

"I just realised, Ron, our wands aren't registered. You know what that means?"

Ron didn't glance up from his essay, but replied disinterestedly, "What, Harry?"

"I'll bet Draco put Hermione under an Imperius. With out wands not registered, no one would know he used an Unforgivable."

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"What?" Harry dropped his quill.

"Would you give it a rest? Or do I need to hit you with a bludger?" Harry only stared at Ron. The redhead looked up and leaned back in his chair. "The way you've been acting, I'm beginning to think that maybe you're jealous. Have you got feelings for Hermione?"

"What? Me? No! I... Hermione's like a sister, Ron!"

"Are you trying to be a protective brother, then?"

Harry sighed heavily, "I suppose..."

"Well, stop it. I mean, Hermione's smart in a lot of things, but we can't protect her all the time. And, well, sometimes she's just going to make decisions we don't like. Is it worth it to you to lose her friendship over Malfoy, because you will?"

Harry didn't want to listen to Ron. For one thing, he hated when Ron made sense. "But, it's Malfoy!" Harry grimaced. Even to his ears, that whine really sounded lame. "Ron, this isn't a situation of 'if Hermione gets hurt'. She WILL get hurt. He's Slytherin and he's a Malfoy."

Ron was quiet and studied his best friend for several minutes. He was used to Harry's volatile temper, but his behavior was finally beginning to annoy him. It was bugging him that Harry was acting out in such a way that it put him, once again, into the centre ring. If Snape wasn't trying to make amends, he was, or Hermione was.

"You really need to get a grip, mate and you need to grow up."

Harry was so stunned, he couldn't even think of a reply. His best friend was taking the side of the ferret? How could he?

"Look, I don't like Malfoy, all right? I was hoping that maybe Hermione might like me, but she only wants me as a friend. I hate books, she hates Quidditch. Malfoy..." Ron grimaced, then shrugged. "Draco likes a lot of the things Hermione does. They're both good at Potions, they like to read. If Draco were a total git, wouldn't he just hex all three of us in our sleep, or maybe Unforgivable us?"

Harry slumped in his chair and began tapping his quill on the desk. "I think of the times he teased her. Hermione cried for hours after he called her a 'filthy mudblood'. What if he's just playing a game with her, Ron? You know how she is. Hermione has so much kindness, so much compassion in her heart. If Draco's just flattering her and flirting just so he can stomp on her heart later, it will crush her."

They were interrupted by the arrival of Hermione and Draco. Hermione had a large book clutched to her chest and she was listening while Draco was speaking. "...problem with liqourice root as a base in most healing potions is the age old complaint of taste. What I've been thinking..." He stopped as he realized that he and Hermione were being stared at. "Uhm... I think I'll go get a sandwich." He started to lean over to kiss Hermione's cheek, but stopped, whirled around and walked swiftly out the door.

Hermione stood still for a moment, and then headed over to her desk, sat down, opened her book and studiously ignored Ron and Harry.

"Hermi..." Harry was going to try and talk to her, but the look she gave him would have sent even Snape running. She dropped her eyes back to her book and Harry slammed back against his chair with a huff.

Ron leaned over and spoke quietly, "You're not going to fix this until you fix things with Malfoy, Harry."

Harry stared at Ron, pushed at his almost finished essay and then scraped his chair away from the desk. He walked over to Hermione's desk. She didn't look up, but he voiced his frustration anyway. "I'm doing this because I don't want to lose you, Hermione." He then stalked out of the library in search of Draco.

Draco really needed to look up some information in the library, but with the murderous look Potter was giving him, he left. He wandered for a bit, and thought to himself how small this house felt. Malfoy Manor would swallow up four Ashmeres. Glancing up the stairs, he wondered about the third floor. He'd been talking to Hermione about it a couple of times, but Miss-Follow-the-Rules just refused to entertain any speculation about the third floor and she certainly wouldn't go near it.

He climbed the grand staircase to the second floor landing and then sat down on the plush carpet and leaned against the wall. Drawing up his knees, he rested his arms over them and dropped his face into his hands.

"Why Hermione?"

Draco lifted his head and gave Potter a puzzled scowl. "What do you mean, Potter?"

Harry caught the movement of Draco's hand toward his wand, and so he leaned against the balustrade, sliding down until he was sitting on the step he'd been standing on. Draco's hand relaxed.

"All I've ever seen, from the first day we met, is you teasing, belittling, and calling Hermione names. You've made her cry a couple of times. That is, before she broke your nose." Harry let out a chuckle at the memory of Hermione's now famous right hook connecting with Draco's nose.

"Have you heard me deny anything I've done to her, Potter? I still don't get your question."

"I don't like you or trust you. I don't understand why you're pretending to... like Hermione. Is it because she's the only girl?"

"I don't like your tone of voice, Potter, and if you're even implying what I think you're implying about Hermione, I'll blacken both your eyes."

Harry growled in frustration and smacked his head against the balustrade. "I didn't mean that!"

"Look, don't go cracking your head open, Potter. I don't want to be the one to clean up your brains off the carpet." Harry just sneered. "There's nothing I can say or do to convince you that I really do like Hermione. Whether we wind up making a life here, or we go home, I'll do anything I must to keep her safe."

Harry climbed slowly to his feet. "No, there isn't anything you can do to convince me, Malfoy, but I don't want to lose Hermione's friendship. She's too important. I'm going to back off, but I promise you, if you ever hurt her..."

Draco smiled wryly, "Right, you'll kill me. I've got the message." Harry nodded and made his way back down the stairs.

For Hermione's sake, Draco and Harry managed to maintain an acceptable civility, but Harry still found himself wandering off to his room, the solarium, or outside to fly his broom when Hermione and Draco were together. Hermione didn't like it, but at least Harry was keeping his opinions to himself.

Ron didn't like it all, though. He would never admit it to Harry, but he rather liked Draco. He couldn't call him a friend, no. Harry would jinx his ears off if he did. Despite the truce between Harry and Draco, though, the tension was still there and Ron found it intolerable. He had planned to just continue to ignore it until one very late night he headed to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Ron was surprised to find Hermione sitting in the kitchen eating a small sandwich and having a glass of milk.

"How come you're not asleep, 'Mione?" asked Ron as he sat down with a chicken leg and a biscuit from dinner earlier in the evening.

Hermione sighed. "Harry and Draco." Ron nodded. "I feel like I'm just waiting for the axe to fall between those two."

"I know what you mean. I keep going for my wand everytime they run into each other. I almost wish we were back at Hogwarts before..." he stared at Hermione and his mouth dropped open in an 'O' of silent apology.

Hermione just smiled softly. "I know, it's my fault, really."

"What? No...!" Ron dropped the half eaten chicken leg and wiped his hands on his napkin. "No, Hermione, don't say that. It isn't your fault and you know it. Harry, he just gets things into his head. You know how he is."

"I know how you are, too, Ron. You've got no reason to trust Draco, either."

"Wrong. I don't like him. He was a grotty little, superior rich kid growing up. A bully, too. But, I've seen how his dad is toward him when he thinks no one can see. I don't like, Draco, but I've always felt a bit sorry for him. He was a lot nicer before his sister died."

Hermione's eyes widened. "His sister? I didn't know he had a sister." She thought back to the little girl she'd seen Draco talking to in the mirror in the Odd Room. Draco had told her later that he'd wished he'd had a sister, but that had never happened.

"Not too many people remember her. I can't even recall her name, but she was a couple years younger than him. I met her only once. I think she was probably three years old? Maybe four. Mum had taken us all to the park to play on a Saturday and Draco's mum had taken him and his sister there, too."

"He played at a park?" mused Hermione, as she tried to picture Malfoy on swings, or a slide.

Ron snorted. "Yeah, doesn't seem the type, does he? But, me, the twins, Ginny and Draco and his sister were all playing together. He was real protective of her and she just thought he was the perfect big brother."

"Were there other play times at the park, Ron?"

"For us, yeah, tons. We never saw Draco or his little sister again, though. Fred and George thought that maybe Lucius didn't want his kids playing with anyone else. Kind of seems like something he'd do. Anyway," Ron took a bite of chicken, chewed, swallowed and then continued his thought. "I saw Draco with his dad in Hogsmeade, or at the Quidditch matches, or Diagon Alley, but I never saw the little girl, or his mum again."

"So how did you find out she died?"

"First year. Don't know what was with me, but I passed him in the hall one day after breakfast and I just asked. Remember that black eye I refused to explain?" Hermione nodded. "That's how I got it. Told me if I ever mentioned her again, he'd hex me into a wall."

They'd finished their midnight snacking and retired to bed. Ron, though, had decided that something needed to be done about Harry and Draco before he wound up burying them out in the backyard.

A couple of days later Ron found Draco out in the garden practicing transfiguration. His textbook, Transfiguration for the Student, was open at his feet. It was an out of date textbook, but they didn't have access to the texts they used in their time. Draco was attempting to turn a plant into a rabbit and was succeeding in only giving the plant wiggling, white bunny ears. As Ron sat down on the grass across from Draco, light rain began to mist.

"I really hate transfiguration," muttered Draco.

"It's too bad I wasn't better at it. I could have untransfigured Pettigrew before he got away."

"Pettigrew is scum, but he's a skilled wizard. Are you going to get another rat, Weasely?"

Ron shrugged. "Don't really want another rat."

Draco re-cast the transfiguration spell and was finally rewarded with a full size rabbit. "I did it!" Then it poofed and returned to a now very wilted flower. "Damnit!" Draco tossed down his wand and kicked the book away with his foot. "What's up, Weasely? You look like you're about to get one of Snape's migraines."

"Hermione," said Ron simply.

Draco leaned back against the boulder that was behind him. "Yeah? What about Hermione?"

"What you said to me at the lake. You'd have to go back to being... well... "

"A git?"

"Yeah, that. I don't want Hermione hurt," Ron finally blurted.

Draco took a deep breath. "She and I talked about that, Ron. We go back, then as far as anyone knows, she's a mudblood and you and Potter are idiots that need to be fed to Vold... to the Dark Lord."

Ron bristled at hearing the mudblood insult. Draco held up his hands to ward off any possible slug spells.

"I'm not going to mean it, Ron! But, you know the score. My father ever gets wind of me and Hermione, her family'd be dead, so would she, and I might be, too." Draco stared down at the ground and then retrieved his wand. "You know, I saw her on the platform with her parents our first year? That brown hair was just everywhere and her teeth... glad she got those fixed now. Anyway, that day on the platform, she turned and smiled. Right at me. She wasn't looking at anyone else. I'd never had anyone smile at me like that before. For five seconds I had the worst crush in the world over her and then my father told me she was a mudblood." He glared angrily beyond Ron. "I was mad at Hermione for not being like me, for awhile. It's too bad your slug spell backfired. I deserved those nasty buggers."

Ron took out his wand. "New wand. I could hex you again, if you'd like?" He grinned and Draco laughed.

"No thanks, Weasel." The two boys were quiet for a moment and unconcerned about the increased snow falling around them. "Hermione knows what the stakes are, Ron. I have to play a game I've been playing for a long time. Only now I'll be doing it to keep her safe. I wish you and Potter could deal with that."

Ron grimaced. He wondered just when it was they'd all had to grow up so fast. He also wondered if he could truly trust a Slytherin and a Malfoy, at that. "Speaking of Harry and this... well, truce, you two have..." Draco studied Ron with narrowed eyes. "Fact is, even though he and Hermione are talking again and you two are more or less civil to each other, it's just... hmm... it can't last."

Draco nodded sullenly. "I know. I'm this close to just smacking him again. I don't know what else I could do, though. He doesn't get that my word, when it's given, really does mean something."

"Well, to be fair, you've got the Slytherin way of twisting words the way you want."

"You're confusing me with my father," Draco said darkly. "I happen to prefer the truth."

"Really? How much?"

"What are you getting at, Weasley?" asked Draco with caution.

"Would you make an Unbreakable Vow?"

Draco didn't answer right away. He'd actually thought about an Unbreakable Vow, but he didn't know if the magic would hold if they returned to their time. It surprised him, too, that Weasley was asking him to do this. Draco was certain that Potter would have demanded it, and he would have refused just because of Potter's attitude. He nodded, finally. "I would, but... would it hold between our time... thing?"

Ron huffed. "Good question." He glanced up just as lightning arced across the sky. The clouds were darkening and rain began to patter down sporadically. "We ought to go in or Snape'll skin us alive for catching cold. We can ask him, see if he knows about vows."

Once inside, they shook the snow off their robes and headed to the library. Snape was seated at the large desk, working on some notes and Harry and Hermione were working on essays they'd been recently assigned for Potions. Harry looked up and scowled at Ron. He was getting a little too irritated at the camaraderie between the two boys. Ron quickly shrugged at Harry and then followed Draco up to Snape's desk.

"Professor," Draco asked quietly. "Could we speak to you? Privately?"

Snape regarded the two boys for a moment, then closed his book and rose to his feet. "Come out into the entry hall," he said softly. Ron and Draco followed him until they reached the large, open entry hall. "What may I do for the two of you?"

Ron tried to start, "Sir... we... I..."

"Oh let me, Weasel!" sighed Draco. "Sir, we'd like to know if you think an Unbreakable Vow made here would still be enforceable in our time."

Snape had been leaning, slightly, against the wall next to the open door. At the mention of an Unbreakable Vow, he straightened sharply. "Before I answer, do you understand the gravity behind an Unbreakable Vow?"

It was Ron who answered, "If the vow is broken, it means death."

"That is correct, Mr. Weasely. Death. Might I ask what is so important between the two of you that it merits such a thing?"

Between the two of them, Draco and Ron explained what they had discussed outside a few minutes ago and earlier that year at the lake. "Sir, you know very well what I'd be going home to." Snape knew he was referring to much more than just the mere presence of his father. "I know I can act well, and I know that Ron and Potter ought to trust in me to do right thing by Hermione, but there is so much I cannot plan for. I don't want to hurt her, but I'll have to, in school. An Unbreakable Vow would make certain that I couldn't harm her... even under an Imperius curse."

Snape took a moment to consider Draco's words. He already knew that the boy would rather die then to hurt the girl. When he finally spoke, he asked, "The ritual needs to be performed by an adult, as neither of you are of age. Has Mr. Potter agreed to this vow?"

Ron replied, "I haven't asked him about it, yet, but I think he would agree to it."

"Maybe it will show Potter that Slytherins have as much honor as Gryffindors do." This could easily have been an arrogant statement. Something Snape had grown to expect from the boy since his first day in his house. The proclamation was made sincerely and Snape realized that before him stood not a copy of Lucius Malfoy, but the true Draco Malfoy. He felt rather proud of the young boy.

"Let's return to the library, then, and explain what is happening. Stay by me, Mr. Malfoy, in case Mr. Potter gets it in his head to give you a new black eye."

The explanation and discussion took the better part of an hour. Harry actually kept himself under control as he understood what Draco was proposing to undertake. He found himself a little lost for words when he realized that Hermione's trust and friendship was so important to the younger Malfoy that he would risk death in order to keep it.

The Unbreakable Vow was something that Snape refused to let anyone jump into. He had insisted that they wait a week and if all four of them agreed, he would perform the ritual for them. Draco was without doubt in his conviction to accept the Unbreakable Vow. Hermione had pledged her friendship and that meant more to him as each day passed. He did not want to risk losing her friendship, or her. Ever.

Hermione had listened as Snape and the three boys had talked about the Unbreakable Vow. She knew exactly what that meant having read about them in her first year. Her silence wasn't a silence of acceptance and Snape, who understood that silence from this particular student could only mean trouble, wisely chose the end of the discussion as his cue to leave. Hermione's scathing indignation toward the boys hit him just as he hit the entry.

Snape shook his head. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I almost feel sorry for you both." With a sneer, he returned to his potions. If there were a body or two, to be disposed of later, he'd help Miss Granger with that before dinner.

"ARE YOU COMPLETELY INSANE?" Hermione leapt up from her desk, not even caring that the old tome she had been reading was jarred from its surface and landed on the floor.

"Hermione, it's perfect. Don't you see...?" Harry ducked for cover behind Malfoy as the very scary, bushy-haired mad woman lunged for him. Draco caught her.

"Perfect? You think it's perfect for Draco to risk death the next time he calls me mudblood? You're an evil, selfish..."

"Hermione!" The young girl was nearly pushing Draco backwards as he held her shoulders in her hands; she was furious. "Ron!" Draco snapped at the all too quiet redhead.

"It was my idea!" shouted Ron.

"You?" Hermione whirled and her fist shot out, catching Ron's cheek.

"Ow!" Ron scrambled away as Hermione struck out blindly with her fist. Draco reached for her and touched her waist; she spun and socked him in the belly. With a hiss of air, Draco doubled over.

"Hermione Jean Granger! That is no behavior for a lady of breeding!" The thunderous shout stopped Hermione from punching anyone else, and caused Ron, Harry and Draco to huddle together in case her fists went flying, again.

King Henry had heard the indignant shouting and now stood towering over the young lady in question. His shout, one of those that tended to rattle bone and flesh, had almost melted her anger. She was frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of a Muggle automobile as she stared up at the very tall, broad ghost.

"Gentlemen, move to the far corner. Now." The boys didn't hesitate and scrambled to secure themselves into the corner by the large fireplace. King Henry's voice was much quieter, softer. "Feel free to strike me, if the need arises, young lady. Now, explain to me what has risen your ire to such a state that Cromwell is spinning in his tomb."

"An Unbreakable Vow," she seethed as her eyes settled on Harry and Ron. "Those two idiots distrust Draco so much they think that only his death will keep me safe."

Henry scowled, puzzled. "They wish to sacrifice your young man? I hadn't thought you were Druids." He scratched his beard thoughtfully.

"No, of course not," she amended. "If someone breaks an Unbreakable Vow, they die. Ron and Harry feel that Draco's only playing with me and once we get back home, he'll become the slimy snake he once was, and hurt me."

The ghost turned to the boys. "I can appreciate the merit of such a vow, but that seems a bit extreme." He glowered as he floated toward them and then settled his gaze upon Draco until the boy began to squirm uneasily under the intensity. "I can see the truth in young Draco." He peered even closer and Draco jerked back, smacking his head into Ron's chin. "There is nothing but honor in his soul toward the lady." Henry then peered at Ron and Harry. "Is the word of a spirit enough to satisfy?"

Ron was more than ready to agree with the ghost, as long as it kept his usually loud voice down to a dull roar. Harry had to be the stubborn one, though, and quite firmly made his point.

"I don't trust Malfoy as far as I can Expelliarmus him."

Draco glanced over his shoulder at Harry and gave him a long-suffering glare. Harry just returned the glare with a sneer.

Hermione spoke up firmly, "He's not going to make that vow, Harry. If we go back to our time, Draco will have to hurt me. He isn't going to be able to show me any favor. Don't you understand, Harry, his father would kill him, or worse."

"What could be worse than death?" asked Ron. Then he got it. "Ohhhh, yeah. HIM."

"He could get you killed, Hermione," Harry tried one last time.

"Yes, he could. So could you, so could Ron. Even Professor Snape could get me killed. It's what we have to face. I know it's hard for you to trust Draco, Harry, and Ron, I know you're only trying to look out for me, but I'm not going to let you tie him up in a Vow that's so restrictive it could harm all of us." Hermione walked over and stood beside Henry as she eyed each of the boys. "If you can't trust Draco, then you'll have to trust me." Hermione reached out her hand toward Draco and he took it. "I trust Draco. You'll have to accept that."

Draco, although very good in his classes, still managed every now and then to show he wasn't the brightest wand in the bunch. He took this moment to turn to Harry and Ron, flash them a smug grin and say, "She trusts me!"

Hermione would have slapped Draco, but Henry beat her to it and whacked the boy on the back of his head. "Bloody hell!" he snapped. "Would everybody stop hitting my head?"

Perfectly timed, Ron and Harry both smacked Draco in the back of the head and dashed, laughing, out of the library.

"I'm going to kill both of you!" shouted Draco.

"Draco!" Hermione's shout was half afraid he'd do it and half hoping he was kidding.

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Only temporarily. I promise." With that he propelled himself out of the library after Ron and Harry.

"Boys!" fumed Hermione. How had they gone from a serious conversation about a very serious subject to a Three Stooges sketch?

Henry patted her head. "Get used to it, child. We never grow out of it." He chuckled and drifted through a bookcase, vanishing.

There was peace in Ashmere for a few more weeks as Halloween was approaching. Snape had finally been talked into allowing the teenagers the weekends off from classes and research. The idea of taking them separately was clearly out of the question but a day in either Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade was something all of them could look forward to.

As for the Unbreakable Vow, as far as Hermione was concerned, that subject was closed. Draco, though, was still considering it. After her declaration, he did not discuss his thoughts with her. He did do some research on vows and oaths, but found himself still confused. He needed to talk to Snape. Alone.

Getting Snape alone wasn't as easy as it sounded. The only times when Snape wasn't supervising, teaching, or researching with one or all of them around him was when Snape was in the lab, grading essays, or spending time with Lyrica. Since the lab was off limits Draco decided he would talk to Snape when his weekly essay grading time came up.

Teaching at Hogwarts meant an endless supply of essays for any instructor to be grading. One could cancel all classes for a day, sit down at 8am in the morning to begin grading essays and 24 hours later hardly a dent would be made in the work. Snape would never admit it, but he enjoyed having to teach only four students. Grading essays was a once a week project that he tackled on Fridays after dinner. By the time the teenagers were off to bed, he'd be finished and would have a few hours brewing time or time to read before his own bed called to him.

He found it interesting that he actually liked teaching Ron, Harry, Draco and Hermione. The intimacy of their small group meant he had more time to devote to each of them as he demonstrated the practical side of their lessons. Not only did Hermione ask her usual dearth of questions, but the boys were asking intelligent questions as well. Ron's handwriting had improved greatly and instead of his sentences slanting down the parchment, they were in much better alignment. Draco was doing much better at concluding his essays instead of allowing his thoughts to drop off when the requisite length had been reached. Harry's thoughts on paper had also shown more improvement; he was more organized and expressing himself well. Snape's triumph, though, was in finally breaking Hermione of the habit of helping her fellow students when all she was providing them with was a crutch. It decreased her workload and stress level, and for Ron and Harry, their practical work improved remarkably.

Grading essays had always been a migraine catalyst for Snape, but he found, in his four students, another aspect that made him appreciate teaching. Their personalities showed well in their writing. Hermione was meticulous, but she always showed a creative side to her thinking that provided them with interesting experiments to try out in subsequent classes. Ron had a wry sense of humour that he managed to insert into his essays despite whatever the subject matter was. It had shocked him the first time that he'd laughed out loud as Ron compared the scent of a bad potion to his sister's extraordinarily bad peppermint pie. Snape always saved Ron's essays for last to grade. Draco's essays showed he was someone who liked to solve problems. More than likely, if a mistake was made, it was Draco who discovered the solution first. If he couldn't find the solution, or work it out on parchment, his short temper showed through as well. Finally, Harry's essays showed his enthusiasm for magic. Snape had always thought that Harry tended to be rather scattered with his thoughts and observations, but with the attention he was now able to give to Harry's work, the way the boy wrote made more sense to Snape. He learned that if he followed the line of thought carefully through the labyrinth of side observations, Harry unerringly made the point he was after.

Draco had planned all day to speak to Snape. When dinner ended and they were dismissed for the evening, Draco followed everyone to the parlor while Snape retired to the library for grading. Harry and Ron began a game of chess. The king arrived in the parlour not long after the chess game had begun. For a few minutes he studied the game, and then made his way to Hermione. Both Draco and Hermione had their noses in books. Draco, of course, wasn't reading a single word. Earlier in the day Draco asked the King to distract Hermione for the evening so he could easily slip off to talk to Snape without Hermione following him.

"A dragon told me that you wished to discuss the tragic legend of the Two Princes in the Tower." He leaned over and glowered. "I do hope you aren't another who believes that my father secured his hold on the throne by... doing away with those two boys, are you?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she gulped. "Uhm, no, sir. I just wanted to know..."

The King winked conspiratorially at Draco and continued, "To be blunt, Miss Granger, my father had to secure his throne. His wife wasn't enough, not with her two younger brothers still alive." That was enough of a hook for Hermione and she and the King were soon in a heated discussion over the final fate of the Two Princes.

Draco made his way out of the parlour and in a few steps was standing in the doorway of the library. Snape sat at the large desk, the essays in front of him, a pot of red ink to his right, and a large mug of coffee to his left.

"Professor?" Snape's quill didn't stop. "I need to talk to you, sir."

Snape pointed with the quill toward a nearby chair. He then put down the quill, took a drink of his coffee and allowed Draco to broach the subject of whatever was bothering him.

"I've been doing some research on vows and oaths, professor..."

"I thought Miss Granger had convinced everyone of the folly of you taking an Unbreakable Vow," he remarked evenly.

"Actually, she told everyone I'm not taking it."

Snape smiled slightly. "Strong-minded Gryffindor, that one."

Draco nodded solemnly. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure I don't want to take it, but I still think I ought to do something. I considered a wand oath, but I can't seem to find enough information on them. I really don't see that they're different from an Unbreakable Vow."

"Wand Oaths are much more flexible, Mr. Malfoy. The terms for breaking such an oath can be set by both parties involved in the oath. The consequences for breaking a Wand Oath have been everything from persistent boils to divine misconceptions." Draco snorted and Snape's lip curled in a dry smirk. "Inventive, to say the least." Snape steepled his long fingers together over his abdomen. "Both the Unbreakable Vow and the Wand Oath require close attention to wording. The difference with an Unbreakable Vow is that there are those skilled enough who are able to trick someone and enforce an Unbreakable Vow without the need of any overt ritual or wand magic." He scowled as he recalled the simple, yet binding vow he'd made to Dumbledore the night he'd tried to save Lily.

"How can that be, sir? Everything I've read says the Unbreakable Vow requires a wand and the ritual."

"Very true. However, the true magic is in the intent of the one demanding the vow, and the one taking it." Draco's eyes had widened in shock at this. "I see you weren't aware of that aspect. Unbreakable Vows can be very dangerous, Draco." Sighing heavily, Snape leaned forward, unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve on his left arm and rolled it up. He turned his arm and laid it across the desk so Draco could see the Dark Mark. "This is another facet of an Unbreakable Vow. This one comes with a lifetime of servitude and pain. The only release is death."

Draco had seen his father's Dark Mark, but on Snape's flesh it appeared to be much more than the simple tattoo he'd thought it was. On Snape's arm it looked like the remains of a horrible branding scar. The flesh at the edges was an irritated red. Seeing the Dark Mark, he was much more afraid of any sort of Unbreakable Vow. Yet, he still needed a way to keep Hermione safe.

"My father's doesn't look like that," whispered Draco.

"Lucius uses a glamour. He cannot hide the Dark Mark, but he can mask its uglier appearance." Grimacing, Snape rolled down his sleeve and buttoned the cuff. "If your heart is set on protecting Miss Granger through a vow or an oath, I think you should explore the more flexible merits of a Wand Oath. Also, as they are her friends, I strongly suggest you consider including Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter in the oath as well."

"I'll talk to Hermione first and see what she says." Draco rose to his feet. "Thank you, Professor."

"Wording is important, Mr. Malfoy. Construct your oath, with its inherent consequences carefully." Snape picked up his quill, dipped it into the ink and bowed his head to the essays.

Draco paused thoughtfully in the doorway and regarded Snape. Draco felt he was only just beginning to understand what Snape had given up, not just for himself, but for everyone. He shook his head, hoping that death truly didn't wait at the end of the war for his godfather. Didn't he deserve some happiness? Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he headed back to the parlor.

Halloween weekend arrived and Lyrica left Hogwarts to spend the time with Snape and the children. Plans had been made to celebrate the holiday with a fancy dinner at a restaurant in Hogsmeade and then shopping in Diagon Alley. She Apparated to the entry hall in Ashmere and was surprised to find everything so quiet. She glanced into the parlour, then the library and found both empty.

"Welcome home, Mistress Lyrica." The house elf, Snick, bobbled her head and smiled.

"Where is everyone, Snick?"

"Master Severus Snape is brewing. He asks me to send you when you arrive. He is much, much angry." Dorcas pulled on her ears.

"Angry?" Lyrica dropped her bag and headed for the dungeon potions lab. The elf popped away.

Snape was seated at the white marble topped table tending to four cauldrons. He had just finished adding ingredients to each one and he was waiting to begin the next step. The fingers of his right hand tapped an irritated rhythm on the surface of the table.

"Severus?" she asked quietly, not wanting to disturb him at a critical juncture. "Is everything all right?"

"Those moronic brats have gotten themselves sick!" he exploded. Lyrica didn't say anything but stepped closer to him and studied the cauldrons and the remaining ingredients. "Despite everything I've told them, they went outside, at midnight mind you, to play wand tag on their brooms. Even Miss Granger, who generally has more sense than a dead boggart, joined them in their foolishness." He stirred each of the brewing potions precisely. "Stupid prats."

She wanted to ask what wand tag was, but left that question unasked. Lyrica had studied the brewing potions and the ingredients and had identified what they were ill with. This particular potion took two days of brewing. No wonder he was annoyed. "Two days of brewing and four children with the flu... I'm so sorry, Severus!"

"I've dealt with more snot, vomit, and whining in the past two days then I care to for the rest of my miserable life! Now I remember why I didn't become a Healer!"

"Let me help you with this, Severus." Lyrica didn't give him a chance to push her away. She sat down on a stool beside him and began working on two of the potions.

Snape glanced sidewise at Lyrica. "I can take care of the disobedient brats," he groused.

"I can see you've done that very well so far," she commented sarcastically without looking at him. She was in between ingredients and gathered up her long fall of hair and tied it into a loose knot at the nape of her neck.

He stretched out his hand and his finger traced the line of her neck lightly. "They're my responsibility," he whispered.

"You're in my house." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You have one minute to do your counter-clockwise stirs before your potion is ruined."

He stirred each potion and then dropped in the last ingredient. "You're a terrible distraction, woman."

"That I may be, Master Snape, but until we finish nursing these children, you shall keep your thoughts on your potions." She gave him a smug smile and then sighed dramatically. "I suppose after your delightful ministrations they're in need of a kind word or two?"

Snape let out a bark of laughter and together they finished the potions.

Snape carried doses of potion for Draco and Ron. He stepped into Draco's room first and found the boy sitting, shivering under a blanket, by the fire.

"You should be in bed, Draco," he said as he walked over to the boy. He placed the back of his hand to Draco's forehead. He had a fever.

"I'm c-c-c-cold," his teeth chattered. Snape coaxed Draco to his feet and escorted him to his bed. Draco half fell in and half crawled under the covers. Snape took the blanket that fell off Draco's shoulders and added it to the other covers on the bed.

Sitting down beside Draco, he slipped an arm behind his shoulders and helped him to sit up. "I have some Flu Relief Potion for you, Draco. I need you to drink all of it." Draco's head flopped wearily against Snape's shoulder for a moment and then he lifted his head as Snape placed the bottle against his lips. Draco had barely managed a single swallow before he gagged on the unpleasantly thick potion.

"I think... I'd rather... vomit." Draco's face was screwed up as he reacted to the peppery bitterness.

"Just a couple more swallows, child. It will ease your stomach, the fever will abate and you'll be able to sleep." Draco took a shaky breath, then nodded his assent. Snape tipped the remaining potion down the boy's throat. He then deposited the small bottle in his pocket, took out a handkerchief, and dabbed at the line of drool that the bad flavor produced.

Draco let out a weary sigh and leaned his head against Snape's shoulder. The potions master leaned back against the headboard. He stroked the boy's fevered forehead until Draco dropped into a slumber. Once asleep, Snape rose from the bed and tucked him under the covers.

Lyrica walked into Harry's room. He was pacing in front of his open window in his pyjamas. Despite the fire burning, the room was icy cold and sweat beaded upon Harry's forehead. "Harry! Into bed before you give yourself pleurisy!" She rushed to the window and closed it tightly.

"I'm burning to death!" he complained.

"I know, my dear. I have a potion here that will help." Lyrica directed him gently toward his bed.

He flopped down on his bed. "I don't want anymore anti-nausea potion," he pouted. "I'm sick of them! They all taste like rotten socks."

"This is Flu Relief potion, Harry. Unfortunately, it tastes worse than anti-nausea potion."

"I don't want anymore potions gunk!" He curled up facing away from Lyrica. "I've had the flu dozens of times and I never took anything, so go away."

Lyrica glided swiftly over to Harry, captured him in one arm and had the potion down his throat before he could fight or protest. Once she let him go, he let out a groan of displeasure that reflected just what he thought of the potion's taste and Lyrica's dosing method.

"Come along, Harry. Get under those covers." Still griping under his breath, he wriggled until he'd covered himself up. Lyrica stoked the coals in the fireplace and by the time she was finished, Harry was snoring softly.

Snape went to take care of Ron next. Of the four, he was in the worst shape when Snape found him. Ron was in the loo, his head hanging over the toilet. His skin was clammy and nearly as white as his knuckles that were gripping the sides of the commode. Snape conjured a cool cloth and held it to Ron's forehead, then the back of his neck.

"I want my mum!" wailed Ron as his stomach rebelled again and tears trailed down his cheeks. There was nothing in his stomach but bile, so the muscles only cramped up, causing more pain. Ron couldn't hold himself up anymore. He wanted to drift against Snape, but a small part of him, that part that referred to Snape as the 'slimy git of the dungeon', the 'evil black bat that hates Gryffindor' would hold such weakness against him. "I want to go home," his voice whispered plaintively like that of a five year old.

Ron body was shaking and Snape pulled him close. "Come here, boy, I won't bite," he said soothingly.

"You'll tell your... Snakes about... me... being a baby."

"I promise I shall do no such thing," he spoke softly letting the boy cry into his robes. He rubbed Ron's back as he rocked him slowly.

Hermione, out of the four, was in the best shape. She sat in a chair with a blanket wrapped around herself and was reading a book. On a small table beside her sat a bowl of broth and a cup of tea. In her lap was a box of tissue for her congested nose.

"Hello Hermione," greeted Lyrica. Hermione looked up and gave the headmistress a weak smile. Hermione's cheeks were splotchy red. Lyrica put her palms against Hermione's cheeks and felt the warmth of them.

"I'm doing fine," Hermione spoke softly and then yawned.

"I can see that," Lyrica smiled and took the book from Hermione's hands and with a wave of her hand sent the tissue box to the bed. "You can read later, dear, after you've had a little more rest." Lyrica spotted the broth. "Have you kept your broth down?"

Hermione nodded and rose to her feet. "I just can't breathe." She sneezed and blew her nose.

"Into bed, then. I have a flu relief potion for you that ought to have you right as rain in about 24 hours. Hermione grimaced. She knew how awful that sludgy potion was.

"I really think tea would be better, Professor."

"Tea can't hurt, but you'll still take this." Hermione pulled her covers up to her neck and took the proffered bottle. "All of it now, dear."

Hermione pinched her nostrils shut and then drank all the potion down like Mad-Eye Moody would slam a double dram of Firewhiskey. "Bleah!" She grimaced and wiped at the little bit of drool with the cuff of her nightgown. Lyrica brought her tea over and Hermione thankfully chased the potion with the orange pekoe.

"I really meant to stop them," Hermione muttered.

"Stop who?" Lyrica asked as she down beside the girl.

"They were having fun, and I didn't want to be just... watching like I always do. It didn't seem that cold." Lyrica's cool fingers brushed Hermione's sweat dampened curls from her forehead and cheeks. "I just... I just wanted to play."

"You're just a little girl, Hermione. You don't have to be the grown up all the time. As smart as you are, it doesn't hurt to get into trouble now and then."

Hermione chuckled and then coughed. "Yes it does. It feels awful."

"You'll feel much better tomorrow, my dear. I promise. Now, give me that cup of tea and curl up under those covers."

Hermione did as she was told and was soon fast asleep.

Lyrica shut the door to Hermione's room softly. She glanced toward Draco's door and saw that it was closed but that Ron's was open. She went into Ron's room to see if Snape required any assistance. She heard a muffled noise from the bathroom and peeked around the door. Snape was seated on the tiled floor with the young Gryffindor half curled in the his lap. Ron was weeping about missing his mother and wishing he could go home. She tapped Snape's shoulder and mouthed the question, 'Need help?'

Snape curtly shook his head, gave Lyrica a quick smile, and returned his attention to Ron. Lyrica left the second floor and made her way down to the parlour. She soon settled in with one of her books.

It was almost two hours later when Snape, without his outer robe and frock coat, arrived in the parlour. He settled himself wearily next to Lyrica on the sofa. Putting down her book, she drew his head and shoulders into her lap and he pulled his feet up onto the remainder of the sofa.

"How is Ron doing?" she asked as she combed her fingers through his hair. His eyes closed.

"He's finally dosed and asleep." Snape felt the day's tension releasing itself slowly from his mind and his limbs. He was exhausted.

"I heard him asking for his mother."

"Molly Weasley. No doubt the best mother in the wizarding world, and also the best cook." He smiled weakly. "Mr. Weasley's been altogether too accepting of our situation and the dam's just finally broke. He was more terrified that I'd..." he cut himself off. He did not want to say what the boy thought of him.

"He thought you might use his weakness later and tease him?"

"I'm not a nice man," he muttered and then yawned.

"Nonsense." She kissed his forehead. "Why don't you get a little sleep, now, Severus. We'll eat when you wake. Taking her hand in his, he yawned a second time and allowed his weariness to take over. He was soon contentedly asleep.

Severus woke a few hours later to the aroma of roast, potatoes and savoury vegetables. Lyrica was nowhere to be seen, which disappointed him a little. He rose from the sofa and went toward the dining room. There was nothing and nobody there, so he went into the kitchen. He was surprised to find Lyrica, her hair loosely braided out of the way, wearing an apron, and busy fixing the delicious smelling food that had awakened him.

"Your elf allows you to cook?" he asked as he came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. Severus brushed his lips to the nape of her neck and then looked over her shoulder as she sliced the roast beef.

"Dorcas and Snick are watching over the children with His Majesty. That gave me a chance to show you my cooking skills." Lyrica began plating their meal.

"You're a Potions Mistress," he smirked as he took the plates over to the narrow kitchen table.

"And that means I know how to cook?" she asked as she placed two glasses on the table and filled them with wine.

"I have yet to meet someone skilled in potions that doesn't cook well." He held out her chair and Lyrica sat down. He then took his chair.

"Just because I can modify a Twitching Nerve Potion on the fly, doesn't necessarily mean I can cook." Lyrica smiled cheekily and held out a bit of roast on her fork to him. "Care to put your taste buds in my hands, Severus?"

Snape leaned over and plucked the meat off the fork. He chewed and closed his eyes briefly. "That... is... wonderful!" He opened his eyes, took a sip of wine and then smiled.

For a few minutes they concentrated on their meal and ate in silence. When they were almost finished, Lyrica spoke again. "I brought pudding from Hogwarts. I hope you like apple crumble."

"Most certainly I do."

Pudding was finished very quickly. Taking their wine, they retired to the parlour and curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace together. "Severus, you blurted something this afternoon... about not being a Healer. Was that something you considered at one time?"

He nodded and slipped his arm over her shoulders, drawing Lyrica against his side. "A childhood friend had suggested it and it was something I considered. However, I became... distracted and my life took a different path." Snape shuddered slightly as she laid her hand tentatively upon his left forearm.

"Did you choose this mark?" Lyrica asked softly.

Snape panicked slightly and Lyrica felt his body stiffen. "I... I took it willingly," he rasped. He tried to pull away from Lyrica, but she pressed against him and held his arm round her shoulders. "I wanted the promise of power, of revenge against those that had hurt me." Lyrica's hand slipped into his. "Instead, my anger and hatred caused the death of the only person who was my true friend."

There was silence between the two of them for several minutes and then Lyrica shifted so she could look up into his face. "Severus... I wish..."

His finger traced lightly over her chin, and then her lips. "I know," he said softly. He kissed her, drawing her tightly into his embrace as he allowed himself a moment of peace. He could taste the cool wine on her lips, the sweetness of the apple crumble. Reluctantly he drew slightly away. "Lyrica, I wish for the same thing."

As she kissed him this time, neither were aware of a pair of green eyes that watched them from the shadows. The eyes blinked, wearily, and Harry stumbled away from the parlour door, up the stairs, and back to his room.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco were on the road to recovery as Halloween and the month of October faded away behind them. The first snow of the year had begun, lightly, but it was enough for Snape to ward and seal all the doors and windows in order to keep his charges inside the house. Lyrica had arrived for the weekend and she and Snape had vanished down to the lab.

The kids were in the parlour busy with various activities. Harry and Draco were working on their more destructive tendencies by playing a version of wizard chess with the basic rule of 'get in as many fights as you can'. The chess pieces were going at the battles with pointed insults and even pointier weapons. Harry yelped as a spear thrown by one of Draco's knights hit his knee.

"Five points taken for out of bounds play!" shouted Harry gleefully as he instructed his queen to direct her dagger out of bounds. Draco moved gracefully as the tiny dagger flew past his shin.

"Now we're even, Potter!" Draco snickered and leaned toward the chessboard to confer with his pieces on the next attack.

Hermione was sitting on the floor in front of the fire with several pages of notes arranged around her. Ron had a book in his hand, but kept looking up from it as Hermione mumbled every once in awhile.

"It doesn't make sense," she said for the umpteenth time.

Ron finally put his book down and settled himself across from Hermione. "I don't know why you're continuing with this portal stuff of yours, 'Mione. Snape said it was just taking us all in circles."

"I know what he said, Ron, but he's no more an expert on time travel than I am, and I'm convinced the answer is here. I just... I need to keep trying." She stared morosely at the notes.

"You're wasting your time with that," remarked Harry. The chess game had ended and Draco was re-setting it up.

"How can you say that, Harry?" demanded Hermione.

"Snape doesn't want to leave." His reply was blunt, matter of fact, and implied that was all the explanation that was needed. It wasn't enough, of course.

"Snape's got no more reason to return than any of us, Potter," said Draco as he left the chessboard and went to sit beside Hermione. "He sits in that library reading and doing research almost everyday..."

"Really?" Harry's voice had a hint of challenge in it and Draco glared at the interruption.

"All right, Potter. Are you privy to some information we're not, because I don't really want to get into an argument." Draco leaned his back against the edge of the couch.

"Snape and Professor Arcahnum," Ron provided. "He's in love with her and Harry saw them the last night we were all sick."

"Saw them? Doing what?" asked Hermione innocently. Draco leaned over and whispered wickedly into her ear. Shock lit up her face, and Draco snickered. "You didn't see... not that... did you, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "What...? Oh hell no! You're a bastard, Malfoy! Ok, I did see them, ewww, kiss, but... no. I heard him tell her that he wanted to stay here. I'll bet they're in the potions lab snogging right now."

Ron shuddered at the unpleasant image that flitted through his mind. "Shut up, Harry. You'll give me nightmares."

"I don't think we can trust Snape." Harry's voice dropped to a whisper.

"Of course we can trust Professor Snape, Harry," protested Hermione. "He's said..."

"He's said a lot of things, Hermione," Harry interrupted again, "and you know he's got no reason for going back except us. I think he's just letting us think there's a chance, and then someday he'll tell us it's impossible and we're all going to get glamoured, or move someplace else... we're not going home and all your worrying about your notes, portals and stuff is just a big waste."

"Extolling the virtues of Sir Raven again, young Master Harry?" the King drifted into the parlour through the flames of the fireplace.

"Do you trust Snape, Your Majesty?" How many times had Albus Dumbledore told Harry that his trust in Snape was absolute and not to be questioned? Hadn't the man also saved his life a few times as well? Yes to both questions, yet I still can't bring myself to trust him. Why? He really couldn't answer that. Snape was an enigma, a puzzle he couldn't solve. The Snape he knew was a snarky, slimy old bat, who despised the very air he breathed. Yet, in this time, he was patient with Harry and Ron and even complimentary to Hermione. More than just grading their essays, he DISCUSSED them with all of them. He'd taken care of them when they were sick and he didn't even yell at Harry when he sicked up all over his shirt.

"That's not a question I have an answer for, Harry. You've known the man longer than I have. Has he given any indication since you've arrived for you to doubt his intentions?" King Henry drifted over to Harry and seated himself in an invisible chair.

"I... he... " Harry now wished he'd just had the good sense to shut up and start another game of chess.

The king held up his hand. "I have seen an honourable man take up a challenge that would daunt most adults his age. He looks after each of you, makes certain you are fed, housed, clothed and educated. Rather surprising he does this when none of you are his issue and it appears that none of you care as much for him. The man has been a better father to you... to each of you, then ever I was to mine."

Ron stepped in in an effort to dig Harry out of the hole he'd tossed himself into. "Your Majesty, I think what Harry's tryin' to say is that we're beginning to think Snape doesn't want to go back to our time. Maybe he'd rather run away from our future. Maybe he's a coward and he's been lying to us."

Harry gawped at Ron. "I didn't say he was a coward!" He punched Ron in the shoulder, hard. Ron's expression registered the pain.

"Potter, sometimes I think you don't deserve to be in Gryffindor, you're so bloody stupid." Draco stood up and sneered with clear anger at both boys. He pointed at Ron. "And you, Weasely, don't you ever call Snape a coward!"

Hermione placed a hand on Draco's arm. "He's right, Ron. That's unfair to say. You know he's never acted cowardly."

Ron held up his hands in surrender. "All right, don't blast me. Maybe that was too harsh, but look at what's going on right under our noses. Harry's right. He's got no reason to go back. Snape's mad for the headmistress."

"Whether or not he likes Professor Arcahnum doesn't matter," asserted Hermione. "He's said from the beginning that his responsibility is to us!"

There was a brief moment of silence and then it was Harry who gave the unexpected reply. "He won't disappoint Dumbledore." Harry was pretty certain he'd had a large attack of insanity hit him for what he'd just said. It was much worse when he realised someone had been listening to them.

"It might help to keep your doubt about me in check, Mr. Potter, if you kept that thought in mind." Snape walked into the parlour with Lyrica right behind him.

Harry's cheeks flamed and when he was embarrassed, he never stopped to think about his words. This was one of those times and he spoke angrily. "Why don't you just face it, Professor? We're not going back, ever! Our friends and our families are going to die and Voldemort's going to win because we aren't there! Just admit it! We can't go back and you've know it for a long..."

"Mr. Potter, be silent!" growled Snape. Potter had just let slip a name he shouldn't have in front of two people who should never have heard that name. "For your information, we discovered something we overlooked early on in our research. It's why we came up here." Harry frowned, perplexed. He expected more to this argument and Snape turning it to something else, threw him off.

Snape looked down at Hermione. "Miss Granger, most of this has to do with the notes you made in regards to..." He glanced down at the girl's original notes she'd scattered on the floor. "...wormholes and portkeys. Professor Arcahnum and I made some additional notes and we'd like for you to review everything. Perhaps you may see something we do not."

He held out a sheaf of parchment and Hermione got up from beside Draco and took the notes from Snape. "I'll look things over tonight, shall I?"

"Briefly, Miss Granger. I do not want you to over tire yourself." Snape turned back to Harry and noted that the boy was still scowling. He wavered between wanting to box the boy's ears and... and... well, he wanted to just hit him and that was all there was to it. "Mr. Potter, follow me. Now."

Harry shrugged his shoulders and got up. Ahhh, so he hadn't been so easily dismissed. This wasn't good. He sighed loudly just as Snape spun back the way he and Lyrica had come. His robes drifting like shadows around him. Everyone watched awkwardly as Harry left.

"Do you love Professor Snape?" Ron asked Lyrica. Hermione let out a gasp and Draco just snickered. Lyrica blushed.

"Boy, you wield your words like an axe!" declared King Henry. Ron's cheeks just flushed a deep crimson and he shrugged an apology.

"Mr. Potter, I do not understand why you persist in doubting my motives towards you and your friends. And even toward Albus Dumbledore. Is it merely that you dislike me, or perceive that I have an undeserved hatred of you?" Harry flopped down at one of the desks, but said nothing. "Merlin be damned, Potter! I have said I would listen to you, that I would advise you if you'd but ask..."

"And I said that I don't trust you." He added, "Sir."

Snape seated himself. Misbehaviour, hijinks, fights, and blown up cauldrons- that's what he knew. That's what he understood in children. He felt he was putting far too much energy in a boy that only continued to annoy him further. He was about ready to just give up. He didn't know what to say to the boy anymore. Suddenly, he smiled thinly. Perhaps that is the key, he mused as he stared at the emotional Gryffindor. Snape crossed his arms over his chest, pulling his robes closed around himself. He was silent.

Harry fumed. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for or expecting, but this silence wasn't it. Where is the shouting? The insults? C'mon, show me I'm right and call me a typical Gryffindor dunderhead! I dare you. He chanced a glance upward at the stony figure in black and received no clue as to what was going on. Why do you have to be like this, Snape? Trying to figure the Potions Master out was like trying to read a book that had half of its pages missing. And now this. More silence? It looked like he was going to have to do the talking, now. Harry latched onto the thin thread Snape had handed him about 'dislike' and hoped that what he said next would make some kind of sense. He didn't want to spend the rest of the evening in the library.

"You despised my father: your words, not mine. You despised Sirius, my godfather. You even wanted to hand him over to the Dementors, so they could destroy his soul. You've yet to say anything against my mother, but maybe you've just been waiting for the right moment. After all, she's Muggle-born, not a pureblood like you and Malfoy." Harry was unaware of the faint flicker of pain that crossed Snape's features as Harry mentioned his mother. "For that alone I think I've earned the right not to trust you. Hell, I have a right to hate you!"

Harry was breathing heavily and had to get up and away from the desk. Snape had yet to move and he wondered if maybe the man's anger was boiling underneath waiting for him to say the wrong thing and then he'd blow.

"Just when I think I know what you're all about, Professor, Dumbledore then puts my safety in your hands. But, do you even talk to me? Do you make me feel safe? No, you don't. You make snide remarks about my famous scar, and you do everything you possibly can to belittle me in front of everyone I care about. So what if you've saved my life and Dumbledore trusts you above all others? Has it ever occurred to you that I'm just a kid and that everyone's put it on my shoulders to be the bloody saviour of the wizarding world?"

He took a deep breath and faced the taller man whose face still showed no emotion. That stupid face. That big, hooked nose. Those bloody, damned black eyes that stab right into my soul! Harry's anger was spilling over and his voice rose in volume. "Do you know you actually make me miss my aunt, and uncle, and my fat cousin? With them, I know where the punches are coming from! I know how to make sure I get another meal! I can heal bruises, bloody noses and I'm real good with broken fingers! Do you know how many 'feasts' I've eaten in eleven years that were garbage scraps? I've eaten the neighbours dogfood when I was really freaky and they decided their food wasn't good enough for me. You want to know how I felt when that stupid dog died? I was angry because there wouldn't be anymore easy food!"

Snape's stoic expression almost faltered as Harry angrily listed the treatment of his family towards him. Is this true? I don't recall ever having seen signs of abuse. True, he is a thin boy, small, but... dogfood? Has he really been healing broken bones? Dear Merlin, is Albus at all aware of this? Snape tightened the grim lines of his mouth. Harry was pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He'd let him finish.

Harry jabbed a finger at Snape. "You know what? You HAVE to take care of us. You HAVE to feed us. You're not doing anything because you want to do it, but because you think you have to do it. So, what happens when we go back? Am I to go back to being dunderheaded, moronic Potter? James Potter's hated son, the Boy-Who-Lived-Who-Wishes-He'd-Died?"

Harry was so angry that tears began to stream down his cheeks. He'd held all of this in for so long and when it started, he couldn't stop. Now, of course, he was crying in front of the last person he wanted to show any weakness to. Stop it! Please just stop these bloody tears! He turned his back on Snape just so he didn't have to look at him. He removed his glasses, tried to wipe away the tears, but was entirely unsuccessful. If Voldemort were to show up right now and hit him with an Avada Kedavra, he couldn't care less.

Snape could deal with anger. He could handle hatred, dislike, and even stupidity. On the other hand, tears were not something he could handle at all. The tears of a child, much less those of Harry Potter, were far worse. What truly tore at Snape's heart (the same heart many denied he had) was the plea to just be a child. The simple desire to want to go to school, to play Quidditch, to flirt with girls, and to worry only over N.E.W.T.s and O.. Severus Snape remembered a young boy who had had a similar desire in school, but there were those who made certain that he would be denied the simple pleasures in one's young life.

Snape conjured a handkerchief for Harry and floated it over to him. He couldn't offer a hug to the boy. He knew that such a gesture, besides being somewhat awkward and insincere on his part, would be rebuffed by the boy. Snape's mind was spinning in vicious circles as he tried to figure out what to do next. He now realised he couldn't just ask Harry to trust him. He hadn't earned such trust. He also couldn't leave things where they were now. As for the boy's family life... that was something he'd have to address later.

"Mr. Potter, have I ever lied to you?" Snape's voice was so low, Harry didn't hear him at first.

"Huh? What did you say?"

"Have I... ever... lied to you?" Harry was about to come back with a snide remark, but Snape held up a hand to stop him. "Think before replying, Mr. Potter." He then repeated himself a third time. "I know my words have often been venomous and condescending..."

Harry interrupted caustically, "Try insulting!"

Snape nodded his head once, then continued, "In all the time you've been my student and I've been you're teacher, have you known me to have ever lied to you?"

Harry wiped away his tears with the handkerchief provided and then blew his nose in it. Wadding it up, he stuffed it into his pocket. Harry tried to find a time when Snape could have lied to him. He could think of nothing. What he could recall was that Snape was a man who, when he spoke, could be brutal about the truth. He could also sidestep the truth with more alacrity than anyone he knew. He supposed that was a Slytherin skill, but then, maybe it was just a Snape skill. Harry also knew, from what little Dumbledore had ever imparted to him was that Severus Snape was a man with secrets. Secrets that involved Dumbledore, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and even his own father.

"No sir," Harry finally spoke, his voice heavy with defeat. "I can't think of any time you've lied. You've kept secrets from me, just as Professor Dumbledore has and Sirius has, too. I always have to guess where everyone is. It's..." he frowned as threw himself into one of the more comfortable library chairs. "It's a game of chess, sir, that's what it's like. Each move comes not with just one move, but many. I'm not good at chess, Ron is. I just wish that someone would tell me what the next move is without me having to worry about whether or not my head is going to get smashed in."

Snape sat in a chair opposite Harry and regarded the boy. He understood. His own duplicitous nature was a daily analysis of guessing who would move next and where. Like Harry, he was trapped on the same chessboard, only he knew more about the other players than Harry did. "You're a pawn, Mr. Potter. Whether at home, at school, or trying to defeat the Dark Lord, someone else is in control."

Harry's eyes widened. Did Snape actually get it? "Yes, sir. I'm always being told what to do, but I'm not told why. I mean, I know the BIG why. Voldemort killed my parents and somehow I have the power to kill him." He huffed in frustration. "I don't know what to do or what to think anymore, Professor Snape."

He sighed heavily, and then settled his green eyes upon Snape. "You're worse, Professor. Sometimes I think that maybe, if I asked you a question, you wouldn't feed me lemon drops, or give me pitying looks, or tell me some story from your past just to avoid answering. But, you hate me. You're this evil shadow lurking in the corners waiting for me to do something stupid just so you can take points away and give me detention." Harry wiped away another tear and Snape conjured another handkerchief for him. "What am I supposed to do when you don't have to listen to me anymore? How am I supposed to act in Potions again while Neville's melting cauldrons, Draco's sabotaging my ingredients, and you go back to bullying me?"

Snape waited a moment longer. He could see the longing in the boy's eyes. He hoped that Harry would voice that longing before he continued. When Harry continued to look up at him, he conjured a chair so that he was looking directly at the boy, on the same level.

Harry's voice, when he spoke, was small, and desperate, "I want to trust... someone. I wish I could trust you, but... I'm... "

Snape leaned close to Harry and took the boy's hands into his own. Harry flinched at his touch, but he held tightly to his fingers. "You're afraid." Harry simply nodded as another tear slipped down his cheek. "You're afraid that the man you've seen here will disappear and I'll become the 'dark, greasy git' of the dungeons, the bane of existence to all Gryffindors, and the man who hates and lives to bully Harry Potter." Snape's voice was gentle and unlike any tone Harry had ever heard before. He listened intently. "The world we come from is a cruel place, Harry. Upon your mother's death, I made a vow to her and to Dumbledore to protect you. It is unfortunate that I cannot afford to show you any kindness for it would mean my death, and yours as well. If we return, I will become the despised, greasy git of the dungeons. I will take points, whether or not it's deserved, and give you detentions that will have you cursing my grandparents. We all have roles we must play in order to protect those we love."

Harry's tears were flowing again, but in silence. He seemed so much younger than his years and with a sigh, Snape knelt down upon the floor and pulled Harry into an embrace. The boy didn't flinch or pull away. His arms wrapped tightly around Snape's neck, and Harry sobbed into his shoulder. Snape held tightly onto Harry, patting his back gently.

Snape felt ill at the burden he'd added to the child's shoulders. Of course he couldn't show Dumbledore's Chosen One any favour in public, but he could have made a private effort towards Harry. His old hatred and prejudices towards James Potter had made him blind to the fact that the child he'd sworn to protect was also Lily's son. Bully. Harry's accusation was accurate. Snape had become that which he had taken great pains to never become and he had failed.

"Harry?" Snape spoke when the tears seemed to be fading to hiccups. Harry pulled away slightly, but didn't allow Snape to let go of him. Snape took hold of Harry's arms and looked up into his tear-reddened eyes. "I am not asking for your trust today. It is something I must earn. I do, however, make this promise to you. I shall never lie to you. If you ask me something that I am unable to give you an answer to, I will state it so you are clear that I am unable to speak. Talk to me and I shall listen."

Snape gave Harry another handkerchief and Harry wiped his face. When it seemed he could talk again, the boy said, "Can I ask you a question now?" Snape merely nodded. "Are we really trying to find a way home or are you telling us what we want to hear?"

"You believe that I want to stay here with Professor Arcahnum," Snape said simply.

"Halloween night... I came downstairs for a snack and I saw you with her... and I... I didn't mean to listen, but... I heard you tell her you wanted to stay and I... I'm sorry, sir."

Snape rose to his feet. Harry was almost sure the Professor would yell at him now, but he didn't. "Let us return to the parlour, Harry. I think your friends deserve to hear the answer to this question."

Harry wiped at his tear-stained face and hesitated. "They're going to know..." Harry whispered.

Snape studied Harry's face. The boy's eyes were swollen, red, and his skin was blotchy from the tears and emotions. Snape took out his wand. "A simple glamour," he explained as he whispered an incantation. He transfigured a nearby book into a mirror and handed it to Harry. "Acceptable?"

Harry nodded and smiled. "Yeah. Thanks, Professor."

Snape went towards the door of the library and Harry automatically fell into step behind the taller man. Snape paused, and waved him forward to walk by his side.

"Do you love Professor Snape?" Ron asked Lyrica. Hermione let out a gasp and Draco just snickered. Lyrica blushed.

"Boy, you wield your words like an axe!" declared King Henry. Ron's cheeks just flushed a deep crimson and he shrugged an apology.

Despite the fact that Ron's question had the subtlety of a lead Quaffle, the three expected an answer. Four, actually. The King also wanted to hear what Lyrica had to say.

Lyrica didn't expect to be caught off guard this way. She knew, at some point that the teenagers would be curious, she just didn't think they'd be so blunt. "It really isn't any of your affair what my feelings are for your professor," began Lyrica.

Draco coughed slightly. "If we were all at home in our time, then it wouldn't matter what you and Snape were up to... ow! Hermione!" He glowered as Hermione had just elbowed him in the ribs.

"Professor Arcahnum is right. It's none of our business." Hermione's tone was sharp and held a clear warning to both Ron and Draco to drop the subject.

"If you would allow me to finish what I was going to say?" Lyrica indicated that they all needed to sit down. She waited until they did so, and then continued. "If these were normal circumstances, then whatever feelings I may have for your professor would be none of your business. However, these aren't normal circumstances and my feelings for Professor Snape do affect you."

"We know you care about him," said Hermione quietly.

"That I do," agreed Lyrica. "But he also cares about you."

Ron snorted and shifted quickly to avoid Hermione's other elbow. "He's a slimy git that's only doing what he has to! He doesn't care at all."

Lyrica looked shocked and was about to rebuke the boy for his rudeness when their bossy companion intervened. "Ronald Weasley, you know that's not true! Professor Snape does care about all of us."

"He ought to give Gryffindor points then, and prove it," he muttered.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Ron! This isn't about points or house rivalries. Professor Snape has never done anything to hurt us and if you recall an incident with the Whomping Willow last year..." Hermione glared pointedly at him, reminding him how Snape had interposed himself between the Golden Trio and a werewolf.

Ron's cheeks flamed to match his red hair. "I think I was kind of unconscious at that point, Hermione."

"Professor Snape kept you from bleeding to death, Ron. He saved all of us, that night, so don't you dare claim he doesn't care about us." Hermione crossed her arms and scowled. "Not to mention that he's been absolutely civil to us since we arrived here. How any of you believe he doesn't care is beyond me."

"Thank you for your vote of confidence, Miss Granger."

Snape looked down upon the four students. He has never felt he owed his students, anything. Aside from the shadow of Voldemort, his role was to teach them to survive on their own. Life, as he was continually learning, refused to be that simple. Part of what he did was an act to save his skin, and theirs, but he had to concede, that there was the possibility he acted too well. Pride be damned, he thought to himself. They are your responsibility, so treat them with the respect they deserve! He took a deep breath.

"It has come to my attention that there are some doubts about my desire to return to our time. Indeed, it seems that some of you," he eyed Harry for only a second, long enough for Harry to cringe, "believe that what I desire comes before your needs. Do you, in fact, believe that I have mislead any of you regarding my intentions?"

Harry felt a cold stone lodge in the pit of his stomach as Ron, Draco, and Hermione all stared at him. Hermione was shaking her head. Draco just glared. At least Ron's look was somewhat sympathetic. Hermione slipped her hand into Harry's and squeezed. She then addressed Snape.

"Professor Snape, we all have fears about going back to 1994. We feel obligated to our friends and family and to be certain they're safe. When you and..." she glanced over her shoulder at the Headmistress. "Well... I'm sorry, sir, but we couldn't help thinking that maybe you felt differently than we do."

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand back thankfully. He was never that diplomatic. Snape regarded them coolly before replying. After a long moment that was starting to cause the four to wonder if they just hadn't signed their own death certificates, Snape let out an exasperated sigh and to Harry's immense surprise, placed a reassuring hand upon the boy's shoulder.

"My responsibility is to each of you. It is my duty to keep searching for a way back home until we're certain there is no avenue left to us. I promise that should any of you ask... any of you... Come to me and I will listen, I will advise you when I can, and I will not lie to you. Ever."

Harry sat in his room, thinking. He was doing that a lot lately. It probably had to do with the fact that he'd been much more of a prat these days. He felt like he was losing it and he didn't know why. And, he'd cried on Snape's shoulder!

Yanking the pillow over his head, Harry tried to bury himself beneath the covers and the pillows. He closed his eyes tightly and tried to just stop... stop what? His thoughts asked him.

"I don't know!" his shout was muffled by the mattress that his face pressed into.

"Don't know what, mate?"

"Ron?" Harry lifted the pillow so his face was showing. "Uhm... just was talking to myself. What's up?"

"Snape's gone back to the library at Hogwarts. Hermione went with him."

Harry pulled the pillow over his head again. "I douf gare!" he mumbled.

Ron snatched the pillow from Harry's head. "I don't know what you said, but you're starting to annoy me, Harry, and I'm a really easy going bloke. C'mon."

Harry flipped over on his back. He decided not to pursue what Ron had just said. He knew he was annoying everyone. "C'mon where?"

"Exploring," Ron grinned.

"We've explored every inch of this house, Ron."

"Not the house. We're going to check out that path to Hogsmeade. If Snape and Hermione are going to be gone 'til this evening, maybe we can take ourselves to..."

"Potter! Get out of your simpering arse out of bed!" Draco appeared in the doorway putting on a heavy winter robe and gloves.

Harry scowled at Draco for a second and then slid out bed. It took him a few minutes to dig out his own winter robe, a hat and some gloves. Ron had gone to his room to get his own warm clothing and met them in the corridor. They were halfway down the grand staircase when King Henry came floating down through the ceiling.

"Going hunting?" he inquired.

"Just getting some fresh air, Your Majesty," said Draco with a small bow.

"Always good for you, even in the chill of autumn." The King drifted around them checking their clothing. "Only a few hours, boys." He floated through the far wall, and Ron pushed Draco and Harry across the entry and out the door.

It was snowing, but only lightly. The yards and gardens were covered in a thin veneer of snow, many of the dead flowers and bushes trying to keep themselves above the snowy carpet that would soon bury them in a few weeks.

Draco scooped up some snow from a stone bench as they traversed the long backyard and formed a loose snowball. He threw it accurately at Harry's head. Harry soon retaliated, but Ron got in the way and received a face full of snow. Scooping, dodging, and running, the snowball fight carried them laughing and shouting to the darkened path overgrown with a hazard of criss-crossing thorns. Using cutting spells, they easily cleared the path.

Even with the brambles more or less cleared, the path was still a treacherous place. There were stones, broken dead branches, and of course snow that obscured much of everything. Fifteen minutes onto the path, their games had vanished and they were working their way carefully along the path, going deeper into the woods.

It was at the point where the trees seemed to close in upon them, that they discovered they were no longer on the path toward Hogsmeade. The snow was coming down heavier and in big, fluffy flakes. Doubling back was little help as the snow had effectively obliterated their footprints.

An hour had passed and they were no nearer to finding the path. All three of them were dusted with snowflakes and were shivering.

"We're going to need a f-f-fire," observed Draco. "Let's gather some wood and get warmed up."

Harry nodded and Ron followed silently as they began to gather wood and to throw it into a pile. After a few minutes, Ron shouted, "I found a cave!"

Draco ran towards Ron and Harry soon followed. Ron had pulled aside some dead brambles to add to their stack of firewood, which revealed a small opening in the earth.
"Maybe we can go inside. Make our fire in there?" suggested Ron.

"Wait a second," Draco said warily. He was examining the area beyond the opening. Under the snow, it just looked like there were large boulders collected together, but the more Draco studied the boulders, the more he saw a pattern to them. Finally he spoke up, "I think this is a barrow."

"What's a b-b-barrow?" asked Harry shivering.

"A burial mound. They're all over the place. Some of them are sacred and some are evil. Some are just empty." Replied Draco.

"Evil?" whispered Ron. "Do you think someone might be buried in there?"

Draco nodded. "It's possible, but, there's another danger. In Merlin's time, they used to bury powerful wizards in barrows using bluestone. Bluestone is supposed to dampen a wizard's powers."

Harry shivered, but not from the cold. He leaned down and swept some of the snow off one of the stones. "How do you tell if this is bluestone?"

Draco stepped closer to Harry. "I don't know."

Ron stepped up next to Harry and brushed more snow off the stone. "I suppose... augh!"

The earth crumbled beneath all three boys and in a heap they fell down a long shaft until they landed in a pitch black hollow. Harry let out a pained yelp in the dark.

"Harry!" shouted Draco. "I heard something snap! Was that you?"

"My leg..." Harry was running his hand down his leg and as he felt a jagged protrusion, he realized it was bone, and he vomited. "Urgh... my leg... it's broken."

"Did you have to puke, Potter?" snapped Draco.

"Yeah, I did, you stupid git!"

"Lumos!" That was Ron's voice. His wand should have lit up, but it didn't. "Lumos! It's not working! I can't get a light on my wand."

Draco tried as well, but it didn't work. "Well, I think that answers the question of whether or not this is blue..."

"Yeeeeee augh!" Ron screamed, tripped over Harry's broken leg, making him scream and fall onto Draco.

"What's your problem, Weasel?" shouted Draco angrily.

"Bones! There's bones in here!" Ron realized Harry was whimpering. "Harry?"

"Will you watch where you move, you prat?" snarled Harry. The pain of his broken leg was making his stomach protest again. It took everything he had not to get sick again.

"Sorry about that, mate. How are you doing?" Ron tentatively waved his hands carefully until he connected with Harry's shoulder.

"I think I'm bleeding, too," Harry replied. "Malfoy?" He felt hands touching his back. "That you?"

"Yeah. Look, Potter, I know just a little first aid. I don't know how much I can do, but if you're bleeding, I need to check it and see if I can stop it."

"A tourniquet?" asked Harry. Draco's hands were moving lightly and gently down his leg.

"Uhm... yeah, I think that's what it's called. Oh Merlin..." Draco's fingers just rasped over the jagged piece of bone in Harry's leg. He swallowed uneasily as his own lunch threatened to land on the barrow floor. "Oh no... Harry, that feels like a lot of blood. We gotta tie this off. Ron, can you tear a strip, a long strip off your shirt?"

"Yeah... give me a sec," Ron untucked his shirt, and began tugging at the hem trying to tear it.

"Harry, give me your hand... yeah... good. Feel this, put pressure on it."

"Ow! Crap, that hurts!"

"Yeah, I know it does, but keep your hand there. Ron! I don't hear anything tear..." He heard cloth tearing and in a few seconds Ron was shoving the strip into Draco's face. "Watch it! Thanks. Harry, where's your wand?"

"My right sleeve."

"Ron, get his wand. I need to use it for tying." A few seconds later, Ron handed Draco Harry's wand.

Draco was quiet as he slipped the strip of cloth around Harry's leg just below his knee and above the broken bone. Twisting the cloth around Harry's wand, he was able to apply the makeshift tourniquet tightly.

"I'm cold," whispered Harry.

"So are we," replied Ron with little sympathy.

"We are, but he might be going into shock." Draco grabbed Harry's hand and curled his fingers around his wand. "Keep hold of that and if you feel sleepy, don't. Got that, Harry?"

"Sure. But, I'm still really cold."

"Ron, check that shaft we came down. It wasn't too long, maybe we can get back up that way." He heard Ron shuffle away. Draco touched Harry's arm. "Harry, I want to shift you so your back's against the wall, okay?" Harry nodded, but Draco didn't see it. "Harry?"

"Yeah, sorry. This is going to hurt?"

"Probably. Try to keep your weight off your leg. Just kind of scoot and shift. Slowly." Amidst grunts and cursing, Draco helped Harry turn around so he could lean his back against the wall. Draco settled himself next to Harry and put his outer robe over both of them. "Ron?"

A few minutes later, Harry and Draco heard movement beside them. It was Ron. "The shaft's all filled in. We could probably dig our way out with our hands. I'm going to see if that hole I found is accessible."

"Be careful, Ron."

"Will do, mate." Ron patted Harry's shoulder and with Draco's hands guiding him, he moved carefully around Harry and was soon traversing his way along the wall.

"We can't leave this tourniquet on forever, Malfoy," said Harry worriedly.

"We'll check it in a few minutes, Potter. I'm hoping the pressure stops the bleeding."

Ron walked slowly. The floor of the barrow was uneven and his feet kept stepping on things that crunched. The crunches were small and he hoped they were just rodent bones. He could hear Draco behind him encouraging Harry to keep talking. Ron was very worried. Without magic, they would freeze. Harry could lose his leg, or die.

This barrow, this burial place of some, possibly, evil wizard, gave Ron the creeps. He wanted to head back to Draco and Harry and wait for rescue, but it would be very unlikely that anyone could find them. He tripped suddenly and scraped his knees upon the floor. Picking himself up, he found the wall again and kept walking. To his dismay, he had apparently turned himself around because Draco's voice was closer to him then it had been a few minutes ago.

"Ron?" asked Harry. "Did you find that entrance?"

"No, sorry. I tripped and got myself turned round."

"Ron, sit on the other side of Harry for a bit. I'll go look for it in a few minutes." Draco stuck out his hand until he caught Ron's and then helped direct him to the other side of Harry. Harry let out a soft yelp as Ron's movement stirred his leg. Ron sat beside him and apologised.

"We'll keep you warm, Harry," Ron threw his outer robe over his friend and himself.

"Thanks, Ron. Draco?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"Thanks for helping me."

Draco chuckled. "You're welcome, Harry. Now, keep talking. Tell me how you and Ron defeated that troll in first year."

Two hours passed and Harry was finding it difficult to stay awake. Draco had removed the tourniquet after about a half hour. The bleeding slowed down greatly, so Draco used strips of his and Ron's shirts to fashion a bandage. Draco had taken a turn to find the entrance, but he had no luck and had managed to trip over a sharp dip in the floor. His ankle was sprained, but thankfully not broken.

"Harry?" Draco's voice seemed far away. "Harry, come on, talk to us."

"I don't have anything to say," he spoke heavily.

Ron stirred next to him. "You really can't sleep, Harry."

"I can't feel my feet," he sighed.

Draco cursed. "We've got to find a way out of here."

"Dig." Harry's head dropped against Draco's shoulder.

"Dig," echoed Ron. "It's all we have left to try."

Draco pushed Harry carefully toward Ron. "I'll start." He rose to his feet, took off his robe, and draped it over Harry's legs and feet. Using his hands, gently against Harry, he made his way around to Ron and then to Ron's left side. A few more steps brought him to the shaft they'd fallen down. Using his gloved hands, he began to dig at the soft, but frozen earth. He stopped after what felt like hours and when the chill began to seep through his gloves to his fingers. Despite working up a sweat, he was getting chilled. He made his way back to Ron.

"Any progress, Draco?"

"Doesn't seem like it." He moved carefully to Harry's right side. "The dirt seems to fill up every handful I dig out."

"It has to stop at some point. Get warmed up," said Ron. "I'll do some digging now."

Draco put his arm around Harry and pulled him close. "I'm glad it's dark," whispered Harry.

"Why's that, Potter?"

"Nobody can take a photo of me in your arms." Harry laughed weakly.

"Ha ha, Potter. What are we going to talk about now?"

"I don't know. I think we've hit on everything unless you want me to tell you, again, how your dad freed Dobby."

"Nah, twice in one day's enough, Potter. Although, I'd really like to see a pensieved memory of Dobby blasting father." Harry shivered violently and Draco adjusted the robes. "I know, let's do some recitation. Your favourite subject, Potions."

"Do you know how many times Dumbledore has told me to trust Snape?" asked Harry.

Draco was curious and asked, "How many, Potter?"

"Probably at least ten times a day. He's just a bastard, though."

"Dumbledore is?" Draco smirked.

"No, Snape."

"You know he has to be. Snape can't afford to be nice to anyone, much less you, Potter. But, you've seen him here. He's not a bad man. Just from what you've told me here in this barrow, he's saved your life a lot. More times than I think he saved mine."

"He saved your life, Malfoy?"

"Those weekends I go to visit my family?" Draco felt Harry's head nod in the affirmative. "Well, my father would hurt me. Sometimes, he'd Crucio me. Snape would heal me when I came back."

Harry sighed heavily. "My uncle can't Crucio me, but he might as well."

"There were rumours your Muggle relatives didn't like you. So, that's true, then?"

"Yeah. Ron knows more of it than Hermione does. It makes her cry a lot, so I try not to talk about it around her. He's broken a lot of my bones, probably bruised every inch of skin I've got..." he trailed off, embarrassed at having opened himself up to the Slytherin.

"Potter, why does Dumbledore make you stay with those idiots?"

"Blood wards. Keeps out Death Eaters."

"Well, that's hardly any use if your uncle winds up beating you to death!" snorted Draco.

"Well... to be fair, I haven't really told him how bad it is."

"I know the feeling." Draco sighed and they both fell quiet for a few minutes. Ron was humming the Chudley Cannons theme song to himself as he dug away at the earth. "Recitation, Potter. Ready?"

"No."

"Good. Give me five roots used as base ingredients in healing potions."

Harry shifted slightly, winced at the pain in his leg, and began answering Draco's questions.

For the first time ever, Hermione was beginning to think she'd never want to see another book in her life. She shoved the one she'd been reading on portgates away from her and slapped her body against the back of her chair. Crossing her arms, she stared at the glossy black varnished table top. She and Snape were in the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts, caught up in research.

"Problem, Miss Granger?" Snape was seated at the center of the table surrounded by books and notes.

"I'm ready to give up," she said stonily. Snape just put down his quill and looked up. His expression remained empty. "I've gone over my notes so many times that I've memorized them. I know more about portkeys, portgates, and portals... I know even more than I ever wanted to know. None of it is clicking, though."

"Clicking?" he asked curiously.

"Uhm... Muggle slang. None of it is making sense." She slumped over, crossed her arms on the table top and rested her chin on her forearm. "I miss my garden. I ought to be missing my parents, and I do, but I miss my stupid garden."

"Why do you miss your garden, Miss Granger?"

"Last summer, my mother found these seeds in an old antique trunk she bought at auction. She thought they might be too old to be planted, but I have a pretty good green thumb, so she gave them to me. It took some work, but they did sprout and grow. It was just a small patch of beautiful flowers, but this summer, the patch doubled in size. I dried some of it hoping to discover if they had any potential in potions."

"Really?" Snape was genuinely surprised. "You do have an affinity toward creative experimentation in Potions."

Hermione sat up and smiled. "I really do enjoy Potions, Professor."

"You have done well in my class. However, I don't know of any class that you aren't doing your best in."

"Broom riding and Divination," she chuckled.

"I can't speak for broom riding, but Divination is a waste of your talent. Have you given thought, yet, as to what study you might pursue after school?" he asked, his interest genuine.

"I have, but it's difficult to plan that far ahead when you're wondering whether or not you'll be alive for your future."

Snape didn't comment on that. There was no telling who might survive the war. He pushed the conversation back to a more pleasant area. "That aside, what do you think you might want for your future?"

"I'm very intrigued by the more complicated potions that require charms. I went to a career seminar at the Ministry last summer and I was particularly interested in the Potions Research & Development Department. According to their statistics, it's about every ten years that someone minimally qualified applies for a position. I'd definitely need my Masters in Potions."

"A Master in Charms would make you highly sought after in the developmental field. Of course, the Ministry would no doubt hire you, but in the private sector you could, conceivably, write your own ticket."

Hermione's cheeks flushed a rosily as she realised that her Potions professor felt she was capable of such a future.

"I'm very proficient in Charms and I'm certain I can attain mastery very quickly. Potions would be much harder. By the time I'm of age, there will only be four Masters offering apprenticeships."

"Who are they?"

"Master Horace Slughorn, Madam Li Wan Chi, Master Oren Creighton and Master Herve Peregorn."

Snape considered the people Hermione listed for a few minutes. "Slughorn has never taken a female apprentice and neither has Wan Chi. Creighton..." Snape glanced warningly at Hermione. "He's not to be trusted." Hermione wondered why, but by Snape's look she knew better than to ask. "Peregorn is good, if you want someone who goes by the book. The man is not an artist."

Hermione sighed glumly. "Well, that's not good."

"No, it is not. However, I believe that if this is a path you truly wish to pursue, then I shall help you in finding the best Potions Master to apprentice yourself to. We may have to seek outside Britain."

"Really? You'd help me find someone?"

Snape nodded solemnly before he pushed her book back towards her. Hermione dragged the book closer, flipped a page and began reading. Just before Snape picked up his quill again, she addressed him once more.

"Professor?" Hermione had been thinking a lot lately, and not about the research. Something else having to do with Snape was on her mind.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

Her heart leapt up to her throat and mentally she tried to push it back down. He's not an ogre, her mind assured her, and he's not going to bite your head off. Taking a deep breath, she spoke, "About yesterday... uhm..." Her brain stupidly deserted her and she couldn't find the right words.

"Take a moment, Miss Granger."

"I... yes, sir." This time she took a few calming breaths and instead of launching into the long and drawn out speech that had been building up for the last few weeks, she stripped it all away to its simple elements. "Professor, would you stop calling us Miss and Mister?"

Snape's eyebrow rose to the fringe of hair over his brow. "An odd request. Why do you want me to do this?"

"Well, you keep going back and forth from our first names then to our... titles. It's confusing. I think that a lot of the tension... you know, especially between you and Harry... well, we're not really your students now. Sir." She stopped there before her tongue decided to trip her up. Hermione hoped she made sense.

It was Snape's turn to sigh. What Hermione requested made sense. The problem was, despite their situation, he was still viewing them as students. It was habit, but a bit of stubbornness as well. He did see that this could very well be just what was creating a wedge between himself and the four teenagers. It was possible that that was the very reason Harry kept pushing him into confrontations.

Snape knew, but was not willing to admit it, that their stay in this century would be longer than any of them expected. Each day it was looking as though it might be permanent and if the relentless bookworm herself was getting frustrated with the research then maybe...? No, not yet, he thought quietly.

"You do realise, Miss... Hermione, that it is difficult for me to shuffle off the mantle of 'teacher'."

"I know, sir, but I did tell you once before how much we do need you."

"But, not as your teacher," he finished the unspoken thought for her. Hermione just nodded. "In loco parentis." Snape mused. The girl was correct. His role as their teacher and their status as students had ended the night they found themselves in the year 1898. Unwilling to admit to himself what the children would need from him had caused him to persist in maintaining the teacher/student roles.

Draco was the only one of them who saw Snape in a different light. He was godfather to the boy since his birth. He had taken care of Draco after many beatings, had taught the boy defensive hexes and healing charms, and he had held the boy far too many times as he wept over his father's lack of love for him and his mother's fear for him.

Since their arrival, he had set rules, enforced those rules, fed them, and by now, comforted all of them. He was angry when all four of them had been stupid enough to play at night on their brooms in the cold and he was severe in their punishments. The minute Hermione had lost her breakfast with the first signs of the flu, all thought of enforcing those punishments went out the window. One by one, they each fell and for two days straight, as he brewed the Flu Relief Potion, he held their shivering bodies, cleaned their messes, cooled their foreheads, and spent the nights worrying about all of them.

In other words, he'd not just acted as a parent, but he had been a parent. His mistake had been in ignoring what he'd given them while they were sick and attempting to force them back into their student roles.

With a wave of his wand, Snape gathered all his notes together and shrank them. Another wave sent the books he and Hermione were studying back to their shelves. The girl looked at him questioningly.

"Hermione, I think we've gone as far as we can today. Why don't we go back home, pick up the boys, and see about an early dinner at the Three Broomsticks?"

"That would be nice, sir," she said, rather pleased to put the research behind her for today.

"Hermione, as we are no longer teacher and student, you may address me as Severus. If you'd like?"

She smiled shyly. "I suppose I can, but, is it all right if I forget now and then?"

"Of course."

They left the Hogwarts grounds and they apparated straight to Ashmere. Hermione left Snape's side and ran up to the front door, unlocked it, and went into the house. Snape was in no hurry and so he strolled in at his own pace and headed for the parlour. He would leave it to the exuberant girl to collect her co-horts for dinner.

Nearly a half hour later Hermione walked into the parlour, alone. "Si... uhm, Severus? They're not here."

Snape put down the book on Charms he was reading and frowned. "What do you mean, they're not here?"

"I can't find them anywhere. I looked in their rooms and their robes are gone, but I didn't see them outside."

"Damn," he muttered. "Your Majesty!"

A few minutes later, the ghost of King Henry VIII came through the fireplace. "You cawed, Sir Raven?"

Snape ignored the slight. "Have you seen the boys?"

"They left the house about an hour after you left for Hogwarts. I believe I saw them heading for the old path to Hogsmeade."

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" He cursed louder. "Hermione, get your gloves and coat. You're coming with me."

"Sir?" she asked worriedly.

"I may need your help with a locator spell. Hurry!"

Hermione spun out of the parlour and sprinted up the stairs to her room. A few minutes later, she was racing back down the stairs as she put on her gloves. Snape grasped Hermione's hand, yanked her to his side, and apparated to the edge of the woods.

"There's the path," Hermione pointed.

They hurried through the deepening snow toward the entrance to the path to Hogsmeade. "It's been cleared. Hermione, have you ever cast a locator spell?" She shook her head. "It's rather easy. However, our imprint on this time makes the spell difficult. I believe, if you and I cast the spell at the same time, we might make it work." He held out his wand. "Put your hand on mine and picture Harry, Ron, and Draco in your mind. Nod when you're ready."

"Ready," she said quietly.

"Say, 'point me' on three. One, two, three..." Together they said point me and they both felt the wand tugging them forward and onto the path. "Keep your hand on mine."

After twenty minutes of following the tug of the wand, it suddenly turned them sharply to the left and off the path. Without being told, Hermione took out her wand and cast a marking spell in the form of a small ball of blue flame. As they kept walking through the snow, she held tightly onto Snape's wand hand, and kept putting up markers everytime they changed direction.

The locator spell ended in a small clearing at the beginning of a mound of earth. Hermione let go of Snape's hand and he examined the area closely. Hermione kept studying the strange looking mound until she recognized what it might be.

"Severus! I think this is a barrow."

"I believe you're correct, Hermione." Snape walked back over to her and brushed away the snow until the stone beneath showed through. "Bluestone. The same stone used in the construction of Stonehenge. This is a burial mound for witches and wizards."

"The Headmistress's ancestors?"

"More than likely... Madam Arcahnum's family has owned this land for a very long time."

"You think they might be in there, si... Severus?"

"I found some displaced earth, possibly from a small cave in over on the right side. If they are, we're not going to be able to get them out with magic."

"Why not?"

"Bluestone dampens the magical core of a wizard. If they're in there, they can't perform magic. While we're near the stones, our magic may falter. I also won't be able to transfigure anything. Damn." He glared at the mound and then at the darkening sky above them. "Hermione, I want you to go back to the last marker. Build a good, strong fire. I'll apparate back to Ashmere and return with shovels, rope and some medical potions." He caught a brief look of trepidation on Hermione's face. She wasn't too sure about being left alone. Leaning down, he gripped her shoulder gently. "Don't worry, Hermione. I promise I'll return. You just work on that fire, all right?"

She nodded and then replied, "I will, Severus." Together they walked several yards back to the last marker where Snape apparated back to the house. Hermione began gathering twigs and brambles. She cleared away a wide, circular area of the snow, lined it with rocks that she hoped weren't leftovers from the barrow, and began building a fire. With a quick casting of Incendio, the twigs and brambles were soon burning hotly. Hermione kept busy by throwing on more twigs and any larger pieces of wood she found until the flames were burning tall and hot.

Hermione knew she ought to stay near the fire, but she wandered back to the barrow and began skirting it carefully. Just as she tripped over a tangle of dried up ivy, she caught herself on the edge of the small opening Ron had discovered. Hermione just barely kept herself from falling through.

"Harry! Ron! Draco! Are you in there?" she shouted into the dark hole.

"It's bloody useless!" snapped Ron as he felt his way back over to Harry. He sat down and draped his robe over himself and the injured boy.

"No good, Ron?" asked Harry wearily.

"Everytime I think I'm through, more dirt fills in everything I dug out. Drake? You awake?"

"Y-y-y-yeah, R-r-r-ron," said Draco through chattering teeth. "It's r-r-r-really getting c-c-c-cold down here. I don't think I c-c-c-can dig anym-m-more. T-t-tired."

"S'ok. Harry, you still with us?" Ron slipped a gloved hand over Harry's chest and felt the shallow breathing. It was worse that last time. "Harry?"

"Harry!" snapped Draco.

"Unh... please let me sleep, Uncle Vernon... please?" Draco pinched Harry's arm. "OW!"

"Don't go to sleep, Potter!" warned Draco. His voice was almost panicked.

"I'm tired," he whined. "My feet hurt."

"Stop bitching, you wanker," snarled Draco, "Or I'll draw blood next time I pinch you. We're all miserable!"

"Are you crying?" whispered Harry as he heard a tell-tale sniff.

"It's on purpose. Warms my face, you git," huffed Draco.

"That's smart..." Harry's voice was sincere. "I think my tears are frozen."

"Stop mentioning the cold," growled Ron as he leaned in against Harry's side.

Another hour crept on by and Draco had begun to shiver sporadically. His jaw was aching from trying to control the chattering of his teeth. Beside him, Harry shook non-stop from the cold. Leaning slightly, he placed his cheek against Harry's forehead but couldn't tell if it was his skin that was like ice, or the Gryffindor's. Draco figured that whatever heat that he and Ron had at the beginning of their adventure was clearly gone.

"Can't wake him," whispered Ron.

Draco stretched out his hand, touched what he thought might be Ron's shoulder, and the boy caught Draco's hand in his tightly.

"I think I heard..." Ron's voice faded softly.

"Shhh," hissed Draco, but without any sharpness.

"DRACO!"

The Sonorus enhanced voice sent a shock of adrenalin through Draco's system. "S-s-s-sev...!" His teeth chattered violently and he couldn't reply.

"HARRY!"

Harry did not hear his name.

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

Ron groaned. "He used m-m-m-y full name! I'm n-n-n-not in trouble?"

Draco ignored Ron and tried to shout again. "S-s-s-sev...! He couldn't get enough volume. Taking a deep breath he forced every last bit of warmth and energy into one word. "Help!"

It took almost an hour to get the three boys out of the barrow. Snape had to fashion a very crude rope ladder and then he had to traverse through the dark almost to the end of the barrow to get the boys out. Ron was able to hobble with the aid of Snape supporting him. Just the man's warmth woke Ron enough that he was able to slowly climb up the rope. Hermione, who bustled him over to the roaring fire and wrapped a heavy wool blanket around him, met him outside the barrow.

Draco had held onto Harry for so long that he was almost frozen into that position. Without jarring Harry too much, Snape helped Draco slowly to his feet. Draco cried out as it felt like the soles of his feet were walking on sharp, broken pieces of glass. His pace was slow and crippling as Snape guided him to the rope. Draco bit down on his lip against the pain and just barely managed to climb up the rope. Hermione's warm kisses against his cheek made him smile and he leaned heavily against her as she directed him toward the fire.

Lastly was Harry. At first Snape was afraid the boy had succumbed to the cold, but there was a faint heartbeat. Knowing that Harry wouldn't feel any pain at this point, he hauled the not so terribly heavy child over his shoulder and made his way carefully up the rope ladder.

It was a late Saturday afternoon, four days after the accident at the barrow. Harry's leg was almost healed, but he was still having a little problem with feeling in his toes. Like Draco, his feet had suffered from frostbite. Although Harry was still confined to his bed both Ron and Draco were keeping him entertained. Both were currently sitting on the end of the bed.

"I'm not saying it's bad, just weird. So, don't bite my head off, Drake," soothed Harry.

Draco smirked. "It's weird hearing you calling me 'Drake', Hair."

"Don't call me that!"

Ron laughed and tossed Harry a chocolate frog. "You know it's all Hermione's fault."

"And that's a bad thing?" scowled Draco. He hit Ron in the head with an empty chocolate frog box.

"No! She's right!" explained Ron. "Snape kept treating us like we ought to be in detention twenty-four hours a day and then expecting us to treat him... well, like a parent. I hate to say it, but he's a lot more human when he says my first name."

Harry sighed and leaned his head back against his pillows. "I just can't help thinking that maybe we left the real Snape behind in 1994..."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry!" griped Draco with frustration. "Would you feel better if he went back to being a bastard?"

Harry shrugged. "It's what I'm used to, okay? So, don't get into a fit, Draco."

"Does it help that he's still a little bit of a git in class?" suggested Ron.

Harry tossed a small pillow at Ron. "Yeah, more normal. Are you used to calling him 'Severus', yet?"

"I am," declared Draco. "Of course, I've been calling him by his first name since I could talk."

"I'm getting used to it. Poor Hermione is still going back and forth," chuckled the redhead.

"At least she's calling him 'sir' and 'professor' in class, which YOU keep forgetting to do," accused Draco as he pointed at Ron with a wagging finger.

Harry chuckled. "Are you getting in trouble for that, mate?"

"Just the patented death glares. Oh yeah, and the other day he smacked me in the back of the head."

"Why'd he do that?" asked Harry.

"You deserved it, Ron," glowered Draco who looked like he wanted to smack Ron, again, for whatever the infraction was.

"Ron implied that Professor Snape hunted Slytherins late at night." Hermione walked in and smiled at Harry.

"Hey Hermione!" grinned Harry.

Draco slipped his arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her to his side. The pretty Gryffindor leaned against Draco as he leaned back against the bedpost as he sat on the end of Harry's bed.

"All right, so why did you imply he was hunting Slytherins?" asked Harry.

Ron kept his mouth shut, so Hermione replied, "It seems that Ron is under the impression that Professor Snape is a vampire."

"Everybody's thought that!" said Harry with a smile of disbelief on his face.

"Of course they have, but no one's ever said anything to his face. During our lesson on Vampires, Ron just had to make a smart remark about him hunting Slytherins at night and turning them." Hermione giggled.

"Dumb, Ron," laughed Harry. "Completely mental, you are."

"To be sure, the next time I get thirsty, I'll come hunting you, Ronald Weasley." The deep, velvet tones filled Harry's room, lending it a sepulchral cast, despite the sun pouring in from the window.

"Merlin's teeth!" shouted Ron as he fell off the end of the bed. "Don't do that!" He picked himself up off the floor. "Give me nightmares, you will."

Snape swept dramatically into the room. His eyes glittered with feral hunger and his arms spread wide his outer robe. "Ah to be in all your nightmares..." he then scowled, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "You three, get out. As I recall, you have homework to do and it's time for me to see if Harry can be released from his convalescent exile."

Ron, Draco, and Hermione scrambled quickly out of Harry's room and closed the door behind them.

"You're really evil, Snape, you know that?" smiled Harry.

"I do my best." Snape smirked and pulled the cover down so he could examine Harry's leg and feet. Harry wore a long nightshirt that he pulled up gingerly. His leg that had been severely fractured still showed a few bruises around the area where the bone had punctured through the skin. Snape gently palpated the area around the bruises, making sure the bone had smoothly knit back together. "Some bruise salve will take care of the last of those bruises. Your feet are looking much better, too. Any faint pinprick feelings, Harry?"

Harry wiggled his toes. "No. Seems all right."

"How about your fingers?" Harry held out his hands and Snape carefully examined them.

"The tips still feel a little weird." Harry wriggled his fingers.

"Pinpricks or broken glass?"

"Pinpricks, I guess." He frowned. "Well, no... uhm, more like ants running around. It's creepy."

"A good sign, though. Frostbite does damage to the nerve endings and all three of you had damage."

"Draco said it felt like the Cruciatus..."

Snape reached for the bruise salve on Harry's beside table and began to apply it carefully to the bruises on his injured leg. Once done, he pulled the covers back up to Harry's waist. "The Cruciatus Curse acts upon the nerve endings to cause pain." He took out a potion phial and handed it to Harry to drink down. "The potion I've used to treat your frostbite is the basis of the Cruciatus Relief Potion that I developed... some years ago."

"I always thought his family was perfect," Harry said guiltily as he stared down at his coverlet.

"As you are beginning to discover, Harry, appearances can be deceiving."

Harry sighed heavily. "He really likes Hermione, doesn't he?"

"Draco has had... feelings for your friend for a very long time, Harry." Harry's head shot up at this. He hadn't known this. "In his first year, Draco foolishly remarked to his father that he thought Hermione was pretty. He had rather a nasty bump upon his head from his father's cane."

"You don't sound like you approve, Snape. About him and Hermione."

"He and Hermione," Snape corrected. "And to be honest, I don't." Snape caught Harry's accusatory glare. "Not for the reason you're thinking of, Harry. I don't approve because just as you're afraid of Hermione getting hurt, I'm worried about Draco getting... not hurt, but killed. Make no mistake, Harry. Draco's father would kill him for loving Hermione. Lucius would then personally hunt down her parents, and kill them."

"And Hermione?" Harry asked softly.

Snape settled his dark, obsidian gaze upon Harry, wondering if the boy could take the truth of just what a monster Lucius Malfoy is.

Harry frowned, not liking the look he saw in Snape's eyes. "What would he do to Hermione?" Harry's demand was a bare whisper.

"Rape her, torture her. Eventually, if she were fortunate, he'd kill her." Snape's cold, distant tone of voice as he listed the horrors that awaited Hermione at the hands of Lucius Malfoy, frightened the young boy.

Harry fell back against his pillows, closed his eyes and tried to stop his stomach from roiling dangerously. "Then why don't you stop them? Maybe it's best to forbid them..."

Snape waited until Harry opened his eyes and then Snape shook his head. "Forbidding Hermione and Draco from pursuing each other would be folly. You know very well, that as soon as Dumbledore has forbidden you something..."

"I do it anyway, don't tell anyone, and you usually end up saving my stupid life."

Snape smiled, "Exactly, Harry. If I don't try to keep them apart, I have a better chance of keeping them safe from Lucius. They'll come to me. Just as anyone who needs help should ask before acting first." He gave the young boy a pointed look.

Harry smiled wryly. "I get it, Snape."

Snape had enough of the seriousness and gave Harry a small smile. "Your exile has lifted, Harry. However, as I told Ron and Draco, you cannot go outside for at least a week. Your extremeties are still sensitive to the cold."

"Great!" Harry threw off the covers and slid off the bed. He started to grab his robe when Snape snatched it out of his reach.

"Shower, Harry." He wrinkled his nose at Harry's body odor and Harry coloured.

"Sorry, sir. I'll see you in a bit." He ran into his bathroom and Snape left the room.

Harry emerged a few minutes later smelling much better than he had in the last few days. He quickly dressed himself and then headed downstairs to the parlour. As he walked across the large entryway he could hear the sounds of a lute playing. Hermione seemed to be arguing with someone. Looking through the arched entrance he could see Draco and Ron in deep study over a chess set. Ron shot Draco an evil glare as his opponent just sacrificed his bishop.

"Cutthroat chess isn't bad, but you're suicidal," groused Ron.

"Maybe so, but if you study the board carefully, I'll have your queen in three moves." Draco smirked. "You rely too heavily on your queen."

For several minutes, Ron studied the chess board. "Bloody...!"

"Language, Ron," came Snape's warning voice.

"Sorry."

The King leaned back in the window seat strumming some old tune upon the lute he held. He was as solid as anyone else in the room and Harry was reminded, again, about how he was curious about the King's solidity.

Lyrica was reading from a small book as she sat in a green chair with her feet upon a small ottoman that matched the chair. Her chair was near to the window where King Henry was.

In the centre of the parlour were Snape and Hermione. Between them was a large book. Hermione was talking animatedly. Maybe she hadn't been arguing, thought Harry and he smiled.

"My garden, Sir... Sever... Snape, that's what that flower is! Rosae Plimlotus! That's what I've been growing at home. I have... hmmm... twenty-seven plants right now."

Snape studied the hand-drawn image of a flower in the shape of a lotus blossom. The stem had thorns and the colour of the flower was a jewel-like crimson. "Hermione, have you any idea what that rare herb is worth to an apothecary?" Hermione shook her head slowly. She'd never given it any thought. To her, it was just a lovely flower of rare beauty. "Rosae Plimlotus is measured by dried grains. An ounce phial will usually fetch 200 galleons at the better apothecaries."

"One ounce?" Hermione's jaw dropped open and Snape stretched out a slim finger beneath her chin and with a tap, encouraged her to close it.

"It is also an extremely difficult plant to cultivate." He was very impressed with the young girl for having been able to grow something so rare. "Did you prepare the soil in any way?"

"I just used the same compost my mum does for her roses. Leaves, old grass, fertilizer and she likes to add fishbones to the mix."

Harry didn't hear the rest of Snape and Hermione's conversation. There was something so surreal... so... family-like about the scene in front of him that he wanted to hold it forever in his memory.

"Harry, my boy!" greeted the ghost. His greeting was followed by waves or looks from everyone else in the room. Harry wandered over to the King.

"Hello Your Majesty. I didn't know you played the lute." Harry sat on the end of the window seat.

"My mother expected me to have a well rounded education. Music was a part of that education. Had my brother lived to a ripe old age, my life would have been devoted to the clergy."

"You would have been a priest?" goggled Harry.

The King shoved him, gently, in the shoulder with his foot. "Hardly a priest, boy! My mother's aspiration for me was for the Head of the Roman Catholic Church. A papacy."

"Is that what you wanted, Your Majesty?"

Henry plucked a chord on the lute. "I wanted to be a court musician. Here, let me play for you one of my own compositions."

Harry listened politely as the King began playing and singing. The words were in another language, so Harry didn't understand what the song was about, but he did enjoy the sound. The King had a rather impressive singing voice. Unlike his usual loud speaking tone, his singing voice was controlled and gentle in a pleasant tenor.

When King Henry had finished, there was a smattering of applause from around the room. King Henry stood, bowed and then the lute faded away. "I can see a question, Master Harry," the King said as he slowly faded from solidity to transparent silver and then back again. His Majesty The King leaned against the wall. "Tell me what has you beetling your brow in curiosity." He smiled.

"Two questions, actually, Sire. Are you a wizard?"

"A very poor and undisciplined wizard." He shrugged. "I had a skilled court wizard so what need had I of learning silly wand waving and spells?" He eyed Harry. "You're under the impression that only witches and wizards can become ghosts? Harry nodded. "Wizards have a choice whereas Muggles do not. Those Muggles that do become ghosts, however, find their time as spirits to be limited."

"I didn't know that." Harry spoke slowly as his mind's gears were turning. "So, you can be a ghost for as long as you want?"

"Indeed." King Henry smiled. "As a ghost I have been able to continue writing music, learning, and I had a chance to raise a child without the mistakes I made in life with my own." He glanced affectionately at Lyrica.

Snape suddenly tuned out Hermione as he heard this. Casting his gaze between Lyrica and the ghost, he frowned. The King of England had raised Lyrica? Then why had he not protected her from her father? Snape settled a stern and accusing glare upon His Majesty. Henry the VIII caught the look and kept his gaze upon the Potions Master.

"It is a pity that my role as a parent was curtailed by a spirit binding spell." Snape nodded in acknowledgement to the King. King Henry then returned his attention to Harry. Harry had been puzzled by the exchange he caught. "A ghost can be bound by a wizard, Master Harry. Frozen, as it were."

"That's horrible," said Harry.

Henry floated over to Lyrica and touched her cheek before returning to Harry. "Two questions, young Harry. What is your second question?"

"I've got this one, Hair!" Draco slapped himself down beside Harry. "How are you so solid, Your Majesty?"

Harry punched Draco's shoulder, "Call me 'Hair', again, and I'll hex your toes into knots."

Draco sneered at Harry, good-naturedly, and then glanced at the King. "None of the ghosts at Hogwarts are solid. They're all silver and transparent."

Henry puffed out his chest, "It is a matter of great concentration and the skill of passing centuries and..."

Lyrica interrupted with a giggle, "And sheer bull headedness!"

Draco frowned. "I don't get it."

Harry shook his head, in agreement with the Slytherin. "If all a ghost has to do is... think... and become solid, then why aren't the ghosts at Hogwarts solid?"

"Peeves is solid," interjected Ron.

Draco smirked, "That clown isn't a ghost. Peeves is the energetic embodiment of all the students. Er, negative energy, that is."

"Hah!" sniggered Ron. "So that's why the twins and Peeves had so much in common!"

"Indeed," drawled Snape. "Since the arrival of your anarchic brothers, Peeves has never been in worse form. It takes all that the Baron and I have to keep that blasted poltergeist in hand."

"All wizard ghosts can take on solidity, Harry," said Lyrica as she lay her book down upon her lap. "Concentration is a very large part of anything that a ghost can do." She smiled and her eyes glittered with amusement. "However, in the case of our Royal Majesty, his own stubborn bull headedness also has a great deal with his preference towards solidity."

"Considering there was a toddler in this house who thought sliding down the bannister or flying on her training broom around the chandelier was a good idea," he scowled mockingly at Lyrica, "I had little choice in the matter."

"Wicked!" remarked Draco as he glanced at the Headmistress with awe. "So you flew in the entry?"

"I nearly broke my neck," she replied as her cheeks flushed warmly.

"Don't get any ideas, Draco," warned Snape. Draco gave him a 'who me?' look and grinned. "Do that, Draco, and I'll hold you as Harry hexes your toes into knots."

Draco scowled for a second and then turned to Harry. "Chess, Scarhead?"

"Why not, Goldilocks?" Harry grinned as he and the Slytherin went over to the chessboard. Ron moved to a chair between the two boys so he could watch the game.

The first moves were made, and while Harry stared at the pieces and tried to decide where to move next, Draco spoke. "I'm going to do a wand oath."

"A what?" asked Harry looking up just as he was about to order his knight to move.

"A wand oath, to protect Hermione," Draco took several minutes to explain what a wand oath was.

"So, they're more flexible," commented Ron.

"Yeah, I thought I just said that, Weasel. Anyway, I need help in writing it."

Harry, looking for a good excuse to abandon the game, smiled. "Let's go work on it now!" Harry jumped up and headed out of the parlour toward the library. Ron and Draco soon followed. The chess pieces, abandoned, cursed the boys and then began fighting amongst themselves.

Snape took the volume of flora from Hermione's lap and closed it. "Do me a favor, Hermione, and keep an eye on those three? I don't need anymore broken bones for awhile."

"Of course, si... Sev... rats!"

"Snape, Severus, Sir or Professor, but please don't call me 'rat'," he teased.

Hermione blushed madly. "I'm sorry, I just keep tripping over myself. And this was all my idea, too."

Lyrica came up beside the girl, and touched her shoulder. "You might try saying Uncle, Hermione. A term of affection and respect, yet without the connotation of teacher." Lyrica sat down beside her.

Hermione glanced up shyly at the Potions Master. "That might be easier...?"

Snape could hear the silent request for permission from the girl. He smiled inwardly at her ingrained sense of propriety. Perhaps that sense of always being proper is what drew the bookworm and 'good-girl' to the three reckless and often rule-breaking boys. He nodded his head slightly. "If you wish it, I would find it an honour, Hermione."

"Thank you... Uncle Severus." Hermione jumped up, caught Snape in a quick hug, and ran out of the parlour after the boys.

Snape slouched and fell in defeat against the back of the sofa. "My reputation as the feared Potions Professor is shattered."

Lyrica laughed lightly. "You've hardly lost your edge, my dear. Just wait until the next time they break the rules."

"I shudder to imagine what that may be and what injuries it shall cost!" he groused.

"Then you'll have to admit you like them," she teased.

Snape glared darkly. "I think that would be completely unnecessary." He pulled Lyrica into an embrace and quickly kissed her. The book she'd been reading fell from her hands and he picked it up. "What story are you reading now, my dear? Sleepy Hollow, perhaps? It would be appropriate for this night."

Lyrica raised her eyes and smiled. "Oh no, I leave the frightening stories for the daytime, less terrifying that way. This is Barchester Tower by Anthony Trollope. It's an interesting story of the machinations of the clergy in the quaint village of Barchester. Most fascinating is the character of the chaplin, Obadiah Slope. An ambitious man, he seeks to wed the wealthy widow, Eleanor Bold. I am eager to know how his scheming ends, although, I doubt it shall end well. He has pitted himself against a formidable adversary in the form of Mrs. Proudie, his bishop's wife." She chuckled as she took the book from him. "It is never a good idea to get caught between a husband and wife, no matter how ill-suited the two might appear."

Snape conjured a glass of brandy for himself. He sipped at it and then the glass over to Lyrica. She took a delicate sip. "This Slope sounds as though he could have been Slytherin."

"Oh quite so!" Lyrica agreed handing the glass back to Snape and rising to her feet. For a moment, she studied Severus Snape. "I think he reminds me of you, Severus."

One of his eyebrows rose in surprise and he sniffed. "I'm not certain, but I think I have just been insulted. Me? Compared to a crafty, greedy man of the clergy?" Taking the lady's hand, he drew her beside him and draped an arm over her shoulder as she leaned against him.

"Severus?"

"Mmmm?" He had leaned back and closed his eyes.

"The... research...?" Lyrica hated bringing up any mention of their quest to find a way home, but she found that it bothered her not hearing anything about it for several days.

"Not now," he said softly. It had been a pleasant evening and the last thing he wanted to think about was the Dark Lord.

Lyrica leaned into Snape and kissed his lips lightly. Wrapping his arm tighter around her, he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. The lingering touch of the brandy burned warmly upon their tongues. It was a pleasant sensation that radiated outward to every nerve ending. It was enough to make Lyrica giddily lightheaded and she giggled a little as she curled her feet up under herself and settled her body against him. Drawing his fingers through a strand of her silken hair, Snape smiled in contentment.

December was upon the inhabitants of Ashmere and much of their talk was about Christmas. As much as the children tried not to think of family and friends, it became harder to do so as each day passed.

Snape had grudgingly declared the last two weeks of December a holiday from classes and homework. Hermione was terribly disappointed until Snape quietly assigned her to do research and an essay on the flower growing in her garden.

Excursions to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade were becoming few and far between. The boys didn't mind. Still sensitive to the cold after nearly freezing to death in the ancient burial chamber, neither Ron, Harry, nor Draco were all that enthused about spending much time in the cold.

A trip was planned to Diagon Alley for Christmas shopping, but Lyrica had business with the school board governors that weekend, so it was up to Snape to take his brood out for holiday shopping.

The morning began bright and early as the children raced to get dressed and headed down to breakfast. For once they beat Snape to the breakfast table. He knew they were excited about going, and so he had purposely taken his time getting ready. By the time he was down at the table, they had nearly finished eating and had to wait agonizingly slow minutes as Snape drank his two cups of coffee and read the Daily Prophet.

Finally, the day began and they had arrived at Diagon Alley. Everywhere they looked the place was busy with holiday shoppers. There were decorations of holly, multi-coloured lights, and music everywhere.

Snape had charmed small glamours upon each of the children and himself. Hermione's curls were gone, replaced with honey blonde waves and a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles on her nose. Draco sported long black hair and blue eyes. Harry decided to try red hair and freckles and looked eerily like a member of the Weasley clan. In turn, Ron went with dark brown, messy hair and a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles. As for Snape, his hair was still black, but he had changed his eye color to grey and straightened his nose and teeth.

"You ought to keep those changes, Snape," smirked Harry.

"I happen to prefer my nose and teeth, Potter," he sneered. "Maybe you ought to consider keeping that red hair. It's much better behaved than that mess you normally have."

Harry chuckled, "I just might!"

Surrounded by the children, Snape handed out galleons, knuts and sickles to each of them, and in seconds he was left standing alone as they each ran off in different directions. Rather surprised to be so quickly abandoned, Snape shrugged his shoulders and made his way to the apothecary.

So far, it appeared to be a pleasantly busy day, but an encounter with Albus Dumbledore in Diagon Alley would soon upset the illusion that was becoming a comfortable, new life for all of them.

Inside the apothecary, Snape was considering a particularly rare Orphan Weed that the proprietor had brought out to show him. In the few weeks he'd gotten to know this new customer that called himself Spinner, the proprietor knew the Potions Master was someone who appreciated only working with the finest ingredients to be had.

"From Iceland, Master Spinner. Picked only three days ago."

Snape examined the curious looking plant that had long, thin leaves edged with tiny, prickly thorns. The Orphan Weed was so named because as it spread out, it destroyed any other weed or plant it touched.

"How many do you have, Agar?" Snape inquired.

"Eleven."

"I'll take all eleven, then." The proprietor, Agar, smiled as he mentally calculated the cost. Snape then asked, "Were you able to find the Laurel Heart for me?"

Agar carefully bagged the Orphan Weed and put it on the counter. He replied, "I've been talking to a supplier in Africa, but the Laurel Heart he has is green. Very few suppliers grow that herb beyond the green stage."

Snape shrank the Orphan Weed bag and the other ingredients he'd purchased. "I really would like the red Laurel Heart, Agar. However, if you want to purchase a small bunch of the green, I could use that as well."

Agar smiled brightly. "Right then, Master Spinner. I'll get the green for you and see what can be done about my supplier cultivating the Laurel Heart to the red stage."

Snape was just turning to leave when he bumped into a young, recognizable face. "Master Snape! How are you doing?"

Snape grasped the idiot, Dumbletwit, by the elbow and practically dragged him out of the apothecary. Once on the sidewalk, he hissed into the young man's face, "If I'm not mistaken, your discretion was assured by your Headmistress, was it not?"

"Uhm... yes, ah, sorry about that, sir." Albus rubbed his sore elbow and leaned in toward Snape and whispered, "What do I call you, sir?"

"Spinner," he snapped. "What the devil are you doing here?"

"Shopping, sir, for Christmas." Albus was still whispering conspiratorially and it was beginning to irritate Snape.

Snape gave Dumbledore one of his patented 'scare-the-first-years-senseless' glares and the boy rose up to his full height, smiled, and twinkled his eyes merrily at Snape. Snape snapped sharply, "Then go... finish... your shopping!"

Albus just smiled and twinkled even brighter, "Certainly, sir, Master Spinner. Maybe we'll see each other later!" The young man ran off.

"I swear to Merlin, I'll blind that old goat and get rid of that damnable twinkle," Snape muttered to himself. "He must use a charm for them. A Dark charm, no doubt, as they are madly infuriating!" As Snape was getting some curious stares from passers-by, he realized he'd been muttering aloud. He harrumphed and went back into the apothecary and collected his purchases.

The weary shoppers arrived home at Ashmere just before dinner. Laden down with both shrunk packages and unshrunk packages, the four teenagers raced each other up the grand staircase and then disappeared into their rooms. Snape had Dorcas, the elf, take his packages to his room and he retired to the library to do some research.

Late that night, as the reluctant time travelers were all seemingly securely asleep in their beds, the world tilted on its axis reminding them once again that even in a time as benign as 1898, for them the shadows were never really gone.

Harry's Dream:

Harry wandered down the center of a tall, arched corridor of white marble. He wasn't sure where he was going, but the only direction he could go was forward. There were no doors to either the left or right of him.

"He's not real, Harry, but be careful."

Harry turned to see Snape standing behind him. "Who isn't real, Snape?"

Snape pointed down towards the end of the corridor. "The Dark Lord."

Harry could see two wizards playing chess. He was able to immediately identify that they were Dumbledore and Voldemort. Harry took a step backwards. He felt Snape's long fingers circle his wrist and Snape leaned down. "They cannot see me, Harry." Tugging Harry's arm, Harry was soon making his way down the marble corridor with Snape at his side.

"I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised by your tactics, Tom," sighed Dumbledore.

"Tactics now, is it, Albus? A few minutes ago you called it cheating," The Dark Lord grinned maliciously.

"Tactics, cheating... in the end, does it matter?" Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth and then gave one to the dark wizard who crushed it between his fingers.

Voldemort studied the chessboard, moved a castle piece and put Dumbledore's king in check. "I suppose it doesn't matter at all, Albus. Especially since it appears I'll win in two moves."

Dumbledore was about to move his only remaining bishop when Harry stretched out his hand and stopped the old wizard by touching his shoulder. "Please be careful, Professor." Harry wasn't a great chess player, but he could see that if the Headmaster moved the bishop, he would irrevocably lose the game.

"Ah, Harry! It's a shame we won't be seeing you at Christmas. I'd hoped you would have found a solution by then." Dumbledore smiled and held out a lemon drop to the boy. Harry, who usually refused the sweet, took it and was about to pop it into his mouth when Snape's grip on his wrist tightened in warning.

"Put it into your pocket," whispered Snape.

Harry pocketed the sweet and turned his attention back to the Headmaster. "I'm sorry, Professor, but we haven't been able to find out anything. We also haven't figured out what you meant when you told us you were the key." Harry sidled closer to Dumbledore as he kept an eye upon the other wizard. Snape moved with him.

"Now who's cheating, Albus?" chided Voldemort. His red eyes raked over Harry and Harry felt his skin crawling.

"It's my right, Tom." Dumbledore gave Harry a long, studious look. "There is no life for you here, Harry and I expect you... all of you to try harder at finding a way home." The hard gaze, the lack of any twinkle in the blue eyes unnerved Harry. He saw anger and disappointment and he felt as though he'd done something very wrong.

The look vanished as the Headmaster addressed Voldemort jovially, "By the way, Tom, you never told me how you managed to bring the Blood Fae into Britain. They're a very dangerous magical species to transport."

Harry's shocked gaze turned back to Voldemort. "You brought the Blood Fae into the Forbidden Forest?"

Voldemort chuckled. "Did you know, I'd almost forgotten about those vicious, little faeries. They've been out there for years. Can you imagine my delight when they actually caught you, Harry Potter?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "You thought they'd kill him, didn't you, Tom?"

"They are quite blood thirsty, Albus. However, sending my greatest enemy back in time with no way to return... well, that has worked out very well. Pity, though, that I lost my Potions Master." The red eyes focused on Harry. "I do hope he's making your new life a living hell."

Harry was about to retort to the contrary when he caught a warning glance from both Snape and Dumbledore. "Actually, he is," snapped Harry. "If I can get into that potions lab, you can bet I'll make something that will deal with him." Harry did his best to put all his hatred into his statement.

The smile on Voldemort's snake-like visage turned Harry's stomach. "Harry Potter! Would that you had joined me we would have been a power unlike any other!" He laughed maniacally and stretched his white-skinned, claw-like hands toward Harry. Harry let out a cry of revulsion and stumbled backwards. Before he knew it, he was falling. Dumbledore was shouting to him, but he couldn't hear the words. He crashed to the hard ground far below, splitting his skull open. A faraway part of himself knew that the scream that tore from him should have been impossible with a broken skull.

Snape's Dream:

Snape was in the Headmaster's office and he was pacing. He was so angry, it was all he could do to keep himself from subjecting the old man to a Cruciatus. "You knew? Damn you, Albus! If you had exterminated those Vohlfayr we wouldn't be where we are now! What the hell was going through your mind?"

As he spun to glare at Dumbledore, he nearly lost his stride as he saw Harry crouched down beside the Headmaster. Harry shook his head and put his fingers to his lips. "He can't hear me or see me, Snape!" Harry hissed.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, content to allow the younger man to vent his anger. "You know how dangerous it is to mess about with Time, Severus, and as much as I wanted to do something to prevent all of this, I couldn't. What happened is necessary."

"How does this help in any way to defeat the Dark Lord if we remain trapped in 1898, Albus? Do you know how we get back? No, wait, don't answer that, yet. Do we get back?"

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Now that question I wish I did have an answer to, Severus, but I don't. I am, however, severely disappointed that you've come to the decision to stop the research. It's only been a little over four months."

"What sense is there in continuing, Albus? We haven't a clue as to a solution for returning to our own time."

"I don't believe that's the truth, Severus. I believe that you're attempting to indulge in the pursuit of your own desires."

Snape was insulted by the accusation and was about to deny it when he stopped dead at the hard, angry look on Dumbledore's face. It was a look he'd rarely seen and never had he seen it directed at him. It wounded him, deeply, and he ended his pacing, falling into the chair in defeat.

"I don't want to return to my old life, Albus." Harry's jaw dropped suddenly and his eyes widened. Snape gave Harry a barely imperceptible shake of his head. He then continued what he was saying, "Not only do I think I've found someone to love, but I've discovered that I care... deeply... about each of those children." Snape's onyx eyes bored into Harry's as he said very solemnly, "I know that's something you never thought to hear from me. To be honest, I never thought I'd say it."

The anger on Dumbledore's face was replaced by a gentle, pleased smile and he rose to his feet, walked around his desk and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I have always known you to have a heart, dear boy, and as much as I know you want the life that you have found in 1898, you must remain persistent in your search for a way back to us." Dumbledore let go of Snape and took out his wand. "Severus, do forgive me for this..."

To Snape's horror, the Headmaster withdrew his wand and pointed it at him. "Crucio." Severus fell to the floor as every nerve burned sharply. He began screaming.

Draco woke to the sound of Harry's screams. Adrenaline slicing through his veins, he shot from his bed, ran out of his room and was at Harry's bedside seconds before Ron was. A minute later Hermione was running in behind them. Just as Draco reached out for Harry, he ducked just in time to avoid getting hit by Harry's flailing fists.

"His forehead!" pointed Ron. The lightning scar was an angry red and was bleeding profusely.

"Hermione, get Snape!" shouted Draco.

"No!" shouted Harry as his eyes snapped open. "He's hurt, too!" Despite the blood flowing into his eye and impairing his vision, Harry jumped quickly out of his bed and began to run. Draco, Ron, and Hermione quickly followed him to the east wing of the second floor.

Snape luckily had not warded the door to his room with the highly secure wards that protected his private lab and quarters at Hogwarts. A simple Alohomora from Hermione and they were able to unlock the Potion Master's bedroom door. Snape had fallen from his bed and to the floor. His sheets were twisted around his ankles.

It was Ron, kneeling down beside the unconscious man, who saw the torn, left sleeve of Snape's black pyjama top. Ron gasped and recoiled at the sight of the angry looking Dark Mark. "Merlin's teeth!" Ron cursed. They all could see blood seeping from the center of the evil mark.

Harry wiped at the blood on his face. "Hermione, we need Pain Potion, maybe Blood Replenishing Potion, and... oh Merlin! He doesn't have any... wait, the Frostbite Potion! If there's any of that, bring it!"

Without a word, Hermione left the bedroom and ran to the room Snape had turned into a potions storage room on the second floor. It was more than just locked, but she was able to break through the wards and get the potions Harry requested.

Ron had untangled the sheet from Snape's leg, tore a wide swath of it, and crudely wrapped the man's bleeding arm. It disturbed him that it continued to bleed, turning the emerald green sheet black. Knowing there was nothing more he could do, he scooted over to Harry. Conjuring a cloth, he pressed it to Harry's forehead, eliciting a sharp hiss of pain from his friend.

"You okay, mate?" asked Ron as he observed Harry's eyes blinking several times.

"Yeah," said Harry as he took over holding the cloth. "Just kind of sick to my stomach." Seeing Draco standing about helplessly, he addressed him, "Draco, can you levitate Snape onto his bed?"

Draco nodded and did as he was asked. Just as he got Snape settled, Hermione returned with the potions.

"Which should I give him first, Harry?" she asked.

"Let me," said Draco as he picked up Snape's head and shoulders and slipped himself behind the taller man. "Uhm, Pain Potion first, I think." Hermione handed it to him and Draco carefully administered the potion. Snape coughed awake, sputtering some of the potion onto himself.

"What the...?" Snape tried to move and instantly regretted it. It was through sheer, raw willpower that he kept the contents of his stomach where they were.

"Uncle Severus, I just gave you some Pain Potion. I've also got some Frostbite Potion and Blood Replenishing Potion," informed Draco.

"Give me... half the Frostbite..." his skin turned a sallow green. "Anti-nausea, too." Hermione didn't wait to be told, she raced out of the bedroom and back to the storage room while Draco administered the Frostbite potion. Hermione returned very quickly with the Anti-nausea Potion and Draco administered that as well.

"Hermione?" asked Harry. "Could I have some of that, too? And the pain stuff?" He wrapped his arm around his belly doing his best to calm his stomach.

Draco handed over the two potions and she helped Harry to take them. He then propped Snape up with a few pillows. "Uncle Severus?" Draco whispered worriedly.

Snape clutched Draco's shoulder reassuringly. He was feeling marginally better, but he'd need to brew a Cruciatus Relief Potion to deal with all the side effects. He would take care of that task later. Now there was a more pressing matter to deal with; how the hell did he get Crucio'd in a dream. Suddenly noticing that Ron was tearing some of his sheet, he watched, puzzled, as Ron handed the strip to Draco and the Slytherin began to wrap it around the other bandage.

"My... it's...?" Draco replied to Snape's question with a quick nod. Wait... Harry was in my dream! Is he also bleeding? "Harry?"

Harry drew himself up to his feet and leaned against the bedpost. "I was there, Snape." Harry's voice was very weary. "I think I caught a little of that curse."

Snape could see that Harry was very pale. "Sit down before you fall down, Harry." Harry complied and slid down the bedpost until he was seated on the edge of the corner. "The lemon drop?"

Harry stuck his hand into the pyjama pocket of his pants and pulled out a slightly sticky, yellow sweet dusted with lint. For a moment he stared at it, and then he dropped it as though it were on fire. "Snape, what happened?"

Snape shook his head, indicating that they would discuss the dreams later. "Are you still bleeding?"

Harry drew the cloth away and Ron examined the lightning bolt scar. "It's stopped," Ron declared. "What about...?" Ron glanced worriedly at the hidden Dark Mark. Although he'd seen it quite a few times now, it still sent a shiver of fear down his spine.

Snape carefully peeled away the ragged bandage. He didn't care to view his Dark Mark at any time and his feelings towards it were markedly similar to Ron's. "It appears to have stopped." Snape removed the bandage, vanished the bloody cloths, and repaired his torn sleeve. Rising to his feet, he leaned over and examined Harry's scar. His fingertips were gentle, feather-light. For a brief moment he touched Harry's cheek and looked into the boy's eyes. Harry saw the man's concern, and also his relief. A warmth he'd never known before spread outward from his heart. He smiled inwardly, afraid that Snape, or any of his friends, might make fun of him.

"We need something hot and sweet," Snape declared rising to his full height. "Slippers, robes and meet me in the parlour."

Snape and the children congregated in the parlour several minutes later, dressed in their nightclothes and robes and all of them holding cups of hot chocolate. The only light came from the roaring fireplace and they were all gathered around Snape. He and Harry had related their dreams to Draco, Ron, and Hermione.

Hermione shivered, and leaned in against Draco. "So it was Voldemort that put the Blood Faeries in the Forbidden Forest?"

"It's entirely possible," said Snape quietly. "The Dark Lord has left many such 'delayed' traps. Even after his demise, he will continue to cause trouble, misery and even death."

"But why did Dumbledore Crucio you?" asked Ron.

"It was no more than a second or two," Snape murmured. "I think he might have done it to show me that these are more than just dreams." At least, he thought, I hope that's why he did it.

"Harry's bleeding scar did the job just fine for me!" snapped Draco.

"So did that lemon drop," muttered Hermione. Draco felt her tremble and he kissed her forehead.

"Snape," Harry began as his brow furrowed, "Do you think it's possible that Dumbledore is sending these dreams to us? I mean, if he's in 1994, and he knows about the Blood Fae, and that we went back in time... could he contact us this way?"

"I wouldn't have thought so before tonight, Harry, but Albus is a very powerful wizard and his skill in both Legilimans and Occlumens could point to other Mind Magic we may not be aware of." Snape gripped his cup of hot chocolate and forced himself to drink some of it. His hands were threatening to shake, from fear, not from any residual aftereffect of the Cruciatus Curse.

"What worries me, Uncle Severus," began Hermione softly, "is if Dumbledore can reach us through time and through our dreams, could Voldemort?"

"No, no I'm certain he can't, Hermione," assured Snape. "If he could, he would simply kill us all in our sleep. He can be a pompous and blustering figure, but his eventual goal is to kill Harry Potter." He glanced apologetically at Harry for being so blunt and Harry just shrugged. "The chance at being able to get to him, or to any of us that way would have been irresistible. He would have killed you three before your first year together. There is also the matter of the first dreams you four had. I believe you had those because all of us have a connection with Dumbledore."

Harry was staring into the dark dregs of his chocolate. "Dumbledore seemed really worried about me letting on to Voldemort that you were being kind to us, Snape, yet you told me he wasn't real."

Snape thought back to Harry's dream. "I'm positive that he wasn't the real Dark Lord, Harry. However, your scar does connect you to him. It's possible that had you told the Dark Lord I was treating it well, Dumbledore wasn't certain it would get back to him, through the Headmaster."

Harry frowned. It was all very confusing. The one person they really needed to ask, they couldn't, because he was just a kid in this time period.

"Whatever the hell's going on," growled Draco, "I don't like any of it. Dumbledore's scaring the crap..." he chanced a quick look at Snape to see if his godfather was going to correct him for his cursing. When he saw that Snape had no intention of stopping him, he continued, "...out of us and good wizard or not, it's mean."

Hermione nodded. "He cast an Unforgivable."

No one could reply to that. None of them really wanted to. The dreams that Snape and Harry had this evening had shown all of them a side of the grandfatherly Headmaster that worried, if not frightened, all of them. Snape, who was aware this side of the deceptively powerful wizard existed, hated to see their childish illusions about the 'saintly' Albus Dumbledore crumbling as the hours crept by. Dumbledore was a good man and Snape did trust him. However, sometimes the way the man plotted, schemed, and kept secrets close to himself, rubbed the Potions Master the wrong way.

Draco finished his chocolate and vanished the cup. He drew Hermione tightly into his embrace. Hermione spoke up, "He keeps saying he's the key."

"Who does?" asked Ron. His eyes then widened. "Oh! You meant Dumbledore!"

She nodded. "I just don't understand what he means by that, though. Key, how? His younger self or in some other way?"

"I don't think there is any key," remarked Snape. "The Headmaster has an ego that's nearly as big as the Dark Lord's. He often sees himself as central to the solution of a problem. However, he might figure in the way for us to return home, he is just another piece of the puzzle. Perhaps a larger piece, but a piece nonetheless." He finished his chocolate and Evanescoed the cup. "We won't figure all of this out tonight, so I suggest we all return to bed."

"Could we just stay here, Snape?" Harry asked in a quiet voice.

Snape regarded Harry and could see the shade of fear flit across the boy's face. "Would all of you like to sleep the rest of the night here?" There were nods, and yes's from each of them. Rising to his feet, he transfigured the parlour furniture into narrow beds.

"Five beds?" asked Draco.

Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow at the blonde and then to the little Gryffindor bookworm he still held close to himself, "Chaperon. Hermione, over there and Draco, beside me."

Hermione's cheeks coloured as she stepped away from Draco and quickly slipped into the bed on the end. Draco rolled his eyes dramatically. "You know I'm an honourable man, Sev!" he growled under his breath as he climbed into his bed.

Snape muttered, "You're a teenaged boy."

"Yeah, right!" snorted Ron. He ducked just as a pillow was thrown at his head. Instead, it hit Snape in the back.

"Oh crap!" yelped Draco and he ducked under the covers as Snape glared down upon him.

"Language, Draco," Snape's low voice warned.

A muffled apology came from under the covers from Draco. Harry sniggered and pulled his covers up over himself.

Snape was the last to get into his narrow bed, but he didn't fall asleep right away. As he listened to the teenagers getting comfortable and slowly falling back to sleep, he remained wide awake. He was worried, but moreover, he was afraid. Of Dumbledore. He knew the old wizard was powerful, but to be able to reach over to them in their dreams while they were stuck in the past spoke of a power even the Dark Lord did not have. He was also concerned about the disapproval and anger the man had shown him in his dream; not only had Snape seen it, but it had been a physical force that twisted his insides.

He would continue their research, but now he wondered, if they never found a way home would he ever be free of Dumbledore's watchful spirit? With that worry burrowing deep into his thoughts, Snape didn't fall asleep until the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon.

A week to Christmas, the dreams were voluntarily forgotten by the children as they looked forward to the holiday. As for Snape he had begun to spend every minute not in classes, meals, or the potions lab, researching in the library.

Lyrica, now at Ashmere for the holiday, spent her time either decorating the house with her four young assistants, or in her own private rooms. Snape had not told her about the dreams. One afternoon, finally curious as to where the absent professor was, Lyrica went looking for him and found him in the library. He was unaware of her presence and so she was caught when the library door slammed shut with a wave of his wand. She also felt the subtle ripple of a silencing spell.

Snape was angry and frustrated. He had just begun to take his anger out on the months of useless notes by throwing them everywhere. That action, hardly satisfying was replaced by him giving into his more primitive self and letting loose with an angered roar. A book nearby was his hapless victim as it went sailing across the room and crashed into a large vase of flowers. The vase shattered and the spell preserved flowers cascaded to the floor. In that moment, he caught a glimpse of Lyrica out of the corner of his eye and he spun angrily upon her.

"What are you doing in here?" He had his wand out in the blink of an eye and pointed directly at her heart.

Lyrica's wandless magic was pure instinct honed by the years she'd had to protect her mother and then herself from her father's anger. A simple, but very quick wave of her hand neatly disarmed Snape and threw him into the bookcase that was behind him. He crashed heavily and books tumbled down around him and a couple hit him in the head.

Aghast at what she'd done, she quickly prevented more books from falling and doing more damage and then ran over to him. "Severus! I'm so sorry!" Lyrica knelt down beside him and tried to help him to his feet.

"Do not apologise for defending yourself, Lyrica!" he admonished sharply. "You caught me by surprise. I could have hurt you." Leaning on her, Snape rose a bit shakily to his legs. He felt slightly woozy and Lyrica helped him over to a chair. "Merlin's arthritic knees, woman! What did you hit me with?"

Lyrica glanced over her shoulder at one of the larger tomes. "It appears you were struck with Dandelo Bint's Monologue on the Dark Arts."

Snape glowered at the cheeky smile Lyrica flashed at him. "Very funny, my dear." He rubbed the back of his head and wasn't all that surprised to see a little blood on his hand.

"Allow me," said the Headmistress as she tended to his wound. It was quickly cleaned and healed. "It was a simple blocking spell used defensively."

Snape glanced at her, puzzled.

"My magic," she explained as she waved open the door to the library and conjured a Headache Potion. She gave it to him and he drank from the small bottle. "A simple block used as a weapon. It only requires the intent of the caster: no wand, no incantation."

Snape regarded her. "Lyrica, would you teach us your magic?"

Lyrica was about to repair the vase when she stared at him. Her gaze was quizzical and suspicious. "Why?"

"Your magic is very powerful and it would be good for us to have something that the Dar..." he bit his tongue.

Lyrica's eyes narrowed. "Just say it, Severus. The Dark Lord. Or Voldemort. Both I have heard now, so you aren't protecting me. You still believe you'll return to your time to fight this creature?"

"Until I am certain there is no..."

"Oh stop placating me!" she shouted. "I am tired of hearing the 'ifs', Severus!" He was about to rise when she stepped forward, placed her hands against his chest and shoved him back into the chair. "No more! I don't want to hear little snippets that I have to worry about as I lie abed at night. You will tell me now what it is you face in your future and exactly what it is that has you working ceaselessly for a solution that has yet to present itself."

"Lyrica, you know that I cannot tell you. Any knowledge..."

"Stop it!" she snapped angrily. "I have your names, the name of this dark wizard. If I wish to change your timeline, I have more than enough to do so. You will tell me about that mark on your arm, Harry's scar, why Draco must continue to hurt Hermione... everything, Severus. I will not be kept ignorant any longer."

Snape was about to shout right back when a voice from the library doorway stopped him. "She's right, Uncle Severus." Hermione stood in the doorway with Ron, Harry and Draco around her. "Professor Arcahnum knows too much as it is."

"We agree with Hermione, Uncle Severus," echoed Draco.

"She's family, Snape," said Harry simply.

That simple phrase from Harry, shocked, yet pleased, both adults. Taking a deep breath, he waved the children into the library. They entered and Snape conjured a circle of comfortable chairs for everyone. Lyrica sat beside him. She slipped her hand into his.

"I will only tell you the part of my story they know. Precisely how I received the Dark Mark is to remain my business. I shall tell you of my redemption at Albus Dumbledore's hand and the prophecy that led to Harry's scar."

"The dreams," prompted Hermione. "Can we tell Pro... Lyrica about those, too?"

Snape nodded. For the next several hours, Lyrica learned about the rise of Voldemort and when Snape joined the Death Eaters and took the Dark Mark. She learned of the prophecy that had sent the dark wizard to Godric's Hollow to kill a child barely a year old. She was told of how little Harry had miraculously survived the Killing Curse and nearly destroyed the Dark Lord. Lyrica was told about the formation of the Order of the Phoenix by Albus Dumbledore to fight against Voldemort's return.

In a cold and emotionless voice, Snape related the events that led him to seek a deserved death at Dumbledore's hands (conveniently leaving out any mention of his personal feelings for Lily Evans). He had been grievously tortured for defying the Dark Lord and it was his intention to confess his sins to Dumbledore and then either to die, or to accept imprisonment in Azkaban. To his surprise, Dumbledore had forgiven him, nursed him back to health and convinced him to spy on the side of Light. So thankful for such forgiveness, he did not realise until later that he'd been tied to Dumbledore and his cause by an Unbreakable Vow. As Snape related this fact, which was known only to Draco, he emphasised how the Unbreakable Vow was as unforgiving as the Dark Mark.

At this point in the story, they adjourned for a silent dinner. Little was eaten; and so, they retired to the parlour and its comforting fire as the children each took up their own stories. Draco told Lyrica about his father's reason for keeping him alive; a gift for the Dark Lord when he came of age. Ron told her about his large, pureblood family and how they were all looked upon as blood traitors. Hermione related to Lyrica about her life with her Muggle, dentist parents and then discovering her place was in the Wizarding world. Unfortunately, she was also a target as she was a Muggle-born, or Mudblood witch.

It was then Harry's turn to relate his story to Lyrica. He skimmed over his years with the Dursleys and related more about his time at Hogwarts. With Ron and Hermione's help he told the story of the Philosopher's Stone, Fluffy, and his first encounter with Voldemort. Then came the events of his second year where he had met the memory of young Tom Riddle who had tried to regain his youthful body by killing Ginny Weasley. Then came his third year in which he didn't encounter Voldemort, but he dealt with Dementors, learned to cast a Patronus, and discovered that his godfather, Sirius Black, was innocent of the terrible murders he'd gone to Azkaban for.

An old grandfather clock in the parlour chimed the hour of midnight just as Harry was finished with his story. They had yet to tell Lyrica about their dreams.

"Not yet," she said quietly. She had separated herself from Snape's side awhile ago and had seated herself in her chair by the tall window.

"Lyrica, are you all right?" Snape asked gently.

"It is..." she began uneasily. "I... I will be, Severus. Tell me of your dreams, now."

"Maybe we should wait until tomorrow," said Snape. He was very concerned by the haunted, distant look upon Lyrica's face. He was also bothered by the fact that she refused to look at any of them. "This has been a lot for you to take..."

"It is, but finish it." As she turned to look at him, the anguish in her green eyes was a palpable force. At once, Snape regretted that they had said anything to her. He felt as though he had killed something inside of her; her innocence. "Please, tell me the dreams."

One by one they related their dreams to Lyrica and she listened, quietly, her back turned almost completely to them. She seemed oblivious; watching the snow fall silently out the window. After Harry and Snape related their two most recent dreams, she faced them again.

Snape concluded, "I know that Professor Dumbledore sent us the dreams, but I don't know how he did it."

For a moment, Lyrica stared at Snape. Then, without a word, she strode out of the parlour with some purpose in mind. She was gone for several minutes and just when it seemed she was not coming back, Snape began to usher the children off to bed. They were grumbling, mumbling amongst themselves when Lyrica returned. In her hand was a thick, old volume and she handed it to Snape.

"Albus petitioned me for access to the Restricted Section this year. I granted it as long as he let me know what he was reading. I was curious about this book, but saw no reason to not allow him to continue studying it as there did not appear to be anything Dark about it." Lyrica remained standing beside Snape.

Draco went over to Snape to see what the book was and he was quickly followed by a curious Hermione. Harry and Ron remained standing by the fireplace.

Snape read the title of the book out loud, "Dreams As A Pathway: Exploring The Delicate Nature of Magical Bonds & The Art of Dream Travel by Aristotle."

"The Unbreakable Vow, Severus," Lyrica said as she sat down beside him. "The one that Albus tricked you into. It would open a pathway to your dreams."

A shadow of anger settled upon Snape's features. A sense of violation worse than the Dark Lord's assault upon his thoughts through Legilimens welled up inside of him. Dumbledore had introduced Snape to the disciplines of Legilimens and Occlumens, but he had continued his learning on his own until he felt he was able to protect his thoughts, not only from the Dark Lord, but from Dumbledore as well. He had never thought he might have to block his dreams as he slept as well.

"But, we don't have a magical bond with Dumbledore," argued Harry, a sharp scowl upon his face.

"You do, Harry," asserted Snape. "The night you were left with your mother's sister's family, Hagrid, Minerva, Albus, and myself made an Unbreakable Vow to protect you. In turn, you have the bond of friendship with Hermione and Ron, and a new one with Draco. As I am Draco's godfather, he is bound to me. We are all linked and that blasted, old, meddling fool has been gallivanting along those bonds..."

"He will not be able to continue interfering in your dreams," Lyrica declared dispassionately. "Aristotle explains that in trespassing upon the dreams of another, it eventually weakens the bond and can destroy it."

"That's some comfort," Hermione whispered lamely.

"Indeed," snarled Snape. "Everyone to bed." Snape rose to his feet. "I'll be up in a few minutes with Dreamless Sleep potion for all of you." The teenagers quickly scattered and for a moment Snape's onyx black eyes locked with Lyrica's. Her gaze, usually so lively, was glassy, full of thought, and there was anger deep within them, too. The anger, he knew, was not directed at him, yet that gave him little comfort. A brief, assuring brush of her fingers against his, and Lyrica turned away and walked out of the library.

The third floor of Ashmere belonged to Lyrica. When she was growing up the third floor held her parents large room, a separate, smaller bedroom for her mother that was connected to Lyrica's nursery and a study her mother used. After her mother's death, her father had moved into the east wing, second floor of the house and Lyrica to the west wing. The third floor had then been sealed. Once her father had been killed, Lyrica unsealed the third floor, tore down all the walls and turned the now large room into her own apartment. This was her sanctuary; her place to retreat and to think.

The Headmistress of Hogwarts departed from Snape's side, allowing him to give the children their Dreamless Sleep Potion while she locked herself away in her apartment. She needed to think. Closing the door and re-setting the wards, she waved her hand and the long, large room was lit up.

Lyrica's apartment was almost a mirror image of her quarters at Hogwarts. A sumptuous, Turkish Seraglio, it was a rich swath of tall, gold-latticed windows draped in crimson and gold silk; silk that fell into extravagant pools at the base of the windows. The highly polished wood floor was mostly covered by thick Persian carpets of warm golds, yellows, browns, oranges, and reds. The furniture was white pine with heavy silk embroidered upholstery. Scattered throughout the apartment, on the window seats and the floors, were a variety of small and large embroidered pillows in nearly every colour of the rainbow. Candles burned in hanging lamps that were cut and highly polished, precious amber, garnet, and clear quartz. The bed was a canopied affair that continued the silken opulence of the room, but where the room was warm, the bed was cool in the colours of jewel-toned blue, green, and turquoise. The bed frame itself, the headboard, footboard, and posts were one solid, intricately carved piece of natural, grey-green soapstone. The carvings in the headboard and footboard were of sinuous dragons whereas the posts were twisting snakes.

Dominating the room was the coiled form of a basilisk. It had been carved from onyx and its eyes were two, brilliant ice blue diamonds. Its open mouth displayed sharp fangs of nearly flawless ivory. Lyrica sat upon the coils of the basilisk and picked up one of the many scattered pillows to lean against. Alone with her thoughts, her hands began to tremble. She grasped a small pillow and dug her fingers into its softness to quell the shaking.

From the depths of the basilisk statue's coils slithered a long, silver and black serpent. Lyrica was not at all concerned when the creature wrapped itself around her waist and laid its head upon the pillow she was clutching. She stroked the serpent's head.

No time period is safe, so leave it be, her mind tried to convince her, but Lyrica would not listen. It had been a very long time since the wizarding world had seen an evil the likes of Voldemort. It horrified her to learn that not just those four children, but all the children at Hogwarts were being trained in the killing arts. War wasn't a pretty thing, and its preparation was always harsh.

They are just children, for Merlin's sake! Lyrica was also angry- angry at Severus for being so stubborn about finding a way back to that madness and angered at Albus Dumbledore's trickery. There was an underlying sense of fear, too. For a wizard to travel in dreams along the lines of a magical bond spoke of a wizard of great power.

"He will take them from me, Kalima," she whispered to the snake. Its tongue darted out, touching the skin of her palm.

Being the quiescent, dutiful daughter of Ebenezer Arcahnum had served her well as she grew up. However, there were five people residing in her home she had now accepted as her family. Whatever needed to be done to keep them safe, Lyrica would do. The only problem was determining what price she was willing to pay for their safety.

Meanwhile, In Hermione's Room:

Hermione was aware of the doors to Harry, Ron, and Draco's room quietly being closed one by one as Snape visited each boy with a small phial of Dreamless Sleep Potion. For some inexplicable reason, she had spread out her notes, worn, wrinkled, some slightly torn, all over the surface of her bed. She was thumbing through them again, not one bit sleepy, when Snape's polite knock rapped lightly upon her door.

Absently she answered, "Come in."

Snape opened the door and was surprised to see Hermione on top of her bed, instead of in it, with all her notes surrounding her. "You're supposed to be preparing for bed, Hermione," he admonished gently.

"I know, but I'm not sleepy," a sigh of frustration escaped the girl. "Are you sleepy, Uncle?"

Snape shook his head at her earnest expression. "Tell me what's on your mind." Carefully he picked up a section of the notes and seated himself on the edge of the bed.

"The answer is here. I know it. I just wish that I could see it." Her fingers danced purposefully over various pages. "Did you know I'm very good with puzzles?" She glanced up as Snape shook his head. "I love mysteries, too. I have all of Agatha Christie's books and I always figured out who the murderer was before Hercule Poirot or Miss Marple ever figured it out."

"Ah. So, in the mystery of the Philosopher's Stone, were you the one who discovered what the Philosopher's Stone was?" he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow and thin smile.

Hermione blushed. "I just put the pieces together. The only thing that didn't make sense was why Professor Dumbledore took the stone out of Gringott's in the first place and then reported it had been stolen."

"To draw out the Dark Lord," explained Snape. Hermione frowned. "Dumbledore knew something was wrong with Quirrel. The man had sympathy before for the Dark Lord's beliefs, but he was, essentially, a coward. He never had enough nerve to take the Dark Mark. The summer before Harry began his first year, Quirrel left for Egypt. If you knew the man, you'd know that Wizarding Egypt was not a place he was overly fond of. He returned near the end of summer, seemingly none the worse for wear with the exception of that stutter. My own instincts told me to watch Quirrel. Unfortunately, Albus nearly told me too late precisely what his suspicions were in regards to Quirrel."

"Too late to rescue Harry?" she asked.

Snape shook his head. He wondered if he should tell Hermione how Dumbledore's penchant for holding secrets nearly had him revealing to Quirrel, who had the Dark Lord as part of himself, that he had never been loyal to the Dark Lord- a mistake that would have cost Snape his life and the Order of the Phoenix their valuable spy. He chose to keep that to himself.

"Harry managed to save himself, but it was by sheer luck that he did."

Hermione's eyes fell to her notes as thoughts ran through her head. Then, something she'd seen hundreds of times caught her eye. She dropped her hand on a parchment somewhat more recent than the others. "Uncle Severus, are Portgates used in our time?"

Hermione's change in topic from Quirrel and back to her notes showed Snape that the girl's young mind was spinning relentlessly like a Cornish Pixie caught in a cage. Wondering what she was thinking about, he answered her question. "They are not. The Department of Portals Regulation suspended the creation and use of portgates about seventy years ago."

"Do you know why?"

Frowning, he tried to sift through his memory of history for the answer. "Something to do with an unstable nature and I believe the enchantment of a Portgate is rather more complicated than that for setting up a Floo point, or a Portkey."

Hermione snatched up the note she'd been staring at and handed it to Snape. Taking the page, he began to read the section the young witch pointed to. Hermione had taken down notes about the curious nature of Portgates and how, when enchanted, the portal streams of two Portgates were attracted to each other until they met in the middle. This created a usable gate between long distances. The problem was that the portal stream was very difficult to stabilise and after several uses, it collapsed. Portgates also required that the anchors, or the objects being enchanted, be of metal or glass and of a size accommodating to an adult. They were unwieldy, impractical and dangerous. In her notes, Hermione had underlined in red ink, 'splinching, no; deaths by grievous and traumatic loss of limb, yes.'

"Fascinating, but I am not seeing in this what you are, Hermione." Snape handed her the page and she began to go through her notes furiously. He caught a few pages that started to fall off the edge of the bed.

"Yes!" she crowed softly as she snatched at another piece of parchment. "I read in Bartlemeo's book, Portal Enchantments, a footnote that referred to another book by Nicolas Flamel called Experiments With Time. Bartlemeo referred to Flamel's time experiments using Portkeys and Portgates."

Snape's slim finger tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Many of Flamel's books are forbidden, kept in the Department of Mysteries. I wasn't aware that he'd experimented with Time, but considering his great age and the many discoveries he made..." Snape blinked. "The Department of Mysteries doesn't formally form within the Ministry until after the rise of Grindewald. That book might be accessible here."

"Lyrica's library has a lot of restricted books," reminded Hermione. "We can't touch them, since she charmed them with an age ward."

Snape smiled. "I shall start looking for that book right away. If I don't find it, I know of a certain bookshop on Knockturn Alley that most likely can find it for me." Snape rose to his feet and began gathering up Hermione's notes. She started to slide off her bed and put on her dressing gown. "And just where do you think you're going at this hour, young lady?"

Hermione froze in place, and smiled sheepishly. "I was... well, I was going to help you, Uncle?"

Snape shook his head firmly. "It's far too late and you need your sleep. Now, get back into bed, young lady." He placed her notes he had gathered, neatly stacked, upon the bedside table. He then took the small dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion from his pocket. "Drink this."

Hermione reluctantly climbed back into bed under her covers. She took the phial and stared at it. "But I don't mind dreaming."

Snape's arms crossed over his chest and he gave the child his best 'do it or else' glare. Hermione quickly uncorked the phial and swallowed the contents. She then replaced the cork and handed the empty container to Snape. "If you'd like, you may help me after Christmas."

"All right. Goodnight, Uncle Severus." Hermione pulled her blankets up to her chin and closed her eyes just as the potion began to nudge her body towards sleep.

Leaning over, he picked up one errant page, placed it with the others, and smoothed the blanket at her side. "Goodnight, Hermione," he said softly. As he left the room, he extinguished the lights and then quietly shut the door.

Snape walked slowly back to his room and paused at the single door that led to the staircase up to Lyrica's apartment. He was very tempted to knock upon her door and see how she was, but he had never been invited beyond this solitary door's threshold and he was reluctant to trespass now. Turning away, he continued to his bedroom.

Sleep would not come to Snape and as much as he was tempted to take a dose of Dreamless Sleep Potion as well, his mind was far too busy. Sitting up in his bed, he stirred the coals in the fire using his wand until the flames rose higher and took away the slight chill in the room.

"What game are you playing, Albus?" he asked his empty, fire-lit room. It was all too clear that Dumbledore not only remembered them from his past, but had also known how they travelled back in time. In their dreams, the Headmaster continued to urge them to find a way home.

Summoning the book by Aristotle from his bedroom desk into his hand, Snape then cast a spell that caused a small ball of light to hover over his head. He began to read the book. It was in Greek, so upon each page he had to cast a translating spell. It made for very slow reading.

The very nature of the dream world is a plane of existence that defies time and space. There are many recorded instances of wizards and witches who have travelled through the stars, or into the past via the plane of dreams. A wizard and witch, traditionally bound, will often experience each other's dreams. As this is often by consent of the married couple, it is a sharing that heightens intimacy and reinforces the bond of matrimony. It is when the dream state is invaded by another through any sort of bond, that most bonds will begin to deteriorate. Such an invasion is a grievous violation of the mind and is not only considered Dark Magic, but illegal. However, it is the rare witch or wizard who can attempt such delicate Mind Magic.

Snape closed the book as he finished reading that last paragraph. Despite the fact that some of their dreams were comforting, or some gave warning, it still made the Potions Master ill knowing that Dumbledore so easily abused their bonds. His hand began to spasm, a painful reminder of what else the Headmaster had done to him; the older wizard had subjected him to the Cruciatus Curse. To cause him such pain, even for a moment, had broken something else in Snape that was far deeper than an Unbreakable Vow.

Pushing the blankets off his legs, Snape slid from his bed and dressed. Sleep would not appear to him tonight so he would find solace in the only constant in his life: brewing.

Christmas morning arrived sooner than expected- only two days after the nightmares- and at a sinfully early hour. Ron was the first to wake up at precisely six in the morning. He stuffed his feet into his slippers and was belting his dressing gown while he raced to open his friends bedroom doors and shout them out of their peaceful slumbers. Following Ron's example with their slippers and dressing gowns haphazardly thrown over their nightcloths the four were thundering down the stairs before the clock ticked over to six-thirty.

Snape, hearing the clatter that sounded like a herd of Thestrals running through the house, leapt from his bed. He had barely tied the belt around his dark grey dressing gown to shout over the excited voices that had just passed. "If you cannot manage to behave your ages, I swear, I'll grind up that tree for mulch and your gifts for potions ingredients!"

Harry was the first to freeze in place on the stairs. Draco ran into him. Ron collided with Draco. Draco then tripped over Harry. Hermione bumped into Ron, which sent him once more into Draco who was just picking himself up. It took another few seconds for them all to right themselves while Snape watched them darkly.

"He'd look scarier if he didn't have such big, bare feet," quipped Ron. Draco snorted and Harry just chuckled.

"Kitchen," growled Snape as he loomed over all four of them and pointed down the stairs. "Set the table and then sit down. No moving. No talking. GO!"

Shoulders slumping, smiles gone, they trudged unhappily down the stairs. None of them saw the smirk on Snape's face. Just as they reached the entryway, Snape said silkily, "Merry Christmas."

As though they had rehearsed it- though they hadn't- in a perfect chorus they chimed, "Merry Christmas, Sir!"

With a nod and a hint of a smile, Snape turned on his heel and returned to his room. Much happier then they were moments before, Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione made their way to the kitchen and began to set the dining table for Christmas Day breakfast.

Lyrica and Snape arrived together, both dressed. Lyrica wore a red satin dress trimmed with green and gold. Snape wasn't in his expected black, but in a dark grey suit. His dark green frock coat was open; revealing a crisp white, linen shirt and a fitted, green velvet vest. His hair, which had grown a few inches below his shoulders, was neatly tied back with a red satin ribbon.

All four of his wards gaped at him. "Ah! Four, little hungry birds, are you?" he remarked. Casually sitting beside Lyrica, Snape unfolded his napkin and arranged it upon his lap. He had just lifted his cup of coffee when he noticed the children had yet to move. Glaring with mock exasperation, he barked, "The sooner you eat, the sooner we can get to Hogsmeade. So, tuck in!"

Breakfast was soon finished and the children ran upstairs to get dressed. For the boys, Snape had dictated they wear formal, black robes with a colourful frock coat. Harry's coat was burgundy, Ron's was crimson, and Draco's was the same dark green as Snape's. In Draco's room, Snape inspected each of the boys, did their glamourie, and then replaced the clasps on their outer robes with clasps of fresh cut holly.

"What's the holly for?" asked Harry.

"A symbol of the Winter King," said Snape as he tied Harry's tie.

"Who is the Winter King?"

"Didn't your Muggles ever tell you the story of the Holly King and the Oak King?" asked Draco with a snort.

"Sorry, I was stuck in a cupboard while they pigged out on the Christmas goose!" snarled Harry. Just as he was about to let loose and sock Malfoy for his callous comment, Snape tugged Harry, sharply, back into place and had to start over with the tie.

"Very few Muggles celebrate the Winter Solstice, Draco, so keep your snide remarks to yourself," Snape admonished the boy, then glared down at the Boy-Who-Couldn't-Stop-Fidgeting. "Will you stand still, Harry, before I put you in a body bind?"

"Awp!" gasped the Gryffindor as his Professor yanked on the tie. "Not so tight, Snape!"

Snape finished with Harry's tie and then checked Ron's. His eyes rolled as he saw the wrinkled, topsy-turvy mess. "Come over here, Ron."

Ron blushed at having Snape fix his tie. To ignore the attention, he asked, "Why'd you bring up this festival, Uncle Sev? Do you celebrate it?"

"It is a part of wizarding history that we are losing, Ron. The Winter Solstice is a very powerful, magical time and although the giving of gifts and the decorating of a tree are quaint symbols of the season, it doesn't properly honour our magic. The Winter Solstice festival we'll take part in today is an opportunity I felt that we should not miss."

"Hogsmeade doesn't hold the festival anymore," added Draco. He peered into the large mirror at the brown eyes Snape had given him.

"Why not?" Snape turned Ron around to look at himself in the mirror. He wrinkled his brow. "One of my eyes is green."

Snape sighed and spun Ron back to face him and fixed the colour of his eyes so they matched. "Hogsmeade's last Winter Solstice Festival was in... hmmm, 1899. Many in the wizarding world believe that the Muggle popularising of Christmas has invaded what our ancestors celebrated as Yule and the Winter Solstice." Snape cast a de-wrinkling spell over Ron's robes and made a mental note to check the boy's closet later to see if he was hanging up his clothes or throwing them on the floor.

"We're having a history lesson, then." Ron scrutinized his now grey eyes and impossibly blonde hair in the mirror. "Bloody hell! I'm a Malfoy!"

Snape thunked the back of Ron's head with his knuckles. "Language!"

In Hermione's room, Lyrica was helping the young Gryffindor choose a dress. She had laid out on the bed a variety of dresses. Some were solid green or solid red. Others were a mix of the two colours. Hermione, not really a fashion conscious girl, was just a bit overwhelmed.

"Red or green is my only choice?" she asked a bit in dismay as she eyed all the lovely satin and silk frocks.

"Traditional colours, Hermione." Lyrica fingered one very beautiful dress of silk that shimmered between various shades of green. The trim was gold thread embroidery of ivy along the neckline, hem, and cuffs. The golden ivy sprouted upward from the hem in tantalising spirals. Some of the spirals ended at the ankle, some at the knee, and a very few just below the waist.

Hermione's finger traced the embroidery. "It is beautiful, but my hair... the glamour."

Lyrica smiled. "Leave it all to me, Hermione and I promise, for the rest of the day Draco will only have eyes for you."

Snape and the boys were waiting, rather impatiently, in the parlour. Lyrica stepped through the door first, wearing a heavy velvet outer robe of crimson to match her dress. Red was not a colour he was fond of, but he had to admit to himself that Lyrica was resplendent in her holiday robes and she quite took his breath away.

When Lyrica stepped to Snape's side, Hermione entered the room. She wore the green silk which hung beautifully upon her petite frame. Her glamour was subtle, with red highlights to her brown, curly hair which was adorned with a crown of holly and ivy. Her eyes were grey-green and her outer robe was of rich, gold velvet trimmed with heavy, green embroidery.

Both Harry and Ron were stunned at the transformation of their friend, but it was Draco's reaction she was waiting for. His eyes shining, he stepped forward, bowed toward her and held out his hand to her. Hermione took Draco's hand just as a blush rose to her cheeks.

"You look like the Lady of Summer, Hermione Granger," he said softly. Slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow, he gave Hermione a bright smile.

Snape echoed Draco's gesture toward Hermione and placed Lyrica's hand on his right forearm. Looking at his well dressed... family (yes, my family), he felt a sense of pride and of protective possession. Whatever the future intended for them, he silently vowed to himself that he would not lose this. It tore at his heart that there was still the possibility that he would lose Lyrica, but if that was to be, he would still have his wards... his children. No matter what plans Dumbledore or Voldemort had in store for him.

A rare, genuine smile graced Snape's features very briefly. He declared, "If everyone is ready, then it is time for us to go." Snape threw Floo powder into the flames of the parlour fireplace and they were on their way.

Hogsmeade - Winter Solstice Festival

The festival opened with the traditional play of the Holly King- the symbol of winter- and the Oak King's- the symbol of summer- battle in the open courtyard at the centre of Hogsmeade. During the battle, charmed snowflakes of red and green crystal fell upon the crowd. Hermione caught a red crystal and Harry caught a green one. Draco was far too busy watching Hermione to pay attention to either the battle or the falling crystals.

Hermione was so very different, but still so like the little girl who had smiled brightly, only at him, on the Hogwarts Express platform. Every smile she gave to him, especially today, made him melt inside. He felt a great deal of pride as she walked beside him and despite the fact he knew Snape would tell him he was still too young ('You're just a dunderheaded teen boy, Draco!'), he knew without a doubt that he wanted to always be with Hermione. He intended to protect her and keep her safe from his father, no matter what the cost was. In his eyes, Hermione Granger was worth everything.

Feeling Draco's hand slip into hers, she squeezed his gloved fingers. Hermione had never felt more beautiful, more wanted, than on this day. She didn't think it at all crazy that she was falling in love with a Slytherin. To her, he was simply Draco Malfoy, the young boy who thought she was worth something. She recalled her first day as she nervously hugged her parents goodbye. She felt so odd amongst all these wizarding children that swarmed the Hogwarts Express platform. All she wanted was a friend. Someone who who had grown up as a wizard or witch, who could help her through what would undoubtedly be a very tough year. Looking around, she saw the small boy with the pale, blonde hair standing next to a matched set of parents. In the brief moment that she smiled at him, Hermione knew she saw something worthwhile in his silvery grey gaze.

Hermione was appalled, though, when she saw the little boy's father hit him sharply upon the back of the head with his cane. She knew there was trouble, and immediately mourned the loss of the one person she had wanted for a friend. It was only an hour later that she met Ron and Harry, the two most unlikely friends she ever expected to have. She wouldn't give up those two Gryffindor heroes for anything in the world, and now she felt the same about Draco. Hermione turned to her side and quickly kissed Draco's cheek. He blushed slightly, and his eyes sparkled happily back at her.

Draco's fingers tightened over Hermione's and while the others were busy with the spectacle, he guided her away from the crowd and against the door of a shop closed for the day. Snape's watchful eye lit upon them briefly, and then discretely returned to watch the end of the battle.

"Hermione," Draco began quietly with a shy smile on his face. "I have a second present under the tree for you, but this is your real gift from me." From his pocket he withdrew a small gift wrapped in red and gold and decorated with tiny sprigs of holly and ivy. Taking the hand he held, he put the gift upon her palm, let go of her hand and anxiously waited for her to open it.

"Thank you, Draco," Hermione breathed softly. As she touched the tiny, symbolic holly and ivy, they shimmered at her touch and beneath them slithered a length of very fine, silver chain. Her eyes brightened as she caught the necklace in her other hand. She wanted to open the present, but she handed the necklace to Draco, turned her back to him, and stood still as he put the necklace upon her. As he clasped it securely, she shivered warmly as his lips brushed her exposed neck.

"Open the box," he whispered as he turned Hermione back to face him.

With a charming, shy smile, Hermione unwrapped the gift to reveal a small, square box covered with dark green velvet. With a hand that was trembling ever so slightly, she opened the box to reveal a ring of twining silver with tiny, two emerald ivy leaves and two ruby holly berries. Draco removed the ring from the box, closed the lid and tucked it into his pocket. Taking her hand, he slipped the ring onto Hermione's ring finger.

"Draco..." Hermione's voice was so hushed, he almost couldn't hear her.

Pulling her a little closer, he spoke quickly, "This is a promise, Hermione, that I shall never forsake or hurt you, but do my utmost to keep you safe." He smiled again. "It is also hope... hope for a future free of the darkness for both of us." A small tear trickled down Hermione's cheek and Draco kissed it away. In her ear he whispered, "I love you, Hermione."

She threw her arms around his neck and with her smile of joy against his cheek, she replied, "I love you so very much, Draco!" Hermione then kissed him very soundly.

A tap on Draco's shoulder ended the moment of bliss and two red faces looked up into the fathomless gaze of their guardian. Hermione simply held up her hand for Snape and as he took the girl's hand into his, he could feel the tiny spark of magic woven into the precious gift.

"Your wand oath?" asked Snape with muted surprise.

Draco nodded. "Yes, sir. It was, uhm, Harry's idea. He found a book on binding oaths, promises, it was..."

A tiny smile quirked at the edge of Snape's mouth. "It is powerful magic, especially given on this day. You've done well, Draco." Snape's fingers briefly touched the boy's cheek, and then he took Hermione's hand with the ring and Draco's hand and clasped them between his. His blessing was silently given and then he smirked as he let go. "Keep in mind, you're both underage and I expect you both to... behave with decorum. Understood?"

Hermione blushed and Draco smiled. "We'll behave, Uncle Severus."

Snape gathered them to his side and they rejoined the festivities just in time to see the end of the battle between the Holly King and the Oak King. After the battle, the Holly King walked amongst the stragglers reciting silly visions to those who dropped a sickle into the chalice cupped in his hands. Harry, not really sure what possessed him, caught the man by his gilded sleeve and dropped a galleon into the almost full chalice.

"Harry," Snape warned as he put a restraining hand on the boy's arm.

He was too late as the actor began speaking in a raspy voice. "Ahhhh, a seer's words have touched your life before, young man. Heed it not, for what was your past, in this present you shall change. The mirror opens the gate to your future and warns you to hold fast to new friends." The Holly King stared deeply into Harry's glamouried eyes. "Darkness will arrive in the fifth year, my child. When he speaks, do not listen, and do NOT hesitate." The actor smiled, patted Harry on the head, and went toward the glint of a silver sickle behind Harry.

Harry was frozen. Just as his body began to tremble, Snape slid an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. "It's all right, Harry," said Snape softly.

Harry gripped the older man's arm. "That was real, Snape!" Harry's voice was a strangled whisper. "Why did I do that? I couldn't stop myself."

"Buck up, mate," said Ron coming close. "Let's just deal with it later. The parade is starting soon."

Harry took a deep breath latching on to the normal activity his best friend offered. "Yeah, Ron." He stepped slightly away from Snape. He was reluctant to let go of the man's reassuring presence though, as he didn't want to be seen as a baby. A simple squeeze from Snape to his shoulder was enough to let him know that the Potions Master understood. "What's this parade all about, anyway?" Harry asked as he did his best to push aside what had happened.

Snape led them toward the street where the parade would begin and answered, "It is a celebration of the Winter King's court as they welcome the arrival of the Summer King's court."

"And then we get to eat?" asked Ron.

Snape glared at the current blonde boy who still retained his freckles. "Do you ever think about anything else, Ronald Weasley?"

"Failing Potions?" he wisecracked and ducked just in time to avoid a whack against his skull.

After the Winter Solstice Festival in Hogsmeade was concluded, they all returned to Ashmere. Despite a few snacks at the festival, on the sugary side, they were all hungry and happy to see a light lunch waiting for them. The soup and salad were devoured very quickly and Snape then ordered the children to bed. This brought on a spate of protests as all four were eager to attack the pile of sparkling and glittering gifts that waited under their tree in the parlour.

"We're not little children that need a nap, Uncle Severus!" complained Draco.

"Really? Funny that, but you're whining like a four year old," observed Snape.

"Not fair at all," mumbled Ron as he slouched in his chair at the dining table.

Harry was about to add his own protest, when his body betrayed him and he yawned widely. "Rest!" Snape ordered triumphantly as he caught Harry's yawn. "One hour. That's all I require of each of you," he said a little more softly.

Harry, who felt as tired as the others looked, stumbled from his chair, dropped his napkin on his plate, and headed out of the dining room. Draco nudged Harry's shoulder. "Good one, Scarhead."

"Shut up, Goldilocks."

"Oh be quiet!" ordered Hermione as she grabbed the two boys by their sleeves. "C'mon, Ron."

"Coming, Mother!" Ron called out in a sarcastically sing-song voice as he fell into step with his friends. They were soon on their way up to their rooms.

Several minutes later Lyrica addressed Snape. She was concerned as it seemed he was staring across the room, but not looking at anything. "Are you thinking of the Holly King's vision, Severus?"

"How could I not?" he sighed. "Did you hear any of the other visions he gave?" Lyrica shook her head. "Mere fluff. Entertainment. His voice... that actor's voice changed as well when speaking to Harry."

Lyrica repeated the very, un-poetic vision... prophecy? "A seer's words have touched your life before... heed it not, for what was your past, in this present you shall change. The mirror opens the gate to your future and warns you to hold fast to new friends. Darkness will arrive in your fifth year... when he speaks, do not listen and do NOT hesitate." Lyrica shuddered. As straightforward as the words were, they still gave her an unpleasant feeling. "Have you any idea what it means, Severus?"

"The first statement is easy enough to decipher," he replied. "Sybil, hardly a seer, is the one who made the prophecy about Harry. It seems that since we went back in time, as much as we've done our best not to change anything, we may have. Whatever we did has negated... well, perhaps not the entire prophecy, but maybe part of it."

"Severus?" He glanced away from the polished surface of the dining table to look at Lyrica. "Are you certain Voldemort isn't dead? From all that you've told me, everything seems to point to Lily Potter's magic destroying him."

"The Dark Lord was considerably skilled in necromancy." The fingers of his right hand lightly touched his left forearm. "Besides, if he had truly died, either this mark would have vanished, or I would have died. It has remained. Faded, but it's still... alive."

"So you believe he was injured?"

Snape nodded. "It is believed that the Killing Curse he cast upon Harry rebounded onto him. Many think he died. If he had, my mark would be gone and Harry would not bear a curse scar on his forehead. The Dark Lord will return. Albus had thought that Harry wouldn't face the Dark Lord until at least his sixth or seventh year, but now..." Snape rose to his feet. "Harry must train..."

Lyrica's voice broke in, "But you've not discovered a way home! How can you even think of preparing for a battle that child might never have to face?"

He whirled upon her angrily, "And how many times must I remind you, Madam, that my responsibility is to those children, particularly to Harry Potter? I must protect him and I must prepare him to face the Dark Lord. The fact that we are in 1898 makes no difference. Why do you refuse to see this?"

"Because I don't want to lose them! I don't want to lose you!" She rose abruptly from the table, her chair falling behind her. Feeling too confined, she ran out of the dining room.

"Lyrica!" he shouted. For a moment he paused in place, refusing to chase after her. Turning away from her was far too easy a thing to do, and moving away from the long table, he broke into a run after her. Snape caught her just as she was about to head down the stairs to the tunnel that led to the potions lab. As he grasped her upper arm, Lyrica turned and slapped him, hard, across the cheek.

Both of them froze in place. Lyrica broke first as her knuckles touched her lips in shock that she'd struck him. Snape drew Lyrica into his arms as the first of her tears glistened in her green eyes. Her sobs were silent as she wept and he did his best to comfort her. Once again he had reminded Lyrica that they must part. He could not blame her for the tears, or for having struck him. She had been so silent since they had all told her their stories of the future that he had allowed himself to believe that Lyrica had dealt with the information and put it behind her. He truly could be so very stupid at times.

"Lyrica, my dear one," he spoke very softly as he gently cupped her face in his hands. With his thumbs, he carefully brushed away the tears and leaned over to softly press his lips to hers. "I am so very sorry," he whispered.

"Please, Severus, do not apologise for what I cannot help. Just, allow me my anger and my tears." Lyrica slipped her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his shoulder.

He sighed heavily. There was so much he needed to say, or felt he should say, but a rare bit of wisdom towards this woman he cared so much for caused him to silence his voice and continue holding her. If there was to be any talking done, it would be later, and at Lyrica's behest, not his.

Almost Two Hours Later

The afternoon was waning and Lyrica had gone up the stairs to awaken the children. Dressed more casually and for the evening, they arrived in the parlour to see Snape seated upon a chair with a brandy snifter in his hand. King Henry was seated in the window seat plucking out Christmas songs upon his lute. With a wave of her hand, Lyrica lit the dozens of small fairy lights upon the tree, adding its glow to the flames of the fireplace.

"I'm Saint Nick!" declared Draco as he strode over to all the glittering gifts beneath the tree. He then glanced at Snape.

"Go on, then. Let's get this business done with!" he ordered brusquely.

Harry chuckled. "I can guess who's Scrooge."

Hermione stifled her laughter just as with an exaggerated snarl, Snape quoted, "Merlin save me from Christmas. It's another humbug!"

Draco picked out a pretty red and gold gift and eyed the little tag on it. He handed it to Hermione who took it eagerly. Her first gift was from Harry. It was a book bound in dark leather with gilt-edged pages. "Hogwarts: A History? Isn't it a bit out of date, Harry?" she asked with a questioning smile.

"I thought you might have fun comparing the two texts... when we get back home, Hermione."

"I would!" She leaped up and gave Harry a quick hug.

Draco floated a small gift box toward Ron who ripped the paper off quickly. "Woah!" Ron had opened up a set of player cards for all the current 1898 professional Quidditch teams in England. "Wicked, Drake! Thanks!"

Draco grinned. "Ought to be worth quite a few galleons in our time, Weasel. Perfect condition and all that."

Ron shook his head. "No way I'm selling these. Thanks again, Draco."

Draco bent down for another small box and sent it floating toward Harry. Harry opened his gift, which was from Ron. His eyes lit up just as a small figure on a broom began to dart around the parlour. It was an enchanted Quidditch seeker. "Snape! Duck!" shouted Harry as the small seeker darted dangerously close to the Potions Master.

With lightning reflexes, Snape caught the flyer out of the air and tossed it back to Harry. "I'd better not see that in class, Harry, or I can promise you it shall not see the light of day for a very long time."

Draco found a green striped gift from Hermione. He tore it open. He stared at the object that appeared to be a simple magnifying glass. He didn't seem too happy with it.

"Look at Harry and Ron through it," she urged with a mischievous smile upon her face.

Draco did so and then burst into hilarious laughter. "What?" asked Ron. Draco looked at Ron a second time through the glass and laughed again.

"Let me see that, Draco," Snape beckoned as he held out his hand for the object. Draco handed it over and just as Snape looked through it, Hermione ducked out of the line of vision. He caught sight of Harry and Ron in it. A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "Very amusing, Hermione. I haven't seen a Totem Glass since I myself was a boy." He then eyed Draco through the glass, smirked and handed it back to Draco.

"Totem Glass?" asked Harry. "What does it do?" Draco handed it over to Harry. Harry eyed Ron through the glass and he began laughing as well. The Totem Glass was passed back and forth causing more laughter.

Lyrica touched Snape's shoulder and he covered her hand with his. "I'm afraid I'm not at all familiar with a Totem Glass."

"It is an interesting little device that shows whomever looks through the glass the supposed totem of another person. How accurate that may be is highly questionable as it seems Draco's totem is a ferret, Harry's is a lion cub and well, Ron's appears to be an orangutan."

"And Hermione's?" asked Lyrica.

"Hermione has done very well in keeping out of the line of sight of the glass."

Lyrica and Severus watched as more gifts were opened and then Draco brought a large package over to the Potions Master. "Uncle Severus, we thought we'd all go in together to get you this. I... we hope you like it." Harry, Ron and Hermione gathered behind Draco as he handed over the green and silver wrapped box.

For a moment, Snape stared at the box as he held it in his hands. Placing it upon his lap, he then began to open the gift, very aware of the anxious looks above him from his four wards as they stood around him. As he removed the shimmering green wrapping paper a large book bound in dark green dyed leather revealed itself. He turned it over to its front cover and read the elegant lettering enhanced with silver leaf.

"The Potions Journal of Professor Severus Snape." In the lower right corner was the tiny embossed date of 1898. Snape removed the wrapping paper and the box from his lap and turned the book over in his hands a few times. He opened the cover and touched the handmade paper within. The magic within the pages felt like a soft whisper of energy. Snape realized this book was worth far more than what he had given them to purchase gifts with.

Lyrica leaned down and whispered, "They've been talking about this for weeks, Severus. I believe they had a little financial help from someone." She pointed and Snape looked past the teenagers towards The King who nodded to him. Snape nodded once.

"Each page is layered by ten, Uncle Severus," Hermione said softly.

"And you can erase mistakes," said Ron with some enthusiasm.

"That sounds like something you need, Ron," Snape said dryly as he closed the journal.

"Sir," began both Draco and Harry. The two boys looked at each other, and Draco nodded for Harry to finish. "Do you like it, Uncle?"

Snape took a deep breath. "I can honestly say that I have never had a more appropriate and well chosen Christmas gift. Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Harry, thank you very much."

They breathed a collective sigh of relief and then Snape pointed. "I believe if each of you search the tree you shall find something from myself... and Lyrica." He glowered and leaned back in the chair as they practically attacked the tree in search of what Snape could possibly have gotten them for Christmas.

Lyrica sat down beside him and whispered, "I didn't help you pick their gifts, my dear. Why don't you tell them?"

"Certainly not," he hissed back with a small smile. "They'd never believe me anyway."

Draco found his gift first. The box was no larger than his palm and wrapped in silver with a green ribbon. He quickly opened the box and found an exquisitely carved scarab beetle of black onyx. The Slytherin liked it well enough, but he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He cast a questioning look towards his godfather.

"It is a Listening Scarab, Draco. Simply tap it thrice with your wand and send it after whomever you wish to spy on," instructed Snape.

"Oy! You'd better not use that anywhere near the Gryffindor Quidditch strategy sessions," warned Ron.

Draco sniggered as he took out his wand and sent the large black beetle scurrying over toward Ron. Ron, not too fond of spiders, didn't care much for the beetle, squeaked, and dashed out of its way.

"Careful, Draco!" snapped Snape. "The scarab could save your life someday, so have some care with it."

"Yes, sir!" Draco snatched up the scarab and it became still in his palm. "Thank you, Uncle Severus. I really do like it." Snape harrumphed.

Hermione found her gift next. It was a long, slim box wrapped in gold. She quickly unwrapped it and opened the polished wooden box. Inside, resting upon red velvet was a beautiful peacock feather quill with a silver filigree nib. On the inside of the lid were the words, Damphrey's Ever-Lasting Quill for the Serious Student.

To Snape's chagrin, Hermione ran over, threw her arms around his neck and hugged him quickly. At least it was brief as she pulled away, embarrassed by what she had done, but smiling. "Thank you very much, Uncle Severus!"

Snape chuckled. "Well, you do have a propensity to go through an inordinate amount of quills, Hermione."

Hermione smiled and agreed, "I really do!"

Ron was the next one to find his gift on the tree. It didn't seem too heavy on the tree, but as soon as he plucked it from the branches surrounding it, he could feel that it was something quite solid. Ron took the package wrapped in red and white over to the settee, placed it on his lap and opened it. It appeared to be nothing more than a block of highly polished grey marble that he could hold in the palm of his hand. However, the odd piece felt much heavier than it should have. He turned it over and over in his hands and then he shrugged helplessly, glancing at Snape.

It was Lyrica who saved Severus from having to provide the red-head with an answer. "Use your wand, Ron. One tap and say the words, 'I challenge thee'."

Ron did as instructed and was soon rewarded as the cube unfolded itself to reveal a beautiful chess set. The board was of marble, but the pieces were carved from white and black alabaster. Ron just stared at the unbelievable gift, lifting pieces and inspecting them. Hermione nudged his arm and whispered, "Say thank you, Ron!"

"Thank you, Ron," he mumbled. A sharper nudge from Hermione brought him out of his trance. "Oh! Er, yeah, uhm... thanks very much, Uncle Sev."

Snape crossed his arms and just gave the boy a sharp nod. Harry had not, yet, found his gift and he was about to walk around the tree for the third time when King Henry, who'd nodded off for a brief period, opened one eye and then pointed up. Harry craned his neck to look upward and blinked. Something flickered and darted around the star at the top of the tree and then it shot swiftly right down to him. Instinct took over and Harry caught the snitch. He opened his hand, holding the golden snitch between his thumb and his forefinger.

Snape rose to his feet and plucked the snitch from Harry's hand. It's delicate golden wings fluttered like the wings of a hummingbird. "Please don't be so foolish as to ever use this in a game of Quidditch, Harry. You would be accused of cheating if you did so." Harry frowned up at Snape. Snape flipped the snitch out of his hand and said solemnly, "Distrahere."

The snitch flew twice around Harry and suddenly belched a great cloud of blue smoke at him. Harry coughed and backed out of the cloud which quickly dispersed. Snape caught the snitch and gave it to Harry. Harry coughed once more, smiled at Snape, and thanked him.

"Merry Christmas, Harry."

"Merry Christmas... Uncle Severus." Harry grinned. He didn't ever think he'd be able to call Snape Uncle, but this once, this day, it felt so very right. Although Snape's expression was almost devoid of emotion, he could see in the man's obsidian gaze how pleased he was at how Harry had addressed him.

Snape rose from his chair and conjured up some small glasses and a brandy bottle. "Just for tonight, you each get one, small glass of brandy." He poured from the crystal decanter and Lyrica handed them each a glass. Snape then raised his glass and for a moment he looked down at Lyrica and then each of the children. "To family," he said simply and they clinked the glasses together and drank.

Draco put down his glass and went back to the tree. There was one person who had yet to open a gift. He brought a present wrapped in green and red paper over to the Headmistress of Hogwarts and gave it to her. "It's probably not the smartest gift we could give you, but after everything we've told you, we think you'd be careful with it."

Lyrica took the gift, rather puzzled by Draco's cryptic words. She unwrapped it and found two framed, enchanted photographs. The first one was of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco standing out in the snow in Diagon Alley. They were waving, smiling, and nudging each other until Harry was knocked over. When Draco offered him a hand up, Harry yanked Draco down into the snow. They were still smiling and laughing at each other. She then lifted that photo to find that somehow the photographer had caught an image of her and Severus standing in the snow, earlier that morning during the Winter Solstice Festival. Snape was suspiciously eyeing one of dozens of mistletoe that had floated over the crowds at the end of the parade. Plucking a berry from the hovering sprig, he then leaned over and kissed Lyrica.

Snape had a nice little biting remark on the tip of his tongue, but then he saw the single tear that trickled down Lyrica's cheek. Brushing it gently away, he said nothing.

"I'll cherish both of these forever," she said quietly. She then stood and swept each one of them into an embrace, ending with a kiss for Snape that had the elder wizard blushing to his toes.

"Ewww! I'm scarred for life!" groused Ron melodramatically.

"Quiet, you redheaded Saint Nick!" snapped Snape. "Get to work. There's more to open." Ron headed over to the last of the presents under the tree. Snape decided to sweep away the usual propriety as he settled into his chair and pulled Lyrica down onto his lap. They had come to an understanding, he hoped. Knowing what they both wanted, what they both felt for each other, they knew the only way to soothe the hurt they might eventually face, was to treasure the time they had now.

Severus Snape never liked Christmas, but this was one Christmas he would treasure within his memories for a very long time.

A week after Christmas, Hermione was once again drowning in her notes. It was an early Saturday afternoon and she had already been hard at work on her research since ten that morning. Her notes were spread across the entire length of the long library table and books surrounded her chair on the floor and on the table as well. Dozens of books were open to specific pages and Hermione kept going back and forth between them until she needed to take another book down from the shelves.

"Hermione! What in the world is going on in here?" Lyrica had just Apparated into the entryway. Hearing the muttering, she headed to the library to see what was going on.

"Lyrica!" Hermione dropped the large tome she was carrying and it hit the nearby stack of books, sending the whole stack to the floor. "Research." She smiled sheepishly. "It's a bit of ordered chaos."

"So I can see." Lyrica removed her black velvet outer robe and draped it over a free chair. "I hope this isn't a homework assignment." She picked up one of the closed books.

"Oh no. I'm looking for everything I can that has to do with Portgates. I'd dearly love to enchant a small one, but none of us knows the spell and Uncle Severus says it's far too dangerous to try in the house."

"Nonsense! During my brief Enchantment apprenticeship, my Mentor had me enchanting small scale Portgates in a space that qualified as nothing greater than a glorified closet."

"You know the spell?" asked Hermione with a smile.

"Indeed I do! Let's go to the Observatory and close the door on this... hmm, research. I'll teach you the spell and we can create a small Portgate."

"Wonderful!" Hermione began to head out of the library when Lyrica stopped.

"You go ahead, dear. I'm going to make sure the elves don't clean up your research." Hermione was practically skipping through the door; she was so excited about learning the complicated spell. Once the girl was out of sight, Lyrica went over to the stack of books that had fallen over. Beneath them she had spotted a familiar book. It was a slim volume bound in black, with worn leather and ragged edges. She snatched up the book and ran her wand over it. The age restriction ward was still intact. Smiling grimly, she shrank the book and tucked it into her pocket. Later, she would hide it away for safekeeping in her apartments.

Lyrica then looked over the mess of the library. "Dorcas," she called for the elf in a whispered voice and it popped in immediately.

"What is Miss Lyrica needing?" asked the elf politely.

"Clean the library..." she paused and closed her eyes as she reminded herself that what she was about to order the elf to do would, hopefully, save her adopted family. "And Dorcas, burn all of those notes."

Closing the double doors of the library and leaving the elf to her work, Lyrica turned away, and made her way to the stairs that led to the Observatory.

The Observatory on top of Ashmere house was accessed by a side staircase that was to the left of the library and climbed, steeply, the three floors to the magnificent rooftop room.

Almost occupying the majority of roof space, the Observatory had been built by one of Lyrica's ancestors, Bastien Arcahnum, who had an obsessive fascination with the stars. The room held a variety of star watching tools, including three different telescopes. Bastien built the third telescope which occupied the entire north side of the observatory. It was a glittering array of brass and copper that sat upon a pedestal and rose to the glassed ceiling. An elaborate chair of green velvet and pine had been crafted as part of the telescope and placed before the eyepiece.

Books on astronomy were to be found neatly placed on a wall length shelf. Near this was a clean chalkboard and a desk upon which were several star charts. The rest of the room was dotted by healthy houseplants in large pots that ate up the sun that shone through the ceiling and glassed in walls. Furniture had been placed in the centre of the room. Above this small oasis, an inset of stain glass in cool blues and greens had been worked into the glass ceiling to provide a shaded and cool area for one to sit, contemplate or work.

The door was open, so Hermione stepped into the brass and glass room and allowed her attention to be drawn by the various telescopes, equipment, and finally, the books. For once, she didn't take down any of the books and took a moment to watch the snow that was coming down.

Hermione missed her parents. She hadn't told Ron, Harry, or Draco, yet but this summer that she'd had with her parents was her last one, for perhaps, a very long time. The Order of the Phoenix, at Dumbledore's direction, had put her parents into hiding the day school started. She knew it was to protect them, but it had bothered her that neither was she to know where they lived, nor was she allowed to communicate with them. It would be too dangerous for them, and for her.

She had enjoyed Christmas with her new 'family' and she was very thankful for her growing relationship with Draco. Away from the harsh expectations of his father and the other Death Eater children, he was... himself. Hermione didn't want to say he was different since she'd always felt that Draco had to hide away his true self, just as Snape had to in order to retain his persona as a spy. It was for their survival and it was the world they lived in. And it's depressing, her mind sighed. Hermione loved her parents, her family, but a part of her heart ached for what she had here in 1898. She had no intention of giving up her research, but it was so very tempting to do so. To dream of a life with Draco where they could both go to school and not have to worry what others might think or do.

Lyrica arrived just then, rescuing Hermione from her thoughts. The excitement of learning something new took precedence and Hermione was more than content to listen as Lyrica explained the intricate nature of charming a Portgate. The Headmistress led her over to a velveteen lounger of green and gold that blended well with the flora. They both sat down and then Lyrica recited the incantation and showed her the complicated gestures for the spell. After she was finished, she began walking Hermione through the enchantment for the Portgate.

Lyrica was holding Hermione's hand and directing her in the gestures of a complicated enchantment. "Loosen your hold just a little on your wand, Hermione. There you go." Hermione's hand went up, then down, spun the wand tip in a slow circle and then repeated the motion. "Each gesture must move fluidly into the next." Both were quiet as three more sets of gestures were done and then Lyrica let go of Hermione's hand. "Very good. Now try it yourself. Just remember, you cannot pause between the sets."

Lyrica watched closely as Hermione began the gestures again. Beside her, Lyrica's hand moved in rhythm. Hermione paused, not sure which gesture came next, and Lyrica stopped her and instructed her to begin again. Pushing a stray curl of brown hair out of her eye, Hermione took a deep breath to steady her nerves and then she began again. Within ten minutes she had completed all the sets without a single pause.

"Beautiful, Hermione," praised Lyrica. "You have the technique of an advanced enchantress. Very good for a fourth year student."

Hermione smiled and blushed. "Could we create a Portgate now?"

Lyrica nodded and stood up. "I think so." Going over to a small table that was almost hidden by a large fern, she took a small metal tin that sat upon the table and brought it over. "Glass or metal are always used for a Portgate, although not as small as this." Lyrica placed the tin in front of Hermione and then seated herself beside the studious girl again.

"Do you have something to enchant?" asked Hermione.

"I want you to successfully enchant the tin box first before we try two objects at once. The problem with Portgates is their inherent instability. Even with one as small as what we're dealing with, it could be damaging."

Hermione frowned and picked up the tin box. "We'd need something large, then. At least as tall as Uncle Severus. We still run the risk of... " she shuddered. The other night she had read a very graphic report on accidents that had occurred with Portgates. Hermione sighed in sudden resignation as she dropped the tin and laid her wand in her lap. "This is really useless. Even if I learn how to enchant a Portgate, we still have the problem of linking it to our time and there really is no way to do that."

Lyrica put an arm over Hermione's shoulder and gave her a gentle hug. "Even if it is nothing more than a dead end, then you are learning something, my dear. Knowledge of this could lead to the answer. So, unless you have something else on your schedule for today?"

"I did promise to make my mother's apple pie for Draco this afternoon," began Hermione with a small smile.

Lyrica gave the girl a mocking frown. "Maybe that boy ought to help you, Hermione. It would do him a good turn to learn to cook."

Hermione laughed and Lyrica smiled at her. "That's rather a good idea!" She picked up her wand and the tin box. "But this first."

Hermione took her wand from Lyrica and pulled the book closer. She began the gesture and under her breath she incanted the Portgate spell. The gestures and the spell came together with her intent and she began to feel the subtle rhythm that indicated the spell was working. She kept the gestures smooth and did not pause once. When she was finished, a faint shimmer enveloped the tin box. Lyrica began to count. The shimmering faded when she reached a count of thirty-seven.

"Hermione Granger, you are a most talented witch!" Lyrica gave the blushing girl a quick embrace. "Wave your wand over the tin and you'll see the portal stream."

Hermione did so and was able to see a thin, opalescent thread of wavering magic. "A tiny wormhole," she whispered in awe. "Wouldn't the Muggle scientists have a field day with this?" She giggled.

Lyrica, unfamiliar with most things Muggle, merely smiled. "Although we won't do it, it's simply a matter of enchanting a second Portgate and the portal streams will automatically be attracted to each other and connect."

"That's really quite brilliant," remarked Hermione. "It's a pity they gave up on it."

"I've no doubt that in a few more years, the creation of portgates will be banned. They really are terribly dangerous, Hermione."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "There have been some rather... er... gruesome accidents." Suddenly she yawned.

"Ah yes, I was waiting for that." Lyrica smiled.

"That spell takes a bit of energy, doesn't it?" asked Hermione as she yawned again.

"It does, at that. Some lunch would help. Hungry?" Hermione nodded and they both rose from the lounger and left the Observatory.

The loss of Hermione's notes had devastated the studious girl. Midway through lunch a thought she wanted to add to her research notes sent her to the library. To her horror she found that it had been spotlessly cleaned. She couldn't find her notes anywhere and when she called Dorcas, it was then that she was informed that they had been burned.

Hermione had wept and seemed inconsolable over all her hard work that Lyrica offered to punish her elf. This made Hermione weep even more and it was Draco that had to explain, while Hermione wept into his shoulder, that she didn't blame the elf and would feel even more guilty if the little creature was punished for what came naturally to it. Draco had finally urged Hermione outside for a walk and Lyrica had headed upstairs. Lyrica had been met by Snape on the second floor landing where she briefly told him what had happened before continuing on her way to her apartment.

Once her door was closed, locked, and securely warded she paced. Lyrica hated what she'd done to the young child. It had been foolish of her to have had the notes burned. After working with Hermione in the Observatory she could see that the child would eventually come to the same conclusions about Portgates that Nicolas Flamel had written of in his book; the one she had removed from her library and hidden in her apartment.

"Unwisssse," hissed the snake, Kalima. The black and silver serpent had been coiled upon the hearth and now it slid its way toward the basilisk statue.

"Quiet," Lyrica faintly hissed back at the snake.

"You play a dangeroussss game." The snake's head rose to her knee and swayed back and forth in front of her.

"I do what I mussst to keep them ssssafe!" Lyrica moved away from Kalima and threw herself onto her bed. Minutes later she was joined by the serpent as it slithered gracefully over her arm until its face was next to hers. "I will not lossssse them, Kalima."

"By betraying them?" the serpent's tongue darted out against Lyrica's cheek.

"If it will keep them ssssafe." Lyrica buried her head in her pillow and the serpent coiled up beside her.

"They burned my notes!"

Draco leaned back in a chair in Hermione's room, watching as she paced back and forth in front of her fire. "Would you please stop saying that, Hermione?" She shot him a warning glare. Draco didn't back down. "I know you're upset... and angry, but what's done is done. You've been wailing since dinner and it's time to stop acting like a baby and pull yourself together."

Hermione plopped down on the edge of her bed and kicked off her shoes. A second later she kicked them away and pouted down at the floor. "Stupid elves," she muttered.

Draco's eyebrow rose slightly and the corner of his mouth quirked slightly. "Did the champion of elfish rights just call the Ashmere elves stupid?"

She sneered. "You wanted to boil them in oil, Draco."

"No doubt they're both banging their heads against the wall someplace." At Hermione's look of horror, Draco rose from the chair and sat down beside her. "You told Lyrica not to let them punish themselves, so stop worrying. All right?" He brushed his lips to her cheek and tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear.

"But, my notes..." she whispered.

Draco put his arm over Hermione's shoulder. "Yeah, I heard. They're all ashes. Your memory is phenomenal, love. You'll remember what is important from those notes. So, just put this rotten accident behind you and go forward."

Hermione smiled up at Draco. He touched her cheek with his fingertips and leaned over to kiss her...

"Ahem!"

They both jumped apart and Draco glowered at the black clad figure that shadowed the doorway. "Do you have to do that, Snape?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Snape drawled. "Say goodnight and go to bed, Draco. It's late."

Draco huffed, rose to his feet and then swiftly leaned down and brushed his lips to Hermione's. While she blushed down to her toes, the young boy stalked out the door past Snape. "G'night, Hermione!"

"Goodnight," she said softly.

"Goodnight, Hermione." Snape drew the door closed and pretended he did not hear the girlish giggle from the bedroom.

Hermione found herself running down a corridor. She was a small, buck-toothed, bushy-haired first year. Her robes whipped behind as her head whipped periodically to the left and then to the right.

"Harry James Potter!" she shouted. Frustrated and running out of breath, she stopped. Her hand went to her side, just as the stitch from the exertion began to pinch. "Harry!"

"Wandered off again, hasn't he, Miss Granger?" Professor Dumbledore, in scarlet and gold robes, came ambling toward her from the other end of the corridor. Upon reaching her, he held out a small tin of sweets.

"No thank you, sir," she said automatically, barely giving the tin a glance. "Have you seen Harry?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled knowingly. "Indeed I have." Hermione then noticed that Dumbledore was still holding the tin of sweets towards her. "Here." Taking her hand, he placed the tin on the palm of her hand.

Hermione frowned at the tin. She'd seen it before... she was certain. "Professor, Harry. You said you saw him?"

"He's become mesmerised by the most curious, and dangerous of magical objects."

"And you left him there?" asked Hermione incredulously. "Where is he?"

Dumbledore seemed not to hear her. "Did you know, Miss Granger, that Harry killed Quirrel? He burned the man to ash with his bare hands. Of course, he doesn't remember that. I think he believes I saved him when in truth I had nothing at all to do with it. Severus found him. You see, I've often caught Severus with that same artefact. Amazing, isn't it? No matter where I hide it in the castle, it always seems to get found."

"What is the artefact, Professor?" her curiosity was roused as she watched the Headmaster studying the portraits along the wall.

"Hmm?" It seemed he hadn't quite heard her. Hermione was about to repeat her question when he spoke again. "Reflections, Miss Granger. They show the truth, don't they? Not that the truth is what we always desire, though." His twinkling, mad, blue eyes alighted upon hers, and she felt, oddly trapped. "Have you ever heard the phrase 'two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time'?"

Hermione nodded. It was a phrase she'd encountered in studying Portal Streams, Portkeys, Floo Networks, and Portgates.

"Ahhh, but you haven't heard the phrase, 'one object can occupy the very same space in a different time'." The Headmaster laughed as though it were a joke and Hermione had the unreasonable desire to trip Dumbledore in the hopes a knock on his noggin might bring some sense back into his head. To her great indignation, the old man passed her by and absently patted her on the head. Just as she was about to turn away and continue her search for Harry, Dumbledore called back to her. "The artefact, Miss Granger, is the lock. Oh, and do forgive my 'egocentrism' as Severus accused me of. You are now the key."

"Professor!" Dumbledore had vanished around the corner. Hermione almost stamped her foot in frustration. Instead she reached for her wand. Her heart dropped a mile as she realised it was gone.

"You're a m-m-meddler, Miss G-g-g-granger, and it's your b-b-bloody fault I'm d-d-d-dead!"

Hermione turned to see the horrifyingly burned and disintegrating figure of Professor Quirrel advancing upon her. With each step, pieces of him fell to the ground as ash. She couldn't move and before she could do anything other then raise her arms defensively, the remains of Quirrel's crumbling hands were around her throat.

Hermione screamed.

Draco was dead asleep. There were no dreams to plague him and his body was supremely relaxed. Adrenalin shot through Draco's body the second she began screaming. He didn't hesitate as he fairly flew from his bed, through his door and into her room. Hermione's hands were stretched out in front of her defensively and Draco caught her by the wrists, firmly. He called to her several times before she rose like a shot from the nightmare. Silently, she threw her arms around his neck, nearly strangling him in her need to feel that he was real.

"It's all right, love, shhh," he whispered as he did his best to loosen her grip without pushing her away. He then began patting her back soothingly until her breath stopped coming in great, gulping gasps.

"'Mione?" Ron was at the door, rubbing at his eyes. "You all right."

"Uncle..." she gasped.

"Harry's gone to get him, 'Mione." Ron ambled in and sat on the end of the bed. "Sounded like you were being killed."

Hermione just shook her head and buried her face back in Draco's shoulder.

"Hermione?" Snape swept in with Harry on his heels. As soon as Snape sat on the edge of the bed, Hermione threw her arms around him. Snape just pulled the frightened girl onto his lap and directed a questioning glance at the boys.

"She hasn't said anything, Uncle Severus," informed Draco quietly. He gently patted Hermione's arm.

"I've never heard her scream like that," observed Harry with a slight shudder. "Not even when the troll was attacking her in first year."

To Harry's shock Hermione chose that moment to turn slightly in Snape's embrace and blurt, "You killed Professor Quirrel, Harry!"

Harry's look of surprise was mirrored by Snape, Ron, and Draco. "Wh-what are you talking about? Dumbledore..."

Hermione shook her head emphatically. "Sna... Uncle Severus took you to the infirmary, Harry. Dumbledore wasn't there. He said you killed Quirrel by burning him to death and... and... Quirrel blamed me!" She burst into great, blubbering sobs and buried her face in Snape's shoulder.

It was several more, long minutes before Hermione was calm enough to talk rationally. By then, Snape had arranged the chairs in the bedroom for them. Hermione had climbed back under her covers and Snape had permitted Draco to sit beside her, holding her as she leaned against him. Dorcas, the elf brought hot chocolate and some cookies. They sipped the chocolate and munched on the cookies while Hermione related her dream. Her sense of fear washed over all of them, including Snape, when she opened her fist to show a dusty stain of ash upon her palm. None of them realised she'd been keeping her fist tightly closed all that time.

"Uncle Severus, please..." Hermione held out her ash-dusted hand toward Snape. "get rid of it." As he saw the revulsion on her face, he quickly conjured a warm, damp cloth. A few gentle swipes and the dust was gone. He banished the cloth. "Thank you," she whispered as she reclaimed her hand by drawing it close to herself.

"I don't understand," began Harry. "Why did Dumbledore say I killed Quirrel? I don't remember that. All I can remember is Voldemort's voice ordering Quirrel to kill me, and then I woke up in the infirmary."

Snape sighed as his gaze locked onto Harry's. "Your memory of Quirrel's death was removed by the Headmaster, Harry. After viewing it in his Pensieve, he thought it best that you not have it in your mind. He felt you were too young."

Harry's brow knitted angrily together. "Too young? My parents died trying to protect me, Voldemort was on Quirrel's head and was trying to kill me, and I lived ten years with the Dursleys! Too young!"

"Mr. Potter! Calm yourself!" ordered Snape. In a quieter tone he continued, "I did not say it was a wise decision and I do recall disagreeing with Professor Dumbledore about completely removing the memory after he showed it to me."

Harry was calmer, but not totally mollified. "So he lied to me. Again. I suppose that stupid stone isn't destroyed either, is it?"

Now it was Snape's turn to be puzzled. "He told you the stone was destroyed?" Harry nodded. Snape shook his head. "That's impossible. Only Nicolas Flamel has the power to destroy the stone. The stone is back in a vault in Gringott's lowest levels. I took it there myself while you were still recovering."

Harry didn't have a chance to reply to Snape's revelation as Draco spoke up. "Look, I don't care who killed that snivelling Quirrel," shuddered Draco. "He was a freak even before he played host to that parasite. What I want to know is what did Hermione's dream mean? What was Dumbledore trying to tell her?"

Snape began to shake his head, but it was Harry who replied with an answer. "The Mirror of Erised." Then he shrugged. "But, what that has to do with us getting home..."

"Portgates!" gasped Hermione. Her eyes were shining brightly as she understood part of the puzzle. "Portgates have to be an enchanted glass or metal object. Lyrica told me that mirrors were often used as they tended to provide more stability than just glass or metal did."

Ron smiled in sudden dawning, "one object can occupy the very same space in a different time. Isn't that what Dumbledore said, Hermione?" She nodded. "Then, if the mirror exists here and also in the present..."

"Oh, Ron! That's it. I'm sure of it!" Hermione scrambled out from under her blankets and onto the floor and began to pace excitedly. "What if it's possible to enchant the Mirror of Erised in 1898 and have Dumbledore enchant it in 1994? Maybe the portal streams would seek out each other and we'd have a Portgate between the two time periods. I need to talk to Lyrica."

"That's suicide!" barked Draco. Hermione rounded on him and glowered. "Look, love, I know how much you've been working on this thing, but you showed me those accident reports. That one where the fellow was split down the middle? Ech! I'm sorry, but I don't want to risk it."

"I gotta agree with the Dragon, Hermione. That's well..."

Ron finished Harry's thought, "Bloody damn dangerous." He clapped his hand over his mouth, but for once Snape didn't thump him for his language.

Hermione looked to Snape for support, but she could see the heavy doubt in his expression. "I'm afraid they're correct, Hermione. We can't even test it."

"But Dumbledore...!" she almost whined.

Snape's expression hardened. "Professor Dumbledore has violated all our minds and lied to us. I know it's important for us to continue trying to find a way home," he held up a hand as Draco was about to interrupt, "and we shall continue looking, but we cannot just leap at the first solution presented to us. Especially not one that's so dangerous." He placed his hand upon the Gryffindor bookworm's shoulder. "Talk to Lyrica tomorrow, Hermione. She is, after all, the expert as far as Portkeys and Portgates go."

"What about Flamel's book?" she asked.

"I haven't found it here, nor was I able to find it at the Hogwarts library. I'll go to Knockturn Alley in the afternoon and see if the bookshop that deals in hard to find books can get it for me." Snape rose to his feet. "I think that this is enough excitement for the evening. Everyone, back to bed." He ushered the boys out, putting his hand at Draco's back and pushing him through the door. He knew the boy wanted to stay with Hermione, but he wasn't going to permit it.

"Uncle Severus?" asked Hermione as she touched his sleeve. "Could I have some Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

He nodded, and gently nudged her toward her bed. "I'll be back with it in a few minutes." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco hovering just outside the doorway. Snape smirked. "I suppose Draco might like to sit with you for a few minutes?"

Draco sidled back in, and like a snake, slithered quickly to Hermione's side and tucked her covers around her. Snape gave the boy's smiling face a warning glare, and then he turned and went out of the room, pointedly leaving the door open.

Draco was pleasantly surprised as Hermione threw her arms around his neck and soundly kissed him. When she pulled away, he blinked happily. "Far be it of me to question any kiss like that, but what was that for?"

Hermione laughed softly. "I just wanted to thank you for helping me out of my nightmare, Draco."

He brushed aside a knotted curl, and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "I told you I'd protect you, love, and I mean it." Scooting closer to her, he drew Hermione to himself and kissed her again. They broke apart with a sigh of contentment and Hermione laid her head against his chest. They remained that way, in silent comfort of each other's arms, until Snape returned with the phial of potion. Once Hermione drank down the small dose, he chased Draco out and saw the boy to his room.

Once all four doors to the bedrooms were closed, Snape stood quietly in the west wing corridor. Deep within him, an ember of resentment was burning for Dumbledore. He had read the book Lyrica had given him by Aristotle about bonds and the use of them to travel a wizard's dreams. He had learned that children were more susceptible to such violation than adults were as the mind of a child was more often than not open and vulnerable. A child's mind was also more open to suggestion and easier to frighten than an adult's was. Albus Dumbledore, in trying to deliver his message to the Potions Master, was frightening the teenagers, his children.

"His countenance bespeaks the Grim," intoned a soft baritone. The King drifted through the wall of the corridor, solidified himself, and stood beside Snape. "You are as troubled as any parent, Sir Raven," observed King Henry.

"Troubled, yes," mused Snape towards The King. "Yet not helpless."

"You would protect them. Even from those who work to gain the Light?"

Snape turned to face the royal ghost. The expression on his features was stony and resolute. "Albus Dumbledore is a wizard of very great power..." Dropping his crossed arms to his sides he began to walk down the corridor. "But I am a wizard of great power as well, Your Majesty. My children will suffer no more... nightmares."

Knockturn Alley - the next day

It wasn't quite a bookshop, although books were its primary business. The shop had no name, and existed in 1994 as well as 1898. Snape had a suspicion that this was one of those rare, dark shops that had existed before the advent of time. It was a place that always had given Snape a chill down his spine as he went through its narrow, dirty glass door and crossed the threshold. The feeling that he was being transported elsewhere was the same now as it was the few times he'd visited the shop in his own time.

Dust and cobwebs were the main decor of the shop. Books were everywhere, but they were stacked upon the floor, lining the walls, or on tables and chairs. The shelves were reserved for other artefacts that were best left ignored. Walking across the creaking, wood floor, a glint of gold caught Snape's eye, and despite his own mind's counsel to ignore it, he looked. On a nearby shelf at eye level was a tarnished Time Turner.

Bony fingers settled on his wrist just as he was preparing to examine the object. "I wouldn't, young Severus Snape."

Snape tried to yank his wrist away, but the bony fingers curled tightly around his slim wrist, threatening to cut off circulation. He looked down into the hunched and bent figure of the shop's owner; a man he had known in his own time. The man smiled a crooked, snaggletoothed grin at him and proceeded to draw him through the shop and towards the stained counter used for conducting business.

"It can't be you, Ogden Trap," muttered Snape and instantly hated the undertone of fear in his voice.

A hideous, wet, raspy sort of laughter escaped from the man's mouth and he let go of Snape's wrist. "Very amusing, my boy, quite! Who would ever want to Polyjuice as me? Of course it is Ogden Trap. You don't fear me as you used to." He pointed one of those long, skeletally thin fingers with long, ragged, dirty nails at the Potions Master, "Of all the wizards I've known, child, you are one of the few whose instinct detects the nature of my shop. I find it odd that you ignore the instinct you so highly prize, to continue coming in order to do business with me." Trap leaned over the counter craning his scrawny neck toward Snape. "Heed me now... don't ever come back to my shop." With that warning he jabbed his pointed finger, hard, into Snape's chest.

Pain bloomed within Snape's heart and he drew in a sharp breath as his hand clutched instinctively for his heart. The pain was gone the moment Trap waved his hand over the stricken man's chest.

"What you seek isn't here, child." Ogden Trap turned his back on Snape. With a backhanded wave, the shopkeeper dismissed him. "The Light in your soul burns me, so take it, and leave."

Snape spun away; quite agreeable to leaving. As he passed by the shelf with the Time Turner, he couldn't help it; he paused and remained in place, staring at it.

A clap of hands hitting the counter once with great force, yanked him out of his trance. "Leave it!" thundered Trap's voice, "Or die now!"

The frightened child within Snape took over and he broke into a run, nearly bursting through the door of the shop. Behind his fear was that hideous, terrifying laughter. He slammed the door shut behind himself and strode with a half-walk, half-run toward Diagon Alley. As he left the shadows of the darkened Knockturn Alley, the sun seemed to break through the clouds at that moment to shine down upon him and bathe him soothingly in its winter warmth. Large flakes of snow, which he could not recall seeing on Knockturn Alley, fell heavily upon and around him. For several minutes he walked up the street and through the snow. The walked calmed his shaken nerves and helped to dispel his fear.

Knockturn Alley had never truly frightened him before. He had a healthy respect for the seedy place and never did he walk its streets without every muscle tensed and his wand close to his hand. That shop, though, was a different matter.

The first time he'd gone into Ogden Trap's shop had been before his third year at Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy's father had taken the two boys to Diagon Alley for their school supplies and had made one of his own excursions into Knockturn Alley. Lucius had dragged Severus, nearly by force, into the dingy shop where the two boys had been immediately mesmerised by the variety of objects and books. Young Severus had felt the magic as they'd crossed the threshold and it had chilled him to the bone. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the shop as quickly as possible.

"What if your father comes looking for us, Lucius?" asked Severus in a small whisper.

Lucius had picked up a book on spells entitled, Make Your Witch Obey. His eyes were wide with undisguised glee over the nature of whatever awful spells were contained within the yellowed pages. "He's going to be at least an hour, Sev. That gives us plenty of time to get back to Fortescue's before father returns, so quit whining like a first year." Putting down the book, the blonde teenager was distracted by a human hand painted with silver paint.

Severus didn't feel comfortable looking at anything in the shop. He'd always been sensitive to magic that emanated from people and objects. There was so much dark magic in the shop that it was practically making him ill. He was about to tell Lucius he was going to just leave when a clawed hand pressed down upon his thin shoulder. He couldn't help letting out the squeak of fright at the touch. Lucius turned and only laughed.

"Hello, Mr. Trap," Lucius obviously knew the owner of the hand.

To Severus' horror, the claw was gripping his shoulder tighter. "Who is your friend, young Lucius?" The voice, so close to his ear, sounded obscene, wet, and Severus could hear the man's wheezing breaths.

"This is Severus Snape. He's going to be a great Defence Against the Dark Arts Master someday," boasted Lucius.

The claw twisted him, and Severus got his first glimpse of the shopkeeper. The man's fetid breath smelled like some of Slughorn's ingredients in Potions class and he felt his stomach roil. The man's leering sneer showed teeth of such grotesque neglect it seemed a parody. His teeth were stained, broken, some of them even rotting. "Defence Against the Darks Arts is your interest, young Severus Snape?" Severus could only nod and wish the vile looking man would let go of him. "Quite a noble profession, but I can see in those coals you call eyes that there is something that suits you better."

Severus had never liked being told what to do or what he liked and this gave him enough nerve to rebuke the man, "There is nothing better than Defence..." The shopkeeper's other claw-like hand gripped his other shoulder and tears sprang to Severus' eyes at the pain. He looked to Lucius for help, but something else had distracted the boy and he was a few feet away absorbed by another object. He didn't care what old Trap was saying or doing to Severus.

"Mark my words, child," intoned the old hunchback, "Know the enemy, but do not become him."

Severus was released so suddenly that he fell backwards onto his backside. What the hell did the bloody monstrosity mean?

Faster than it looked like he could move, he made his way over Severus and to Lucius. Snatching the object from the young boy, he pushed him towards Severus. "Out! Both of you! Neither of you have business in this shop!"

Lucius squared his shoulders and stalked out of the store. Severus scrambled to his feet, only too happy to oblige, when to his fright he was grabbed around the back of the neck by that claw, again. A cold breath accompanied by the smell of graveyard dirt assaulted him as Ogden Trap leaned in close and spoke, "I'll remember you, my stubborn child. Ogden Trap will be here, always, and believe me, one day I shall see you leave through my door and never return. Luck will be your fortune on that day, young Severus Snape." With a sharp shove, Severus fell against the door. He scrabbled with shaking hands at the doorknob, yanked the door open and ran out into the street. He didn't care where Lucius was. He just kept running until he was back on Diagon Alley and on his way to Fortescue's.

Snape's footsteps took him to the ice cream shop. He rather wished it was Fortescue's, but as long as they served chocolate ice cream, it would suffice. He stepped through the door appreciating the decor of wood, polished brass, and stained glass. It reminded him of the interior of the Nautilus, the sub that belonged to Captain Nemo of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. That had been one of his favourite books as a child. He ordered his ice cream and sat in one of the booths as he lost himself in the comfort of the memory of the old childhood story while his mind neatly occluded the old memory, tucking it far, far away.

Dinner was lively that evening as the boys and Hermione told Snape about their first lesson in Ley Line Magic. Snape listened carefully knowing that he would need to catch up with the children. He wanted to learn Lyrica's form of magic as well.

Snape had only quieted them down as all four at once tried to explain the history of Ley Line Magic. Lyrica had taken over and had then explained that Ley Lines were a spider webbed network of magical lines of power that criss-crossed the entire Earth. These Ley Lines had been accessed by witches for millenia to enhance their powers. Ley Lines were the fundamental basis of Earth elemental magic and thus it was magic taught mother to daughter. Males were rarely taught such magic and over time a prejudice had grown up that Ley Line Magic was not as powerful as other magics were. More witches began using wands to focus their own inner core of magic, and as time passed, Ley Line Magic became one of the ancient practices and nearly forgotten.

She went on to tell them that the location of Hogwarts had been specifically chosen for the nexus of two, very strong Ley Lines that intersected where the castle was built. Both Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff had come from a long line of female witches that had been taught the secrets of such magic. It was also magic that both women had woven into the stones that were used to build the castle and then to ultimately protect it. Every Headmaster and Headmistress learned the magic of those wards; many not knowing that they were wielding magic that was so very old.

For witches, the Ley Line both enhanced a witch's magic and allowed her the ability to focus her magic. Wandless Magic, another old practice, had its origins in Ley Line magic. Natural Wandless Wizards showed up more often than Natural Wandless witches, however, the mastery of wandless magic came easier to women.

Hermione had grinned smugly at this point in the explanation. She had already shown a good deal more ease with Ley Line Magic than did the boys.

"I expect that you will find it a bit harder than the boys, Severus, but only because of..." To Lyrica's surprise, the fork she'd been holding in her hand flew out of her hand and into Snape's. He merely smirked as he rose from the table, walked over to Lyrica, and handed her the fork.

"Woah, Uncle Sev, how did you do that?" asked Ron with wonder.

Draco blinked in amazement. "You didn't even say Accio!"

Snape returned to his dinner. "This remains our secret," he said as he scrutinized each teenager. "but I happen to be one of those rare wizards that are naturals with wandless magic."

"That's just too wicked cool!" remarked Draco with approval.

Harry suddenly sniggered. "Is that why you don't like 'silly wand waving'?"

Snape scowled. "Precisely, Harry. Precisely." He smirked for a brief moment and then leaned back against his chair. "Should we return to our time, your new skill must remain secret. I cannot emphasize enough how the opposition could use such a strength against you." Just as he was about to take a sip of wine from his glass, he caught Lyrica's gaze. A shadow passed over her face and her smile faded. He looked away, unable to respond to her sadness.

January of 1899 was soon to come to a close. February was on the horizon and the snow was beginning to thaw. School at Hogwarts had begun in earnest and Lyrica had returned, full time, to her duties. After all, she was Headmistress. Classes at Ashmere had also resumed and Snape had finally managed to extract permission from Lyrica for his wards to use the lab under his supervision. Reading and lectures in Potions only went so far. In order for the children to truly learn anything they needed to do some actual brewing.

King Henry had taken it upon himself to teach the boys to fence, hunt, and with Hermione's help, dance. Lyrica took up the lessons in Ley Line Magic when she was able, but it was The King who reinforced those lessons since Snape was also a student. A third duty of The King's was a secret one begun late at night only a few days after the Yuletide celebrations. A boy, enamoured of Quidditch, eating, and chess, had found an interest in the old stringed instrument King Henry was fond of playing. The King was teaching Ronald Weasley how to play the lute.

A hidden room on the second floor belonged to The King. In this large apartment there were many objects that had been his in life. There were books, instruments, clothing (although in sad decay), and jewels, silver and gold. The King had given the children a small diamond in which to purchase the Potion Master's enchanted journal. He had also given Draco an old gold sovereign so he could create Hermione's ring. An old, skinny Kneazle of patchy yellow and orange lived amongst The King's disarray, quite happily. It was here that Ron escaped just after bedtime to learn the old instrument.

At first his fingers were awkward and his attention was less than appreciated by his instructor. However, after he had successfully brought forth his first tune upon the lute, Ron threw his concentration into mastering the musical instrument. It took no less dedication than what he had shown as a small child as his eldest brother, Bill, had taught him the rudiments and strategies of chess.

"You shall have a recital, my fiery-headed student," declared The King as he paced the room in his solid form and red and gold raiment.

"What?" Ron glanced up just as he plucked a sour note. "A recital? You mean in front of people?"

"Certainly! Your mastery of the lute must be presented, young Ronald. You have no reason to hide your talent."

Ron frowned. "Malfoy will just die of laughter," he muttered. "Maybe Harry, too."

The King scowled. It was an old argument between them. Ron was embarrassed to allow anyone to know he was playing at being a musician and King Henry did not understand why Ron felt that way. However, The King had reached the end of his patience. "I shall speak of this to Sir Raven. We shall hold a proper recital when Lady Lyrica may attend." Ron was just about to protest when The King leaned in threateningly. "You shall obey me, young Ronald. You must choose a piece to play that shows your skill and then a second piece that gives you joy. The first piece must be one you've not played before. I shall give you at least two weeks to master it, in addition to any time there may be before the recital." The King smiled triumphantly.

Ron glowered. "All right, but if I do this, I want to work with the rapier a whole week. Malfoy is monopolizing it. Thinks he's some ruddy forest hero, Noddin Hood, or something!"

"The deal is accepted, my student. Now, practice your scales!"

While Ron learned the lute and the boys fenced, hunted and sometimes danced, Hermione did her best to hang on to her theory of using the Mirror of Erised as their Portgate to 1994, but Snape was stubborn. He was not willing to risk their lives on something they could not test. The Potions Master wanted that book of Flamel's that detailed his experiments with time. Discrete inquiries by owl to acquire the book only served to provide Snape with the information that very few copies had ever been printed and published. Any known copies had been confiscated by the Wizengamot and burned in the early 1800s.

Hermione could be as stubborn as her guardian and despite several debates that had degenerated into frustrated shouting, she would not give up her belief that she was on the right track for a solution.

Harry began to notice that Snape, not a voracious diner to begin with, was eating little at meals. He still drank what amounted to a pot of coffee a day, but he often picked at his meals. The man's temper was growing shorter, as well, although he rarely took it out upon them. It was when Snape's temper seemed to get the better of him, that he retreated to the potions lab. He would not do research in such a mood. Harry, no stranger to insomnia- though his own had often been induced by frightening dreams from Voldemort- had guessed, correctly, that the Potions professor was not sleeping as well as he once had.

One late night as Harry tried to work on his Transfiguration essay, he pushed it away as he stared at the book he'd stolen from the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. The book was Love And the Killing Curse by Perenelle Flamel. It had caught Harry's eye after Dumbledore had told him, as he lay in the infirmary in his first year, that the reason he had survived the curse that killed his mother was through the powerful protection of her love.

The tome was a thin one and Harry had read through it several times. He couldn't understand why it was in the Restricted Section and he had yet to figure out if it had anything of real merit to offer him. He had very nearly forgotten that he'd hidden the book away under his mattress when Hermione had had her dream. Her nightmare vision of Quirrel dissolving into ashes disturbed him. He still could not remember having killed the professor and it was doubtful he ever would since Snape had explained that not only had the Headmaster removed the memory, but had used a Memory Charm to remove the residual ghost memory that a pensieve extraction usually left.

Picking up the book, he rose from his chair and left his bedroom. Ron was asleep and it looked like Hermione was as well. Draco's bedroom door was open and peeking in, Harry could see that the Slytherin was working on an essay.

"Don't you have homework, Scarhead?" asked Draco good-naturedly as he looked up at the boy lurking in his doorway.

"I'm stuck on my Potions essay, Goldilocks. I'm going to go ask Snape for some help."

Draco regarded Harry seriously for a moment and then spoke, "I've been meaning to apologize, Harry."

Harry leaned against the doorjamb. "About what?"

Draco huffed lightly. "A lot of things, I suppose, but I've been thinking that the worst I did was in Potions class." He smirked at the sight of Harry's eyebrows rising to vanish beneath his messy fringe. "Look, I know you knew it was me that kept sabotaging your potions and your ingredients."

"Yeah," drawled Harry. "Although, my concentration for brewing isn't that great."

Draco chuckled. "That's what made it so easy. Anyway, I'm sorry for doing that."

"Think you'll leave my potions alone when we start brewing?" Harry smirked and Draco gave him a long, serious look until he snorted.

"I'm not promising, anything!"

Harry laughed quietly and pushed his frame away from the doorjamb. "Yeah, I thought so."

Draco nodded dismissively as he went back to his work and Harry headed down the stairs.

"Young Harry Potter," softly boomed a familiar voice behind him on the stairs. He smiled to himself as he wondered just how The King managed to keep his voice loud, yet soften it at night.

"Good evening, Your Majesty." Harry continued down the stairs as the ghost followed him.

"Up to mischief, are you?"

"None planned, Sire," chuckled Harry. "Just going to see Snape."

The ghost drifted in front of Harry, blocking his way on the stairs. "Sir Raven is perched within his lab, muttering over his cauldron. This can wait?"

Harry sighed and thought carefully. The lab wasn't still off limits, but if Snape were at all in a mood, he might not even want to talk to him. However, gripping his book tighter, he knew if he didn't talk to Snape now, he'd either forget, or not have the nerve later. "I really do need to see him, Hen... I mean, Your Highness?" Harry stumbled over addressing The King. Sometimes he got it right, sometimes he didn't. "Uhm, Sire, could you show me to the potions lab?"

Solidifying, the ghost landed, on his feet, solidly on the floor. He beckoned to Harry and led the boy down the long, winding passage to the lab. Slapping Harry's back firmly, the ghost declared, "This is as far as I go, young Harry. I shall leave you to beard the bat in his own cave. Don't get bitten." Becoming once more transparent, Henry chuckled at his own little joke and vanished through the walls.

Harry took in a deep, fortifying breath and then knocked, rather feebly, he thought, upon the heavy, wooden door.

"Two minutes, Harry, and then I'll let you in," came Snape's velvet tones. His voice was only slightly muffled by the door.

Harry, left to wonder how Snape divined it was he who was knocking, waited as patiently as he could until the door opened. Snape swept him inside and returned to his seat in front of a small, heavy iron cauldron. Harry took a moment to look around himself and could not stop his lower jaw from dropping open. The Hogwarts classroom lab was impressive, but this was beyond that one. He'd never seen so many different cauldrons, including one, that appeared slightly apart from the others, that had a silvery, opalescent fluidity to it.

"This is bloody brilliant!" Harry gasped with awe. He missed Snape's pleasant smirk.

"You approve, then?"

"Oh yeah..." Harry turned and was pleased to see that not only was Snape working, but also beside him was the potions journal they had given him for Christmas. He walked over to the white marble worktable that the Potions Master was seated at. "What are you working on, Snape?"

Snape looked up from the cauldron. "Harry, if you haven't noticed, I stopped calling you by your last name. Do you think you might extend me the courtesy of at least calling me Severus?"

Harry's head dropped as his cheeks coloured. "I... sure... yeah, I can do that... Severus." That sounded weird, thought Harry, but not really bad at all.

Snape lifted Harry's chin with a slim fingertip. The very slight smile that greeted Harry's eyes still tended to startle him, but he liked it. It gave him a feeling of warmth in his chest. "Would you care to assist me? I have some lacewings to my left that need mincing."

"Sure!" Harry put his book down on the worktable and made his way around the worktable to Snape's left side. He climbed up on the stool and began to carefully mince the lacewings.

Snape glanced sideways at the book Harry had put on the other side of the work table. He could read the title. His curiosity was piqued, but he would wait until the young Gryffindor broached the subject that had brought him down to the dungeon lab.

"How much of the lacewings will you need, Severus?" asked Harry as he continued to methodically prepare the delicate ingredient.

"Two tablespoons, Harry."

Together they sat in silence for several minutes until Harry had completed his task. He handed the minced lacewings to Snape, who inspected the work first, and then poured them into the cauldron. The mixture fizzed and turned a greyish-brown. A small puff let out a musty fragrance.

"Murtlap?" inquired Harry.

"Very good nose," commented Snape wryly as he began to stir the potion with a glass rod. "Perhaps you can detect the other ingredients?"

Harry moved a little closer until he was almost at Snape's elbow. He closed his eyes and sniffed a few times. After a moment he pulled away, and with his eyes still closed he recited, "Verbena, Wild Carrot and oil of peppermint." Harry opened his eyes. "I almost didn't get the peppermint."

"Peppermint oil is a concentrated aroma, Harry. Why do you think it was difficult to detect?" Snape lowered the flame.

"If peppermint oil is used as a catalyst, an acidic agent is used to temper it. This... uhm... dampens the odour." Harry studied the potion as Snape stirred it twice and it began to thicken slightly. "With the ingredients you have so far, I'm thinking you're making... hmmm... Joint Pain Relief Potion, which requires orange or lemon to temper the peppermint."

"I used orange extract. Why would I have done so?" Snape was quite pleased with Harry's answers so far. At Hogwarts, his practical work had been mediocre, at best. His essays showed that he retained what he read, but his brewing left much to be desired.

"If the potion is for teenagers or younger, you use lemon since the accidental magic of a young person can affect the efficacy of the potion. Accidental magic doubles the effect so lemon is safer for children. Orange is used for anyone older since accidental magic will not affect the final potion."

"Impressive, Mr. Potter. How come you never showed such an aptitude in my Potions classes at Hogwarts? You almost make me believe you could brew an adequate Joint Pain Relief Potion."

Harry shrugged. "It was kind of hard to concentrate... you know?" He chanced a quick glance at his Potions professor, but Snape was measuring another ingredient.

"My habit of hovering and taking points, you mean?"

Harry nodded, but then realised Snape might not see the gesture. "Yeah. That's a bad habit, Severus," he jibed.

"Now that it seems I have broken such a 'bad habit', perhaps you'll prove me wrong?" Snape cast a slight smirk sideways at Harry.

"I probably can." Harry watched Snape quietly for a few minutes before speaking softly. "Before I got my Hogwarts letter I took Chemistry at the school I went to."

Snape waited a moment to see if Harry was going to speak further on the subject of Chemistry. When it seemed the boy wasn't, he asked, "How were your grades? Was it a subject you liked?"

Harry smiled wistfully. "I'm sure I could have gotten top grades, but if I did better than my cousin that... uhm..." Harry stumbled over the memory of punishments he received from his uncle whenever his grades were better than Dudley's. He answered the second question Snape had asked. "I really did like it. I was kind of looking forward to Potions, but..."

"But your teacher is a bully who took any pleasure in the art of Potions you might have had and crushed it," he stated with regret in his tone of voice.

"Yeah, that," Harry sighed heavily.

"It is unfortunate that happened, Harry. I have always considered your meticulous preparation of ingredients could be hiding a similar concentration, and perhaps, appreciation for the art I enjoy."

Harry latched onto the rare compliment. "You like how I prepare ingredients, sir?"

Snape allowed himself a small smile at the obvious hopefulness in the boy's voice. "I do. Your prep work is nothing short of perfect. Am I to assume this might have been something you learned from your Aunt Petunia?"

This time Snape caught Harry's shrug. He could read the obvious body language in the child's discomfort in being reminded of his relatives so he changed the subject. "You've done very well this evening, Harry. I think I shall allow you an extra half-hour to fly tomorrow."

Harry positively beamed at the very rare compliment, completely forgetting about his aunt's tutelage. "Thank you, Professor! Is there anything else I can help with?"

Snape cast a stasis field over his potion. "How would you like to learn how to prepare a very rare ingredient that you will not see until your seventh year?" Harry nodded enthusiastically. "All right. Go over to the other table and cast a cooling spell across its surface. I'll be back in a moment with the ingredient."

"Certainly, sir!" Harry really did feel honoured that Snape was treating him almost like a colleague. He moved away from the white marble worktable and headed across the room to the black, marble worktable. He cast a simple cooling charm just as Snape emerged from the storeroom.

In Snape's hand was an unusual ingredients container that he held firmly with both hands. "Harry, I need to add some notes in my potions journal. Would you bring it and my quill over to the prep table?"

Harry scooted back to the first table, grabbed the journal and the quill and met Snape at the prep table. He set the items to Snape's right and then studied the ingredient that the taller man held carefully in his hands.

It was a plant kept in a magical stasis field inside a glass box to keep the item fresh. The plant had a triple twisted stem heavily covered with dark, crimson leaves in the shape of a spade. The stem was an even darker red. Using his wand, Snape removed the stasis field and then delicately removed six of the leaves.

"You recall in your first year of Potions when we worked with the Green Laurel Heart?" Harry nodded. "This is the same plant except more mature. Herbologists don't often cultivate the Laurel Heart beyond its green stage due to the fact it is much more difficult to keep the plant alive until it reaches maturation. It is also very costly."

"How much did that cost?" asked Harry and immediately regretted doing so. He had often been 'firmly' rebuked by Aunt Petunia that it was rude to ever inquire about the cost of anything. "I'm sorry, sir! That was rude of me."

"Quite all right, Harry." He emphasised Harry's first name as he said it. Harry caught the subtle invitation to speak informally to Snape and smiled. "I think it's important for a student to understand the cost and rarity of many of the ingredients we brew with. Red Laurel Heart, depending on the supplier, will cost between 500 to 1,000 galleons for what I have here. This particular specimen came from a highly regarded Herbologist in Africa who charged 575 galleons for this stem. It is an extremely high quality stem and I was quite satisfied at what I paid for it."

Snape picked up one of the leaves he'd removed from the main stem. "Now, as you'll recall from our lessons with Green Laurel Heart, the plant gets its name from the heart-shaped, bulbous pouch, here." Snape indicated the point where the leaf connected to its own, slim stem. "The green, heart-shaped seed is harder so it is easier to remove by just popping it out with a thumbnail. The red, though, is soft. It is vital that when removing the heart from the leaf's pouch that it is not punctured, or crushed. Just as a brewer rarely needs a Green Laurel Heart crushed, or diced, the Red Laurel Heart is most efficacious when it is whole. I only need four, whole hearts. I'll show you how to extract the first one, and then I'll guide you with the next one."

Harry didn't speak as he watched Snape very lightly use his knife to pierce and then slice the thin membrane of the pouch. He then quartered the membrane. He then delicately used the tip of the knife to peel aside the membrane to reveal the red, heart-shaped seed. With just a nudge of his finger behind the seed, it neatly popped out. Snape inspected the seed and then put it aside. "Your turn." Snape handed Harry a leaf and the knife.

Harry stared at the leaf, and he couldn't help but count the leaves still left on the stem and calculate in his mind what the cost was. He knew that Snape had provided for them by brewing and selling healing potions, but not even all the presents at Christmas cost 500 galleons. What if he ruined this leaf? "Are you sure I should do this, si... Severus?"

"Absolutely." To Harry's surprise, Snape stood behind him, and then firmly gripped Harry's hands in his own cool hands. "Don't worry if we ruin this one, Harry. The leaf and its stem are usable in other potions. I want you to get a feel with the knife..." Slowly, he guided Harry's hands as Harry laid the leaf upon the charmed, cold surface of the marble. Harry touched the point of the knife to the heart and allowed Snape to press his hand so he could feel, through the knife, how soft the heart was. "You want to find the thinnest point in the membrane and the place where the heart is the strongest. That's almost always at the heart's point. So, pierce... gently, like so." Harry's knife made a nearly invisible, pinpoint prick through the membrane. Snape then guided him through the first cut, instructing him to keep the pressure even. "When you pick up the knife for the quarter cut, make your fingers remember the amount of pressure you used for the first cut." Harry just nodded and felt his forehead begin to prickle with perspiration. With Snape still guiding his hand, he drew the quarter cut across the first slice, peeled back the membrane and popped out the heart.

"Very good, Harry." Snape picked up the seed and carefully inspected it.

"What are you looking for, Severus?"

"Flaws. Either from the knife or insects. The skin of the heart must not be pierced in any way. This one is perfect." He laid the seed aside and handed Harry another leaf. "Try without my guidance, now. Take it slowly and carefully."

Snape stepped away from Harry and observed silently as the boy wiped his brow with his dressing gown sleeve, took a deep breath, and laid the leaf out. He did fine in piercing the membrane, but his first slice cut into the delicate skin of the heart. A watery, pinkish fluid seeped out and Harry's own heart flipped in his chest and dropped down to his toes. He couldn't stop a sharp gasp from escaping, so he bit his tongue, all prepared for Snape to begin yelling at him. Snape simply removed the leaf and handed him another.

"Just take your time, Harry. And, breathe. You can't cut if you're holding your breath."

Harry just nodded and began again. Just as he was about to pierce the membrane, his hand began to shake. Harry closed his eyes and took a few seconds to just breathe. In his mind's eye, he saw himself flying above the Quidditch pitch. Flying on a broom was like breathing and so was the prep of Potions ingredients. Slicing, dicing, mincing, squeezing, sectioning... all of it was as second nature to Harry as flying on a broom was. He never did well in brewing potions, though, because Snape, the Snape who hated him and looked for even a glance out of place would be there, behind him, ready to shout and ridicule him and take points. That Snape wasn't here in this dungeon lab. This Snape wanted... no, knew that Harry could produce a perfect Red Laurel Heart.

With very controlled, precise movements Harry pierced the heart's membrane, then smoothly made the first cut. Without hesitating, he then made the cross cut. Using the sharp tip of the knife he carefully peeled back the membrane, and finally the heart popped out. Harry picked the delicate ingredient up between his fingertips and examined the small, soft seed. Its red, outer skin, was perfectly smooth and appeared, to him, to be completely unblemished. He then handed it to Snape. The Potions Master gave it a cursory glance; trusting in Harry's assessment.

"Two more, if you would, Harry?" Snape handed the boy two more leaves and returned the last leaf to stasis. Harry knew he'd done well.

An hour later, Harry learned that the Joint Pain Relief Potion that Snape was working on was a variation that would extend the pain relief and also repair the damage of the condition that caused the pain in the first place. If he succeeded, he intended to rename the potion after the cause of the joint pain, Arthritic Pain Relief & Damage Repair Potion. While Snape brewed, Harry took notes in the professor's journal.

"Under conditions such as these, Harry, do you like Potions as much as you liked Chemistry?" Snape inquired smoothly when he lowered the heat of the blue flame.

"There are some really gross ingredients, but I do like seeing how those ingredients come together to create something. I just..." Harry glanced worriedly at Snape.

"I suppose during the practicals I was very little help," stated Snape.

Harry shrugged and sighed. "You weren't much help at all. Uhm, sorry. I just wish you could teach the way you do now, Severus. I mean, you demonstrate how to do things and you let us ask questions. You're better than Professor Lupin," Harry blurted and his cheeks coloured as he felt he was somehow betraying his friend for liking Snape's teaching style.

"Hmm, better than the werewolf? I'll take that compliment."

"Well, yeah." Harry gave Snape a half-smile. "I like you this way. I don't like the... well, the greasy git of the dungeons."

"Ah. One of my many vaunted nicknames. I worked hard for those, Harry. They don't bother me."

"Really?" the Gryffindor frowned. "But, they're really kind of mean."

"I am an adult, idiot boy. I hope that I've grown above the petty insults of children."

"Severus, are... if I can ask?" Snape merely nodded. "You really aren't so... nice in class. I mean, you're not at all gentle toward the other houses, but even your own House is scared of you. Is this part of that 'act' you mentioned earlier?"

"I do believe that my responsibility as a teacher to my students does come first. I am necessarily strict in Potions as you are well aware that there are volatile and expensive ingredients there we work with. It is unfortunate that I must couch such responsibility in behavior that frightens students. Not the least of which, if I didn't show open hostility to Dumbledore's Golden Child, I could seriously put myself, the Order, and you at risk."

"Yeah, get us avada kedavered," muttered Harry, butchering the pronouncement of the Unforgivable spell.

"I never meant to alienate you the way I did, Harry. My old hatred toward your father and his friends made it too easy to turn my show of hostility into something truly reprehensible. I apologise for it, and do not in any way ask for your pardon of it." Snape's hand stretched out and rested lightly on the boy's forearm. "On your very first day I should have explained who I was and my role toward you. I have since learned that there is much Dumbledore, in his inestimable decisiveness, kept from you. It would have taken so little for me to let you know that you had an ally to confide in, but I didn't."

Harry grimaced slightly. Snape's behaviour towards him during his first three years at Hogwarts did still bug him, but as he had gotten to know his Potions teacher better, it wasn't hurting as much. He didn't say so out loud, but he might even forgive the man. "Was it your choice not to tell me you were my protector? Or was it Dumbledore's?"

"To be blunt, it was Dumbledore's counsel that I remain silent in the matter. By the time, last year, when I began regretting such a decision I didn't see how I could undo things. Not only was your... hatred of me rather open by then, but your sentiments were being supported by your friends." Snape frowned darkly, but Harry could tell the expression of disapproval wasn't aimed at him.

"You and Dumbledore don't see eye to eye much, do you?" Harry asked bluntly.

Snape's eyebrow rose up into the fringe of his long, black hair. "No, we do not. It is to be expected, though, Harry. I may differ, at times with Professor Dumbledore's instructions and opinions, but I do trust the man."

"He Crucio'd you!" exclaimed Harry.

Snape crossed his arms over his chest. Dumbledore casting the Unforgivable upon him had shaken him, terribly. Not that the old man never used such extreme methods to get a point across, but it had hurt much more because Snape held not just trust, but a certain affection for the wizard. That affection had suffered and was severely bruised. He spoke slowly, carefully and Harry felt suddenly guilty for detecting the man's unease. "I cannot say I... understand... just why he felt something so extreme was necessary. After all, in your dream that damned... that stupid lemon drop was all the proof I required. However, even despite that, I do still trust him."

Harry hated the way Snape sounded. He could tell that the wizard had been hurt and not only by the Cruciatus Curse. "He dropped me on my skull," he growled. "I don't see how I'm to be expected to trust him after that." Harry's green eyes suddenly flashed. "And, he Obliviated me!"

"Harry, stop using incantations as verbs, please," requested Snape. Sometimes the way the boy slaughtered the King's English grated on his nerves.

"Huh?" Whatever thought Harry had planned on pursuing was stopped by the grammatical correction.

Harry saw Snape's hand stretch out for the book Harry had brought. Snape took the opportunity to steer Harry away from his accidental exposure of his thoughts on what Dumbledore had done to him and directed their conversation to the reason the boy had come to see his Potions professor for in the first place. "You borrowed this from the Hogwarts library?"

"I... I thought it could help me. Dumbledore told me that it was my mum's love that protected me when I was a baby and it was that same love that saved me from Voldemort... Quirrel. It really doesn't say anything more than what the Headmaster told me, though."

Snape put the book down and regarded the young boy who appeared to be pondering the floor. Harry then lifted his head and looked up into those obsidian eyes that had so often made him think of a predator. There was no judgement in them, just a willingness to listen, to understand, and if needed, give comfort.

"Did I really kill Quirrel?" Harry asked his question in an almost strangled whisper.

"I saw the pensieve memory, Harry," Snape affirmed gently. "Quirrel had been ordered by Voldemort to kill you. When he stretched out his hands, presumably to strangle you or hex you with his wandless magic, you defended yourself by shoving your hands into his face. As soon as you touched him, Quirrel's body began to burn at a very fast rate from the inside."

Harry shuddered. "And... and you found me? How did you know where I was?"

"After Quirrel tried to kill you during the Quidditch match, I put a tracking spell on you. The spell would alert me if you were in danger. I arrived only a few minutes after you had passed out. Flames had burst from the ashes that remained of Quirrel and I managed to contain it and put it out. I, then, took you to the infirmary."

"I don't understand why Dumbledore was trying to protect me, Severus. Voldemort... no Quirrel tried to kill me. I had to defend myself."

"The Headmaster felt that you might feel guilt over having killed the man, even though he was helping your greatest enemy."

Harry shook his head. "It might have freaked me out for awhile, but I don't feel one bit of guilt right this second. Anyone who is stupid enough to follow Voldemort deserves what they get."

Snape eyed Harry critically. He was far too young to truly understand. "The taking of any person's life is a hard thing, Harry. Dumbledore knew that you would one day have to kill Voldemort. That means you'll have to face a dark part of yourself that is willing to take a life. You didn't mean to kill Quirrel. You didn't even know that you could. All you were doing was trying to defend yourself. Killing Voldemort, or any of his followers deliberately, is a different matter altogether. It will not be easy."

"I'm just a kid, Severus!" There was anger in Harry's voice, but there was also a tinge of hysteria and panic, too. "We're all kids. Doesn't Dumbledore get that?"

Snape sighed. How could he explain or justify such a plaintive statement? Of course, they were children. "War is no place for children," Snape said softly, not realising at first that he'd voiced his thoughts.

"No, it isn't," agreed Harry. "But this war is going to be fought by kids, isn't it?"

Snape could only nod. "Are you sleepy, yet?" Harry firmly shook his head. "While this is simmering for the next hour, why don't you help me fulfil an order for Pepper-Up Potion?"

Harry's smile was momentarily forced but he allowed himself to relax into the respite Snape's request for assistance offered. There was nothing to be done and Harry was beginning to learn that there were some small battles that couldn't be won. "Sure."

"I'll gather the ingredients if you'll get six copper cauldrons from the shelf and set them up with a low flame."

Harry was glad of the diversion. As he collected the cauldrons and set them up, a plan began forming within his busy mind. He didn't fool himself into thinking he knew what the future held for him, but he did know that one day he would be facing Voldemort. Children might be a part of the final battle, but he decided he'd make certain very few, if any, would die. Harry intended to be ready, no matter what it took.

February ended silently, without incident, and Dumbledore's interfering dreams had not returned. Ron had yet to get his recital since Lyrica had been very busy at Hogwarts. The recital was scheduled for the first weekend in March and Ron could be found practising at every moment he could get away. He was really quite good, and except for the anticipation of performing in front of others, he was looking forward to showing everyone that he had a talent beyond chess and Quidditch.

Since Ron's lute playing was to be a surprise, The King had arranged for Draco and Hermione to exhibit their mastery of Medieval court dancing while Ron, Harry, and Draco would display their two- and three-way duelling mastery with swords.

Snape still was not sleeping well, despite regular doses of Dreamless Sleep Potion. He had diluted the potion since he knew quite well he was tempting addiction with the powerful potion. He had lost weight and this had finally necessitated an intervention from the children. Snape had been in a rare, nasty temper as he was cornered by his four charges in the library.

Snape sat belligerently at his desk, his arms crossed over his chest and a dark glower that could kill a Death Eater at twenty paces. "I can see that my expectations for Charms class today will go unfilled. What do you four think you're playing at?"

"You're not eating," stated Hermione. Like the boys, she was standing on the other side of the desk facing the Potions Master.

"You have the expertise to judge, Miss Granger?" Snape sneered.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. The boys, quite familiar with what such a look boded, moved surreptitiously a little closer together. None of them wanted to be caught in the line of fire. "Uncle Severus, I don't have to be an expert when my observational capabilities are more than enough."

Snape blinked. That girl's tone reminded him eerily of the scoldings he had received from Minerva McGonagall when he was a student. He wondered if the formidable Scotswoman was where the little lioness had learned it. He let out a huff of irritation. "I had an apple for breakfast."

"That's the first thing I've seen you eat in two days," she once more stated flatly and firmly.

Snape smirked and retorted, "We do have elves here, Miss... Hermione. I might be eating in the lab."

Draco spoke up with an answer to this defence. "You've never broken your own rules, Uncle Severus. No food in the lab. It can contaminate a potion." Snape only aimed a narrow-eyed look at the young snake. Draco cringed, slightly, but stood his ground.

"You've lost weight, Severus," asserted Harry.

Snape was about to order all of them outside when he caught something in Harry's piercing gaze. He dismissed Hermione, Ron, and Draco. "Stay here, Harry."

"We'll go flying," said Ron softly as he passed behind Harry. In moments, the library doors were closed and Harry took a seat opposite the Potions Master.

Harry didn't wait to be invited to speak and just blurted what he knew. "Dumbledore looked at me the same way, Severus. He was scary."

Snape was somewhat taken aback by Harry's perception. However, in this instance, perhaps it wasn't such a leap of logic. Harry had fared better, but he had been noticeably quieter, more introspective of late, than was usual since their shared nightmares. Snape nodded and sighed heavily as he dropped his arms to the chair's armrests. "I've never seen an expression on Albus' face like that before, Harry. Not even when I came to him... from... you know..." Harry just nodded. He knew that it was Dumbledore that had saved Snape when the wizard turned his back on the Dark Lord and his fellow Death Eaters.

"I feel like I've betrayed him," Harry said softly. "Just because I wish we could stay here. I should be allowed my wishes, shouldn't I? It doesn't mean that I don't feel a responsibility to my friends."

"As do I feel, too, Harry."

"Then why are you letting this haunt you so badly... sir?"

"Severus," he gently corrected.

"Severus. I mean, you're as stuck as we are."

"Yet, I'm the adult and the burden of responsibility lies upon my shoulders."

"Well, yeah, but he's being unfair, Severus! All this mucking about in our dreams and he can't tell a single one of us something straight out! What's with that? This sneaky, cryptic shite! Uhm, sorry about that." Snape merely inclined his head in understanding. "Why does he have to be that way? Why can't he just come out and tell us the truth? You know, if he would be more understanding in those dreams, maybe we'd want to go home more. Who wants to go back after getting their skull cracked open?" It was Harry's turn to slump angrily in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest in a fair imitation of the older wizard.

"Who wants to go home after being tortured?" Harry blanched and Snape shrugged helplessly. "Who am I to explain the way Albus Dumbledore conducts business? I've known him most of my life and most of the time I find myself just taking a leap of faith where he's concerned, and hoping I'm not jumping to my death."

Harry looked up, appalled. "That's stu... uhm... not smart."

"It's stupid," smirked the wizard. "Harry..." he stumbled over what he was planning on saying. He wouldn't lie to Harry, but there were some things that were meant to be private. The fact that Dumbledore might be feeling betrayed by Snape as well was something he could not articulate to the boy. He could not reveal the pain it caused him.

"Severus, don't explain. I do get it." Harry rose from his chair and made his way around the desk to stand next to Snape. He lightly placed a hand on the man's shoulder. His voice was soft and confidential, "I think I know what Dumbledore means to you and he was an unthinking idiot to have used an Unforgivable Curse on you. It hurts. More than a cracked skull does. Anyway, just, try to eat, will you? And, get some sleep, too. We don't want anything to happen to you and you know we'd be lost if you d... if something happened to you."

Snape took Harry's comforting hand in his and smiled in resignation. "I really was not thinking that far ahead, Harry, and I am sorry I've been so selfish."

Harry grinned. "Why don't you come flying with us, Severus? Even grown ups need to play once in awhile." Harry fully expected the man to brush him off, but Snape rose to his feet.

"That sounds a capital idea, Harry. I'll meet you out in the backyard."

That evening at dinner, although Snape didn't eat much, he did have a sufficient amount of food the children approved of. Just as he sent the children off to bed, he surprised himself by yawning. Obeying his body's needs, he repaired to bed and slept well. The next morning, he also had some breakfast and over the next few days he was very good about returning to his usual dietary habits. He realised that as much as his heart was in pain over Dumbledore's perceived shortcomings of the ex-Death Eater, his first priority had to be for Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Draco's well-being. He could not let them down.

The day of the recital for the adults had arrived. Chairs had been moved to the large entryway and all the candles in the large chandelier had been lit. Hermione and Draco would begin with a dance demonstration from King Henry the VIII's own court. Draco was resplendant in raiment that was a near copy of what The King wore all the time. The colours of his outfit were green and gold. His fingers were bedecked with rings of heavy stones, and a cap studded with rubies sat upon his head. The final touch to his cap was, appropriately, a beautiful peacock feather. Hermione looked stunning in a Tudor-style dress of blue silk, a brocade bodice, and an underskirt of green satin that was reminiscent of a young Queen Elizabeth the First. Draco nearly forgot he was supposed to dance with the lovely maiden as he watched her descend regally down the grand staircase. Ron and Harry, sitting off to the side with Snape and Lyrica also thought their friend looked beautiful and nearly managed to ruin the whole effect with a few whistles. Snape whispered a threat of a silencing spell and they immediately quieted.

On the other side of the entryway was King Henry with his lute. As Hermione met her dance partner, the lute was plucked to life. Draco gave a courtly bow to his lady and with a dramatic flourish of his wand, a host of costumed court dancers without faces joined them on the floor. As they danced, Harry and Ron had been prepared to make little snide remarks, but those teasing remarks never showed as both boys found themselves wrapped up in the pageantry before them. When the dancing finally ended, the extra participants vanished in a shower of silver and gold. Hermione curtsied and Draco bowed, and then both ran quickly up to the second floor.

The fencing duel was next so Ron and Harry left their places with the small audience and ran over to the library to get ready. Hermione returned from the second floor and took her seat beside Lyrica. When the boys returned, all three had been outfitted- at Draco's 'strong' insistence- in costumes of Merry Men. Harry had a passing knowledge of the story, Robin Hood, but Ron hadn't. He had gone on at length about how he wasn't about to wear such 'sissy' clothing, until Draco found a copy of the book in a bookshop in Diagon Alley. Ron soon became just as enthralled with the story of the hero Robin Hood as Draco was and there was no more fighting over the costumes.

The fencing began with an exhibition between Draco and Ron. Each held rapiers straight up before them, and then, with a sharp movement, they saluted with the blades. Their fight was well choreagraphed, almost like a dance. They fought across the floor, back and forth, until Ron delivered the Coup de Grace. Draco's death was suitably melodramatic as he collapsed to the floor with a cry of, "O, I am slain!"

The next fight was Draco against Harry. Each boy was armed with a dangerous looking dagger in each hand. There was no pretense of civility in this duel. Harry stood on the second floor landing while Draco stood in a half crouch, at the foot of the stairs. With a yell that shocked Snape, Lyrica, and Hermione, Harry leaped from the landing and right on top of Draco. The daggers were a blur as the boys fought madly. Snape rose from his seat, once, his wand drawn. He felt two heavy hands upon his shoulders that directed him back to his seat. A whisper from The King assured him that both boys knew exactly what they were doing. The fight ended with a dramatic double strike of Draco's daggers against Harry; one across his throat and one to his kidneys. The blood spurt from Harry's neck was almost too much for Snape and he was halfway across the floor of the entryway when Harry sat up and grinned. Snape stopped in his tracks and glowered, heavily. Everyone held their breaths and remained frozen where they were, certain that Snape would now explode, or at the very least hex Harry. Instead, the Potions Master pulled himself to his full height, adjusted his outer robe, and politely nodded to both boys. With his own billowing flourish of robes, he returned to his seat in the audience.

The final fight was a three-way clash of long swords. It was a chaotic coordination of dramatic leaps from the second floor gallery, along the stairs, leaps from the second floor landing to the entryway, until it ended with Harry and Draco disarming Ron.

"What think you of their performance, Sir Raven?" asked The King as he sat on an invisible chair next to Snape.

"Quite good, Your Majesty. Although I think you ought to consider teaching Hermione the same skills." Hermione heard this and looked toward her guardian and the ghost. "Would you like that, Hermione?"

"Oh yes! I'd love to learn how to use those daggers. Could I, Your Majesty?"

The King frowned thoughtfully and then grinned at the girl. "If you are so interested, then your wish is my command."

Still in costume, Draco and Harry headed back over to the sidelines. Draco spoke softly, "I think Ron's got some secret up his sleeve."

They all ceased talking as the lights gently dimmed until a magical light beamed down in soft yellow over the center of the floor. There was Ron, seated upon a four-legged stool with a half-moon curved seat. He was dressed in a medievael court musician's colourful costume of green, blue, red and gold. In his hands was a beautiful, very old, antique lute. Without preamble, he began playing the first piece of music. Somewhere in the shadows behind Ron were a chorus and a flute player. Their accompaniment did not overshadow his playing. The piece was, of course, one of The King's own compositions, a fast-paced piece of music called 'Pastyme With Good Companye'.

Ron was bowed over the lute as his fingers plied the instrument. His concentration was on his playing and on the music. Inwardly, it was the music that carried him and he was little aware of his audience as he played. There was only a short moment of silence as he finished the first piece. In that brief quiet between songs, Ron did not raise his head to acknowledge his surroundings. He did a little tuning and the began the second piece. This one was a little more contemporary with music of his age. It was a ballad of two lovers. As he played, this time with only the soulful voice of a singer to accompany him, Ron was not aware of the tears coursing down Hermione's cheeks, nor the fact that Lyrica had slipped her hand into Snape's. Draco and Harry were just completely speechless at what they were seeing and hearing. Neither felt the least like teasing the boy as they both were able to see that just in playing something so well, Ron had spun a magic that was tangible only in the sense that it touched the souls of all present.

When Ron finished the second song and rose to his feet, he had a split second where he was afraid that perhaps he had failed and embarrassed himself and would never live the humiliation down. To his astonishment and delight, the entryway was soon filled with applause. The lights returned and Ron was quickly surrounded by his friends.

The babble of questions, congratulations, and awe were impossible for Ron to address. He could only smile. It wasn't until Snape spoke, that everyone else was silent and Ron's smile slipped marginally.

"I never expected a Weasley to surprise me in the manner you just have, Ronald. I truly hope that someday your family will be treated to such a show so that they may bestow upon you their pride and pleasure. You have done very well."

Ron was certain he'd stopped breathing at Snape's immense compliment. In fact, he was sure of it when Harry smacked him firmly on his back. The astonished redhead coughed sharply and quickly composed himself as he addressed Snape, "Thank you, si... Uncle Sev... Severus. Thank you for letting me know my parents would have liked this."

A benevolent nod from Snape and the show was over. They retired to the parlour for hot chocolate and Ron, happily centre stage, answered the questions his friends had and played a few more songs on the lute.

All families wish to attain perfection, but that never happens. Children get bored, distracted, and when that happens, the ideas begin. Ideas, especially those concocted by the Dastardly Trio, have the unfortunate ability to transfigure into trouble. Although the weather was doing its best to warm up and usher in the spring, it was just a bit too chilly for the boys to venture outside. Homework was completed and none of them were interested in any form of studying. Ron had trounced both Draco and Harry in chess, and they'd gotten bored with Exploding Snaps and Gobstones after only a half hour of each game.

They were now lounging upon the grand staircase trying to wake up their brains to some other activity they could do in the house. Harry sat on the second floor gallery with his legs through the railings and dangling over the edge. Ron was lying on his back, his ankles crossed, and his hands clasped beneath his head as he lay stretched out upon the landing. Draco was halfway up the main part of the stairs, his legs stretched over three steps as he leaned back on his elbows with his head thrown back as his grey-eyed gaze surveyed the huge chandelier of crystal above them.

"I expect this was used as a ballroom at some point," the blonde mused. "Of course, we have a family ballroom and a formal ballroom at Malfoy Manor."

"Seems a bit excessive," muttered Ron.

"It is," Draco languidly agreed. "So are the six dungeons Lucius favours." Ron grimaced and Harry's legs stopped swinging.

"Six?" gulped Harry.

"Lucius locked Elydree and I in one of them and left us there for two whole days and nights. He never came back for us." With his head so far back, Draco was beginning to experience a bit of woozy dizziness. He kept his head bent backwards awkwardly to see if he might pass out.

"How did you escape?" asked Ron.

"Severus. That's the first time he took us to Spinner's End." Draco felt his vision tunneling and lifted his head. The blood rushed upward, flushing his pale cheeks. "Elydree was three years old and I was six? I think?" He smiled wistfully. "I don't remember where my mother was, but Lucius was off doing something for the Dark... for Voldemort. We stayed with Severus for two weeks. I really was hoping neither Lucius or my mother would show up. I hoped they had abandoned us."

"You were happy there?" asked Harry with a smirk.

Draco snorted as he caught Harry's expression. "Yeah, we were. Severus was... well, he was strict but he spent a lot of time with us. Read stories to us, took us flying, and he showed me how to make my first potion."

"Oh yeah, that's fun," Ron quipped sarcastically.

Draco laughed. "It was! Bet you can't guess what we made?" He was met with silence and a questioning glance from Harry. "Lemon drops!" All three boys laughed for several long seconds and then they were silent again.

The silence was broken by Ron speaking as he rolled over on his side. "Did I tell you Fred and George are planning on dropping out of Hogwarts?"

Draco let his head fall back again so that he was looking at Ron almost upside-down. "Why?"

"Their joke shop idea?" asked Harry.

"Yeah. They've got all sorts of plans and have created lots of potions and charms for when they can rent a shop. Fred's been selling zit salve and hair creme all this summer to save up. George created this perfumed shampoo... well, I think it just reeks, but Ginny and Mum really seemed to like it and George has been selling a bit of that, too."

"How close are they to their goal?" asked Draco as he sat up straighter and blinked away the stars that had returned to his vision as his head had hung back.

"It's gonna take awhile. Fred figures they need at least a thousand galleons to get started and that doesn't even cover the cost of renting the shop." Ron began drawing designs in the thick carpet with his finger.

"D'you think Fred and George would like an investor?" asked Harry as he flopped back on the floor.

"Probably," Ron shrugged one shoulder.

"They're creative, your brothers," Draco mused. "As one who has been on the end of one too many of their pranks." Ron sniggered, as did Harry, and the Slytherin scowled at each of the Gryffindors. "Still, if they're that organised, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to invest in them."

There was more silence until Draco spoke again with a wicked smile, "There's a lot of room up there."

"What are you thinking of?" asked Ron.

"Flying." His mischievous smirk met Ron's puzzled expression. "We could have a really good race around that chandelier."

"Snape would bury us right up to our necks back in that barrow," muttered Harry. He had just pushed his head through the bannister railings and was pretending his head was stuck.

"Only after skinning us alive, if he caught us," added Ron.

Draco sat up abruptly and clapped his hands together once. "Well then, gentlemen, I think it's agreed. We fly!"

"What?" Harry tried to yank his head from between the railings and only succeeded in nearly choking himself. It took him a minute to release himself and just as he stood on the stairs, he had to duck as Draco and Ron's brooms were sailing down the stairs.

A moment later Harry had summoned his broom and they were starting, slowly, to fly around the large chandelier. Ron leaned toward Harry and chuckled, "You know, mate, sometimes I have to agree with Snape. We really are idiot children!"

"Let's hope we're not dead ones!" Harry, more daring, flew ahead of Ron. As he passed Draco, the race began in earnest.

The joy of flying and the irresistible thrill in the danger of being caught infused all three of them. Gone from their heads were any words of wisdom that might have warned them further of their folly. Consequences be damned; they were having fun!

In the library Hermione was working on a Transfiguration essay. As usual, she was surrounded by a number of books, parchment, ink and she had the quill Snape had given her for Christmas in her hand. She was just consulting a passage in one of the books when the floor of the library trembled. At the same moment there was a thunderous crash accompanied by the sound of glass shattering into millions of pieces.

Shock at the noise kept Hermione frozen in her chair for a few breaths of a second. As soon as she thawed, she dropped her quill, pushed her chair away and ran out of the library out into the entryway and immediately wished she hadn't left the room of books. The sight that greeted her was a true horror. The chandelier, that massive fixture of crystal, silver, and candle had fallen to the floor. Plaster fell like snow from the gaping hole in the ceiling above and nasty cracks spread out in a ghastly network from the chandelier's impact point on the floor.

The sight that tore Hermione's eyes from the wreck were the three boys who stood on the second floor landing. Harry, Ron, and Draco were frozen in shock, their mouths agape as they stared at what they had created. Just as Hermione was trying to say something, a door opposite the library slammed open and Snape was running full tilt into the entryway. The tall man literally skidded to a halt, narrowly missing taking a tumble into the dangerous wreckage. The look on his face went from concern to absolute rage as he took in the three, unharmed boys who could only stare helplessly back at him.

Snape took in their guilty expressions and the brooms they held in their hands. One more look at the chandelier and with a silence that spoke terrifying volumes, he stretched out his arm and pointed toward the library. The condemned, for that's what they knew they were, fell to in single file and shuffled woefully into the library. Snape's gaze then dropped onto Hermione and she thought she might melt right then and there.

"Miss Granger," he said in a very low, severely restrained, and eminently polite voice, "would you do me the favour of placing a stasis field around the potion I was working on when I was so rudely interrupted?"

"Yes, sir," she barely managed to squeak out. As Snape turned away from her, Hermione chanced a quick look toward the library and then ran to the lab, leaving her friends to their fate. Her last, hysterical thought was that she hoped Snape would let her know where their bodies would be buried so she could leave them flowers.

It felt like years to all three boys as they awaited the arrival of Snape in the library. "We're so dead," rasped Ron.

"He's an ex-Death Eater, Weasel," snarled Draco. "Death would be a blessing."

"We really are..." began Harry.

"IDIOTS!" Snape's voice exploded over them like the blast of Thor's Hammer and they cringed. He turned a moment and with a wave of his wand, slammed the doors of the library shut. "Have you any idea what you've done?" Snape's robes billowed dangerously as he swept past each of them.

"Can't we just..." Ron took an involuntary step backwards as Snape's face loomed down into his. Ron blinked wildly and did his best to control the bit of hysterical laughter that threatened the back of his throat as he focused his gaze on the older man's large, hooked nose.

"Reparo, Mr. Weasley? Was that what you were thinking of?" Snape's voice was deceptively conciliatory and Ron shrewdly did not reply. Snape rose to his full height and clasped his hands behind his back. "Not all objects can be repaired. The ceiling and the floor can be, but that chandelier was a priceless antique. It was also ENCHANTED!" The anger in his voice rose smoothly until the last word assaulted their senses. All three boys stepped back a step and crowded closer together. "You cannot repair an enchanted object with MAGIC!"

That revelation only served to pile on the horror that arced through their veins like lightning. It had been an awful thing to see the chandelier swinging so abruptly when Draco and Ron had crashed into it. Quick thinking kept them from breaking any bones, as did Harry's levitation spell. Unfortunately, as concerned with each other's well-being as they had been, none of them thought to wonder what the chandelier was doing. When it was too late, they could only stare in paralysed terror- tinged with a perverse bit of amazement- as the plaster in the ceiling cracked and the heavy object of crystal and silver fell to the marble floor. The impact was enough to lift each of them an inch off the ground. Later, much later (probably when we're in our 80s, mused Harry), they would look upon the memory of that great, old antique falling from the ceiling with exclamations of wonder. But, that was quite far in the future and the futures of Harry, Ron, and Draco were currently hanging by a thin thread.

"Idiot children," Snape's voice cut like a razor. "You have absolutely no idea the cost you've incurred... not to mention you imbeciles could have broken your foolish NECKS!"

"We can pay..." Draco tried feebly to offer.

"You may not be alive in the next ten minutes, Draco, to pay for anything." Draco couldn't help himself as he ducked behind Harry. Snape's voice was a bloody knife wrapped in velvet with Draco's name etched into the blade.

"Wh-wh-what are you going to do?" Harry's voice was a strangled whisper as he grabbed Ron's sleeve and yanked the boy closer to his side.

For several, agonizing minutes Snape paced before the three doomed teenagers before he faced them. There was a forbidding smile upon his face that could melt bone. The smile widened as he advanced upon them slowly. Backing away was no longer an option for the boys as Snape's desk was now behind them. "I trust, that the punishment I have planned, none of you will ever forget."

It had only taken Hermione a wave of her wand to put the potion Snape had been working on in stasis. She had thought to return upstairs, just to make sure no one was hurt, but she was rather afraid to. She knew the boys hadn't been hurt, but Snape had been so very angry. She was sure... maybe... that they deserved whatever punishment they had coming, but then again, punishments had been essays and extra chores, or a few hours stuck in one's bedroom. Somehow, thought Hermione, destroying an enchanted chandelier isn't easily punished by doing the dinner dishes. Hermione recalled the time when she was eight years old and had disobeyed her mother's wishes not to touch a beautiful, handblown vase on the fireplace mantle that had come from Germany. It was a dazzling thing that had caught her eye and tempted her for years, but always it was just out of reach. She had finally grown, enough, to reach the vase with her tiny, questing fingers. Little Hermione had never meant to break the vase, but she never disobeyed her mother again; not after the blistering spanking she'd received.

Hermione's heart leapt up to her throat and she coughed. "Oh no! He wouldn't!"

The Gryffindor had no illusions that she'd be able to stop Snape in any way. In fact, she wasn't really sure she intended to try to stop him, but he'd been so angry her worry was that he might actually hurt them. As fast as her legs could carry her, she ran up the long, twisted tunnel and burst through the same door Snape had come running through almost forty-five minutes before. It was Hermione's turn to skid to a halt. In the entryway were three, very subdued figures working in silence and without magic to clean up the ruin of the antique chandelier.

"Harry?" He ignored her as he scooped up broken glass with a broom. "Ron?" The redhead scowled briefly at her and continued to salvage what he could of the crystal drops. "Draco?" Draco, wearing a pair of dragon scale gloves, was removing the silver from the remains of the chandelier. He looked up and Hermione could see the remnants of dried tears in his red-rimmed eyes. "Oh no! What did he do?"

Draco sniffled self-consciously and bent back to his task. Harry replied bluntly. "Spanked us."

"But you're too old for that!" she protested.

"My dad was still spanking Bill until he came of age," sniped Ron.

Draco spoke softly, "Snape said if we were going to behave like five year olds then he'd treat us that way."

"At least it was only ten swats," muttered Harry.

"TEN?" groused Ron. "Man's got an iron hand he does! I may never stand straight again!"

"Oh shut up, Weasel. You're always slouching anyway." Draco tried to rest back on his heels as he knelt on the floor, but the touch of his heels to his backside sent a flame of pain through him. Resisting the urge to rub at the pain, he muttered darkly, "Thank Merlin he doesn't punish with curses."

There was a long stretch of silence as Hermione watched the three penitent boys continue to clean. "Where is he?"

Harry sighed heavily. "After he took our wands, he went for a walk outside. He's going to Floo Lyrica this evening so we can apologise. If she has any additional punishments..." he shrugged and went back to work.

No family is ever perfect and Severus Snape's family, as he now firmly considered the four children as more than a simple responsibility, but individuals he cared about, was certainly not perfect. He could have wished for a bit more perfection, but that was a wasteful delusion.

After leaving the three hooligans to clean up the remains of their fiasco, he had retreated outside for some fresh air and a walk. Spring was on the horizon, but there was still a nip in the air. The snow was gone and here and there, as he followed a winding path through the upper garden, he could see tiny signs of growth.

Snape hated having to punish the boys the way he'd done. Never, in all his years as a teacher, had he ever had cause to raise his hand to a child. Even now, he wondered if he'd done the right thing. A part of him worried that all the trust they'd built up since arriving in 1898 might have eroded with the spankings. Yet, wasn't that what any parent feared when taking their son or daughter to task?

With a heavy sigh, he seated himself on a stone bench as he considered the Floo call that he would have to make to Lyrica that evening. The chandelier was as old as the Arcahnum family, yet Snape had no idea what sort of attachment Lyrica had to the object. When she had finally spoken to him of her parents, she had explained to him that with the exception of a painting of her mother she kept in her apartment, Lyrica had eradicated all evidence of her parent's existence in the house. Books were her passion, as was the lab she had so painstakingly put together. Had she gotten bound to Phineas Nigellus Black's son, the reception would have been held in the grand entryway of her family home as part of a ritual to turn over the property to her new husband. Such recollections that she shared were rarely pleasant and it seemed the only truly happy memories began with their arrival back in time. That, of course, didn't mean there was no sentimentality at all to speak of for Ashmere and its furnishings. Lyrica would not be thrilled about the loss of the chandelier.

"Uncle Severus?" Hermione's soft, worried voice was carried on the breeze to him. Snape looked up to see her standing a few feet away in her winter robe. The breeze fluttered through her curls and she pulled her robe closer against the slight, March chill in the air. He could hear the worry in her voice, and see the shadows of fear upon the child's face: fear of his anger. Knowing that he'd frightened her gave him a sharp pain in his heart and he winced.

Patting the space beside him, he invited the girl over to him. Hermione quickly made her way to Snape's side, and he draped his cloak and a protective arm over her shoulders. Hermione leaned in close to Snape's warmth.

"I am very sorry for frightening you, Hermione."

"I'll be all right, Uncle, but are you?"

Snape blinked in astonishment. She was concerned for him? For a moment, he wasn't certain how to answer her. "I question... my actions, but I saw no alternative."

"There was always a rumour going around the school that you took a switch to your Slytherins to keep them in line. Draco's told us, though, that you never raised a hand to them, but that you have a yell as strong as any binding charm."

A sideways glance caught the girl's small grin. He smirked, "I believe everyone knows I'm quite adept at yelling. And, no, I've never raised a hand to a child. I never thought I would..." his voice faded as he looked toward the house where the trio were still cleaning up.

"Are you worried they don't like you anymore?" she asked tentatively.

Snape snorted. "I am certain they are plotting my death in the worst way possible at the moment. Perhaps that's why I took their wands." He scoffed at the notion, but inwardly his insides churned at the thought; had they gone back to hating him? And what of the fragile relationship he'd been forging with Harry? That was certainly all destroyed now.

Hermione slipped her hand into Snape's and squeezed it in assurance. "They're as mad as their backsides are sore, Uncle Severus, but they don't hate you. Not even Harry."

"Tell me, Hermione, do you approve of the spankings they received?" he asked, genuinely interested in her answer.

Hermione shifted under Snape's cloak and he adjusted himself to accommodate her. She slipped her hand into his. "I do think they're a bit old for a spanking, but these were extraordinary circumstances. All three of them knew they were doing something stupid that could have gotten them killed and they did it anyway." She smiled and let out a small chuff of mirth. "Just as I left, King Henry was threatening to take them all to the Tower where he'd put their heads on pikes and let the ravens peck their eyes out." She felt Snape's thrumming chuckle and smiled. "I think you did the right thing, Uncle. Neither Ron, Harry, or Draco will soon forget this; next time, they'll think twice before doing something moronic. And, I know they don't hate you. I promise."

Snape leaned over, and to Hermione's delight, he lightly kissed her forehead and gave her a one-armed hug. "Thank you, my dear child," he whispered. "Thank you."

Harry didn't hate Snape for the spanking. He didn't care for it, but what none of them told Hermione was that Snape didn't humiliate them by spanking them in front of each other, and it certainly wasn't a bareback spanking. Harry thanked all the gods he could think of for that! What had been oddly remarkable was that after the spanking, Snape had wiped away their tears, told them how frightened he had been for their safety, and hugged them. Ten smacks and then Snape hugged? Ron took it in stride, explaining to Harry that's what his dad always did when he or his siblings had been spanked. Draco had never been spanked by Snape, but he had been disciplined at Hogwarts by the man, and as all three could attest, the wizard had a voice that was worse than his hand. However, Draco emphasized the fact that Snape never, ever hugged his snakes so he was absolutely certain that Snape had hugged them because he really had been afraid for them, and cared about them.

On the surface, Harry didn't want to admit that there might be a side to Snape that really did worry about him, did care, and maybe even had a tiny bit of affection for him, and also for Ron, Hermione, and Draco. Deep down, he knew better. He'd gotten to know a man who was patient, who enjoyed teaching students that wanted to learn, and who could even smile and laugh around those he trusted. Harry did wonder and hope, that maybe, just maybe, Snape might even love them.

It was this hope, this desire for the family they had at Ashmere, that sent Harry's mind working so hard whenever he had a spare moment. He couldn't vocalise what he was planning since there was very little plan, but its foundation was on preserving what they had. Most of all, he didn't want to lose the Severus Snape he was just getting to know. This was a man worth having in his life, and Harry, who once had so little in the way of possessions to hang onto, knew that this was worth more than anything in the world.

Later that same evening as Harry lay in his bed pondering his thoughts of family, Snape was preparing for bed and thinking. He climbed beneath the covers of his canopied bed and cast a ball of light to hover just above his head. Rarely did Snape find himself with time in their future in which he could pursue other interests. If he wasn't busy with the mundane tasks demanded by running his Potions class properly, then it was the constant brewing of supplies for the Hogwarts infirmary. In between that came his duties for the Order, and his more onerous duties for the Dark Lord. Leisurely pursuits were a luxury he could ill afford when 'constant vigilance' was demanded.

A pleasure that had carried over from childhood to adulthood was his love of reading fiction in the comfort of his bed. It didn't matter if the author was wizard or Muggle, he enjoyed putting aside the problems of the day and getting lost in worlds outside his own. As a child, Jules Verne was a favorite author and he had spent hours imagining himself on the Nautilus fighting beside Captain Nemo, or exploring a whole new world at the centre of the Earth. As an adult, fiction, he had long ago decided, is what kept him sane.

As his duties as a spy had overtaken him, though, this pleasure had fallen by the wayside as so many others had. He gave himself the old excuse that he could not deal with the distraction. The reality was that by the time Snape crawled to his bed, it was all he could do to undress and pull a sheet decorously over his weary body.

It was a singular pleasure he had welcomed back into his life after traveling back to the past and one he very nearly let escape his grasp after the nightmare where the Headmaster subjected him to the Cruciatus Curse. When the children intervened, letting him know how much they needed him, he latched onto his bedtime reading like a lifeline.

It was hard, at first, to force the ritual. His mind was so busy on the endless research that the words on the pages of his book often did not register in his mind. In a few days, though, his mind began to accept the habit and the joy of reading; getting lost in a fictional world had returned. The stories kept the nightmares at bay, and he slept well.

The book he was settling down with this evening was the new novel by H. G. Wells, The Invisible Man, published in 1897. He had read the story as a child and he counted it as another favorite. There was a certain satisfaction in reading the story again, knowing that the distinguished author was still alive and penning his art.

For a moment, Snape lay the book down across his abdomen as his thoughts strayed from the story to a few days ago and the discussion with Lyrica over the destruction of the chandelier. There was still something strange about that interlude that stuck in his mind.

Harry, Ron, and Draco each sat primly upon the sofa in the parlour in front of a mirror Snape had brought down from one of the empty rooms and leaned against the wall. Snape had Floo called Lyrica, but as all parties needed to see and hear each other, they resorted to a Mirror call. Lyrica was in her office standing before a mirror where she could see Snape and three very contrite, silent, and ashamed boys.

"Mirror calls are difficult, so I assume this isn't a simple, social call?" she glanced at Snape, took in his business-like demeanor and did not flash the boys a smile. "What happened?"

Snape, his arms crossed over his chest, glared a silent command at them to speak and admit their crime. Draco swallowed and opened his mouth, but only managed a dry-throated squeak. He elbowed Ron, sharply, in the ribs. "Uhm! We were flying... this afternoon..."

Draco suddenly found his voice, "Didn't you tell us once that you flew in the entryway, Lyrica? Well we..."

"Draco!" snapped Snape and the boy fell abruptly silent.

"We knew it wasn't a smart idea," began Harry. "We just weren't thinking..."

King Henry's voice rumbled dangerously behind them, "Get to the point, young masters, or we shall be here the rest of the night."

"Webrokethechandelier," Harry spoke so quickly and in a quiet whisper that Lyrica hadn't quite heard.

She frowned. "You broke... what?"

"The chandelier!" shouted Draco. He clamped his mouth shut at his unexpected outburst.

There was a long, deadly uncomfortable silence wherein all they could hear was Lyrica breathing. She finally spoke, quietly. "No one was injured?" The boys all shook their heads. "Good. Go to bed, then. Harry, Ron, Draco, I'll see you three this weekend." They each muttered goodnight and Snape waved them out of the parlour. "Severus, I suppose you punished them appropriately?"

With a reluctant sigh, he settled himself on the sofa they just vacated. "A month's worth of kitchen duty, although you'll need to ask the elfs to allow them their punishment." Lyrica nodded and smiled gently. "I spanked them as well."

"I think you should have broken their brooms over their arses, Sir Raven!" declared The King thunderously.

"You wanted to stick their heads on pikes at the Tower of London, Your Majesty," sneered Snape. He had a headache from King Henry's voice railing against the boys most of the day and was getting tired of the ghost's interference.

Lyrica laughed at the two men. "I seemed to recall that my own punishment made it impossible for me to sit down for a few days!" Snape raised an eyebrow at this revelation. "Was anything salvaged from the chandelier, Severus?"

He nodded. "The silver framework and almost two hundred of the crystal drops. I used several repairing spells to fix the damage to the ceiling and the floor." Snape took a moment to put pressure on his temples. His headache was beginning to get the better of him. "I should have had those wool-headed imbeciles apologise to you, Lyrica. It's hardly enough..."

"Please, Severus, it's all right. It's more important to me that they weren't hurt. You look like you've had a trying day." He nodded. "Then you ought to go to bed, as well. I'll see you this weekend?"

A weary smile graced his features briefly. "That we shall. I'll have the boys apologise properly, then." He rose to his feet. "Goodnight, my love."

His headache had become a migraine at that point, and so he'd gone to bed, thinking only of release from the pain. However, as he thought about it now, he was puzzled over how little of a reaction Lyrica had had over the chandelier. She had told him that everything that belonged to her father, or remotely reminded her of him, she'd had removed from Ashmere. The chandelier had remained as it had been a dazzling piece of magic and design that her mother had loved. Perhaps, he thought, a material possession doesn't matter over someone she cares about, and idiots though they are, she does worry about them. He smirked wryly. As do I.

As Hermione had assured him that day, Harry, Ron, and Draco did not hate their guardian. If anything, their attitudes had improved, as had their respect toward him. Oddly enough, they also appeared more relaxed around him and he found he was spending, and enjoying, more evenings in the parlour with his family. Snape found himself pulled into their bantering and other foolishness. Draco had even taught the Potions Master how to fold Origami dragons and then charm them to fly and this evening they had spent a rather ridiculous time teamed up- Snape, Hermione and Draco versus Ron and Harry- sending their dragons around the parlour attacking each other. At one point, the teenagers joined together and set their dragons upon Snape burying him in colourful, paper.

Smiling at the memory, Snape realised that Harry had been making an effort to draw him more into their leisure activities. He and the boys were now playing Quidditch in the afternoons and sometimes exploding Snap. He'd even consented to a wretched game of Gobstones, but had sworn off the game after discovering that Draco had replaced the Gobstones foul-smelling liquid interiors with his own concocted potion that produced a variety of skin irritations. That stunt merited Draco the inventive punishment of making all of them breakfast the next day- which thankfully hadn't turned into something that punished them as Hermione had been teaching the boy to cook.

Hermione wasn't left out of their playtime, either. She did do an inordinate amount of reading in addition to the research she was still working on in regards to portgates. Although she did like to fly, she wasn't at all fond of playing Quidditch. Her preference was for card games and board games. Snape was stunned to discover that the girl was a wicked Poker player and a very astute Blackjack player. He was familiar with both games and together they had taught the boys how to play. Ron grasped the rudiments of Poker better than Blackjack, but he wasn't very good at bluffing. Harry was better at Blackjack than at Poker. He didn't have much patience for Poker. Draco was superb at bluffing which made him nearly a master at Poker and a serious contender at Blackjack. Draco and Hermione made an unbeatable team.

Picking up his book and settling himself in the comfort of his bed, he smirked at the irony of the dour Potions Master, the Bat of the Dungeons playing. There was no more doubt about it: his reputation as a fearsome git was completely ruined.

Harry was grinning and flying. Just ahead of him was the golden snitch. He was close. He stretched out his arm until his fingertips could just feel the beating of its tiny wings. Gryffindor would win the House Cup this year. Just. One. More. Inch...

"Go 'way," he muttered as he slowly lost the threads of his dream to something shaking him firmly.

"Harry! Will you wake up?" A silken voice hissed in his ear.

Harry turned and blinked blearily up into a familiar face. "Sev?"

"Harry, I've a... situation and need your assistance. At once." Snape shoved Harry's spectacles into his hand as the slowly waking boy rose to a sitting position. Harry put his spectacles on and was about to ask what the situation was when Snape handed him his dressing gown. "Accio slippers!" The boy's slippers emerged from underneath the bed just as he slid onto the floor and slipped on his dressing gown.

"What's wrong, Severus?" asked Harry. He shoved his feet into the slippers and belted his robe.

"Come with me." Snape spun away from him and out into the corridor. Harry trotted after him and followed the Potions Master down the west wing corridor and across the landing to the east wing. Snape then pushed open the door to his bedroom and ushered Harry in.

The fireplace had been stirred up and the wall sconces burned brightly. Harry's eye was immediately caught by the sight of a beautiful black and silver snake coiled up on Snape's bed.

Snape pointed briefly and then pulled his dressing gown tighter about his shoulders. "That serpent cast a spell and divested me of my wand in order to get my attention." As proof, Snape's wand could be seen coiled up in the end of the serpent's tail.

"It what?" Harry was astounded. How could snakes do magic? He wanted to ask the question, but the glare of irritation on his guardian's features told him to ask later. "What does it want?"

Snape's glare almost managed to dim the light in the room. "I'm not the one that's a Parseltongue, idiot child. Do you think you might talk to it and find out for yourself what it wants?"

"You don't have to be so nasty," Harry pouted petulantly.

Snape closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them. He sighed with the effort to remove the irritation from his voice and asked, "Please, Harry?"

Harry nodded and then stepped carefully toward the snake. "Uhm. I'm Harry. My father..." his sibilant voice faltered. He meant to say guardian, but it seemed there was no Parseltongue equivalent. The closest was father. A quick glance at Snape and then he shrugged. He was about to speak again, when the snake spoke.

"I am Kalima. I am a Naga. Tell your father sssso he undersssstandssss."

"She says her name is Kalima and she is a Naga," Harry translated. "What's a Naga?"

"A very rare and very powerful magical serpent. That explains how she was able to divest me of my wand." Snape bowed his head respectfully to the serpent and the Naga bowed hers in acknowledgement. "Ask for my wand back and find out what she wants."

Harry asked and Kalima replied. Snape listened to the hissing until Harry stopped and turned to him. "She says that you've been looking for something and will find it in Lyrica's apartment. She also said she would not usually tell the secrets of her mistress, but in this case, her mistress is wrong." The serpent then hissed and released Snape's wand. He summoned it back to his hand and slipped it into his sleeve.

Snape was extremely curious, and concerned. "Lyrica's wards are very secure. I've no chance of breaking them." he spoke quietly. "Tell her, Harry."

Once more Harry translated and listened to Kalima's reply. "Kalima says the password is 'basilisk' and that an unlocking spell will work on the lock." Harry stepped aside as the serpent uncoiled herself and slithered off the bed, across the floor and out of the bedroom. Snape beckoned Harry to follow and they both trailed after Kalima.

A narrow set of stairs on the east side of the house led to a simple door. Snape had felt the wards before and knew they were quite complex. Deep down, Lyrica's ability at setting such wards impressed him.

"Severus," whispered Harry softly as they stared at the door. "We can't do this."

Snape was in agreement with Harry. Lyrica had made it clear on more than one occasion how important her privacy was and this room, this apartment of hers was clearly off limits to all of them. Not even King Henry or the house elfs were allowed entry. "I know, Harry. I don't like this anymore than you do, but if that book I've been trying to find is in there, then I'm afraid we have a bigger problem then breaking into Lyrica's apartment."

Harry put a restraining hand on Snape's arm. "But she trusts us." Harry looked down as the serpent wound her way around his legs, up his torso and out onto the arm of the hand that rested on Snape's forearm. The older wizard, who was secretly not terribly fond of snakes, did his best to quell the shudder at the serpent's behavior. Kalima hissed.

"Kalima says there cannot be trust when there is none to break." Harry scowled in puzzlement. Snape turned sharply. He did not say anything as an unease settled itself about his heart.

A spark of flint hardened Snape's gaze and he brushed Harry's hand off his forearm. Facing the door, he whispered the password, 'basilisk'. There was a shimmer as the wards fell. A simple Alohomora and the lock clicked allowing the door to swing open. Inside the apartment, the fireplace burst into flame and the surrounding, hanging lamps holding small candles lit themselves.

Slowly and carefully, Harry and Snape stepped into Lyrica's private chamber. The Naga slithered across the floor and to the tall statue of the basilisk. Harry turned round several times, looking at everything and nearly cried out as he came face to fang with the statue.

"She really likes snakes," Harry muttered. "Do you like snakes, Severus?"

"I have a healthy wariness of them, Harry. Ask Kalima where the object I'm looking for is. I don't want to have to violate Professor Arcahnum's privacy any further."

For a brief moment, Harry glanced quizzically at Snape for reverting to Lyrica's formal title and surname. He then moved closer to the serpent and asked his question. Kalima replied and then coiled herself up until she had rested her head upon her body.

"Kalima says there is a cabinet, uhm..." he turned to the right and pointed. "Behind that screen. No wards on the cabinet but the lock is a puzzle. If you don't get the puzzle correct the first time, you'll be hit with a Stupefy spell."

Snape strode over to the screen and stepped behind it. He faced a black lacquer cabinet that stood about five feet in height. The front of it had an intricate design of dragons and serpents inlaid with mother-of-pearl, coral, jade, lapis lazuli and abalone. The puzzle wasn't obvious and Harry watched, silently, as Snape carefully studied the cabinet.

The design of serpents and dragons writhed around each other in a complicated, circular pattern and it was this pattern that Snape began to trace with his eyes. It seemed perfect, but then he found a flaw in the pattern. Two dragons were wrapped sinuously about each other when the pattern dictated that there should be a green, jade serpent twining around the blue dragon. Snape's long fingers hovered uncertainly over the pair.

"Harry, did you bring your wand?" Harry shook his head. Sighing, Snape removed his wand from his sleeve and handed it to Harry. "If I get Stupefied, reverse the spell." Before he turned back to the puzzle he glared pointedly at the boy. "As kind as 1899 has been to us, I do not want any of you ever leaving your wands behind. Keep yours near, always."

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded as he took Snape's wand and stepped cautiously back slightly.

Snape lowered his fingers onto the two, intertwined dragons expecting to get hit with the spell. Instead, the design shifted to a new pattern of cherry blossom trees surrounded by a variety of birds. Again, there was a pattern to the design and Snape, who now understood the nature of the puzzle, looked for the discrepancy in the pattern. It was Harry who quietly pointed out the difference. A cherry blossom tree that was shedding mother-of-pearl petals had an extra branch upon which a coral red bird perched. Snape touched this tree and the design shifted once more. This design was a geometrical maze and was much more difficult to discern where the flaw in the pattern was.

"Harry?" asked Snape as he crossed his arms over his chest after several minutes of staring at the maze. "Can you see anything different?"

Harry shook his head and realised that Snape hadn't seen the gesture. "No, I can't see anything out of place." Staring at the maze, he stiffened. "Wait. Severus, it's a maze."

"Really?" drawled Snape. "I never would have guessed."

Harry flashed a scowl at Snape and then continued his revelation. "No, I mean, it's all in a pattern, but it's all one... uhm... route... er... thread. See?" He pointed toward the upper right of the maze. "The beginning and there, in the centre, is the end."

Snape shook his head and smiled. "Very good eye, Harry." Touching his fingertip to the beginning of the maze, Snape began to trace the complicated design. He paused at the first intersection, marked by one of four colours, lapis lazuli. He kept his finger in place as he studied the other coloured intersections. They were jade, coral, and abalone.

"Directions," said Harry as he looked at the four petaled flower at the center of the maze. "Green is north, red is south, abalone is west and blue is east."

Snape's finger traced the eastern branch and followed rapidly until he'd reached the end of the maze. The flower at the center spun once in a circle until the jade petal, which had been north, was now south. The flower split in half and the cabinet doors popped open.

Inside the cabinet were a few pieces of jewelry, small statuary, a collection of jade and ivory Chinese puzzle balls, an orrery of gold, silver, and precious gems, and one slim, worn book. Snape picked up the book, flipped it over. At one time, the title had been stamped and the letters gilded with gold. The gold had worn away over time. The title was clear enough, though. The book was Experiments With Time by Nicolas Flamel.

"Isn't that the book you've been owling book sellers about, Severus?" asked Harry softly.

Snape nodded. He was still staring at the book, wondering why it was hidden away. No, his mind hissed at him, why did SHE hide it away when she knew I was looking for it? Tucking the book into his pocket, he closed the cabinet. "Harry, do not say anything of this night to your friends."

Harry stiffened. That was a harsh, cold tone of voice he hadn't heard in months. It was from that other Snape.

"Did you hear me, Mr. Potter?"

Harry blinked and stepped backwards. Oh yes, that's the greasy git right there! "Uhm, yes, sir. Sorry. I promise, I won't say anything."

The look on Harry's face stopped Snape from issuing another order. The fragile bridge of trust the two of them had been building was being threatened. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Snape closed his eyes for a moment in order to calm himself. "Harry," he began as he purposely tried to gentle the anger that was boiling just beneath the surface. He wasn't angry with the child, but Harry obviously didn't see that. "Would you thank Kalima for me and let her know that I shall reset the wards once we leave?"

Harry just nodded and slipped around on the other side of the screen and over to the Naga. "My uhm... fath... he sssaysss to thank you, Kalima. He will put the wardssss back when we go."

Kalima rose up from her coils and swayed before Harry. "What isss wrong, little one?"

"Nothing," muttered Harry. How did the snake know that his insides had begun doing flip-flops the moment that cold, unfeeling tone of voice that Snape had often directed at him in class was disturbing him in such a way he couldn't even describe it?

"Ssspeak to me, little one, or neither of you will leave thisss room." Although the Naga kept her mouth closed, her threatening strike all too clearly underlined her meaning.

Snape saw the movement the serpent made and was between the two of them in an instant. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Sh-she won't let us leave," he stammered.

"Why not?" He backed up sharply, pushing Harry further back as Kalima made another threatening gesture.

"He protectsss you from me, little one, but you are afraid of him?" Kalima spoke cajolingly to Harry.

"No, I'm not afraid," Harry asserted. "He jussst ssscared me." Harry glanced up worriedly at Snape. "It'sss all right. He won't hurt me. I trusssst him."

Kalima wavered and swayed a moment before replying. "You are... uncertain of him."

"It wassss... hissss voice... he hasssn't ssspoken like that in a long time." In English he bit out in frustration, "I can't explain it!"

"What's going on, Harry?" Snape asked quietly. His voice was taut with worry and he had not, yet, taken his eyes off the serpent.

The serpent spoke before Harry could reply to Snape. "He caresss, little one. My misssstresss hasss hurt him and hisss anger isss for her. Tell him he frightensss you." Harry was stunned and began to stammer but nothing coherent came forth. "Your trussst isss meaninglesss if you cannot talk to your father, child. Now ssspeak to him... or I ssshall kill him."

With that threat, Harry pushed himself in front of Snape, his hands clutching the older man's forearms. "Sir... Severus... you're not angry with me?" Snape let his gaze leave that of the Naga's and looked down upon Harry.

"I am not, but if you don't tell me what's going on, I will be." He frowned sharply as he studied the play of worry and fear crossing Harry's features.

"No! Don't!" Harry's grip tightened on his arms. "She said she'd kill you if I don't talk to you. Sh-sh-she said there's no trust between us if I can't talk to you. Kalima can sense that... your voice... I thought... you just scared me, sir." Snape dropped down to one knee so he could look into the child's eyes. "It just felt like you hated me again," he whispered.

Snape's hand cupped Harry's cheek and he shook his head slightly. "I never hated you, Harry, and I never shall."

Harry took a deep breath and then began to speak softly, "I k-know you don't hate me. I don't think that. Not anymore. And, I know, all the... the stuff... in Potions... I mean, I get it. Now. It was an act, but it hurt. It still does." Harry was momentarily startled by the brief shadow of regret that crossed Snape's features. He gaped, once or twice, and then he grasped Snape's hands in his. "What I'm trying to say," he continued, though more slowly and deliberately, "is that, I trust you, now. I'll always trust you whether we stay here, or go back to our time. If you have to be... m-mean again, I'll know you're only protecting me... us. Ron, Hermione, and Draco. Just, please, don't become that other Snape."

Snape gently removed his hands from Harry's grip. Harry stood in front of him, shoulders drooped, as though ready for the Potions Master to rebuke him. Or, make fun of him. Harry's gaze suddenly wavered, and his eyes dropped to study his slippers intently. Snape's hand cupped his chin and raised his head. Harry was astonished and pleased to see that Snape was smiling. It wasn't a huge smile. Harry doubted the man's facial muscles were designed for a huge grin, but it was a simple smile filled with warmth and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"I promise you, Harry, that 'other' Snape is never coming back. I did not mean to frighten you the way I did just now."

Before he could chicken out, Harry wrapped his arms around the older man and hugged him. He felt the embrace being returned and reveled in the feeling of comfort before pulling away.

Thank you, Harry." That was all that Snape said and it was enough.

"Sssincere, child. Very good," hissed Kalima. As she rested her head upon her coils, the door of the apartment drifted open.

Snape touched Harry's back and guided him to the door. Side by side they walked back to Harry's room in companionable silence. Harry climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. To his surprise, the back of Snape's fingers brushed affectionately over his cheek as the older man whispered goodnight. As Snape closed Harry's door, the child smiled in the darkness. It seemed the 'bat of the dungeons' was no more.

Harry kept his promise to Snape and didn't talk about their midnight adventure. Draco knew he'd been up to something, but the Gryffindor denied any idea of what Draco was thinking had gone on. It was the aftermath of that adventure that had Harry concerned. Snape had disappeared. Not literally, of course. He was in the house, but secluded. The very next day Snape had cancelled their classes and hadn't shown up for meals. Three days had come and gone and other than fleeting glimpses here and there, none of them saw him for any amount of extended time.

During a beautiful afternoon the quartet were outside, flying on their brooms, after Harry's Distraction Snitch. As they all knew the spell that released the smoke, the object of their game wasn't to catch the snitch, but to activate the spell and fly away from the others. Hermione thought it was a bit like the Muggle game of 'Tag'. Harry, who was 'It' at the moment, was haring away from the others flying in a smooth zig-zag pattern. He had just passed the snitch, missing it, when Draco activated the spell. Blue smoke belched out and Draco spun wildly to fly away from Harry. Ron had been caught in part of the smoke and collided suddenly with Hermione. She and Ron both lost control of their brooms and tumbled downward. They weren't too far off the ground since Snape had spelled all the brooms with a height limit after the chandelier fiasco, but it was high enough that when Hermione hit the ground she twisted her ankle. She didn't cry out, but their were tears coursing down her cheeks at the pain.

Ron was unhurt, but his broom was fractured. He tossed it aside as he ran over to Hermione. Harry grabbed his snitch, pocketed it, and flew down to land beside Ron. Draco was right behind Harry. As soon as the Slytherin's feet touched the grass, he dropped his broom and rushed over to Hermione and dropped down on his knees beside her.

"I think it's just twisted," she sniffed.

"Let me see," said Draco softly. He carefully removed Hermione's shoe and then the sock. "It's already swelling." He touched the distressed ankle carefully and Hermione let out a gasp.

"Let's get her inside," said Harry. He took off his hat and transfigured it into a stretcher. Draco levitated Hermione onto the stretcher and then levitated her and the stretcher up off the ground. "I'll go get Severus," Harry declared and ran into the house.

Draco and Ron took the path of least resistance and settled Hermione on the sofa in the parlour. Ron stopped Draco from doing a cooling charm on the girl's ankle. "Charms can go a bit wonky on an injury if you don't know what you're doing," said Ron as he paraphrased from a recent lesson.

"Right, then," Draco agreed and put away his wand. "A cloth and some ice?"

Ron nodded and with a bit of conjuring, they soon had Hermione's ankle surrounded by ice. Harry arrived in the parlour, breathless. "The lab's locked. I can't get his attention. I tried calling for Henry, too, but he didn't answer."

Draco scowled. "Well, we'll just have to wait then. How are you doing, love?"

"It's feeling better," she replied.

Draco settled himself on the sofa so that Hermione was now leaning against him. He drew his fingers through her curls while Ron reluctantly took out his chess set. They began to play chess, but no one spoke. The only noise in the room was that of the chess pieces arguing and fighting.

They waited.

And then they waited some more.

Dorcas tried to get them to eat dinner, but none of them were interested in food. Harry's anger at Snape was reflected in his aggressive chess playing. The pieces enjoyed the extra aggression, but Ron was getting annoyed at the lack of any attempt at strategy on Harry's part. In between waiting, they argued briefly over nothing in general.

Draco ignored Harry and Ron until they got too annoying and he felt obligated to snap, rather Snape-like, at them both. Hermione, who had been drifting off now and again, elbowed Draco, showing her own irritation.

"Potter, this disappearing act of Sev's has to do with you sneaking off three nights ago," glared Draco. "Care to spill the beans now about what happened?"

"No," replied Harry stubbornly.

"Look...!" Draco was interrupted from any further inquiries by Snape striding in, finally...

Snape was angry... with himself. As he strode across the entryway from the small door to the lab, he was mentally berating himself for having sealed himself away so thoroughly. It had taken the efforts of both house elves and King Henry to get through the wards he'd erected around the lab.

The need to isolate himself was an old habit borne out of necessity. As a child, it was often his only way of insuring that he wouldn't be bothered by others when the world became too overwhelming for him to face. As an adult, his need for such privacy had come about from his dealings as a spy. Many of the atrocities he'd been witness to at the hands of the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters didn't always haunt his dreams. There were times when he would be fully awake and unable to find respite from the screams echoing in his mind. By raising wards that prevented intrusion and eavesdropping, Snape was allowed, when needed, to vent his own emotions through angered shouts, and sometimes, his own screams.

Of course there was none of that at Ashmere. It held a peace he had not experienced for a very long time. A peace that was comparable to those innocent days when he played at a Muggle playground with a pretty, green-eyed, redhaired witch. His nightmares and waking horrors had been blessedly quiet all these months.

He blamed old habits for having erected those stupid wards he had no need of now. He blamed Lyrica. His penchant for brooding to cover the pain of Lyrica's betrayal, brought back that 'Other Snape' he had promised Harry would not return. He did not want to foist that part of himself on his children. Snape always found peace in a potions lab. As he brewed, he was able to find a calm that aided him in dealing with his thoughts, but at what cost? He'd ignored his children and one of them... Hermione had gotten hurt. "Hours ago," he muttered to himself.

He entered the parlour and was met by four, quiet expressions. There was curiosity mixed with anger, but the worst was the disappointment in him they all shared. He forced the pain that threatened to derail him behind the shields long ago built by Occlumens. Old habits, again, his mind sneered.

It was very awkward, and perhaps the uneasiest quarter of an hour the Potions Master had ever endured. Harry had, perhaps wisely, left the parlour before Snape had completely entered the room, but not before giving Draco a curt nod. Terse, short explanations from Ron and Draco coldly related the story of Hermione's accident. Once Ron's story was finished, he said goodnight, and did not bother to put his chess set away before leaving.

Snape examined Hermione's ankle. It wasn't broken, but it had been severely sprained. The ice had been a smart move and had kept the swelling down considerably. Snape summoned a Pain Potion phial and Hermione obediently drank it down. The potion had a mild sedative so she was soon deeply asleep.

"Do you want to tell me what's been bothering you, Severus?" asked Draco as he carefully slipped himself out from under Hermione and tucked a pillow under her head.

Snape seated himself in the chair nearest the fire. "Do you really think it's any of your business?" The sneer in his voice was half-hearted, at best.

"Actually, I do. I think it's all of our business. Like it or not, we're a family now, a really weird family..." he smirked slightly, and continued, "...what happens to you affects us, no... it concerns us because we only have each other to rely upon." He flopped down into a chair realising he was doing a poor job of getting to his point and he ran his fingers through his hair. "I know you and Harry had some sort of late night adventure recently. I've tried to get him to tell me what happened, but he wouldn't give a single detail." Draco shook his head and smiled wanly. "Stubborn Gryffindor, that one." Draco sighed. "Whatever happened, Severus, took you away from us. Again. I thought that when we intervened after yours and Harry's nightmares that you understood how much we need you. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you don't need us."

Snape stiffened. Draco might as well have stabbed him with a dagger, those words hurt him just as much. He tried to push that away with a deprecating remark, "You're sounding more and more like a Gryffindor each day, Draco."

"Hmmm, yeah," mused Draco as he stared into the flames of the fire. "Interesting you should mention that. Did you know that the Sorting Hat almost put me in McGonagall's house."

If Snape had had a drink in his hand, it would have dropped to the floor with a crash. He turned and stared at the young boy. "You're not serious?"

Draco shrugged. "Call it my shameful secret, but yeah, I came this close to being a lion cub." Draco pinched his index and thumb together. "That wasn't going to happen, though. I knew I had to be close to you, so I wished with all my strength to be in Slytherin."

"Do you have any regrets?" asked Snape slowly.

Draco shook his head. "I don't. Me, Ron, Hermione, and Harry, we've all talked about the Sorting Hat and concluded that it's a filthy, old bunch of felt that ought to be tossed out with all the other rubbish. Bet you didn't know it wanted to put Hermione in Ravenclaw and Harry in Slytherin." Draco snorted. "We just think the houses really don't mean much. At least, not now... not for us." Draco stretched out his hand and caressed Hermione's cheek. She smiled in her sleep.

Both were quiet for several long minutes. Snape was surprised that the Sorting Hat had chosen other houses for Hermione and Harry, but as he mulled it over, it made sense about the houses the hat had tried to sort them into. Harry's predilection for keeping secrets and sneaking through the castle late at night to have encounters with Trolls and Basilisks was more Slytherin than Gryffindor. How much easier it would have been for he and Harry had the boy been sorted into his house. Perhaps he wouldn't have treated the boy as abominably as he had. Hermione he could easily have seen in Ravenclaw, but she somehow shone more in Gryffindor. As for Draco, had he been sorted into the Slytherin house rival of Gryffindor, Lucius would have killed the boy on his first visit home. Of that, there was no doubt.

"Back to the subject," Draco said bluntly, taking Snape away from his distracted thoughts.

"The subject?" Draco just rolled his eyes at the very poor attempt to avoid the topic of conversation again. Snape sighed. He was too tired to make any effort at subterfuge. He closed his eyes lightly and then replied, "The book I've been looking for, the one of Flamel's experiments with time? Harry and I found it."

"Shouldn't you be happy, then?" Draco asked as he frowned in puzzlement.

Draco heard an emptiness in his godfather's voice as he explained, "Professor Arcahnum specifically hid the book and said nothing about it all the while knowing I needed it." Opening his eyes, Snape then glared into the flames.

Draco noted that Snape had not referred to Lyrica by her first name. He processed this information with the fact that the Headmistress had withheld information that might hold the solution to the way home. Another look at his godfather and he saw the anger fade briefly as he saw pain of a different sort harden the flint of his black eyes. She had hurt Snape. A brief bloom of righteous anger bit at his heart. How could she have done this to his godfather? Didn't Lyrica realise how close the man kept his feelings and Snape had let her into his heart! Draco started to put a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder, but he pulled back as the older wizard flinched.

"Go to bed, Draco," Snape said in resignation before the inquisitive boy dared to dissect him further. "I'll stay here with Hermione and tomorrow we'll talk about the book."

Draco nodded and rose from his chair. He walked over to Hermione, brushed his lips to her forehead, and then left the parlour. Snape rose to his feet, summoned a blanket and covered Hermione with it. He brushed a few stray curls from her forehead and touched her cheek, briefly, with his fingertips as she sighed contentedly in her sleep.

Returning to his chair, he conjured a glass of brandy for himself and stretched out his long legs toward the fireplace. He held the glass of dark amber liquid before the flames and watched as the flickering light turned the brandy into dark, liquid, fiery gold. With a grimace he brought the glass to his lips. Tomorrow was Friday. Lyrica would arrive in the evening for the weekend. The brandy was gone in a single swallow, and with calculated viciousness, he threw the glass into the flames.

Friday evening, Lyrica arrived at Ashmere at 6:30 in the evening. When no one met her in the entryway, she had the first sign that something wasn't right. The next sign was the pervading quiet. Four teenagers, even with Severus Snape to temper their worst habits, did not make for such an eerily silent home.

The Headmistress of Hogwarts knew her instincts were correct when she saw Kalima, the black and silver Naga, slithering her way down the banister.

"What'sss going on?" demanded Lyrica.

"Consssequencesss, child," hissed the serpent in reply. "They wait in the library."

Lyrica's soul sank to the furthest depths of her guilt. "Kalima! You gave Sssseverussss the book?"

"Would you have a family bassssed on a lie? I think not." The Naga hissed sharply, exposing her sharp, curved fangs.

Understanding the threat of further argument, Lyrica straightened her spine, and walked solemnly to the library. As she pushed open the tall, double doors to the Arcahnum Family Library, she found herself face to face not just with Snape, but Ron, Harry, Draco, and Hermione.

Snape dropped the slim volume by Nicolas Flamel onto the surface of his desk with a sharp slap and rose to his feet. "The text is in code, Madam. Deciphering it would have taken months. Months you could have had with us. I... we would never have known of your betrayal."

The color drained from Lyrica's cheeks. "I did not betray you!"

Snape's deadly tone of voice held more anger than did a shout. "The only reason you could have for hiding this book is that it must hold the answer we have been searching for! You've known this and said nothing to us. That, my dear woman, is a betrayal of my... our trust!"

"You had my notes destroyed on purpose," Hermione quietly accused. Lyrica tore her gaze from Snape's pained and angered expression and found herself swallowed up in the pain of what she had done to the child's hard work. "Why didn't you trust us?"

Lyrica's legs could not hold her upright any longer and she sank to the floor as her velvet green robes pooled around her sitting form. She did not want to face any of them, most of all Severus, but she forced herself to raise her chin and settle her gaze on the depthless black orbs of the Potions Master. "I know my actions were cruel and thoughtless, but I am afraid for all of you. This Voldemort... if I let you go, I'll not know to my dying day whether or not you're all safe and alive!"

"You're selfish," stated Ron stonily as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you really think I want to live here happily ever after knowing that I might have been able to do something to save my family? My sister, my brothers and my parents? What about Hermione's parents? Don't you think they might like to remember someday that they have a daughter?"

"I have a sister to find," added Draco with an icy stare. "Without Severus there to protect her, my father might find her and finish what he intended to do when she was 8 years old." He slammed his fist upon his desk, startling the others. "All the hopes of the wizarding world are on Harry's shoulder! Do you think he's going to be happy here knowing that he might have been the one to kill Voldemort and save thousands, and didn't?"

Harry stretched out his hand and touched Draco's forearm to calm him. Draco slumped, almost like a ragdoll, onto the chair behind his desk. "I know you fear for us, but you had no right to decide our future for us."

"Tell us what's in this book, or we will leave Ashmere, tonight." Snape's voice was harsh, grating, and demanded a quick answer. Lyrica looked at each of their faces again, before she settled her focus once more on Snape. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. She knew his threat was not an idle one. Whether they stayed, or left this evening, she had lost them. She tried to speak, but could not find her voice. Snape spoke again, only this time, his threat frightened not only Lyrica, but the children as well. "Don't make me Obliviate your memories of us, Headmistress. Permanently."

Using the last of her resolve to keep her tears at bay, she forced herself to her feet. Lyrica's voice was without emotion, empty, as she recited, "In 1832 Nicolas Flamel was the first and last person to enchant a single object as a portkey to the future; his wife's boudoir mirror. Twenty-five years later, in 1859, he enchanted the very same mirror a second time and retrieved his dog from 1832."

Snape practically flowed around his desk until he was standing directly in front of Lyrica. His voice was cold flint and sharp obsidian as he demanded, "Did the dog survive?"

"Yes," she whispered. "The portal collapsed and further experiments... Flamel discovered that it was impossible to create another portal with the same object, nor was... " she began to falter and stumble over her wrods, "he was unable to create multiple time portals... it affected... there's only one chance... only one. If you fail, you can never use another portgate to return to 1994." She could no longer stand the anger and hurt in Severus' eyes and the accusing and pitying looks from the children. With a sharp cry, she turned and ran out of the library.

For a moment none of them moved and then Hermione jumped to her feet. She started to run to the door, but stopped just past Snape and whirled back to him. "How could you threaten to Obliviate her? You're horrid!" With that, Hermione ran after Lyrica.

Snape stood frozen in place for a few seconds before turning and striding back to his desk. He lowered himself onto his chair, deliberately slowly. He then leaned slightly forward, placed his elbows on the desk and brought his fingers together. "Get out." His voice was tightly controlled as he stared at the open library door.

The boys scrambled to their feet, but Harry paused as he glanced over his shoulder at Snape. He started to speak when he heard Draco hiss, "Harry, don't."

Harry knew Snape was close to an explosion, but he had to say what he was thinking. "Severus, I know what Lyrica did was wrong, but Hermione is right; if you ever cared about her, how could you have threatened her like that?"

There seemed to be a distinct chill in the air as time practically froze them in place. After a very long moment, when no one appeared to breathe, Snape focused briefly on Harry and spoke very quietly, "Leave now, Harry. Go outside." With a wave of his wand, the library doors began to close, slowly, scooting them out of the room. When the doors were closed, there was the faint feel of strong magic emanating from within. Snape had thrown a silencing spell around the room.

Lyrica had run to the door of her retreat, only to find that Kalima had changed her wards so she could not get in. The Naga was nowhere to be seen and in frustration, the Headmistress smacked the palms of her hands against the resistant door. She quickly left it and retreated to the darkness of the Observatory.

Once alone, the tears came as she grieved over the loss of her family. She had known that if her treachery were discovered, the price would be a high one. What hurt more was that she had shattered Severus' trust in her. He had threatened to remove all her memories. His kisses, his sweet words... all as though they had never happened. Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Harry would never have existed. No Christmas, no family, no... love. Lyrica had not expected the Potions Master's threat and when the word Obliviate had passed Severus' lips, she'd felt her heart turn to ice.

Her weeping increased as the cost of her betrayal stabbed deeply into her soul.

"His words can be very cruel, but I know Uncle Severus would never Obliviate you."

Lyrica raised herself from her crumpled over position on the chaise lounge to regard Hermione as the young girl stood partially in the shadows. "Perhaps, but it is no less than what I deserve for having deceived all of you," she said with defeat.

"You don't deserve that at all." Hermione left the shadows and sat down beside the older woman.

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" There was a sharp tinge to her voice as she dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief.

"Yes it does!" Hermione grasped one of Lyrica's hands. "Are you going to give us up so easily? Of course he's angry. We all are. Ron, Draco, Harry, and I may not be as angry as Uncle Severus, but don't you think he has a right to be? He didn't just trust you as a friend, Lyrica, he loves you!"

"I destroyed his trust, Hermione. No matter if he loves me, he won't allow himself to forgive me, and I wouldn't ask him to." Lyrica's emerald gaze strayed to the silent night outside and watched as clouds drifted lightly across the face of the full moon.

The veranda was lit up during the night by candles burning in amber coloured hurricane lamps. It was here that the boys had retreated when Snape ordered them out of the library. Draco was now pacing nervously, his mind on what Hermione might be saying to Lyrica. Harry's thoughts were his own as he sat upon a middle step, his elbow bent on one knee and his chin resting in that hand. Ron was staring at the front door. Ron glanced briefly between Draco and Harry before going to the door, opening it, and slipping into the house. Draco started to follow, but Harry called the blonde-haired boy back.

"Snape'll kill him," muttered Draco as he moved to sit down by Harry.

"Somehow, I don't think so. But, if we hear screaming, wands drawn, no prisoners?" Harry smirked and Draco elbowed Harry sharply and chuckled.

Ron walked with purpose across the entry way and over to the library doors. The silencing spell was gone and there was no locking spell in place. Whatever yelling Snape had meant to do, he was apparently done with it. Ron put his hand on the door, almost knocked, but then thought better of it. He pushed open the door just enough to allow himself inside, and then closed the door after he stepped into the library.

"I thought I told ALL of you to leave," came Snape's weary voice from the shadows behind his desk. All the lights had been extinguished with the exception of the fire burning in the fireplace.

Ron knew if this were the 'other' Professor Snape he were facing down in his dungeons, he'd be running right back through the library doors. There was a warning in the man's tone of voice, but no malice. No sign that he was going to insult Gryffindors, redheads, or yell. Taking a shallow breath, he moved a little closer and began to speak, "Did you know my mum left my dad? Last year?"

That got the older wizard's attention and Ron heard the leather of the man's chair squeak as he shifted his attention from the window to the boy. "No, I hadn't heard." Snape's voice was cautious, but there was interest.

"After the, uhm, car my dad enchanted?" A faint snort of amusement came from the shadows and Ron blushed at the memory of the verbal beating he and Harry had received from Snape the night they had arrived at Hogwarts so... violently. "Yeah, well, mum was right mad at dad. He's really bad about Muggle stuff and mum, she gets irritated all the time at dad's hobby, but that car really did her in."

"I expect the fact that you and Harry also managed to jeopardise your lives and your father's job at the Ministry contributed as well," stated Snape smoothly.

"Well, yeah, but mum, though she was mad at me and Harry, ultimately it was dad's fault. She's been telling him for years to clear out his Muggle shed of junk, that it's nothing but trouble, but dad just wouldn't listen. Then Fred and George and me go and rescue Harry from his relatives and then we use the car to go to Hogwarts. Well, it was too much for mum. They had a really bad row. Ginny, me, Fred and George found out from a letter from dad a few days after Harry and I got Howlers that mum went home to her sister's house. Mum wouldn't write to any of us..." Ron paused as the pain of that old rebuff swelled up in his heart again.

"Did your mother ever forgive your father, Ron?" asked Snape softly.

"Right before Christmas, yeah. Mum and dad, they really love each other, you know? I mean, we hear the jokes others tell about them- seven kids and all, but that doesn't matter. Not to us, really. Even something as bad as what dad did, my mum was just worried about dad. He can be thick sometimes, I guess," Ron shrugged off the insult toward his father. "He just goes overboard sometimes with that Muggle junk and its not real smart these days. But, mum, she couldn't get him to listen and when it came down to her family or dad, well, dad kind of lost, you know?"

"I do believe I understand what you're saying. Despite your father's hobby endangering the lives of her children, your mother still had the capacity to forgive the man she loved?"

Ron smiled brightly. "Yeah, that's it, Uncle Sev! My mum, she can be real hard to live with, but she loves all of us, including dad, and although she had to leave to get it through his head how stupid he was, she forgave him." Ron grimaced slightly. "Of course, after Christmas we were all kind of worried there might be an eighth redhead on the way."

Snape outright laughed sharply, but bit it off. He lit the lantern on the corner of his desk and the flickering flame threw his features into sharp shadows. His eyes glittered darkly, but the gaze wasn't one that sent Ron into shivers. "Why did you come back to talk to me, Ron?"

For a long minute Ron was silent and scuffed his shoe uneasily upon the wooden floor. He then looked up into Snape's face, "I... well, you said you were going to Obliviate Lyrica. That's..." he hesitated as he saw a glimmer of hardness in the older man's eyes. He forged ahead, and continued his explanation, "...we're all mad at her, but none of us want her to forget us. It would be taking something away from us, if you did that. Also, I think Lyrica knows how dangerous it would be for us if she did anything to change time. I know she wouldn't ever do that."

Ron watched Snape intently for a reaction, anything that would let him know what the Potions Master was thinking. He was the last person to believe that Snape ever had it in him to change, to care about anyone, but he'd seen it. Severus Snape, the bane of the Weasley clan since his brother Charlie was a student at Hogwarts, was not the same person who had held Ron as his body shivered with fever and he cried over the loss of his family. Neither was the 'bat of the dungeons' the same man who had healed his frozen fingers and toes after Ron had fallen into an ancient barrow. The 'greasy git' who had taken 75 points from Gryffindor after Ron had lost his temper at the man in Potions Class was not the same wizard that had wiped away his tears, hugged him, and told him how when the chandelier had fallen and shook Ashmere, that he thought he'd lost him.

The Severus Snape that sat so silently at the large desk in the library, Ron knew without a doubt, didn't just worry and care about them, but loved them. Ron didn't need to hear the words, he understood actions. Only his parents had ever behaved the same way. Ron also knew that Snape was deeply in love with Lyrica, and her ill-thought actions had hurt this very solemn, private man who had opened his heart to her and to four teenagers that used to be the cause of 90 of his migraines.

Snape let out a soft breath and motioned for Ron to step closer to him. It heartened him that Ron didn't hesitate and moved from where he'd been standing near the closed doors to stand beside the Potions Master behind his desk. Snape spun his chair slightly so that he and Ron were now facing each other. "I promise you, Ron, that I'll not use a Memory Charm on Lyrica. I am, however, still very angry and disappointed in her. Although her actions have shaken my... trust, I know I spoke too harshly."

Ron snorted softly, "That's probably why Hermione snapped at you."

"Indeed."

"So, now what happens?" asked Ron.

Snape leaned back in the desk chair. "I shall wait for Hermione to finish speaking with Lyrica and..." he noted Ron shaking his head. "Do you have a suggestion as to what I should do instead?"

"If Lyrica's anything like my mum is, it's best to get it over with."

Snape regarded the boy solemnly and then sneered lightly, "You're not suggesting that I apologise, are you?"

Ron shuffled slightly and glanced down at his shoes and then back up into the older wizard's face. "Well, you did threaten to take away her memories. I know what she did wasn't right, but you really didn't help at all by threatening to Obliviate her." Ron blurted his opinion so abruptly, he was almost afraid that he was going to lose house points. Instead, Snape sighed heavily, rose to his feet, put a hand on Ron's shoulder and directed him out of the library.

"Go and get Draco and Harry, Ron, and get some dinner. I'll find Lyrica and then send Hermione along." He watched for a moment as Ron headed for the front door and then stopped the boy, "Ronald?"

"Yeah?" Ron paused with his hand near the door.

"Would you say this was a checkmate?"

Ron grinned at the chess analogy, "Not quite, Uncle Sev. Check, at the very least, but you might be able to win this game if you move wisely."

Snape inclined his head in a slight nod toward Ron. "I shall do my best."

By doing a location spell, Snape was able to find Lyrica and Hermione in the Observatory. He entered, stealthily, and blended into the shadows as he listened to them talking softly.

"...your notes, Hermione. I am very sorry for that. Perhaps even moreso than having hidden Flamel's book."

"I'm not angry about my notes anymore. What I don't understand is why you taught me the portgate enchantment." Hermione, ever the student seeking knowledge and understanding, settled her querulous gaze upon the Headmistress.

It astonished Lyrica that she did not see anger or recrimination in the child's brown eyed, earnest look. For a moment Lyrica lowered her head into her hand. Her long, dark red hair fell from her shoulder in a cascade of silk. When she raised her head to look into Hermione's anguished gaze, her eyes glittered with unshed tears. "If I were a true Slytherin I'd have made certain you never mastered that spell, my dear girl, but I couldn't... I know it makes no sense, Hermione. I knew as I was destroying your research that I had to give you something in return."

Hermione smiled slightly and to Lyrica's surprise, she enveloped the older woman in a brief, but firm embrace. The Gryffindor pulled away, but kept her hands clasped to the Headmistress's upper arms. "I do forgive what you did, Lyrica. I know you were acting on impulse to keep us safe. However, I'm not Uncle Severus, and what you did to him... I can't say what he'll do. I do know, he'd never erase your memories of us. It was a hurtful thing for him to say, but he isn't a cruel man."

Lyrica's hand cupped Hermione's cheek and she spoke softly, "No, he isn't cruel, Hermione. If Severus were, he wouldn't love all of you as much as he does." She kissed the girl's forehead and smiled. "I think you should go get some dinner. I'll see you tomorrow."

Hermione rose to her feet and whispered 'goodnight'. She drifted into the shadows, never noticing how close she came to Snape before walking through the door.

Snape remained in the shadows where he was and watched Lyrica. Old habits, not instinct as he wanted to blame it, were screaming at him to turn away, now, and to never again speak to the woman who stared out at the darkness of the night. A very small part of him did understand, why Lyrica had done what she'd done, but still it bit painfully at his heart.

Lyrica rose from the chaise and made her way over to the large telescope built by her ancestor, Bastien Arcahnum. She climbed up into the leather chair, and leaned over slightly to look into one of four different eyepieces. Through the telescope the tiny dots of light against the inky backdrop multiplied and became a carpet of spilled diamonds, sapphires, and fire opals across the black velvet of the universe.

Cool, slim fingers touched the nape of Lyrica's neck and she lifted her head from the eyepiece and leaned back into the touch slightly. "I am so very wrong for what I did, Severus, and I would not blame you if you..."

"Quiet, Lyrica," his command fell upon her ears like velvet. "A brilliant Muggle author once wrote, 'Desperate times call for desperate measures'. I know your intention was not to hurt us or to betray me, but to keep us from that which causes all of us fear." Snape drew Lyrica from the chair and away from the telescope. He stood in front of her, his height overshadowing her, making her feel small. "You need to understand something... about me. My trust is not easily given. After the loss of a very dear friendship when I was younger, I trusted no one. It was a dangerous time and I was around dangerous people. With the loss of my dearest friend Lily, for something I did and she could not forgive, I made a grave error and put my trust in the hands of a madman. When I saw the error of my ways, I put my trust in Dumbledore. I have long trusted him until the night he hurt Harry, frightened Hermione, and used an Unforgivable Curse upon me in our dreams. I still want to trust him, but I am afraid I may not be able to. In all this doubt and worry I've had over trusting in my mentor, I had you, Lyrica. Someone I could lean on, who understood and listened. I opened my heart to you and gave you my trust."

Snape took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped gently at the tears that had begun slipping down Lyrica's cheeks once more. She tried to speak, but he stopped her.

"It is my nature to fight or to run. I am not a diplomat. I don't fix what appears on the surface as broken. I take my pain and I bury it in the darkest corners of my mind until even my nightmares have a hard time finding it. I am too old to run, Lyrica. I have found something worth fighting my nature for which is why I stand here, now. You hurt me and I could not stop myself from striking back in the only way I knew to hurt you which was threatening to destroy your memories of us. I will not do that to you."

"But you have every right to do so, Severus," she said softly as she sniffed through her anguish.

He shook his head. "No, I do not. I only just realised how important it is to Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione that someone else besides us have the memories we've built here at Ashmere. I realise that that is something I need as well. We are returning to 1994 and it is important that there is someone here, that loves us, that remembers us." Snape slipped his arm around Lyrica and drew her close to his chest. He felt her body shudder with renewed tears and his hand carded gently through her silken strands of hair. He wished his own tears could join hers, but that was something he could not, yet, do. He held Lyrica tightly, not yet ready to forgive, but unwilling to ever let her go. It did not help that very soon he would have no choice but to let her go. A frightened shade from the depths of his mind shouted futilely at him to throw her from his side. To take his children and to run away as far as he could. Inwardly he cursed that cowardly spectre and tightened his arms possessively about Lyrica.

Late Summer, 1980, Hogwarts

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore sat in the silence of his office just enjoying the quiet. The new term would begin in two weeks and almost everything was ready. He was missing two staff members; someone to teach Potions and someone to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had some candidates in mind and a few applications to review. His plan was to go over them this evening and schedule interviews for tomorrow.

After several long minutes, he retrieved the applications for the positions and was about to begin reading when a delicate, attention getting cough interrupted. He looked up and smiled. "Madam Derwent? Was there something you wished to speak to me about?"

"Indeed. I've been keeping something in trust for you. If you'll look behind my portrait... take care, mind you, you'll find it."

Albus gently removed Dilys Derwent's portrait from the wall and found an aged letter attached to the back of the canvas. He carefully removed the letter, put the portrait back up on the wall and went over to his desk. Perching his half-moon glasses upon his nose, he studied the letter. His name was written just above the seal.

"Curious," he murmured. As he touched the old, red wax seal, there was a spark that alerted him to an additional spell that had been keyed to his touch. He broke the wax, unfolded the letter and began to read the cramped, very precise writing. After reading the letter, he stared for a moment into the fire and then folded the letter closed again. A few minutes later he re-sealed the letter.

Albus,

This letter will be left in trust for you until 1980. I must be careful what I reveal in this letter as our futures rely upon my discretionary silence. I can tell you that you shall hire me for the post of the Potions Teacher in 1980. My application will be for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but you must refuse me the position. Offer me the Potions Teacher position and be persistent. I shall acquiesce.

With that said, you are no doubt very curious as to how I knew you would be headmaster and also how I knew you'd offer me a teaching position at Hogwarts. The reason is, for me, these events have already occurred. I shall explain:

On September 14th in 1994 only a few minutes after Midnight, I was in the Forbidden Forest dealing with four miscreants who had begun a fight in my class earlier on the 13th that merited detention. It was my intention to teach them about a particular plant that only blooms at midnight and to have them assist me in harvesting it. Please note, the students with me were: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasely and Hermione Granger.

We had just begun the lesson when we were attacked by the Vohlfayr. A combination of their propensity to shift slightly forward ahead in time, a miscast Dispercio spell, and my own side-along apparation spell caused us to travel back in time to 1898. As you know, you were 17 years old at Hogwarts and if you cast your memory back, even though it may be foggy, I am certain you will recall having been introduced to a 'Master Snape' and his four wards. You even had a mis-advised adventure with the young students in the 'Odd Room'.

If you cannot recall the memory, then I urge you to use your pensieve. A mind be-fogging charm was cast upon the school by the headmistress. Only those that spent more time than necessary with us would have retained the memory.

Since September of 1898, we have been doing our best to discover a way home. The headmistress, Lyrica Arcahnum, has assured us that the enchanting of a single object into a portgate both in 1899 and in 1994, will be sufficient to open a stable portal that we can walk through back to our time.

We have chosen to enchant the Mirror of Erised on the morning of April 10, 1899. I know it is an unusual object to enchant as a portkey, but to be honest, it is the only object I can be certain of that exists here and exists in our time as well. Albus, please enchant the Mirror of Erised at least an hour after we vanished from the Forbidden Forest.

One more thing I must note, as the headmistress has just now reminded me; we must step through, hand in hand. If we do not, one of us could get left behind, permanently. So, when we step through, make certain that no one lets go of their companion until the last person is through.

We look forward to returning home, soon, Albus.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape
Professor of Potions

Albus looked down at the applications for Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor and removed the one given to him by young Severus Snape. The application had been given to him back in July at the end of term. He recalled the furtive desperation that lingered just beneath the young wizard's mask of calm. He'd had no intention of accepting the application or giving the position to the wizard whose loyalties were questionable, then. Dumbledore's worries were confirmed at the beginning of August when Severus had been found nearly at death's door at the apparating limit of Hogwarts. He had been subjected to numerous Cruciatus curses and also physically beaten. Clad in bloodied Death Eater robes, he had begged, in the rain, for Dumbledore's forgiveness and protection.

Without question, Dumbledore had taken the young wizard into Hogwarts and made a promise to keep him safe. Snape's injuries had been extensive and after extracting a promise from Dumbledore that he'd protect Lily, he had fallen unconscious. Snape did not waken until three days later. The aurors had come for him, then. Barely healed from Voldemort's 'gifts' of torture, the Potions Master spent days being interrogated by several aurors until the day of his trial. Dumbledore's unflagging trust in his former student kept the man from Azkaban. The Headmaster had brought the thin, wastrel of a man back to Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey had healed the younger wizard's body, but mentally he had withdrawn and had fallen into a deep depression. The portraits and ghosts often reported that Snape wandered the corridors and rooms and towers late into the night. Consequently, Albus knew that the man would be awake for a quick interview.

Folding and re-sealing the letter from the future Severus Snape, he replaced it behind Headmistress Derwent's portrait and went to offer a job to the ex-Death Eater.

1899, Ashmere, April

Lyrica read over the letter that Snape had just written to Albus Dumbledore. "The tenth of April?" she asked sadly. "That's only a few days away, Severus."

He frowned slightly and leaned over the desk to take the letter from her hand. "None of us wish to leave, Lyrica. You know that. It's far too much of a temptation to delay our departure."

"I shall not return to Hogwarts until the tenth, then," she declared a little more bravely.

Snape smiled grimly. "I would hate it if you went back." It was an awkward moment as he folded and sealed the letter to Albus. The wizard then rose to his feet and held out his hand to Lyrica. "Since you're not busy, you may assist me in today's potions practical."

Lyrica took his hand as he pulled her to her feet. "What foul-tasting potion are you brewing today?" She smiled and lightly kissed his cheek.

"Bone Regrowth Potion."

Lyrica stopped, halting him. "Skele-Gro? Severus Snape! That's an apprentice level potion! You'd better not blow up my beautiful lab."

Snape yanked her out of the library and glowered mockingly, "Oh woman, ye of little faith. Come and learn!"

Down in the Ashmere potions lab, Draco, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all sat at the black marble worktable. To their right was a blackboard with the Skele-Gro Potion recipe and the Bone Regrowth Potion written on it. Lyrica sat at the white marble worktable with her own cauldron in front of her. She had decided to create the potion along with the teenagers.

"Skele-Gro is a brand name of a potion created by Rubens Winikins & Company in 1722," Snape formally began his lecture as he paced the floor. "A problem with this version of Skele-Gro is that not only does it tend to burn the throat and esophagus as it is administered, but as it re-grows bone, it causes a prickling sensation beneath the skin that is not only painful, but irritatingly unpleasant." Harry grimaced remembering all to well his own experience with Skele-Gro after the idiot Lockhart had banished the bones in his broken arm in his second year. Snape smirked at Harry and then pointed to the recipe on the board. "Here we have Skele-Gro and my version of Bone Regrowth. As you can see I've used Aloe extract which aids in eliminating the burning. Aloe, of course, affects the efficacy of the St. John's Wort, so to offset this the St. John's Wort is steeped in a solution of dessicated eel. The irritation is brought down to a tolerable wormth by the addition of ground cacao and the removal of Lynott Bean. As you brew the potion should go from clear, to mud coloured, then to a scintillating gold."

"How's the taste, Professor?" quipped Draco. He'd also had his own dealings with Skele-Gro and knew he'd rather eat his socks then drink that particularly vile potion ever again.

"As Skele-Gro has often been compared to the taste of 'well-used socks' I did attempt to improve upon the taste. I believe it's much more like rotten fruit now." He ignored the snorts and laughter and tapped the blackboard with his fingertip. "Take a few minutes to read over the recipe and then I have some questions before you begin."

Snape sat down beside Lyrica and leaned over. "I don't see you reading, my dear," his voice was stern, but there was the glimmer of a smile in his eyes. She chuckled softly and began reading.

After several minutes, Snape stood again. "Who can tell me what would cause a catastrophic explosion if you weren't careful in brewing this potion?"

Ron was the first to raise his hand, and Snape nodded, indicating he should reply. Ron smirked quickly at Hermione. It had become a contest amongst the boys to see who could raise their hands first when asked a question. "If you add the dittany before the St. John's Wort that will cause an explosion."

"Very good, Mr. Weasley, but that would only hold true if you were brewing Skele-Gro." Snape's expression was bemused smugness as Ron glared darkly. Hermione's hand shot up into the air. "Miss Granger?"

"If the Catellun Fish Bone isn't finely crushed and isn't added when the potion is at its hottest temperature, it can cause your cauldron to split."

"Which is why all of you will start your ingredients preparation with the fish bone and you don't begin brewing until I have approved the job you've done. Begin."

Over the next two hours Snape hovered over his students as he usually did. In this small class, though, he did not disparage or jump out at his students at the least provocation to take points. He gave praise where it was deserved and corrected mistakes before they became critical. If a question was asked, he did not hesitate to answer it thoroughly. By the end of the brewing session there were five, absolutely perfect Bone Regrowth Potions. Enough potion was created for six bottles and thirty-six single doses. While Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco cleaned up their stations, Snape and Lyrica packed up the potion for delivery to St. Mungos.

Snape strode down the west wing corridor. Had he been wearing his outer robe, it would have been grandly rippling like a black, velvet wave behind him. As it was, he was only wearing his heavy dragon-hide boots, black trousers, a white silk shirt, and a simple black vest. Putting on his best scowl, he allowed himself the few brief seconds it took to reach the end of the corridor to vent his irritation with a few, punctuated snorts. They'd been missing since dinner had ended. He hadn't been concerned until Ron had let slip that they had gone to their rooms to study. When Harry punched Ron in the shoulder, he knew that something he'd forbidden was up.

With a wave of his wand, Draco's closed door crashed open. The two guilty, supposedly studying, hormonal teenagers, leapt apart. Draco and Hermione's cheeks were both flushed and not through academic pursuit. Snape filled the doorway as he glared snidely at them.

"Have you considered names for the child, yet? I rather like Severus Granger Malfoy, don't you?"

"WHAT?" squeaked Hermione as her blush deepened to scarlet. "We weren't... no! Draco!" She shot an anguished look his way as his eyes rounded in astonishment.

"Severus! I'd never do that to Hermione! I promised!" He crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest, unconsciously mimicking his godfather.

"Hermione, go to your room," Snape commanded.

Tears coursing down her cheeks, she fled, almost unaware of the fact she had to push past Snape as she ran through the doorway. "Why did you have to embarrass her like that?" demanded Draco. "We were only kissing!"

"I don't care what you were 'only' doing, Draco. I told both of you that you were not to indulge in such an activity behind closed doors and certainly not on your bed!"

Draco threw himself angrily into one of the chairs in his room. "I promised you and I promised Hermione that nothing would happen. Nothing like... you know... that... until after Voldemort was dead and my father was no longer a threat. You know I want to marry her! Doesn't my promise mean anything?"

"You know this has nothing to do with your promises, Draco. Hermione is a young lady, and young ladies do not comport themselves in such a manner in a young man's bedroom. Both of you are very well aware that I have high expectations in regards to gentlemanly and ladylike conduct, especially as it concerns your relationship. You both disobeyed me."

"Merlin, Severus!" snarled Draco. "You sound like someone from King Henry's century! We were JUST kissing! In a few days, I'm not even going to be able to smile at Hermione. Don't you think we're allowed some time together?"

Merlin spare me from teenage angst, Snape's mind sighed in exasperation. "Yes, you are allowed time together and I think I've been quite tolerant of late. However, you are going to have to start practicing some restraint. Both of you are." He took in the dark scowl on the teenagers face and sighed heavily. "I know you feel this is unfair, Draco, but you know what we're facing."

For several minutes Draco fumed silently and drummed his fingers in irritation upon the arm of his chair. He finally leaned forward, put his head in his hands, and when he looked up, there was such great pain and anguish in his eyes that it tore at Snape. "Why did we have to fall in love, Severus? This is going to be impossible! What if I do something stupid, like smiling at her in class? Crabbe or Goyle would snitch on me in a second and as soon as Lucius found out, he'd hurt Hermione! And, I can't go home... he'll Legilimens me and I'll give it all away!"

Snape laid a hand upon Draco's shoulder. "Luckily for you Lucius is not as skilled at Legilimency as the Dark Lord or I am. Regardless, it may be wise for all of you to learn Occlumens in order to protect us all. Not only will it help to keep memories hidden that are dangerous, but it can help you to reign in your... baser impulses."

For a moment Draco leaned his head against his guardian's hip. He then pulled away. "I still wish you hadn't embarrassed Hermione like that, Severus. It was my fault, anyway."

Snape smirked mildly. "In taking the blame, you are a gentleman, Draco. Go downstairs, have some hot chocolate and complain about my behavior to your brothers-in-foolishness. Be glad I'm no longer assigning essays."

Draco rose to his feet and smiled at Snape. "Game of Dragons tonight, Uncle?"

"After I speak to your lady love." Snape watched Draco leave and then he sighed heavily. He wondered if he might have to have Lyrica speak to Hermione. Recalling his Head of House duties, speaking to the female population of Slytherin House had always been awkward. The 'facts of life' were almost always left up to the teachers of Hogwarts to handle, and Snape's way of handling such an uncomfortable duty was to send the girls of Slytherin to Minerva McGonagall. In turn, she would send her boys to him.

As he considered that, he realised that giving Hermione 'the talk' certainly wasn't needed here. He had no doubt she'd either read all she needed to know, or her rather forward, Muggle parents had already talked to her. He knew he'd embarrassed the girl, as well as Draco, and that was enough to remind both children how young they yet were. He knocked upon the closed door.

"If that's you, Uncle Severus, go away!" came Hermione's angry, muffled voice. He could hear the tears and wondered how, after all this time, he still managed to be the consummate bastard of the dungeons.

"Hermione, please allow me to speak to you," he spoke gently to the door. There was no reply, but he heard rustling and movement. The door opened a tiny crack and Hermione peeked through. Her eyes were staring down at the floor. "May I come in?" She vanished from the slim crack and after a minute of hesitation, Snape pushed the door open.

Hermione had curled up into her chair and stared out the window. Snape walked over and handed her a handkerchief. She took it and dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. She then crushed it in her fist. "Don't loom like that," she said stonily as she glanced at him standing over her.

Snape brought a chair close and sat down in it beside Hermione. "Surely all these tears aren't just from embarrassment, are they?" Hermione merely shook her head and stared studiously out at the darkness as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. "Will you tell me what has you in such a state?" Snape had a fair idea of what had the young girl upset, but felt she needed to voice it.

For a long moment Hermione just dabbed at the tears and did her best to calm down her breathing. Finally she blurted, "How am I supposed to go back to hating Draco?" She turned to face Snape. "All it will take is one smile and that could get Draco killed. I wish we didn't have to go back, but I know that's impossible. I'm just afraid."

"This isn't going to be easy for any of us, Hermione, but I will be doing all that I can to keep each of you safe."

Hermione's gaze drifted to Snape's forearm where the Dark Mark was. "He could kill you, too," she whispered.

Snape shook his head. "My time as the servant of the Dark Lord is finished." Although Voldemort was in hiding as he recovered, Snape's duties as a spy had not ended the night the Potters were killed and Harry was marked. Snape kept an eye upon those Death Eaters that had managed to keep from being imprisoned. He had made the decision weeks ago, before they even knew there was a way back home, that his days of spying were ended. "The Headmaster will no doubt be displeased, but my duty is now to you, my children. I intend to keep you all safe and to give you the tools and skills you need to protect yourselves."

Hermione's heart gladdened, somewhat, at the thought that Snape would no longer spy for Dumbledore, but she knew they'd all still be in danger. "How will we protect ourselves?"

"You will learn how to fight and I will teach each of you to protect your minds with Occlumency. That discipline will help while you're at school so that none of you will betray how you truly feel about each other. I promise, Hermione, we will do all we can to make our world a better place. Not only do we deserve it, but those we care about deserve it, too."

Hermione patted away the last of her tears and slid from her chair. She stood in front of Snape for a second and then threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "You know we love you?" she asked close to his ear softly.

Snape pulled Hermione away and smiled; a genuine smile that was rare to see upon the face of the dreaded spy. With a kiss to her forehead, he said gently, "How I ever let you four terrors into my heart, I'll never know, Hermione." He rose to his feet. "Come, let's go have a game of Dragons tonight."

Hermione grinned up at the tall wizard. "You, Lyrica and I against the boys?"

Snape smirked, "Sounds fair to me!"

The next day Draco and Harry sat on the landing of the grand staircase, while Hermione sat just below them on a step with her nose in a book. She had begun reading about the discipline of Occlumens and Legilimens.

She read from her book, "It says here that a mind properly Occluded is able to thwart all mental attacks upon it. Occlumens can also aid the practitioner in disciplining the emotions and the body language evidenced by natural emotions."

Harry grinned, "I guess that's why Severus is such a successful, bastard, spy."

"Draco, what was Uncle Severus like when you were little?" asked Hermione.

"Around Lucius and my mother and the Death Eaters that would visit, he was just downright scary. He's got a good, scary persona as a teacher, but when he was at my house..." Draco shuddered. "He unnerved the other Death Eaters. If he smiled, you knew the person he smiled at was dead, or that he was seeing that person's death in his mind. I was three years old when Lucius formally introduced me to all of the DE and none of them made my insides turn to jelly like Severus did." Draco sat up straighter as his mind returned to the past. "There's this ritual the Death Eaters have when they meet each others kids for the first time. The parents take the kid to each member and that person picks up the kid and kisses him or her. Aunt Bella kissed me on the mouth and whispered in my ear that one day she'd eat me up. I had nightmares for a week after that. I thought she really was going to eat me."

"That's a really sick ritual," said Harry with a shudder.

"It is," agreed Draco.

"So what happened with Uncle Severus?" asked Hermione, her voice a light, awed whisper.

"The other men were really rough when they picked me up and by the time it was Severus' turn, my ribs were kind of bruised. He was so tall and I swear, he looked like Death himself. I wanted to cry, but Fa... Lucius had warned me before the meeting that if I cried, I'd get whipped. Severus knew I was scared and instead of picking me up, he knelt down until he was level with me. He didn't smile. In fact, I don't think his expression ever changed, but I saw something in his eyes that was meant just for me. I knew I could trust him not to hurt me. Severus then took my hand and pulled me close. Instead of kissing my cheek, he whispered in my ear."

"What did he say?' asked Harry who was now completely enthralled by the tale.

"He said, 'you can always trust me, Little Dragon'." Draco smiled softly at the memory. "Lucius still hurt me, but his beatings didn't have the same sting they'd had after that day. "Severus visited a lot and I'm pretty sure that he wasn't visiting Lucius, but to make sure that I was all right. Everytime he visited, if only for a few seconds, he'd whisper that same phrase to me."

"I'm really glad we've all been able to see that side of him," mused Harry. "Severus is a good man."

Draco smirked, "I always said he was!"

Ron was coming down from the second floor and interrupted them, "I think I've got it!"

"Got what, lute man?" asked Draco looking up.

"Hermione, come here and check this out," said Ron as he sat on the carpet between Draco and Harry. Hermione put down her book and stepped up to the landing just as Ron handed her a blank piece of paper. Similar pieces of parchment he handed to Draco and Harry, and he kept one to himself. "Conjure some quill and ink and then turn around and write something," Ron instructed.

Harry turned and placed his parchment on the step in front of him. After a wave of his wand, he had a quill and ink and he began writing. At the front of his sentence was a tiny, golden snitch. He then watched in amazement as a sentence appeared below his. Before that sentence was an animated, small, green snake. Another sentence appeared below the second one. At the front of the third sentence was an orange cat stretching. A fourth sentence appeared and at the front of it was a tiny gray owl that kept crashing into the first letter of the first word that had been written.

"Brilliant!" enthused Harry.

"This is wonderful!" agreed Hermione. "How did you think of this, Ron?"

It was Draco who replied, "You got the idea from that spy novel you were reading, didn't you?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "It talked about how the spies needed to speak to their superiors, so they devised a secret code. So I went and looked for some charms and charmed this paper so we can talk to each other. You can clear the paper just by tapping the top right corner. Oh, and it won't tear, either."

"What about Severus?" asked Harry. "Can he talk to us, too?"

Ron nodded. "Yep. I made him a bat. You think he'll get mad?"

They all chuckled. Draco shook his head. "You might get detention, but he won't get mad."

"Oooh, the words are fading," Hermione gasped as she watched the parchment become clear.

"Failsafe," explained Ron. "The writing automatically clears after two minutes. Also, if one parchment gets lost, or someone else gets hold of it, none of ours will work. That way, we won't be writing to someone we shouldn't."

"Very good, Weasel," remarked Draco sincerely. "Of course, it does make me wonder why you consistently get such low marks in Charms when you can do something like this."

Ron scowled at Draco. "Could be boredom." Ron slipped out his wand and twirled it. "I've got a nice variation on the slug spell, Drake, if you'd like to see it."

Draco sniggered. "No thanks!" He nudged Ron in the shoulder with his fist. "Really, this is good, mate." He folded the parchment and slipped it into his pocket.

Draco and Harry had risen early on Friday morning, three days before their scheduled return to their time. They flew over the backyard of Ashmere, lazily, as they surveyed the house and its grounds. When they finally spiralled down to the ground, they both lay back on the grass to stare at the sky as clouds filtered past.

"Ought to be fun sabotaging your potions again, Scarhead," remarked Draco.

"I think I have a good chance of sabotaging yours first this time, Goldilocks," Harry shot back with a smirk.

"Bet on it?"

"One galleon to whomever gets detention first," chuckled Harry.

"No way, Harry! I'm Slytherin! You know that either way, you're the one who'll wind up in detention!"

"Is it my fault that you're Snape's Silver Boy?" Draco ripped up a handful of grass and dropped it on Harry's face. "Hey!" Jumping to his feet, he pulled out his wand and cast a jelly-legs curse.

As Draco dodged the curse, the impromptu duel was on. Draco drew upon a nearby Ley Line and with both hands snapped them out in front of him, Harry was picked up off his feet and thrown backwards. Harry tumbled but turned it into a graceful roll. As he came out of the roll, he cast a shield and shoved its force at Draco. The Slytherin was knocked off his feet. Immediately following was a tickling curse that Draco barely dodged. His counter was another wandless jinx that Harry just barely dodged. Harry tapped into the Ley Line and caught Draco's legs with a tendril of magical energy that suspended the boy upside-down. Draco severed the magical noose, dropped neatly to his feet, whipped out his wand and had Harry firmly bound by a binding spell that ended the duel.

Smiling, Draco sauntered over, ended the spell and gave Harry a hand up. "What was that spell you did with both hands?" asked Harry as he brushed at the grass and dirt on his clothes.

"Whipcord. Same principle as your noose, but instead of wrapping around your opponent it can whip an opponent just like a whip."

"That wasn't in any of our lessons," muttered Harry.

"You need to work on creating your own energy spells, Harry. Noose is good, but there's a lot more you can do than just the Noose with the energy spell."

"I know, but I haven't quite perfected the focusing of Ley Line magical energy. Comes out all at once and drains me a bit." Harry picked up his broom.

"That could get you killed," commented Draco as he followed Harry back into Ashmere.

"I'll get it figured out, don't worry, Draco."

Draco slung an arm over Harry's shoulder and smirked, "Until then, I'll be happy to keep knocking the whey out of you."

Harry laughed, "Thought you might."

Back in the house, Harry and Draco headed upstairs to put their brooms away. As Harry left his room, he went into Draco's and closed the door. "I need your opinion on something."

Draco sprawled comfortably in a chair and Harry took another one. "What's up?"

"I have an idea, but it may be entirely stupid. In fact, I'm pretty certain it is."

"Well, spit it out, Harry. You know I'll tell you the truth." Draco smirked and Harry laughed softly.

"Here it is..." Harry then paused to gather his thoughts. "I was thinking that if I stayed behind, with Lyrica, she and I could find Nicolas Flamel and convince him to brew the Philosopher's Stone Elixir for us. It would slow down our aging, she could teach me more Ley Line Magic, and then we could meet up with all of you in 1994. Then, when Voldie shows up, blam! He's dead."

Draco stared at Harry for a very long time. He could see some sense in the idea; Harry facing the Dark Lord as a grown up could only improve his odds. Staying behind, though, just wasn't a good idea, at all. Finally, Draco shook his head. "I think I understand where this idea is coming from, Harry, but I think it is bad. I mean, there's no guarantee that Flamel would even help you with the Elixir and without it, your life expectancy is iffy, at best. I mean, I know wizards can live between 200 to 250 years, but they have to have pretty good health and not be accident prone."

Harry sighed heavily. He'd been thinking of this mad scheme for several days. As he thought more about it, it seemed to get better each day. It appeared he had only been deluding himself.

Draco leaned forward. "Harry, this isn't about Voldemort, this idea of yours, is it?"

"I don't think so." Harry fell back against his chair and stared up at the ceiling. "I just don't think it's fair that Lyrica has to stay behind and be all alone. I wish Severus would stay with her, or that she could come with us. I mean, that argument Lyrica and Severus have about not knowing if taking her back to our time would change anything just doesn't make sense to me. Does it matter that much?"

"I'm the last person to debate the Theories of Time, Harry. Paradoxes, time loops, and all that just gives me a headache. None of us know the Arcahnum history. Other than the fact that she's the last Arcahnum, she could easily marry into any wizarding family. What if she gets married and has a kid that winds up being your dad's father? If she came to our time, would you vanish? Then were would we be? Would the Dark Lord be in power?" Draco shrugged.

It was a frightening thought and Harry shuddered. He didn't know his family history other than his father's family were an old Pureblood line. He knew nothing about his grandparents or beyond them on the Potter side and as the Pureblood families were so close... "Ugh!" griped Harry closing his eyes tightly.

"I agree," muttered Draco.

Ron ran his hands over the Mother-of-Pearl inlay on the lute he now thought of his. They could only bring the clothing on their backs and whatever they could shrink and put in their pockets. King Henry picked up the lute and strummed a chord.

"I have no intention of moving on, Master Ronald, so don't be concerned about your lute. I will make arrangements for it to be sent to you in your future. After all, I'll still be around."

Ron grinned and sat down at the large chess set he and The King had just set up. Henry the VIII, always white, moved the first piece. "Lyrica says she'll do her best to make her life a long one," he said sadly as he moved his knight.

"It is fortunate that witches and wizards have such a long life, Ronald."

He nodded. "She's just going to be without us for 90 some years and for us it'll be a few seconds. It's really not fair at all."

"Time, as you know, tends not to matter to we ghosts so this... hm, excessive concern that Lyrica and Sir Raven are showing for the timeline is, well, excessive in my mind. If the man wants her, then so he should take her with him and time be damned!" The King rapped his fist on the table and for a moment the chess pieces all scrambled toward the left side of the board. He waved the chess pieces to get them to return to their places and leaned toward Ron conspiratorially. "Plans are being made, though, plans are being made."

Ron expected some sort of explanation from The King for his cryptic words, but there didn't seem to be one forthcoming. Shrugging his shoulders, he moved his bishop and locked the king into a downward spiral toward checkmate. The King glowered. He hated to lose.

"Harry?" called Lyrica as she knocked on his bedroom doorframe.

Harry sat on his bed reading and looked up. He smiled upon seeing Lyrica. "Something wrong?"

"Not at all, Harry. I just have something I wanted to give you." She stepped slightly to the left and the black and silver Naga slithered into the room and onto Harry's bed. "Kalima has decided that she needs to be with you. Since she's a magical snake, she ought to just be able to wrap around your waist and be safe during the trip back to 1994."

"You can talk to Kalima?" he asked in wonderment.

Lyrica nodded. "Severus told me you and Kalima had spoken to each other. Did he not mention that I am a Parseltongue?"

Harry shook his head and stroked Kalima's body as she curled up. "I've never met another Parseltongue. Did anyone else in your family speak the language?"

Lyrica seated herself on the edge of the bed. "Oh no. I wish it were a natural talent, but it's still very rare. When Kalima came into my life, her language was a gift she gave to me." Lyrica pushed up the sleeve of her dark blue velvet dress on her right arm. Turning her wrist slightly, she showed Harry a small scar that was clearly from a serpent strike. "You need to understand, Harry, that the Naga venom is both life and death. Kalima has given her consent for you to present "your father" with a phial of her venom once each month to be used in potions that will aid all of you when your injuries bring you close to death. Severus must teach you how to milk Kalima's venom as part of a 'gift ritual'." Lyrica smiled and patted Harry's hand as he stroked the beautiful snake's head. "Kalima will teach you both the ritual, so don't worry about it."

Harry embraced Lyrica and she hugged him tightly. "Thank you so much, Lyrica."

"With Kalima protecting my family, my worry for all of you is just a little bit less."

A gentle breeze wafted through the leaves on the trees as Severus worked quietly in the old herb garden to the west side of Ashmere. With the sleeves of an old shirt, the one he'd been wearing the night of detention, rolled up to his elbows, he methodically cleared away the weeds and removed the plants that would not ever return. The earth was dark, rich, and cool as his hands worked. Once or twice he stretched, allowing his back to pop into place. He gave his knees a break when he manually lifted a pile of weeds and dead flora over to a small bonfire.

Conjuring a glass of water, he assuaged his thirst, stretched his back again, and prepared to finish the weeding so he could get the planting done before dinner.

"Mind if I help, Uncle Severus?" Snape turned to see Harry at the far end of the garden, near the corner of the house.

"Have you any experience with gardening beyond Professor Sprout's classes?" he asked without a hint of a sneer.

"Quite a lot, actually," asserted Harry. "If you ever get a chance to visit #4 Privet Drive in Surrey, my aunt's yard looks as good as it does because it's all my work. I'm best with roses."

Snape handed Harry a trowel. "I've done this half of the weeding, you can help me with the rest and then we'll plant the seedlings."

Harry took the trowel and began working on the weeds. He glanced over his shoulder at the tray of seedlings in small pots that were being bathed by slivers of sunshine through a fruit tree. "I recognise all the Muggle herbs, but there's some magical ones I don't quite think I can identify."

Snape paused in his weeding and pointed with his finger, "Wylde Wooten, Amortis Billiweed, Nickelhyde, Pyrhhic Fern... ah... that one you should know. We used it recently."

Harry sat back on his heels and stared thoughtfully at the tiny plant. It was spindly and feathered, almost like Anise was, but it was grey. "Is that Lynnot?" He asked.

Now Snape smirked and Harry glowered. "That's good, Harry. You prepared the Lynnot root and never saw what the actual plant looked like."

"Ha ha," Harry replied with his own good-natured sarcasm. "Never trust a snarky teacher to ask a straightforward question."

The two worked in silence and then Snape spoke up, "Harry, has your godfather, or Lupin told you much about your mother?"

Harry shook his head. "They both talk about dad a lot. The Quidditch games and the Marauder pranks..."

"Hmm, yes, pranks," muttered Snape.

Harry didn't miss the undertone of anger in Snape's muttering and it sent the hairs on his neck to standing. "Severus..." he paused. If he was ever to get at the root of Snape's anger toward his father, and that of Lupin and Sirius as well, he had to ask now. He stopped weeding and faced the man that hadn't had one good word to say to him for his first three years at Hogwarts. "What did my dad do to make you so angry with him that you're still angry?"

For a moment, as Snape dropped the trowel and rested his hands on his knees, Harry could see his frightening professor of Potions boiling behind the dark flint of his eyes. A smaller, younger part of Harry wanted to leap to his feet and run before he was hexed to death, but he stilled his nerves. He wanted an answer.

Snape had honestly hoped to speak to Harry about Lily. He had wanted to tell the child how much his mother had meant to him, and had not expected Harry to ignore his opening. Thinking of James Potter sent a fire to his brain, and made him want to strike out at something. Irrationally, he looked upon Harry and saw his father. But Snape wasn't going to strike out at Harry. He didn't hate Harry. So, he closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and pushed the anger and pain back to the safety of his old memories. He saw Harry visibly relax.

"As you know, I went to Hogwarts the same time that James, Remus, Sirius, and that rat Pettigrew went. We were all in the same year, but obviously not in the same house. The Marauders had a deserved reputation as bullies." Snape stopped to assess how Harry was taking the declaration of him calling his father and his friends bullies. The boy appeared impassive, but was still listening.

"Does Black call me 'Snivellus' still?" asked Snape quietly.

Harry nodded. He'd received several letters as his godfather was on the run that referred to Snape as Snivellus, amongst other, less than flattering, nicknames. "It's obvious Sirius hates you, but I thought it was because you wanted him to get the Dementor's Kiss for having betrayed my mum and dad and killing those Muggles."

"I was certain he deserved it, Harry. After all, I was unconscious when Pettigrew confessed. I did not know that Black was truly innocent of the crime he'd been accused of until the Headmaster enlightened me after Black made his escape. I am sorry that Black spent twelve years in Azkaban for something Pettigrew did, but I still have no love for the man. He was a hyperactive child that took far too much delight in taunting others and his favorite targets were Slytherins. Second on his list was... me."

"That's why you hate Sirius, but... my dad?"

Snape looked into the boy's eyes. "Harry, I would like to be truthful with you, but my recollections of your father are of a much different person than what your godfather or Lupin remembers. He was a child, though, and not all children are nice. Are you certain you want to hear this?"

"Wh-what did he do?" asked Harry. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know, but if he was ever to have a solid, trusting relationship with Severus Snape that would survive the trials ahead of them in 1994, he had to know.

Sighing heavily, Snape shifted his position and sat cross-legged on the ground. He didn't want to delve into these painful memories, but he knew that when he began teaching the teenagers Occlumency, his own memories, including those painful ones, would be vulnerable. Those memories affected Harry and if he didn't come clean, the trust they both needed for the mental discipline would be severely lacking and Harry would learn nothing.

Severus was as silent as a shadow as he followed the Marauders from the castle. Lupin was with them and he looked like he could barely stand on his own. In fact, he stumbled once just before they reached the Whomping Willow and James supported the skinnier boy. Taking refuge behind a grouping of boulders, Severus watched in surprise as Peter Pettigrew changed shape and shrank down into the form of a rat. The rat ran swiftly amongst the swinging, dangerous branches until he reached the tree trunk. Changing again, he pressed a knot in the trunk and the tree stilled. With Potter and Black now completely supporting Lupin, they ducked down into a hollow in the trunk. Pettigrew touched the knot and vanished after his friends.

Severus scowled and settled into his place. Above him the dusky sky became dark and the full moon shone down upon the grounds of Hogwarts. His eyes suddenly widened as a stag emerged from the hollow in the tree. With its antlers it nudged the knot that stilled the vicious branches of the willow. Behind the stag came a fearsome, black dog that resembled the legendary Grim. Suddenly bursting from behind the dog was a silver grey werewolf. Severus was so frightened by the sight that he fell backwards and let out a strangled cry. He cut the palm of his hand on sharp pebbles.

The werewolf paused and sniffed the air. Its sharp, yellow eyes caught movement and bounded toward the prey it knew had blooded itself. Thoughts of blood, flesh rending from bone, sent ripples of animalistic pleasure through its body.

Severus was trapped by his own terror. A werewolf! He had no idea he would have stumbled upon such a dire secret and now his subterfuge was going to get him killed. With his heart beating a staccato, painful beat in his chest, Severus found the ability to move. He dashed toward the left in his panic.

The werewolf could now smell the tantalising tang of fear in the air. It let out a horrific howl as its eyes settled hungrily on the small creature in black before it. Not much meat on the bones, but it would scream.

Severus' panic had only led him into direct line of sight of the fearsome beast and he froze once more, letting out a terrified whimper.

The large dog with a rat clutching its furred ruff, leapt for the werewolf. The stag ran for the teenager. The stag had no time for gentility and caught the boy up in its antlers, spiriting him away from the dog and werewolf that fought briefly. A swipe from the werewolf sent the dog flying until it landed some distance away. Cheated of its prey, the werewolf howled again and sprinted for the Forbidden Forest.

Severus' eyes fluttered open. It hurt to breathe and he was angry to see Potter's worried expression in his face. "Get away, Potter!" he snarled as he tried to get up. Suddenly his vision tunneled and he almost blacked out. Potter gently pushed him back down.

"I'm sorry, Snape, but I think I broke a rib when I grabbed you."

"Bloody Animagus!" growled Snape. "Lupin's a werewolf!"

"Shhhh! Say a word..." James snarled, his voice heavy with threat.

"Severus!"

The most beautiful face in the world replaced Potter's. Lily Evans green eyes bathed him in her concern. She turned to Potter. "What have you been doing out here?" she demanded angrily. "He's very hurt! Get Madame Pomfrey." Potter cast a warning glare at Snape before running off. "Sev, what happened?" Lily brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"They're Animagi, Lily!" he spat. "And Potter broke my rib by attacking me. He's a stag." Severus kept silent about Lupin. He wasn't sure Lily needed to know that. He wanted to see what happened to Pettigrew, Potter and Black after he told Dumbledore everything.

"Here! What has happened to you this time, Mr. Snape?" Madame Pomfrey bustled across the lawn to where Severus lay near the entrance of the castle. Potter was standing off to the side, looking daggers at the Slytherin and tossing jealous glances toward Lily.

"Did you tell Dumbledore?' asked Harry warily.

Snape nodded. "He took a total of 150 points from Gryffindor and 25 points from Slytherin for all of us being out after curfew. Then he awarded your father 100 points for saving my life and made a point of reminding me I then owed James Potter a life debt." The resentment at the unfair punishment was clear on Snape's face.

"What happened to Remus?"

"Although I am certain the Headmaster knew that Lupin was the werewolf, for some reason I chose not to reveal his identity." Harry smiled slightly at this. Snape sneered, "As much as I still hold some fear of what Lupin becomes, I did not then, nor do I now, blame him for acting upon instinct. I do, however, hold him responsible for condoning what his friends did."

Harry was silent for a moment and then spoke shyly and questioningly, "My mother seemed concerned about you."

Snape dropped his head into his hand. If anything, memories of Lily were harder to reveal than all the pranks and the night he was almost killed. His memories of Lily he had long guarded jealously and kept close to his heart. He spoke quietly, not yet looking up at Harry. "I first met your mother in a park behind my house, when she and I were eight years old. From that day forward, we were as close as two best friends could be. It was devastating to Lily when the Sorting Hat put her in Gryffindor. She did not wish to be separated from me. Despite the different houses, our friendship continued." Snape raised his head and looked past Harry's shoulder. "My relationship with Lily may have been the catalyst for the Marauders to single me out above all the others they went after. I suppose it didn't help that I gave as good as I got. By the end of our first year, I think Madame Pomfrey was sick of all five of us. She had very little patience after that in healing our various injuries."

"Were my dad and his friends never punished for what they did to you?" Harry asked.

Snape shook his head. "Beyond points and once in awhile a detention with McGonagall, they were not punished." Snape smirked sharply and focused his gaze on Harry. "I believe that I served more detentions and did more lines and extra essays than you've ever done."

Harry snorted and grinned. "Give me time. I've only been in school for three years."

"Merlin forbid, Harry!" Snape smiled tightly.

"Severus..." Harry began tentatively, "If you and my mother were such good friends, what happened?"

This was the question that had Snape's stomach roil tightly. As bad as the night he nearly lost his life, this memory was worse. Buried behind layers of Occlumency, there were nights that his dreams were still haunted by that single day.

Severus wasn't very good at Transfiguration. There was a test tomorrow, a practical, and he needed more than just a good grade. He wanted to be a Healer and although he really didn't understand why an 'O' in Transfiguration was required on his NEWTs he intended to get it if he had to practice every hour possible. He had gone to his and Lily's tree to practice. Lily was in the library and would meet him later to help him. In the meantime, he worked with buttons and blades of grass and quills, transfiguring them into diamonds, rabbits, and various other objects and animals. He had yet to perfectly execute any of the Transfigurations and was beginning to lose his patience.

"Levicorpus!"

Severus went flying upward until he was hanging awkwardly upside-down from his right ankle. His book and wand fell from his hands and his robes obscured his face as they fell toward the earth. He coloured deeply as he realised his underwear, grey and worn, was exposed for all to see. Black was whistling and jeering, drawing more students to the spectacle. Severus wondered if that milquetoast Lupin was just watching with his weak, disapproving and pitying look. He struggled as he heard a voice, Potter's, sharp and angry in his ear.

"I'll find out what that cutting curse was you used on me, you little freak, and then I'm going to rip you to shreds. You're lucky it only grazed me, bastard!"

"If I'd meant to cut you any deeper, Potter, you wouldn't have your wand hand now!" snarled Snape as he twisted angrily.

"James Potter! Let go of him!" Lily had arrived and screamed at the taller boy.

"Ohhh, lookee! Snivelly's girlfriend to the rescue again!" crowed Black.

"You're a bully, James and if you don't let him down, NOW, I'll hex you every night in your sleep. LET. HIM. GO!"

Severus suddenly slammed to the ground, smacking his head hard enough to bring a quick lump to the crown of his skull and stars to his eyes. Despite the nausea that the pain in his head and having been upside-down was causing, he rolled to his feet. Lily came running over to him and before he could get his emotions under control, he lashed out at her. "I don't need your help, you filthy, little Mudblood!"

In that moment time stopped. The laughter, the applause and cat-calls from those watching was silenced. No one moved. Severus was not aware of anyone or anything around him. He was forever caught by the look of horror, anger, and pain in Lily's face. He felt his heart tearing into pieces as he fought to say something, anything, to take back what he'd called her. His mouth gaped open.

CRACK!

Lily's hand connected sharply with his cheek leaving an instant red imprint. The pain in her eyes was now protected by blazing anger. Her words were cold, biting, and stabbed deeply into his ravaged heart. "You are thoughtless, Severus Snape!" Pushing him hard in the chest, she did not watch as he fell to the ground. Lily spun away, leaving him.

Although he had tried to apologise later the two friends never spoke again. A few nights later he went with Lucius Malfoy to take the Dark Mark.

Harry frowned and stabbed the ground with his trowel. Snape watched him carefully. As much as he felt Harry had a right to retaliate in his mother's defense, or to rebuke him, deep down inside the Potions Master hoped the boy would understand. He was not prepared for what Harry haltingly said.

"My mother... I don't know... she should have... I wish she'd accepted your apology."

"Really?" asked Snape who was rather stunned by the stammered declaration. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, Hermione forgave Draco for calling her Mud... you know. They've only known each a short time. You and my mother were best friends. For years. That means you told each other lots of stuff. She had to know what you were dealing with in your house. I know Malfoy and his cronies had to be talking about Muggles and such badly all the time. Then, to be bullied everyday, almost killed, and humiliated... Uncle Severus, my mother should have understood what was going on! It doesn't make sense that she'd never speak to you again!" Snape was astonished, though he didn't show it. "Harry was actually angry, not at him, but at his sainted mother.

"Look," said Harry as he stabbed the ground again a few times with the trowel he was still holding. "I haven't heard much about my mum except that I was told she had a 'great capacity for compassion and befriended everyone'. I could understand it if mum might be angry for awhile at you. You'd deserve that much, but to never accept your apology? That doesn't sound like her."

"Harry, I took the Dark Mark only a few days later. If Lily were going to forgive me in any way, that severed any possibility."

"That shouldn't have mattered!" shouted Harry indignantly. Now Snape was getting concerned. He started to say something to calm the boy, but Harry glared. "She was your best friend, Severus! Did you apologise to her?"

"I waited outside the Gryffindor tower portrait all night to talk to her with the intention of apologising, but she wouldn't talk to me."

"Did anyone talk to you that night?"

Snape's features suddenly darkened. "Only Black did. He was rather... expansive in describing to me how much Lily despised me."

"Sirius." Harry scowled and once again Snape was caught off guard. He knew how quickly Harry had become attached to the escaped prisoner who now was in hiding under Dumbledore's protection. The Potions professor did not think he'd be able to say one negative word about the annoying mutt, yet Harry's demeanor was pointedly upset, and not at his teacher.

Harry wanted to believe the best about Sirius, but he'd had enough letters from his fugitive godfather to know that Sirius Black's feelings toward Snape were a deep, unrelenting hate laced with jealousy. Even when Harry himself had only derisive comments to say about the Potions instructor, he'd never wished for death for the man and Sirius' rather constant 'joking' barbs about tainting the wizard's potions or luring the man to his death from the Astronomy Tower unnerved Harry at times. He had rebuked Sirius a few times in reply and Black's own replies were laced with thinly veiled jealousy. Harry would talk or write to Remus, but Remus' argument never changed; the two men had hated each other in school and they'd never left that hate behind.

Did you ever tell mum about your... d... your mark? Did you tell anyone?"

The older man's glare got even darker and he stabbed his trowel deeply into the dirt. "No one was absolutely certain I'd taken the Dark Mark until the night I went to Dumbledore. At that point, he knew about it, as did Madame Pomfrey. It wasn't until the night your parents were killed that the inner members of the Order of the Phoenix knew I'd been spying and had been marked by the Dark Lord."

"Tell me about my mum, Severus," the abrupt change had Snape backtracking and switching gears mentally. He watched Harry studiously weeding his patch of the garden but could see no clue to the boy's line of questioning in his stiffly hunched over posture.

Turning to his own patch of weeds, he began to tell Harry about his mother. "Lily was a very bright child with an open heart that held more compassion than I could ever fathom. After we were sorted into different houses, I thought it was certain I'd never speak to her again. Imagine my surprise the very next morning at breakfast, Lily defied all convention and left the Gryffindor table to come and sit by me. I was pleased to see her, but my housemates and my head of house weren't at all happy. Oddly enough it was Headmaster Dumbledore who quashed the little furor over Lily's bold move. She wasn't permitted to sit with me at lunch and dinner, but breakfast she was allowed."

"Lily had a stubborn streak that often surprised people, including me." Snape stopped weeding and sat back on his heels for a moment. "I recall one summer, I think it was after our third year, Lily and I were at the park where we first met. It was never a very busy park, but on Saturdays it was often populated by mothers and their small children. A group of older boys that we'd never seen in our neighborhoods showed up and began picking on this one little kid. I don't know where his mother was, but no one was helping him and he was scared." Harry had stopped weeding and was giving his attention to Snape's story. "Lily was small, willowy, and on a good day it looked like she might be taken up by a swift breeze and carted off to the Land of Oz. Anyone, Muggle or Wizard, who underestimated her only did so once. Before I could stop her, Lily had crossed the playground and was giving the three boys a piece of her mind. Of course they didn't take her seriously."

"What happened? Did she hex them?" Harry asked, enthralled by the imagined image of his mother standing down three tall bullies.

"Oh no! We couldn't do magic, but I learned that day that Lily was quite proficient in Muggle street fighting." A tiny smile quirked the corner of the Potions Master's mouth and a glimmer of mirth touched his eyes. "It was a thing of beauty watching her take those bullies down in less than 60 seconds. They ran from the park, crying for their mothers."

Harry laughed. "Oh I wish I could have seen that!"

Snape regarded Harry. He could see James in the boy, but within the teenager were the aspects of Lily that he had prized and fallen in love with so very long ago. "I am certain you've been told countless times that you have Lily's eyes, Harry, but I want you to know that I have learned that you also have your mother's boundless capacity for fairness, compassion, and love. I am... fortunate... that I have been able to see this within you."

Harry's smile faded somewhat and respect for the older wizard glowed in his emerald green eyes. "If she was like me, Uncle Severus, then my mum would have forgiven you for calling her 'mudblood'. She would have wanted to talk to you if she'd known you were waiting for her outside the Gryffindor Common Room." He saw the shadow of doubt ghost across the man's eyes and he leaned over and placed his hand firmly on Snape's arm. "I know this, sir," he said staunchly. "My mum would have been angry, but if she'd known you regretted what you said, she would have forgiven you, even with that mark on your arm."

In the darkness of his bedroom in the east wing of Ashmere, Severus Snape lay awake. Tomorrow they would return to Hogwarts where they would enchant the Mirror of Erised and return to their time. His fingers drifted over the heavily burnt lines of the Dark Mark on his forearm. He had awakened from a nightmare in which the mark had flared up, burning sharply. He had not answered the summons from the Dark Lord and the pain had become agonising. This is what he would be returning to. Snape had meant what he'd told Hermione a few days ago; he would not take up the mantle of spy for the Order again. Harry, Ron, Draco, and Hermione were his priority, as were his Snakes, and all the children at Hogwarts. If the vision Harry had received from the Holly King on Christmas was to be believed, he had only a year to prepare Harry to face the Dark Lord.

That afternoon at lunch Ron had proposed that Snape and Harry teach a secret Dark Arts class that would incorporate the lessons Lyrica had taught them about Ley Line Magic. Alastor Moody was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, but Snape had doubts about the man; doubts he'd brought to Dumbledore but were dismissed, as usual. Snape had an uncomfortable past association with Moody and although the two men had come to a quietly mutual dislike in recent years, the Potions Master had felt something 'off' about the ex-auror since he arrival at Hogwarts.

A whispering sussuruss outside his door had Snape automatically reaching for his wand. He waited for the inevitable knock from one of the children, but instead, the lock on his door snicked open. The door swung slowly open.

"Severus."

"Lyrica?" He sat up and charmed his wand to light up.

Lyrica had closed his door behind her and locked it again. She padded softly over to his bedside where she sat down. "I have to let you go tomorrow, Severus, but I won't let you go tonight." She leaned in to kiss him. Snape drew her closer, unwilling to refuse her desire as much as his own. The light of his wand blinked out, leaving them to their embraces in the privacy of the darkness.

April 10th, 1899, 10:15am

Holding tightly to Harry's hand, Snape watched as first Ron stepped through the portgate, then Hermione, then Draco. Harry then prepared to step through and Snape turned to look at Lyrica. All his hopes and dreams were in her eyes. Everything he'd ever wanted was in her arms and her kisses. Once before he had let someone into his heart. It had been his fault when it had all gone sour, but from the day he had rejected Lily Evans help and had uttered the worst possible insult to her, he had closed his heart to love. He never expected his frozen heart to thaw, ever again. He had gone through so much with Lyrica. She had not only thawed his heart but made it possible for him to further open his heart and soul to an unconventional family.

Just as Harry stepped into the Mirror of Erised, Snape stretched out his hand to Lyrica...

1994 September 14th, 1:35am - Dumbledore's Office

Albus Dumbledore paced uneasily in his office. Behind him was the Mirror of Erised which he had enchanted precisely thirty-five minutes ago into a portgate. There was no knowing how long it might take for the portgate to form, nor was Albus to know for certain whether or not his Potions instructor and his four students were returning. Albus smiled grimly; at least he had planned for such a possible delay.

Fawkes suddenly let out a squawk and ruffled his feathers as the surface of the Mirror of Erised lost the power of reflection and shimmered. The Headmaster was immediately in front of the Mirror and steadied Ron Weasley as he stepped awkwardly out. Right behind him was an ashen-grey Hermione Granger. Ron turned slightly, her hand in his in a death grip and allowed her to lean against him. Draco emerged next and was caught and steadied by the Headmaster, Ron and Hermione. Harry came through and fell against Draco. Draco shot a silent plea to Ron who was the only one with a free hand. Ron roughly yanked Harry to his feet just as Snape emerged with the grace of someone who appeared to travel by portgate every single day.

"Don't let go!" Snape shouted so unexpectedly, that the hands that had begun to relax, only gripped tighter. Snape then faced the Mirror as it expelled one last traveller: Lyrica.

As Snape swept his lover into his arms, pandemonium broke out. There were shouts of surprise and joy from the teenagers. The Headmaster stepped slightly back and watched as Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Draco threw their arms around their teacher and the lovely young woman that was kissing Snape.

The Mirror of Erised began to shudder and Albus raised his voice over the cacophony, "I think it would be wise if everyone moved over by the fireplace!"

Snape ushered his family over to the large fireplace just as the first crack appeared in the mirror. As they watched, a second crack grew from the first one and the reflective surface of the mirror turned an oily black. More hairline cracks crawled eerily over the surface of the mirror. When it appeared the damage was finally finished, Albus waved his hand over the surface and sighed, not unhappily.

"It seems, my boy, that you found a way to destroy this Mirror," mused the Headmaster. He then turned his attention to Snape who had his arm around the woman's waist and was protectively surrounded by the teenagers. He was puzzled by the expression of distrust that was reflected upon all their faces. "It is good to see all of you returned, however, Headmistress Arcahnum, I was not certain I'd be seeing you again."

Lyrica gently disengaged herself from Snape's side and walked over to the old wizard. Had it not been for the twinkling blue eyes, she would not have recognised the youthful boy in the old man. "Mr. Dumbledore, you have changed."

Dumbledore nodded. "And you have not, Madame. You do realise that your appearance here now solves a 96 year old mystery?" She nodded for him to continue. "You disappeared under mysterious circumstances in April of 1899. The official explanation given was that you had chosen to leave the country to pursue personal Potions research. Professor Grailing took over as Headmaster. He had hopes of continuing in the position, but died a few days after term ended. Phineas Nigellus Black came out of retirement to take over the Headmaster position."

"Madame Arcahnum! A word, if you would?" The imperious voice came from the portrait of the past Headmaster, Phineas Nigellus Black.

Lyrica obediently went over to the portrait and curtsied. "Baron Black?"

The portrait of Black had dark blue eyes that narrowed nastily. "I have been waiting 96 years to give you what for, Madame. I was quite content in my retirement until you disappeared. I was not at all pleased to have taken up the mantle, dealing with these miserable, youthful wizards and witches, until my untimely, and thoroughly unnatural death through stress! I have no regrets for expunging your existence at Hogwarts from the Honored Roll!"

"That's quite enough!" snapped Snape as he cast a Silencing spell over the disagreeable, ex-Headmaster's portrait. Snape slipped his arm around Lyrica's waist.

"Albus," interjected Snape tersely to interrupt the reunion. "I would like to... brief you before you speak to the children and to Lyrica."

"They can all return to their houses, then, and perhaps a guestroom for..."

Snape firmly shook his head. "For tonight they may all stay in my quarters. I'd like to use your Floo."

Albus nodded. He watched, curiously, as Snape spoke quietly to the children, assuring them with a gentle brush of his fingers to their cheeks. Snape then took the Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. "Professor Snape's quarters!" The children went first and then Lyrica. Once the Floo had closed, Snape turned stiffly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he glared angrily at the Headmaster.

"Before I tell you anything, you meddlesome, old, wizard, I want to know how you entered our dreams and why you felt it necessary to use an Unforgivable Curse upon me."

Snape had some little satisfaction as the twinkle abruptly vanished from the older wizard's eyes. Dumbledore sighed wearily and returned to his desk, sitting down. He indicated that Snape ought to sit as well, but the younger wizard wasn't about to relax his stance. "I would guess that there was a reluctance to return to your time, then?"

"You guess? Surely you know the answer to that question, Albus! You are the one who violated our dreams!" he shouted.

"Actually, Severus, until this moment I did not know that any of you were at all unhappy about returning. However, I must ask this, do you truly think me capable of traveling back in Time just to assault you in your dreams?"

Snape's gaze became tight and narrow. "Am I to think otherwise?"

The Headmaster chuckled lightly. "I am hardly that powerful, my boy. If I were, I'd send a few nightmares to Voldemort and be done with him."

"Then explain yourself," Snape demanded with a growl.

"From your letter," Albus picked up an old, yellowed parchment that was well-creased. "I, of course, had ample warning of your trip earlier this evening. Since 1980 I have become intimate with the content of that letter, especially after you became my Potions instructor. As I came to know you, my boy, I knew that I would not see you, or Harry, again if I didn't plan in advance for your reluctance. I never was very good at creating spells, so I wasn't entirely certain just how this spell would work. It was a bit of Dark Magic, I'm afraid..."

"What are you babbling about?" griped Snape. His patience was wearing thin.

"A curse, to be honest," Dumbledore said quietly. "It is called Somnium Aliquantulus Somnium Mei. At the beginning of this year, I cursed you, and the children. The dreams would be triggered by... need and would act upon your fears. I did my best to make the dreams as benign as possible. Hopefully a gentle reminder." Dumbledore's expression drooped. "I take it they weren't that benign?"

"You used the Cruciatus Curse upon me to get my attention and you dropped Harry on his skull from a great height." Snape's voice was cold, toneless, and matter of fact. He was inwardly pleased by the appalled look that came over the Headmaster's features. "Is it possible it wasn't your intention for your dreams to be that... violent?"

Dumbledore was hurt by the sarcastic sneer in Snape's voice and did not bother to hide his expression from the younger wizard. "It was not."

Snape did not allow himself to be swayed by the Headmaster obvious distress at his anger. Although he was pleased to know that the content of the dreams had not been intentional, it was a Dark Arts curse the old man had used and it had caused he and Harry, and later Hermione, pain and fear. He could not forgive Dumbledore for having used such magic on them.

Over the next hour Snape gave the Headmaster the highlights of their life in 1898 to 1899. He purposefully left out incidents such as when the children all suffered from the flu, when the boys had fallen into the barrow, and Christmas. He concentrated on their research to find a way home. Finally Dumbledore asked the question he'd hoped to avoid the moment they'd stepped through the Mirror of Erised.

"I am surprised that you allowed Madame Arcahnum to leave her time, Severus. Was it her choice?"

Snape, who had seated himself some time ago, stiffened in his chair. He recalled the night before when Lyrica had come to his bed. That night was to be a memory cherished by them both, but as she had stood near the mirror, watching them as they stepped through, he knew he could not live on his memories. Not anymore. No matter how foolish, or possibly dangerous it was, he had grasped Lyrica by the hand and pulled her firmly to his side. He had not appreciated the gift of love when he'd been young, and had destroyed it with a thoughtless remark that he'd never had the courage to apologise properly for. Lyrica was his redemption, a gift he would respect and treasure.

"It was," Snape lied, although deep down he knew that had Lyrica been given a choice, she would have come with him without question.

The Potions Master rose to his feet. "I should return to Lyrica and the children now, Albus. What I've told you so far isn't everything. We were given a new... vision of the prophecy that I would like to discuss with you with Harry present. I'd like to excuse all the children from classes tomorrow. Perhaps with the excuse that they were each injured by Vohlfayr during detention?"

"Quite reasonable, Severus. I'll speak to Poppy about the subterfuge and make certain she keeps any snooping students away from the infirmary tomorrow. Do you intend to keep Madame Arcahnum and the children in your quarters tonight?"

Snape nodded as he rose to his feet. "I do. We've all had a full night's sleep so we have much to discuss between us. I'll talk to you in the morning, Albus."

Not having been in the castle for awhile, Snape chose to walk back to his quarters. He was pleased to find a few couples sneaking time together behind tapestries and he was quite satisfied in taking points from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. As soon as he walked through his secret door in the dungeons to his quarters he was set upon by Lyrica and the children. It was Lyrica's voice who shushed everyone, allowing Snape a moment to remove his outer robes and settle into his favorite chair. His large sofa was quickly filled with the teenagers- he frowned at Hermione who had automatically seated herself upon Draco's lap. Hermione slid reluctantly off the blonde's lap and beside him. Ron ended up sitting in front of the fire and Lyrica took the matching chair to the one Snape sat in, opposite him.

"First of all, until Harry and I can speak to Albus, you're all excused from classes tomorrow. You were injured during detention. For all intents and purposes, you are all quarantined in the infirmary."

"So what did you tell the Headmaster, Uncle Severus?" asked Draco.

"Nothing, really. Mostly about our research and our stay at Ashmere. We did, however, get to the matter of the dreams." He briefly settled his gaze on Harry and Hermione. "Albus used a spell... a curse, upon each of us at the beginning of the year. The curse would cause a realistic dream of himself reminding us of our purpose. He seemed quite appalled to learn what the content of the dreams were."

"And that's supposed to be all right?" snapped Harry. "A curse? He used Dark Magic on us?" Harry slammed back against the sofa cushions, scowling hotly at the flames in the fireplace.

"I have to agree with Harry," said Lyrica softly. "Does he not trust you? Is this how he's been directing your war against Volde..."

Snape interrupted her. "No. Do NOT say his name." Lyrica frowned questioningly at him. "Names have power, Lyrica." She nodded in understanding. "Harry, I know you're angry at Albus, but war is a difficult time and leaders are often called on to act in ways they normally wouldn't."

Draco squeezed Harry's upper arm. "I don't like it either, Harry, but we're all going to have to do things we don't like to get rid of You-Know-Who."

Harry glared and Snape and Draco. "That doesn't make it acceptable! Lyrica's right! He should have trusted us enough to know that we'd come back."

"Harry, listen to me," Snape spoke patiently, "I am not saying that I accept what the Headmaster did. Make no mistake, as much as I understand why he did what he did, I do not believe that makes it right. None of us had any say in the matter, and I agree, Albus should have trusted us. At the very least, he should have trusted me. Regardless, though, we know what was done and he will remove the curse tomorrow."

Harry pouted a few more seconds and then smiled resignedly at Snape. "So what happens now?"

Snape stared pointedly at Lyrica. "I suppose that's something you're wondering as well, dear lady?"

"Quite so, dear sir," replied Lyrica. Her green eyes sparkled in the fire light. "I didn't expect to be here."

Snape found himself the recipient of a smug smirk from Draco, a sly smile from Ron, a sweet smile approving of his actions from Hermione, and an open, Gryffindor grin from Harry. He sighed. He was mad to have brought Lyrica to their present, but he couldn't say that he regretted it. Their future was uncertain and he had decided that however long he and Lyrica might have beneath the auspices of the Dark Lord, they were meant to be together.

The Potions Master steepled his hands over his abdomen and tapped his fingertips together a few times. A rather wicked curl edged his lips as he drawled, "Well, impractical as it might sound, I was considering that our next step might be a hand-fasting ceremony." He lowered a half-lidded gaze toward Lyrica. "Tonight." Her reply was a simple, soft smile as her body relaxed in her chair.

"A what?" asked Harry dimly.

"A hand-fasting! A wizard wedding, Harry!" Hermione's hands wrapped delightedly around Draco's arm and he winced as she squeezed tightly. "Sorry, love," she whispered as she relaxed her grip and kissed the boy's cheek. "But why tonight, Uncle?"

"Normally I would spend a few days or weeks concocting a viable story that is acceptable, not only to the Ministry, but to the gossip-mill that is Hogwarts. We don't have that luxury as it would be impossible to hide Lyrica until such a story was prepared."

Draco smirked, "But you're Severus Snape, Uncle. You thought of one while walking down here, didn't you?"

"Indeed, Draco. So, my love, shall we?" Snape asked politely with a nod of his head.

"I agree, Severus. The sooner the better. By any chance, does your Headmaster have the authority to perform a hand-fasting?"

"As Albus is Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, I believe he is eminently qualified." Snape rose from his chair and his hand hovered over the green onyx box of Floo powder. "Hm. It is rather late..."

Harry piped up, "Seeing as how Professor Dumbledore cursed us, and gave us a few sleepless nights, I don't think he'd mind being disturbed."

Snape smirked. "I quite agree, Harry." He threw the Floo powder into the fire. "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore!"

There was a delay of a few minutes and then Dumbledore's white-haired head popped through the green flames. He had a purple nightcap on his head with moving stars and moons. "What may I do for you, Severus?"

"It's called the Room of Requirement," Albus said as he stifled a yawn. He paced back and forth before a blank expanse of wall opposite a large tapestry of Barnaby the Barmy teaching trolls to dance. "You think about what you need, and the room provides it for you." Albus had donned his ceremonial robes he wore when presiding over the Wizengamot. They were deep blue velvet trimmed in snow white ermine around the hem and the wide cuffs of the sleeves. Upon his head was a short, pointed cap that matched his robes. "A marvelous room I discovered one night when I managed to get lost in the castle and was in desperate need of..."

"Oh please, Albus! Do spare us that story," chided Minerva. Dumbledore chuckled and paced a second time in front of the wall. Minerva McGonagall had been wakened a few minutes ago and she glared at Snape. "I expect a full explanation, Severus. I wasn't even aware you'd been... dating." Snape frowned as Minerva shot an appraising glower at the young woman with the long, dark red hair at his side wearing a dark green velvet dress with a silver embroidered bodice.

"Here we go!" Interrupted the Headmaster as he finished pacing a third time.

A wide door swung open and the Headmaster graciously ushered everyone inside. Instead of a plain room, the Room of Requirement had provided an idyllic, outdoor setting for the hand-fasting. Flowers bloomed everywhere beneath a clear blue, Spring sky. A gentle breeze carried with it the scent of Meadow-Sweet, Bluebell, and Sweet Cicely. The floor was lush, thick grass that perfectly invited bare feet. Albus kicked off his velvet shoes and wiggled his toes. He smiled encouragingly to everyone. Hermione, Ron, Draco, and Harry divested themselves of their shoes and socks without any need for encouragement. Lyrica followed. Minerva sighed in exasperation, but she soon had her slippers off her feet as well. Snape wasn't inclined to take off his boots until Lyrica whispered in his ear.

"It is a symbolic connection to the power of the earth, Severus. A blessing for many children."

Snape's jaw dropped briefly and then he snapped it shut as he tossed a piercing glare at the sniggering behind him. "I think four is more than enough, don't you?" he snapped. Lyrica laughed and kissed his cheek and a tiny smile graced his lips as his love for her shone unabashedly in his onyx-coloured eyes.

"Oh look!" Hermione pointed toward a crown of flowers. She ran over to the wild rose bush it sat upon, picked it up, and brought it over to Lyrica. Lyrica put the crown of flowers onto her head. The crown was made from fresh tendrils of ivy woven with small, white Starflower. The tendrils of ivy spilled down over her loose hair.

"Come, children! Over here!" urged Dumbledore. While everyone had taken in the beautiful scenery, the Headmaster had moved over to a natural arch created by two Hawthorne trees whose branches were tangled overhead.

The teenagers and Minerva made their way over to Dumbledore, but Snape held back. Taking his wand from his sleeve, he glanced slyly at Lyrica as he divested himself of his boots. "Do not think I shall always cave so easily to your whims, Madame."

Lyrica curtsied. "Only when necessary, my love."

Snape extended his forearm and Lyrica rested her hand upon it. He then led her toward the Headmaster until they were standing before him. "A moment, Albus." Snape turned to the teenagers. "I have come to think of each of you as a part of my family. I would consider it an honor if you join this blessing and continue to consider me your Uncle and Lyrica your Aunt." Snape then turned his gaze to Harry. "As for you, Harry," he knelt down in front of the boy. "I made a promise to you that I would like to keep, if it is also your wish. Would you consent to becoming our son?"

Harry suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe and he was afraid he might topple off his feet. He was barely aware of Ron stepping up behind him to steady him with a hand on his shoulder. "I wouldn't have to go back to the Dursleys?" Harry cast an uncertain glance at the Headmaster.

Snape's head turned and he saw the beginning of a protest forming on Dumbledore's lips. The Potions Master's gaze hardened in warning for the older wizard to say nothing before he focused his attention on Harry again. "The legal side of an adoption will be problematic, Harry, but I'm certain we will have it sorted before summer. And, if we don't, you still will not have to worry about ever returning to those Muggles. I will always keep you safe."

Harry nodded and smiled shyly. He whispered, "I'd like to be your son. Thank you."

"Then come stand beside me, Harry." Snape rose to his feet and took Harry by the hand so that he was now standing between himself and Lyrica. Snape then turned and motioned for the other three to stand to his left. "I believe we're ready, Albus," said Snape.

A ribbon of green magic spiraled from Lyrica's heart to wrap around hers and Snape's hands. A similar ribbon of glittering silver emerged from Snape's heart, intertwining with the green and wrapping around their hands. Hermione sighed in wonder, having never witnessed a hand-fasting before. She was delighted to feel Draco's hand slip into hers as he stood beside her.

Albus voice rang out as he addressed the couple before him, "Severus Snape and Lyrica Arcahnum, do you both Vow to cherish, honor, and protect each other until the end of your days?"

There was no vocal reply. Snape had his wand out and tapped Lyrica's hand. His silver strand of magic curled upward until drifting into her heart. She sighed as the magic touched her. With her own wand, she tapped Snape's hand and her green strand of magic spun about until settling within his heart. A soft smiled graced his lips as her magic touched his.

At a nod from Dumbledore, Snape gathered his wife into his arms and kissed her. The ribbons of their magic exploded in a glittering shower of green and silver. There was a bit of polite applause and then the Headmaster spoke again.

"Harry, I need you to take Severus' right hand and Lyrica's left." Harry did so, glancing up at Snape and then Lyrica. Dumbledore tapped their hands and the ribbons of magic appeared again, green and silver, this time joined with crimson. "Severus and Lyrica, will you do honor to the parents of Harry James Potter and protect and love their son as if he were your own until eternity ends?"

"I do so Vow," said Snape quietly as he gave Harry's hand a firm squeeze.

"I do so Vow," said Lyrica and she bent down to kiss Harry's forehead.

"Harry James Potter, will you honor, obey, and love Severus and Lyrica Snape as your second parents until your own eternity ends?"

"Uhm... yes," said Harry with a smile.

"You need to seal the Vow, Harry," encouraged Snape.

Harry's cheeks flushed, but he did not lose his smile. "I er... do so... Vow!"

Harry watched as the three ribbons of magic wove together and then settled over Harry's heart until they vanished. As he felt the magic, and the love from his two new parents, fresh tears slid down his cheeks.

"Stand beside Professor McGonagall, Harry." Dumbledore gave Harry a pleased nod and watched as Minerva drew Harry to her side. The staunch Head of Gryffindor sniffled slightly and her eyes sparkled. "Draco, Ron, and Hermione, if you three would come over now?" Dumbledore directed the other three teens in between Lyrica and Snape and they each rested a hand on the couple's clasped hands. He then tapped his wand to all of their hands. A ribbon of gold magic rose up from Ron, a ribbon of blue from Hermione, and a ribbon of deep emerald from Draco. "Severus and Lyrica Snape, do you accept Hermione Jean Granger, Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Draco Malfoy, as a part of your extended family? Will you provide them with protection, comfort, and love as you would to any in your family?"

Lyrica and Snape both spoke, "We do so Vow."

Five colourful ribbons of magic wove together becoming one multicoloured ribbon that split in three, settling over the hearts of the three teenagers before fading.

"Congratulations, my boy," smiled Dumbledore. "Not only do you have a wife, but a son, a niece, and two nephews."

"Indeed, Severus," said Minerva archly. "I'm still a bit in the dark, but I do offer you my sincerest congratulations."

Snape inclined his head to Minerva.

"Minerva, I believe you're going to need to cancel your morning classes tomorrow." Dumbledore slipped the Transfiguration professor's arm through his. "I'm going to need your help with introducing our new Madame Snape legally." Dumbledore turned back and looked over his shoulder at Snape. "Severus, I'll expect you and your new bride for breakfast. Harry, please come to my office after you four have breakfast."

Snape nodded and Harry spoke quietly, "Yes, sir."

Dumbledore and Minerva left the Room of Requirement, leaving the new family to their celebration.

Snape, in his severe teaching robes stood with his arms crossed over his chest looking at the sleeping forms of four teenagers on transfigured beds in his sitting room down in the dungeons. Lyrica, dressed in a simple, grey gown, came up behind her husband and slipped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his shoulder.

"What are you thinking of, Severus?" she asked softly in the silent morning.

"This is a sight I never thought I'd see in my private quarters." He smirked slightly and turned his head to glimpse his wife. "You're not a sight I ever thought to see in my private quarters."

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his smooth cheek. "Does this mean no one will ever see the... what did they call you?"

"The 'greasy git of the dungeons'. I believe that is one Mr. Weasley's twin brothers came up with."

"So, my husband, is he gone? The 'greasy git'?"

"Hardly," he scowled. "I still have a school of dunderheads to teach Potions to, and unfortunately, one of those dunderheads is Mr. Longbottom, the Gryffindor bane of my existence."

There was a stirring from one of the beds, and Harry's voice piped up sleepily, "Does this mean I'm no longer a thorn in your side? Dad?"

Snape moved to stand over Harry and gave him a small, sardonic smile. "I expect you to uphold tradition, Mr. Potter, until such time all charades are no longer needed." Harry sniggered and yanked the covers over his head. "Another half hour, Harry. Then get everyone up and call Dobby to bring all of you breakfast."

Harry mumbled a 'yes, sir, Dad' from under his covers as Lyrica took Snape's hand, squeezed it, and led him out of their quarters and to the Headmaster's office.

Minerva McGonagall had wisely met with Albus an hour before Snape and Lyrica arrived. She listened quietly, imbibing her tea, as Dumbledore related the story of Snape's disastrous detention and the resultant time travel.

"So now Severus has a wife. His rival's son is now his, in addition, two other Grryfindors call him Uncle and his godson is now his nephew. I do hope, Albus, that there was at least some thought given to his current duties with the Order. Although we've yet to know where You-Know-Who is hiding, it is Severus who has been invaluable in keeping up with his old associations. How can he think to continue that with a wife and a son?"

"I won't be, Minerva." With his wife's hand lightly on his arm, Snape and Lyrica walked into the Headmaster's office. "Good morning, Albus."

"Good morning, Severus and Madame Snape." Dumbledore ushered them politely over to a square table where breakfast was just appearing. "Do help yourselves."

Snape poured coffee for himself, ignoring the food. Lyrica sat beside her husband, eating modestly, choosing to allow him to answer the Headmaster's question.

"Before you explain your intriguing reply to Minerva, Severus, I'd like you to know that Minerva has already spoken to her nephew in London and he is working up the legal paperwork the Ministry will need on Madame Snape. He will come by later this afternoon for the detail work."

Snape eyed Minerva. "Your nephew? Isn't that the one who is a master forger who has eluded the authorities for almost a decade?"

Minerva's eyebrows arched disdainfully, "Andrew Brody is an artist, Severus!"

Snape smirked, "So he is. Has the Louvre yet discovered that the Mona Lisa is a fake?" He chuckled at Minerva's snort.

"Madame Snape, by way of a wedding gift, I have something for you," interjected the Headmaster. He handed Lyrica a thick scroll.

Taking the scroll, Lyrica unsealed it, then unrolled it. "Ashmere! Severus, it's the deed to Ashmere!"

"How did you manage this, Albus?" asked Snape.

"For a short time, the house fell into the hands of the Ministry. The house and its property were passed around to various Ministry officials over the years, but no one kept it for long. Not long after I defeated Grindelwald, I began looking for properties that might prove useful in the future," he sighed sadly. "I had a feeling, even then, that Grindelwald would not be the worst of the Dark Wizards I'd see in my time, so I began to plan. I bought houses and land, putting them under Fidelius, and when I could, Unplottable wards as well. As you know, I've used many of my personal properties as safe houses for the Order. Ashmere was to be one and I have it under Fidelius as well as Unplotted. The problem is, there is an inhabitant that insists upon scaring everyone who uses the premises off of them."

A smile tugged at Snape's lips and when he could no longer hold it back, he laughed. Albus smiled at him. "I take it you know who this inhabitant is?"

Snape nodded. "Oh yes. A rather solid ghost of a very stubborn mien. Once King of England, Henry the VIII resides there and he's very protective of the place."

Lyrica nodded to the Headmaster. "Thank you so much for the return of my home, Albus. I'll need to find an elf, now. My poor house elfs were already very old by the time I was ten."

Minerva's eyebrow arched as she spoke, "What about that one that adores Mr. Potter, Albus? He tends to be a nuisance in the kitchens, but he might like being attached to the boy's family."

"Dobby? Well, we'll let Madame Snape speak to him. Not everyone wants a free elf." At Lyrica's questioning expression, Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You may wish to hear the story of Dobby from your son, Madame."

Minerva saw Snape pouring his second cup of coffee. "Severus, perhaps you'd like to explain your cryptic remark as you came into the Headmaster's office? With your new responsibilities, is it really quite safe for you to continue with your spying efforts for the Order?"

Snape noted Dumbledore's hawkish, interested look and spoke carefully, "It would be cruel of me to continue with those duties after I promised Harry, and his friends, that I intended to look out for them. However, even if I wanted to continue, I cannot. The day before our return, my... status amongst the Dark Lords Inner Circle took a dramatic change." Putting down his half-finished cup of coffee, Snape quickly unbuttoned the cuff of his frock coat and shirt, and pulled up the sleeve over his left arm. The forearm, where the Dark Mark had long resided like an infected scab, was gone. There was only healthy skin.

"Oh bloody Merlin!" gasped Minerva, dropping her fork.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed critically. In that moment, Snape knew that the Headmaster had been thinking of a way to keep his spy at his duties. The ex-Death Eater, and now ex-spy for the Order of the Phoenix, glared so dangerously at the Headmaster, that the older wizard pushed himself up and away from the table, away from that accusing look.

"A glamour, Severus?" the Headmaster asked blithely, although he was covering up his surprise badly.

Snape rolled down his sleeve. He was about to speak, when his wife rose to her feet and moved to stand in front of Dumbledore. Her emerald gaze froze him in mid-step. "I had considered forgiving you for the dreams you caused our son and his friends, but I think not. I can already see that you're not at all pleased that my husband is released from the slavery of that Dark Wizard. Look past that Dark Mark, if you're half the wizard I've been told and see that Severus can still do great work for your Order, as will I."

"Have you something to bring to our fight, Madame Snape?" Dumbledore asked civilly.

Lyrica glanced over at her husband and he nodded once. "I'm the one that removed the Dark Mark." She allowed that knowledge to sink in before continuing. "I know a magic much older than You-Know-Who's. It was a simple thing for me to remove that vile abomination from my husband using a magic I have already begun teaching to Severus, my son, and his friends. If you wish it, I will teach others." She stepped closer to the older wizard, and although he was now taller than her, she clearly intimidated him and Snape smirked in appreciation. "I might even consent to teach you, young Albus."

Minerva choked, and then laughed sharply at seeing the Headmaster so clearly bested. Dumbledore sighed heavily and lowered his head. "I do admit that the loss of my spy changes many plans. However, I am, truly pleased, that he no longer is obligated to risk his life in that manner." The Headmaster took Lyrica lightly by her forearm and drew her back toward Snape. He glanced at the young woman, and then settled his gaze seriously upon the younger man. "I have not always done well by you, Severus, and for that I do apologise. I do not ask for, nor expect forgiveness; at least until this war is finally ended." The Headmaster returned to his seat and ate a piece of bacon. "Now," he smiled, "perhaps you might enlighten me as to this old magic you've been teaching, Madame Snape?"

For the rest of the meal, both Lyrica and Snape explained to Albus and Minerva about Ley Line Magic. Minerva knew a little about this type of magic, though she called it 'Natural Magic'. Several of her ancestresses had practiced the art. Snape then talked about creating a Defense Association which might teach this magic to the students along with spells useful in battle.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, but it wasn't Harry that was waiting to come into Dumbledore's office, it was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Alastor Moody clumped into the office at the Headmaster's behest. His swivelling eye alighted on Snape and the man's already twisted face, managed to twist further. His fearsome gaze then fell onto the young woman seated beside the Potions professor.

"Alastor! Good morning! What might I do for you?" asked Albus.

"Ye weren't at breakfast, Albus, so I came up here to speak to ye. P'raps I've intruded, though."

Snape held back the riposte on the tip of his tongue and merely chose to glare at the ex-Auror. "I was just discussing a mishap that befell some of our students in the Forbidden Forest last night."

"Oh? Was Potter, by chance, injured?"

"Blood Faeries," remarked Snape dryly. "I don't suppose you might know how a nest of those vicious fae found their way to the forest, Moody?"

"Couldn't say that I do, Snape," he snarled, his lip curling upward rather distressingly. "However, I do recall that Dark Lord of yours experimented with them for a time, didn't he?"

Snape's gaze darkened and his voice lowered warningly, "He's not my Dark Lord."

Moody snorted derisively. "Long's you bear his mark, he's yours, Snape! No denying it."

"I can assure you, sir, he has no mark," asserted Lyrica.

"Aye? An' who're you, missy?"

Lyrica cast a quick glance at Snape, deferring to him. "Keep a civil tongue in your head, Moody. This is Madame Lyrica Snape." His gaze narrowed as he gauged the auror's response. "My wife."

Moody was caught off-balance by the revelation, but only for a moment. He shot back, "How'd you keep the Mark from her, Snape? Did ye find a glamour that covered up the ugly thing?" To Snape's indignation, the man grasped his left arm and forcibly ripped the sleeve of the frock coat and the silk shirt sleeve beneath. He jabbed the tip of his wand to Snape's bare forearm and chanted a revealing spell. Nothing happened.

"As you can see..." snarled Snape as he jerked his arm out of the man's grip.

"How's this possible?" demanded Moody. "Nuthin' can remove the Dark Mark!"

"It is possible, Alastor," confirmed Albus. "Severus' wife has made it possible."

Lyrica smiled politely at the old warhorse. Moody grunted and then aimed his moving eye at Snape. "No Dark Mark... a wife...? Anymore surprises, Snape?"

Snape smiled smugly, "As you now have two of my secrets, you might as well know the third. We've adopted Harry."

"Albus!" snapped Moody. "I know you trust this turncoat, but surely yer not endorsing an adoption?"

"I am, Alastor. Due to circumstances I shall not go into here, Harry is unable to return to his relatives. If Professor Snape and his wife did not agree to formally adopt Harry, you know that the Ministry would have put Harry's placement up for petition."

Moody blanched. "Fudge is an imbecile!"

"Be that as it may, Alastor, the last thing we would want is for Harry's welfare to wind up in the hands of... someone like Lucius Malfoy."

Moody scowled at Snape. The arrogant man stood smug and sublime as his wife went to stand next to him. Knowing when to fight and to retreat were one of the disciplines that had kept Moody alive for so long and in this instance, he retreated.

"That's done, then," he said stepping away from the Potions Master and his small family.

"Was there something you needed, Alastor?" asked Albus.

Moody paused, "Ahhh, no. Seems I forgot. I'll come back later." The old, ex-Auror turned stiffly and left the office as quickly as he could manage. "Move yer carcass, Potter!" A moment later, a slightly bewildered Harry entered the office.

"Did I do something to make him mad?" observed Harry.

"Professor Moody is just preoccupied, Harry," Dumbledore replied with a smile to the boy. "Are you well this morning, Harry?"

"I'm fine, sir." Harry glanced over at Snape's torn sleeve. "Are you all right, Severus?"

"Fine," Snape spoke in a low, half growl. He felt a tugging on his torn sleeve. "Hm? Er, yes?" he turned to acknowledge Lyrica.

"Would you like me to fix your sleeve?" He nodded, still pre-occupied with the disagreeable encounter with Alastor Moody.

"We have a few things to discuss before you can return to your friends, Harry." Dumbledore touched Snape's hand. "Severus. Are you with us?"

"I am, Headmaster."

"Very good. The first thing I want to get out of the way is the petition for adoption of one Harry James Potter. As head of the Wizengamot, I do have the authority to approve the petition, which I've already done. I just need your signature, Harry, and yours, Severus, and of course yours, Madame Snape." Handing over a quill, they all signed the petition. "The adoption papers will be drawn up this afternoon. Minerva has consented to write a letter of recommendation, as will I. Once we can reveal your marriage, I'm certain that the Wizarding Children Services will have no trouble approving the adoption. However, be prepared that they may wish to inspect Harry's home."

"Harry will have a room in our quarters here at Hogwarts, but he also has his room at Ashmere," replied Snape.

Dumbledore frowned slightly. "I'm certain you'll agree, Severus, that it would be best to keep Ashmere between us. It will be safer that way for your family."

Snape nodded. "I do agree."

"Fine. Harry's formal living quarters will be here, then." Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "Harry, as per the adoption papers, you will be required to live with your father and mother for at least three weeks prior to formalisation of the adoption. I'm sure you'll not have a problem with that?"

"Could my room be sound-proofed?" he said with a straight face.

"Don't be cheeky," sniped Snape. Harry chuckled. Lyrica blushed and then laughed. Minerva pretended not to know what the joke was about.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled madly for a moment and then he steered the conversation to the topic at hand. "Would you like to tell me now, Severus, what you wouldn't tell me last night?"

Snape straightened visibly. "I believe our presence in the past may have affected the prophecy. On Christmas day we went to Yule Celebration in Hogsmeade. A seer, who appeared to be acting the role of a fake, was playing the part of the Holly King and giving out visions to all who dropped coin into his goblet. Harry felt... compelled?" He glanced at the boy for confirmation and Harry nodded firmly. "He felt compelled to drop his own coin. This is what he was told: 'a seer's words have touched your life before, young man. Heed it not, for what was your past, in this present you shall change. The mirror opens the gate to your future and warns you to hold fast to new friends. Darkness will arrive in the fifth year, my child. When he speaks, do not listen, and do NOT hesitate."

All was quiet as the Headmaster thought over this prophecy. When he finally spoke, his gaze was levelled unnervingly at Harry. "Tell me, Harry, did you feel this was genuine?"

Harry swallowed dryly. "Well... he was right about the mirror."

"Your feelings, my child. When you heard this, did you feel the truth of it?" Persisted Dumbledore.

"I... uhm..." Harry's thoughts drifted back to that snowy day in Hogsmeade just seconds after the Holly King had given him his short vision.

Harry was frozen. Just as his body began to tremble, Snape slid an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close. "It's all right, Harry," said Snape softly.

Harry gripped the older man's arm. "That was real, Snape!" Harry's voice was a strangled whisper. "Why did I do that? I couldn't stop myself."

Harry nodded slowly. "It's true. I have no doubt of it."

"I shall accept this one as valid, then. I am not, however, willing to discount the first prophecy entirely, which is why I believe I must tell you what you do not know of it."

Snape scowled, "What are you talking about, Albus?"

"What haven't you told me now?" demanded Harry.

"I had hoped I would not need to tell you this until Voldemort forced my hand, but if the prophecy Harry received is correct, we will be facing our final battle next year." Albus dropped his head into his hands for a brief moment, before raising his head. "You only know of the first half of the prophecy." The anger smoldering in Snape's eyes was nothing compared to the hurt and betrayal in Harry's eyes. Dumbledore spoke the first half of the prophecy that was known; the portion that was responsible for sending Voldemort to kill Harry's parents.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches
Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies
And the Dark Lord will mark him as equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not

There was silence for a moment longer and then Dumbledore added the final phrase of the prophecy:

... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" blurted out Harry angrily. The breakfast dishes began to rattle ominously and the Headmaster's cup of tea shattered. "Neither can live while the other survives? I've got to die?" Harry's voice was now shrill and panicked. Lyrica went to him and he pulled away sharply.

"Harry, calm down!" commanded Snape as another teacup shattered. Harry's wild and angered magic only became worse and a glass timepiece shattered.

"I HAVE TO DIE!" screamed Harry in complete panic.

Snape forcibly pulled Harry into his arms, wrapping them tightly and protectively around the boy. He whispered into his ear, "Somnus." Harry's body became almost boneless as the spell dropped him into sleep. Picking the boy up, Snape rose to his feet and handed him over to Lyrica. "Keep him asleep until I get back." He threw Floo powder into the fireplace and sent Lyrica and the sleep charmed child back to his quarters.

"Have you no sense?" shouted Snape to Dumbledore. "I thought it was bad enough to know there was more to that damn prophecy then you told us, but knowing what the final piece was, how could you have been so thoughtless as to say it in front of him?" Snape's fist rapped in rage down upon the tabletop.

The Headmaster spoke wearily. "Severus, we cannot discuss this until you calm yourself." He glanced pointedly around his office at various other time pieces and relics that were vibrating ominously.

Snape slammed himself down into his chair and closed his eyes. He enforced his Occlumency shields, forcing down his anger. By the time he opened his eyes, he noted that Minerva was gone.

"I thought you might prefer discussing this just with me, Severus."

The younger wizard nodded, thankful for at least that much. "I still can't believe you said that in front of my son, Albus. You know how Harry is and this is going to eat him alive." Snape rose to his feet again and began to pace. Dumbledore banished the breakfast table. "I also have to ask what Harry did, whatever does that mean, that last part?"

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I believe it speaks to what I've suspected since Harry's encounter in his first year with Voldemort. We know for certain that he has more than dabbled in the Necromantic Arts. He is able to possess bodies. It takes a great deal of magic to do so and his soul requires a strong body with an equally strong source of magic. His Naga supports him now, but I believe his ultimate goal isn't to kill Harry, but to possess his body and to steal his magic. After all, he does believe that Harry is his equal." Snape stopped his pacing and stared at Albus.

"You won't dare tell that theory to Harry," he warned heavily.

"I promise I will not do so, Severus, but you must understand, I believe that eventuality to be more than a theory. The prophecy you brought us, I feel may support that. The admonition that he not listen to anything Voldemort says leads me to suspect that he may have to incant a spell. It would be folly for Harry to hesitate in such a moment."

"Harry's prophecy also says to ignore Sybil's prophecy. It may be that none of that prophecy matters now." Snape tried to quash the hopefulness in his voice.

Dumbledore twisted his fingers in his beard, a habit Snape had long ago learned was one of indecision. The habit made him nervous and entirely too conscious of the fallibility of the older man. The Headmaster stilled his hands, rose to his feet and took a moment to stroke Fawkes' feathers. "I was... wrong to have spoken the final piece of the prophecy in front of Harry, Severus. It may, as you say, be nothing more than useless words now. What is it you are always telling me?"

"Prophecies once spoken are often self-fulfilling," Snape intoned as though it were a phrase he repeated as often as his opening lecture to first year students in his Potions class.

Dumbledore smiled, but there was no accompanying twinkle in his eyes and for some reason, as much as he hated the manipulative and over-cheerful twinkle, its loss bothered Snape. "I would speak to Harry, but that is no longer my place, Severus. As his father, now, your voice will have more weight, and more assurance than mine." Snape nodded in acknowledgement. "If you wouldn't mind, I would like to speak to your wife before dinner this evening. I have a job in mind for her as it would not do for her to rattle around in your quarters and I'm certain you would wish to keep her here for now."

"We'll expect you at six o'clock, then." He left the office, choosing once more to release some of his concern and anger during his walk down to the dungeons. He was thankful that class was in session which meant he wouldn't be running into any students or his Slytherins.

He hated all these damned prophecies. Foolish words and superstition that nevertheless were ruling all their paths from him to the Headmaster to the Dark Lord. Snape smiled grimly, though, as his belief was even more firm that the Dark Lord's unerring obsession with the original prophecy would be his downfall. It had almost destroyed him once already. If they were fortunate, it would do so again. However, neither prophecy would be the end of his son, or any of his children. He would not miss spying for the Order. Not when he had an entire school of innocents to protect.

Reaching the wall that cleverly hid the door to his quarters, he touched the dark stone, whispered the password, and as the door shimmered into view, he opened it.

"He can't die!" gasped Hermione. With a sinking heart, Snape knew that Lyrica was relating the events in the Headmaster's office.

"Harry will not die, Hermione." He touched the crown of the girl's head and she leaned against his hip.

"It's bloody nonsense!" spat Draco.

"I tend to agree, Draco," Snape accepted Lyrica's quick embrace. "Where is Harry?"

"I've put him on your... our bed at the moment," Lyrica replied with a slight smile.

Brushing his fingertips to Lyrica's cheek, he strode past her into his bedroom. Harry lay still upon the dark blue, velvet comforter. "Finite Incantatum," Snape said softly as he sat down beside the boy on the edge of the bed.

"I don't want to die!" he cried out, sitting up rapidly. He quieted as he realised he was no longer in Dumbledore's office. "You put me to sleep!" He accused as he scowled angrily.

"You were becoming hysterical and I needed my own chance to yell at the Headmaster."

"Hys... what? You yelled at Dumbledore?"

"Rather my right, don't you think, when the man distressed my son." One side of Harry's mouth lifted in a tentative smile. "Do you find my anger with the Headmaster amusing, or me?"

"Oh!" the beginning smile dropped away. "No, I wasn't thinking anything was funny, sir. I just... well, I think it's only now starting to sink in that I'm your... your son." The smile came back, a little bigger, but slightly shy.

"Harry, you do know that I chose to adopt you not just because of my promise, don't you?"

"I uhm..." Harry was somewhat puzzled at the odd question. Of course that's what he thought. The one thing he'd learned about his professor was that he took his promises, his duties, and his responsibilities to others very seriously. He had hoped that Snape wanted him because he loved him, but he wasn't sure about that. It seemed enough that he had a home, two parents, and he'd never have to return to the Dursleys.

Snape's fingers wrapped lightly around Harry's hand. "I chose to make you my son, not purely in a legal sense, but in a magical sense as well, Harry. The binding ritual that Professor Dumbledore presided over last night could not be performed by someone you didn't love and who didn't love you. None of those rituals could have been done without love as the base."

Tears glittered wetly in Harry's eyes, and embarrassed that he might burst into joyful tears, he threw his arms around Snape's neck and embraced him. Snape's arms wrapped easily around Harry in a gesture that would have felt uneasy and stiff months ago. His hand stroked the back of Harry's head for a moment before letting him go.

"Thanks, Dad," Harry hiccuped.

"I wanted to be certain you knew that, Harry, so that you'd believe me when I tell you that I will not let you die. You may be fated to meet the Dark Lord on the field of battle, but I will be there with you. I will train you to be strong, as will your mother. I will do the same for Draco, Ron, and Hermione, who feel as close in my heart as do you." His look was stern and serious. "I am a possessive man, Harry, and I will not easily allow anyone to hurt that which I claim as mine."

"We love you, too, Uncle Severus!" crowed Draco.

Snape turned to see that Ron, Draco and Hermione stood in the doorway with Lyrica behind them. "You're all cheeky brats," he muttered with a smirk.

It was not easy for the time traveler's despite how well they had hoped to settle back into their old lives, and in the case of Lyrica, her new one.

Draco would have been completely isolated if it hadn't been for frequent visits to his godfather, and late night correspondence to Hermione through Ron's 'Pen Pal Parchment'. Ron had been able to add in a further charm that allowed for private communication, mostly after Harry had complained about having to read Draco and Hermione's 'kissy-face' talk. It was while Ron was working on the privacy charm that the teenagers realised that just as they could read everything, so could Snape. Any problem Ron had been having with applying the charm of privacy to the parchments was gone with that incentive.

Slumping onto his bed, Draco waved a hand to put up a muffling spell, a privacy spell, and sealed the curtain of his bed shut. He smiled to himself; he was really getting the hang of the wandless Ley Line Magic. Hermione was better, though. Draco was able to tap into a Ley Line, but only when he didn't use his wand. If he tried while using his wand, his spells had a distressing habit of causing magical feedback. So far it hadn't been dangerous, but the resultant tingling shock was unpleasant. Hermione was able to tap into a Ley Line without any effort. She had become sensitive to the magic that surrounded the Earth and discovered that connecting herself to it was no different than taking a breath of air into her lungs. Her difficulty, though, came in her wand work. She had grace and speed when using her wand, but trying to channel her enhanced magic through her wand actually caused the strength of her spells to suffer. Her spells were stronger without a wand, but she had yet to discipline her control. Practice would remedy that, though, and Draco had agreed with Lyrica that Hermione would be a formidable warrior once she had that control.

Taking out his Pen Pal Parchment, Draco tapped his wand and muttered the privacy spell, "Secretum Hermione Granger." He began writing.

Are you there, love?

Just waiting for you, D.

D? You are mad, aren't you?

I shouldn't be, but it did sting because it sounded like you really meant it.

Draco sighed heavily as he recalled the scene that had happened in the courtyard. He and Harry had gotten into an argument. Just a bit of tossing insults back and forth. Draco insulted Potter's parents, the Weasleys and it had smoothly included a nasty little 'Mudlblood' epithet aimed at Hermione. The look of hurt in her eyes practically unravelled him and just as he was stupidly going to apologise and ruin the entire farce, Professor Moody turned him into a ferret! Thank Merlin Potter had grabbed him and taken him away for 'some fun' as he told Moody, before the scary bastard could have bounced him to death. A quick trip to the infirmary had him restored.

I am sorry, Hermione. I hate this. It scares me as to how easy it is to joke around about Muggles being punished. I never realised how close I was to being like Lucius.

There has to be something we can do, or Sev can do, Drake. How are you going to last for another year and a half? And, I am sorry that Prof. Moody turned you into a ferret. Are you all right, now?

Yeah. I don't... wait, there's an owl.

Disturbed by the pecking at his window, Draco lowered his wards and slid off his bed. At the window was his father's owl, Aelius. He opened the window and quickly removed the letter from his father. As he read it, the color drained from his face. He shooed the owl out the window, without feeding it, and snatched his hand back just before the owl could catch it in his beak. The owl let out a screech and Draco slammed the window shut. He jumped back onto his bed, put the wards in place and grabbed the Pen Pal Parchment.

Is everything all right?

Draco?

Letter from Lucius. I have to go talk to Sev. I'll tell you about it later, all right?

All right, Drake. I love you.

I love you, too, My.

Draco waited for the writing to fade and then he tucked the parchment back into a niche in the headboard of his bed. With a swipe of his hand, his wards around his bed were gone. Grabbing his robes, he left the dormitory and headed for Snape's office.

"A ferret?" asked Snape in shock as he stared from his chair in his sitting room at Lyrica.

She nodded. "Harry had the good sense to bring him to the infirmary. I don't understand what Professor Moody's problem is, Severus. Does he hate all Slytherins or just Draco? Does he not realise he could have seriously injured the child?"

"Moody is a product of war, Lyrica. He still thinks he can make his own rules which is one of the reasons he's no longer an Auror. Did you speak to Albus about this incident?"

Lyrica nodded. "I sent him a report, as I do with any serious injury. The Headmaster seemed to feel that since Draco was unharmed that there was no need to speak to the professor, other than to remind him that students cannot be transfigured as a punishment. He then awarded Harry 50 points for taking Draco to the infirmary."

Snape scowled. He was about to say something else when a low, soft gong sounded. He rose from his chair and briefly brushed his lips to Lyrica's cheek. "A student at my office door. I'll return in a moment."

A few minutes later Snape opened the door of his office to a very agitated Draco Malfoy. "He's coming here. He's heard the rumours about Lyrica and says he knows you never married in secret, and he's curious about you adopting Harry. He's... he's..." Draco wavered slightly as he began to hyperventilate.

"Sit down," ordered Snape as he took the letter from Draco's hand. "Lower your head and breathe through your nose." Draco tried and promptly fell forward, fainting. Tossing the letter onto his desk, he hauled Draco back up into the chair and summoned smelling salts. Breaking the capsule under the boy's nose, Draco shot back to consciousness.

"He wants to send me to Durmstrang!" Draco's eyes were wide, pleading for help, as he looked up at his godfather.

Snape took a small phial of Calming Potion from his pocket and gave it to the panicked boy. "Drink it, and then sit there, quietly, as I read the letter." As Draco drank the potion, Snape retrieved the letter from his desk. He quickly read it.

Draco,

My curiosity is too great to rely upon Ministry gossip and conjecture about the recent events at Hogwarts. Expect me this Saturday in a quasi-official capacity for the Board of Governors. I know well that Severus did not get married after leaving Hogwarts. He was entirely too busy serving our family friend. I also wish to look more into this farce of an adoption of our family friend's enemy, Harry Potter. You've given me little more than the word of mouth that is echoed by the jumped up puppet, Fudge.

Finally, I have decided that your time at Hogwarts must come to an end. There are far too many unsavory elements at that school for my taste. I have secured a transfer for you to Durmstrang. There, at least, I know that you will be properly trained to enter the family business. Be packed and prepared to leave as soon as I've completed my business at Hogwarts.

Lucius Malfoy

"Everyone says Durmstrang is a Death Eater training ground," muttered Draco with a haunted voice.

"Draco?" Snape took the boy's chin in his hand and forced him to look up at him. "I will make certain that Lucius does not remove you from Hogwarts. I promised to take care of you, and I shall, no matter what." He let go of Draco's chin and handed the letter back to him. "Write a reply to your father letting him know that you'll be ready to do as he wishes."

"But, but... I don't..." The Slytherin rose unsteadily to his feet.

Snape turned the boy to face him and caught his grey-eyed stare with his own dark and steady gaze. "If I have to kill Lucius in front of the entire student body of Hogwarts to keep you from leaving, I will not hesitate to do so. Do you understand, Little Dragon?" Draco nodded. "Good, now go back to bed and be prepared to reply to the letter in the morning."

A week later on a Saturday morning, Draco was up before breakfast and went to Snape's quarters. A bleary-eyed Harry Potter opened the hidden door and glared at Draco. Draco pushed Harry aside roughly, but as soon as the door closed, he smiled.

"Hey, Scarhead."

"Mornin' Goldilocks. Why are you up so early?"

"Lucius is coming today."

"Ohhhh. So he's coming to nose around and find out what's going on?"

Draco nodded. "Did Severus tell you? Lucius wants to remove me from Hogwarts."

"What? Why?" Harry went into the little kitchen and began to make tea.

"He thinks there are too many Muggle-born students here. Probably doesn't like Dumbledore's philosophy either. He thinks it's all a bad influence on me." Draco was pacing nervously. "Can you believe he wants to send me to Durmstrang?"

"I've never heard of Durmstrang," said Harry steeping the tea.

"They teach the Dark Arts. The rumour is that they're a training ground for future Death Eaters. The Headmaster, Igor Karkarov, was a Death Eater. Probably still is, now that I think about it."

Harry walked out of the kitchen, shoved a cup of tea in Draco's hand, and nudged him over to the small dining table. "If that doesn't calm you, maybe you ought to ask Dad or Mum for a Calming Potion."

Draco seated himself reluctantly and sipped at the steaming liquid. "Dad and Mum, huh?" he smirked.

"Yeah. Lyrica said I ought to try and get used to it for when the Wizarding Children Services visit. It still feels a little weird, and it doesn't help that I call Sev... Dad professor outside of the apartment."

"I know the feeling. So, WCS is definitely coming?"

Harry nodded. "They like Mum, but they're not real fond of Dad."

"I can see that," smirked Draco, "Kind of odd that the Boy-Who-Lived is the son of an ex-Death Eater."

Both boys drank their tea in silence until Snape emerged from the bedroom, adjusting his teaching robes on his shoulders. "Harry, I'd like you to spend the day with Hermione and Ron. I don't want Lucius Malfoy to get anywhere near you."

"I'll go meet them for breakfast," agreed Harry as he rose from the table. "Can you give Draco a Calming Potion, Dad?" he whispered as he passed Snape. His father nodded. The door closed behind Harry and just as Snape summoned a Calming Potion, the flames in the fireplace rose up and changed from orange to a weak green.

"Severus!" came the Headmaster's voice. "I require the presence of you, your wife, and Mr. Malfoy."

"Give us fifteen minutes, Headmaster," Snape replied. The flames returned to their normal colour. Draco was breathing somewhat easier, but he was still very nervous. "Draco, when we go to see the Headmaster, I need you to hold your tongue. Don't greet Lucius, other than with a nod. Stay close to my side."

Draco frowned. "What do you have planned, Severus? Are you really going to kill him?"

"No. Only as a last resort," he smirked. "I have decided to fight Lucius Malfoy legally."

Draco wasn't able to inquire further as a petite, rather orange-haired woman, wearing glasses and dressed in official Ministry robes stepped through the green flames of the Floo. Right behind her came the imposing auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Good morning, Mr. Snape. Is this the child?" she glanced over at Draco and he smiled weakly.

"This is Draco Malfoy. Draco, I'd like you to meet Emily Zanthera, Deputy Head of Wizarding Childrens Services."

"A slight correction, Mr. Snape. After reading the file you sent me last week, I have been accorded the authority to act on behalf of all WCS." She grinned and tucked a strand of her orange hair behind her ear.

Snape glanced at the tall, black wizard, who nodded at him. "The reason for Auror Shacklebolt's presence, I gather?"

Kingsley spoke, "Lucius Malfoy and I have had dealings in the past. He knows better than to try and best me."

"Severus?" Draco asked, now completely puzzled and wanting answers. "What's going on?"

Snape faced the boy and dropped his hands on the young teenager's shoulders. "I promised to keep you at Hogwarts and under my protection, Draco, and I do not break my promises. No matter what you hear in the Headmaster's office, you must trust me." Draco nodded and swallowed nervously. "If Lucius makes any threatening move towards you, stand behind me, or Lyrica."

"I'm sorry!" Lyrica emerged from the bedroom, dressed in dark blue robes and a lighter blue dress beneath. Her long hair had been neatly plaited into a braid down her back. "I didn't mean to keep everyone waiting."

"Madame Snape?" asked the woman from WCS. Lyrica nodded and smiled. "I'm Emily Zanthera from WCS. I've brought with me Kingsley Shacklebolt from Wizarding Law Enforcement."

Kingsley bowed to Lyrica. "A pleasure to meet you, Madame Snape."

"Thank you, Auror Shacklebolt." Lyrica shifted her gaze to her husband. "Are we ready?"

Snape nodded and threw the Floo powder into the fireplace. "Headmaster Dumbledore's Office!"

Whatever the Headmaster and his aristocratic guest were talking about was silenced as the Potions Master and his curious entourage stepped through the Floo.

Lucius Malfoy's grey-blue eyes darted from his son, to Snape and the stately woman in dark blue beside him, and then to the familiar face of Auror Shacklebolt. The woman that was a bit dwarfed by the adults. Although it appeared she had a vapid smile on her face, he could see the bite of steel to it when she looked his way. She was not at all intimidated by him.

"What is going on here?" demanded Lucius. "Draco! Come over here!"

Lyrica slipped an arm over Draco's shoulders and he pulled in closer to her. The movement was not lost upon the elder Malfoy and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Severus?" asked Dumbledore wondering what was going on also. "Can you explain the presence of an Auror and the Deputy Head of the WCS Adoption Services?"

Snape didn't answer, but looked over to Ms. Zanthera. The small woman stepped boldly forward and placed a folder on the Headmaster's desk.

"I am here on behalf of the entire WCS, Professor Dumbledore. A week ago I received a request from Draco Malfoy asking for permanent removal from his parents custody."

"You did what?" roared Lucius towards his son. Draco leaned in tighter against Lyrica and Snape moved smoothly closer to protect the boy. "Is this your doing Severus?"

"I believe you should curtail your temper, Lucius, and allow Ms. Zanthera to finish." A slight flick of his wrist showed Lucius that Snape's wand was out and he was prepared to take the man on, even in the Headmaster's office and in front of an Auror.

Lucius barely suppressed the rage within himself and turned a stony gaze upon the small witch. Emily only smiled sweetly and continued to address the Headmaster. "Young Mr. Malfoy's request came attached with a letter from his Head of House, Severus Snape, medical files from Madame Poppy Pomfrey, and a detailed listing of abuses perpetrated upon Draco Malfoy's person by Lucius Malfoy. These were injuries that were treated by Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape during the course of the child's attendance at Hogwarts. Along with those documented injuries, there were further injuries, unfortunately undocumented, alleged at least from the time Draco Malfoy was four years old. We have contacted an expert in Forensic Medicine to perform a forensic medical history scan on Draco Malfoy. Healer Andre Palau will be meeting us here in about five minutes. If the exam even bears witness to half of what's in Mr. Snape's list of abuses, or Madame Pomfrey's medical history, Auror Shacklebolt is here to detain Lucius Malfoy."

"This is outrageous!" exploded the elder Malfoy. "He's my son! You have no bloody right to take him from me!"

The tall Shacklebolt had speed that no one would have guessed. He was standing in front of the blonde-haired wizard with his wand to the man's throat. "I won't take your wand, yet, sir, but if there are anymore uncontrolled outbursts, I will take it. Now sit down."

Lucius Malfoy was no longer looking at his son, but at Snape. Lesser men had delivered themselves unto evil under that look. Snape appeared unimpressed by it. It was Snape's own emotionless, yet utter confidence, that unnerved Lucius. When Snape's gaze hardened and settled upon the elder Malfoy, it was the look that frightened the most deviant of Death Eaters. In Severus Snape's coal black cold eyes, Lucius saw the foreshadowing of his own death. Snape then looked down at Draco, his eyes full of protection and his love for his godson. Draco's hand slipped into Snape's.

The Floo whooshed into green flames allowing a tall, older wizard in Healing robes into the Headmaster's office. Emily Zanthera greeted him. "Healer Palau, thank you for coming on such short notice." He bowed slightly. Emily led the older man over to Draco. "This is Draco Malfoy, the boy in question."

"I do not give permission for this invasion of my son's privacy!" shouted Lucius. He was not about to endure another glare from the Head of Slytherin House. To his consternation, Kingsley laid a heavy hand on on his shoulder and forced him down, firmly, into the chair behind him.

"Not another word, Malfoy," warned the Auror. "This is all legal, so shut up."

Healer Palau hadn't even spared a glance for the boy's father. He directed Draco and Lyrica, over to an area of the office that wasn't quite as crowded as the main area was. "If I may have silence!" ordered the Healer.

The Forensic Medical History Exam wasn't at all painful, but it was very boring and seemed to take hours. Twice more Kingsley had to slam the elder Malfoy back into his chair. The last time he did it, he took the furious man's snake-headed cane, which held his wand, and very quietly threatened to snap the wand in two if the man didn't sit still.

Finally the scan was done and Draco and Lyrica moved to stand beside Snape again. Emily Zanthera spoke up and inquired, "Your report, Healer?"

The Healer slipped into a reporting trance and began detailing injuries Draco had received from the time he was four years old. His earlier injuries were relatively minor compared to the multiple fractures, broken bones, burns, and applications of both the Cruciatus Curse and the Imperious Curse that appeared after his tenth birthday.

As each injury was related, Draco at first felt ashamed, but as he looked upon his father's unrepentant, and thoroughly hateful face, the boy began to get angry. At one point the office began to sizzle with a surge of the adolescent's wild magic. At that point, Snape drew Draco against his side and whispered something into the boy's ear. The surge of magic faded, but Draco's look of anger never moved from the stone visage of Lucius Malfoy's patrician exterior.

The recitation of injuries was finished and the Healer came out of his trance. "If the WCS decides to remove Draco Malfoy from his home, I shall support the decision."

Emily smiled gratefully and handed the Healer a document to sign. With a flourish he signed the document and then aimed a thoroughly disgusted glare at Lucius Malfoy. The man then bowed to the Headmaster, stepped to the fireplace, threw in a handful of Floo powder, and disappeared back to St. Mungos.

"At this time, Auror Shacklebolt, I would like to call upon your services of the WLE and ask that you take Lucius Malfoy into custody. In addition to granting Draco Malfoy's request, I will also be filing criminal charges against Lucius Malfoy for abuse and the illegal use of Unforgivables on a minor."

"You can't...!" Lucius jumped up and began to shout.

The Auror cast a silencing spell and a modified bonding spell that drew the outraged wizard's hands behind his back. Madame Zanthera nodded to the tall Auror. He then walked to the fireplace, threw in the Floo powder and soon had Lucius on his way to a holding cell at the Ministry.

"Well, he's taken care of," smiled Emily with evident cheer. "Now for you, young Draco. As you are only fourteen years of age, you are in need of a guardian..."

Draco interrupted, "Where's my mother?"

"Your mother is currently in hiding for her protection, she has asked that Severus Snape, as your godfather, and his wife, Lyrica Snape, become your legal guardians. I just need to check, for formalities sake, mind you, if this would be an acceptable arrangement to you?"

Draco's mind was getting ready to shut down from an overload of good news. His glances darted between Lyrica and Snape until finally the latter nudged his shoulder. "If you'd prefer the Headmaster, I'm certain..." began Snape with a snide expression on his face.

Dumbledore chuckled at the stricken look on the youngster's face. "No! I mean, yes! It would be acceptable, Ms. Zanthera! It would!"

Emily smiled and withdrew from her folder, more paperwork. "Let us make this official, then!"

It was at least another half hour of paperwork and some congratulatory tea before Snape, his wife, and their newest son returned to their quarters. Draco, exhausted both physically, emotionally, and mentally, collapsed on the sofa. Lyrica went into the small kitchen to brew her special, herbal, hot chocolate.

As Snape sat down, Draco leaned forward and addressed his godfather. "You wrote to my mother, Severus?"

"I knew that any plan I came up with to get you away from your father would require equal protection for your mother."

"She's safe then? Well?" he asked rapidly.

"Narcissa is getting the help she needed a long time ago, and she is, indeed, safe. Her exact whereabouts have been given to a Secret Keeper." Snape took a folded piece of parchment from his breast pocket and handed it to Draco. "Narcissa wrote to you. You can reply, but you must be careful about what you say. I suggest you bring any letters you write to me, and if there is something that shouldn't be there, you can rewrite it. Under no circumstances are you to owl your mother. Along with the Secret Keeper, I have engaged an untraceable owling service to deliver correspondence."

"Thank you so much, Severus," said Draco tucking the letter into his robe pocket. "Did you know they were going to arrest Lucius?"

"I had a very strong suspicion that they might, which is why I chose to ambush Lucius this way. If he'd had any idea what was going to happen, he would have had all his contacts at his beck and call."

Draco leaned back on the sofa. "Do you think he could win this trial?"

"Healer Palau's testimony is going to be next to impossible to refute, Draco. His references are impeccable and his reputation is flawless. The fact that Palau is also a Pureblood will mean that Lucius cannot bring in any racist defense." Snape sighed heavily and leaned forward in his chair. "However, it will be difficult because of who Lucius is."

Draco understood the trial was going to be rough. Lucius Malfoy had connections everywhere and there were no doubt people who hated Severus Snape that would paint a decided slanderous depiction of his godfather. He could only hope for the best. "You did this all in a week?" exclaimed Draco, highly impressed.

Snape smiled smugly, "I do my best work under pressure."

Lyrica came into the sitting room and handed Draco and Snape each a cup of hot chocolate. "Under pressure? Is that what I owe my whirlwind hand-fasting to?"

Snape grasped his wife's hand and pulled her down to his lap. "I was making up for lost time, wife. I was hardly under pressure." Lyrica kissed his brow and then took his cup of hot chocolate back for sip.

"Gah! You two are soppy!"

Snape took a sip of his chocolate and then sneered, "Fine. Leave me to my soppy wife and go find Harry. You might as well tell him he has a brother now."

Draco sniggered and took another long sip of the chocolate drink. "This'll be fun." Putting down the cup, he started to leave the Snapes quarters through the hidden door. He paused. "Severus, I was just thinking. You know Ms. Zanthera said I was fourteen? I'm closer to fifteen, though. With the time we spent back in time, we're all older than what everyone thinks."

"Does that bother you, Draco?" he asked steadily.

Draco shook his head. "It doesn't bother me. It just feels like its been a very long year." The blonde boy finally just shrugged his shoulders. "I'll see you later." He sniggered, "Mum and Dad." Draco chuckled as he left. "Boy, now that's weird. But, cool!"

Once he was gone, Lyrica commented, "Severus, if you adopt anymore teenagers, I doubt we'll have room for a baby."

Snape almost dropped his mug of cocoa. "Lyrica... you're not...?"

She smiled secretively, and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "As a Potions Master, my love, you should know that's impossible when your wife has been taking a contraceptive potion."

"Oh." Of course, he thought, I'd forgotten she'd been taking the potion once a week. Snape was rather surprised to register the disappointment he felt.

Lyrica smiled gently and stroked Snape's cheek lightly with her fingertips. "We now have two sons, Severus. Are you sure you'd like to have a baby?"

"As odd as it feels for me to admit, I would not mind adding a baby to our already large family." He chuckled lightly. "I would hate for our son or daughter to wind up with this nose, though."

"Severus! Really. You told me your nose had been broken several times. I'm quite certain that children do not inherit broken noses." She leaned down and kissed the bridge of his nose. "I would love to give you a fine son, or a beautiful daughter, my husband, but we shall wait until we know HE is gone."

Snape sighed heavily drawing his wife closer. Refusing to dwell upon the inevitable, he chose, instead, to savor the moment. Pulling Lyrica gently toward himself, he kissed her, reveling in the blossom of pleasure, secure in his wife's love for him.

Draco was fighting with the Fat Lady outside the Gryffindor common room and he was beginning to feel like kicking someone. "I don't have the password," he said for the fourth time. "Just tell Potter I need to see him."

"Sorry, dear, I'm not an owl," she tittered at her own joke.

Draco scowled, "Listen you fat cow..." The portrait swung open abruptly, smacking him square in the face. It then shut just as quickly. "OW! You did that on purpose you canvas full of rancid paint!"

"Oh my! I was only going to let you in dear," the Fat Lady smirked. "I suppose that hurts quite a bit, does it?"

"D-d-draco? You okay?"

The Slytherin spun around to come face-to-face with the nervous Neville Longbottom. "Do I look okay?" His nose wasn't broken, but it did hurt.

"You s-s-seem okay to me. What do you want?"

"Potter."

"Hang on, I'll tell him you're out here." Neville whispered the password to the Fat Lady and Draco quickly stepped back as the portrait swung aside. Neville disappeared inside and the portrait closed. Draco sneered at the Fat Lady, but she only smiled at him.

A few minutes later Harry was peering out from behind the Fat Lady's portrait. "What do you want, Malfoy?" sneered Harry for anyone that might be watching.

"Room of Requirement. Bring Ron and Hermione." Draco spun on his heel and left.

Draco had requested a place to sit down and have tea. The Room of Requirement had provided a cosy sitting room with plush, overstuffed chairs, and a warm fire. A silver tea service sat in the middle of a circle of four chairs. While he waited for his friends' arrival, he poured the tea into china cups.

"What's going on, Draco?" asked Harry as he, Hermione, and Ron stepped into the room.

Draco smiled. "Sit down! I have good news." Just as Harry took a cup of tea handed to him by the blonde boy, Draco was suddenly enveloped in Hermione's sweet embrace. He took a moment to hold her tight, and to kiss her. Reluctantly he let the pretty Gryffindor go. With a slight blush, he handed Hermione a cup of tea.

Harry smirked, a twinkle in his green eyes. Ron just rolled his. "If you two do that again, I'm leaving," muttered Ron.

"I'll be happy to escort you right on out," smiled Draco. "But, good news first."

"Is there bad news?" asked Harry, effectively derailing Draco's announcement.

Draco scowled. "What? No. Now shut up."

"You did say 'good news first'," piped up Ron. "That, of course, implies there is bad news."

"It's just a saying," he growled. "There is no bad news... well, not really."

"So, what's the bad news, then?" asked Harry.

Draco took out his wand and pointed it menacingly at each boy. "Mention bad news again and I'll hex your legs short." He sheathed his wand. "Now shut up and listen to my great news!"

Ron and Harry broke out into laughter. Harry sobered first. "Go on, Draco, what's up?"

Draco smiled slyly, his grey gaze mesmerising Harry. "You've got yourself a brother... brother."

"Huh?" Harry blinked.

"Sev adopted you?" asked Ron. "How'd he do that?"

Draco proceeded to relate to his friends the events in the Headmaster's office. "Severus really didn't have to say a thing. It was boom, gotcha, boom, gotcha, over and over again." Draco chuckled. "You should have seen the look on Lucius face when Shacklebolt took his cane."

"Mad?" asked Ron.

"Furious."

"Uncle Severus did all of that in a week?" asked Hermione. Draco nodded. "Wow, that is just really impressive."

"So you're official, then?" asked Harry.

Draco smiled. "I am. But, I think you might be, too, Harry. Ms. Zanthera had Severus and Lyrica sign off on some extra paperwork."

"This is all great," said Ron, "but even if you're Sev's kid now, you're still in danger, aren't you?"

"Ron," began Harry, "Severus just put the biggest Death Eater in Azkaban for child abuse. Keeping him there, despite Dad's knowledge of the law, is going to be difficult. It's also not a life sentence, so I doubt he'd get a Dementor's Kiss."

Hermione added, "Not to mention those children in Slytherin whose parents are Death Eaters could cause trouble."

"So what happens now?" asked Ron. The question was unanswered since none of them had any idea what was next.

Draco stood up, yanked Harry to his feet, and slapped an arm over the shorter boy's shoulder. "Brother Mine, let's go talk with mum and dad!"

When they reached Snape's quarters, they found the secret door solidly warded shut. Harry stared at the space that looked no different from the stone walls that surrounded them. Draco leaned against the wall and glanced sideways at Harry.

"You know what they're doing in there," Draco smirked.

Harry scowled. "I really don't want to think about that!"

"At least they locked the door and put up silencing charms," muttered Ron. "Do you know how many times my parents forgot?" The redhead shuddered.

"My parents didn't have magic," sniggered Hermione. "I just turned up the volume on my music."

Harry stomped away. "I'm going flying until dinner," he said a little too loudly. "Anyone joining me?"

"Let's have a race!" crowed Draco following Harry. "Hermione? You'll cheer me on, right?"

"Of course, love," she smiled as Draco kissed her nose.

"Oy! Would you two stop it?" groaned Ron. The redhead then looked over at Harry. "Know what I think, mate?"

"What Ron?" Harry smiled.

"The way those two are going... bet they have more kids than my mum and dad!" Ron immediately broke into a sprint down the dungeon corridor with Draco right behind him. Hermione, laughing, followed and Harry just grinned and ran.

Wizarding Children Services finalised the adoptions for Harry James Potter and Draco Malfoy by the first week of December. Lucius Malfoy's trial for abuse of his son would take place after the Christmas holidays. Draco didn't have to hide his friendship with Dumbledore's 'Golden Trio', but he was hardly out of danger. He was teased on a daily basis by those in Slytherin who had parents that were known Death Eaters. Teasing he could endure, but the real trouble showed up a week before the holidays began.

Pansy Parkinson, who had latched onto Draco from their very first day at Hogwarts was incensed to discover that Draco had feelings for a Muggle-born, and not just any Muggle-born, but Hermione Granger. Death Eater parents or no, Pansy was a jealous, girl who did her best to provoke the majority of the teasing that occurred during the day. When the teasing didn't get the reaction she'd hoped for (lessons with Snape in Occlumency were helping Draco keep his temper) she decided to set her sights upon Hermione.

The time before the holidays was a busy one for exams and Hermione, ever the good student, was busy most hours studying in the library. She was usually with Ron, Harry, or Draco, but a particular charm she had to do an essay on was giving her trouble. As soon as class ended for the day, she headed to the library. Harry had an Occlumens lesson, Ron went to go work on an essay and Draco had Quidditch practice. Usually they tried to stick together, but today it didn't work out.

Hermione, her nose buried in her book never heard Pansy padding softly up behind the young Gryffindor. The curse caught her square in the back and Pansy was off and running before she could be stopped by anyone.

On the Quidditch field, Draco, the Seeker, was doing a fine job until he realised that he had become the object of the game. The Snitch forgotten, Draco had a wild time on his broom dodging the Bludgers his teammates sent after him. A part of him found it rather exhilarating to fly so fast and so well. He wouldn't have minded keeping up the pace for the rest of the afternoon, but as he caught a glimpse of Snape running out towards the Quidditch pitch in an apparant panic, it was enough to distract him. He ducked one bludger, only to be hit by another one that cracked into his shoulder and sent him toppling from his broom.

"Oh crap!" yelled Thomas Bole who had sent the Bludger that hit Draco. "Derrick!" he screamed at the other Beater.

Dorian Derrick swept up alongside Bole and with their wands together they cast the levitation spell they'd learned in their first year. The two players had done this trick for teammates in the past that had fallen from their brooms and they performed the spell flawlessly. Draco's rapid descent was stopped just a few feet from the ground. The Captain, Marcus Flint, flew towards his Beaters.

"Snape's down there, you idiots! Next time take your vendetta to the halls!" he snarled angrily. Spinning his broom around, he headed down to the ground.

Severus Snape, the Head of Slytherin House was so furious with the three students from his house that had attacked Hermione and had nearly killed Draco that he took 200 points from Slytherin, throwing them into the negative. All three were given a months worth of detention. Bole and Derrick were further banned from flying for a month, which meant they couldn't play the upcoming Quidditch game against Ravenclaw. Pansy had been detained after the Head of Slytherin House dismissed Bole and Derrick. Hermione had been seriously wounded and could be scarred for the rest of her life. Such a curse that Pansy had used could well get her expelled, but Snape worried that in doing so, it would put the naive girl right into the hands of the Dark Lord. He had another punishment in mind that he strongly hoped would get through to the child.

"I might have known," Snape drawled dangerously as he stood over a quailing Pansy. The dark-haired girl couldn't recall having seen her Head of House so frighteningly angry before. "You vicious little excuse for a child!" His voice cut across her nerves like a razor and she cringed. "Tell me, Miss Parkinson, how did a fourth year, who is barely passing Charms, manage to cast a seventh year, burning curse?"

"You don't know it was me!" she squeaked angrily and stomped her small foot.

"Oh, but I do know, Miss Parkinson." Snape had easily seen the little bint's triumphant casting of the burning curse in her vapid mind. "What you don't seem to realise is that you are in a very... precarious... situation." He loomed over the small girl like a hawk preparing to snatch its prey from the air. Pansy tried to step backwards, but only ran into one of the office chairs. She fell into it, only making herself smaller, and a trapped target. "Your machinations injured my son and the girl he cares very deeply about."

"I'm his girlfriend! Not some bushy-haired, plain, Mudblood!"

Snape raised his hand and Pansy, certain he was going to strike her, raised her arms protectively over her face. Peeking between her forearms, she found his long index finger pointing at her. "You are a pathetic, whiny, insignificant child! You are an irritant and your simpering voice and your penchant for clinging like a flobberworm is disgusting! Do you fancy yourself in service to the Dark Lord as some little, Pureblood princess that he'll fawn over? I know of another woman who was very much like you when she was a child. She dances in her cell in Azkaban every night professing her mad love for the Dark Lord. She's tortured Muggle and Pureblood alike merely to entertain herself. Will you become like her, Miss Parkinson?"

Pansy was trembling and her voice shook as she asked, "Wh-wh-who are you t-t-talking about, Professor?"

"You know precisely of whom I speak, Miss Parkinson. Your mother..."

"What about my mother?" she demanded.

"She's been limping since you were a babe, correct?" Pansy nodded, her confusion evident upon her priggish features. "A magical injury that could not be fixed with magic."

"M-m-mum's leg was shattered..."

"I know, Miss Parkinson. By a Bone Shattering Curse wielded by Bellatrix LeStrange when your mother did the one, brave, thing she'd ever done in her high-born life." Titania Parkinson was a fragile woman, but she had the heart of a Gryffindor. By denigrating her beloved mother, it was crucial, and cruel tactic, in Snape making his point to the little Slytherin princess as he lectured her.

This information caught Pansy's attention. Of course she knew of her mother's limp, but her mother never spoke of it. Her mother had never told her how it had happened, other than it was an accident. "What did my mum do, Professor?"

Pulling his robes close to himself as he straightened, Snape folded away his menacing mask and seated himself at his desk. "The Dark Lord wanted all the Pureblood families united to his cause. Those few families, such as yours, protested..."

"My parents weren't cowards! You're wrong!"

"Miss Parkinson!" he snapped, going from lecture mode to a frightening Mr. Hyde in the blink of an eye. Pansy slammed her back against the back of the chair. Snape's features softened, only a little. His gaze narrowed warningly, "Don't interrupt me. Keep your mouth shut. And. Listen." Pansy clamped her teeth together and nodded. "The Parkinsons, although considered Pureblood, are not as old as some of the other families. As well you know, there are Ravenclaw and Gryffindor members in your ancestry. You are the first Slytherin in six generations, Miss Parkinson. After what you did today, you have not brought honour to Slytherin, but have only added to the Dark reputation that hangs about it like a Sticking Charm." Pansy started to open her mouth to ask a question, but he held up a hand in warning. "It was the Dark Lord's goal to not only bring all the Pureblood families together into his fold, but to encourage them to procreate for the benefit of his cause. Your father disagreed both with the Dark Lord's philosophy and his barbaric plans to re-populate the wizarding world in Pure blood. He made the decision to leave the country to protect himself and his young wife and child. The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters consider that cowardly. It is NEVER a cowardly act to protect one's family."

"Please, Professor," Pansy spoke as quietly as she could. "What did my mum do?"

"Your parents were preparing to leave when your home was invaded by Bellatrix LeStrange. The mad woman wanted a baby, a daughter, to present to her Dark Lord, but there were complications. Possibly her, possibly her husband. Regardless, it might have been something I could have fixed, but Bella was never one for patience and would certainly never bow down to ask for my help. Instead, she chose to take a pureblood child. She chose you as her child and it was her intention to take you from your mother's arms and to kill her. Your father was nearly killed that night from several cutting curses..."

"His scars?" she whispered. To this day Alexander Parkinson wore a pale cross of scarring upon his face and down the left side of his neck. Hidden beneath Pansy's father's clothing was worse scarring that criss-crossed his chest and abdomen. Pansy never knew under what circumstances her father had received his scars.

Snape nodded. "Bella was certain she'd killed your father, and it's possible your mother thought he was dead as well. Your mother's spellwork and dueling skills were practically non-existent, yet so fierce was her love for you, her baby daughter, she fought an opponent, clearly insane, with much greater skill than her and injured her to the point that Bella could only save herself by running away. By then, your mother's leg was irreparably damaged. What mattered was that you were safe, and within twenty-four hours of receiving treatment, both your parents were on their way to France and to safety."

"They never told me!" cried Pansy as she swiped at a tear. "They never answer any of my questions. They just tell me I am to marry well. Why couldn't they have told me all of this?" More tears appeared and she began to sniffle.

"That is why I call your parents cowardly, Miss Parkinson." He floated a silk cotton handkerchief over to the girl. "Instead of hiding from what they did so long ago, this is something they should have told you, not me, your teacher. I understand that your parents are worried about the rise of the Dark Lord and concerned that they have a daughter in Slytherin who is surrounded by the offspring of those men and women who would not think twice of taking their lives for the glory of the Dark Lord. To leave you in the dark, ignorant of the evils around you, and that of your past, only sends you into the arms of that which your mother once fought to keep you from."

Snape rose from his desk and stood over Pansy once more. "You are a Slytherin, Miss Parkinson. Just as there is honour within the other houses, so there is in ours. Don't allow yourself to be ruled by jealousy and what others say. Learn to think for yourself and then look to your allies."

"Are you saying that even a Mud... I mean, a Muggle-born could be an ally?"

"Miss Granger is a most powerful and intelligent witch, Miss Parkinson. You would do well to learn from her example and to befriend her. You appear as a flighty thing with only marriage on your mind, when I know better. You have the skill, the talent, and you certainly have the ability to be more than a 'trophy wife' to a powerful wizard."

"You called me pathetic, whiny and insignificant!" she sniffed away her tears.

"Because that is what you allow everyone to see, Miss Parkinson, and your actions today only add fuel to the fire. You are very fortunate that Miss Granger did not die from the curse you hit her with. It is a Dark curse that requires much more anger and hatred than you put behind it to do serious damage. As a consequence I have decided that you will be assigned as a nursing assistant during Miss Granger's recovery under the supervision of Madame Snape. Needless to say, your patient will be Miss Granger. Come along."

"Sir?" she asked, slightly puzzled.

"Stand up, Miss Parkinson. We are going to the infirmary, now."

"B-b-but Draco's there! He'll kill me!"

Snape tapped a finger to his chin. "Yes, he is there. Good. You'll be able to apologise to both of them." Planting his hand firmly against the young Slytherin girl's shoulder, he steered her out of the office and to the infirmary.

Pansy had managed a surprisingly sincere apology to both Hermione and Draco once she and Snape had reached the infirmary. Snape then explained Pansy's punishment to Lyrica who looked ready, for just a brief moment, to strangle the dark-haired girl. After Snape left, Lyrica advanced upon the Slytherin girl and nudged her closer to Hermione.

Hermione was lying down on her stomach. A bleached white, antiseptic, gauze cloth was laid over the burn that covered most of Hermione's back. A pain relieving potion had helped to dull the worst of the pain, but Hermione's skin, as it healed, was incredibly sensitive..

"Hermione, my dear, Pansy is going to be here with us during your recovery. She is going to be your personal nurse. Not your elf, mind you, but your nurse, so do treat her accordingly."

"I will, Madame Snape," Hermione said through half-lidded eyes as she watched the young girl beside Lyrica.

Lyrica then turned to Pansy. "Have you ever seen the effects of the particular burn curse you cast, child?"

Pansy shook her head, her eyes wide as she stared at the Gryffindor girl's back. "No, Madame."

"Hermione, I'm going to show your wound to Miss Parkinson since she will be the one applying your burn salve." Hermione just buried her face in her pillow. Carefully Lyrica removed the gauze cloth and Pansy gasped as she saw the blackened and angry red skin which was a perfect circle over the upper half of the girl's back. Lyrica pointed at a clay pot. "Hand me that jar, Miss Parkinson." Pansy did so, and saw that it was burn salve. She handed it to Madame Snape. "This is Grade 4 Burn Salve which is generally used for high level first degree burns and second degree burns. When you apply it, be generous with the salve." The older witch scooped up a good portion of the sickly yellow coloured cream. "When you smooth it on, try to keep your hand off the wound as much as possible. Don't use pressure." Hermione let out a muffled wail as the salve was touched to her back. It cut off sharply. "Hermione is taking a Pain Relieving Potion, but even with that, the skin is very sensitive. So, try to be quick, and talk to her quietly as you're applying it." Lyrica finished the application of what she had on her hand and then handed the clay jar to Pansy. "Finish the job, Miss Parkinson."

Pansy swallowed the bile that rose up in her throat, but did as she was told. Her first touch to Hermione's back elicited another moan of pain that stabbed through Pansy's heart. She spoke softly, "I'm almost done, Gran... Hermione. I truly am so very sorry. Almost done... almost done..." She applied the last bit of salve just as Hermione's body shuddered as the girl let out a held breath. Tears glistened at the corners of Pansy's eyes as Lyrica took the jar of salve from her hand.

"Suck it up, Parkinson!" snarled Draco as he saw the tell-tale sign of tears. "You don't get to cry. Not around Hermione."

Pansy gulped and the tears that threatened were gone at once. She didn't look at Draco, but focused her attention on Hogwarts newest Medi-Witch. "After I put the salve on, Madame, what's next?"

"The cheesecloth." Lyrica pointed at a shelf below the table top of the stand next to Hermione's bed. There were a stack of clean, gauze cloths. Pansy picked up one and as Lyrica watched, she shook it out and draped it carefully over the wound. "The gauze is spelled with an antiseptic and to provide protection of the new skin that is growing beneath the salve. The salve needs to be applied every four hours. Hermione is allowed to use the facilities, but escort her. For the rest of the time you will help her with her meals since she's stuck on her belly. I'd like you to also read to her and help her stay caught up with her work. After dinner, you will be brewing the burn salve with Professor Snape as part of your detention."

"H-h-how long will the burn take to heal, Madame?" asked Pansy as she felt Hermione's eyes once again watching her.

"Five days, Miss Parkinson. Go wash your hands and then I want you to visit your and Hermione's teachers to pick up your assignments."

"I'm not going to class?" Pansy asked worriedly.

"Hermione can't and neither can you. Now go, Miss Parkinson."

"Yes, Madame." Pansy cast a guilt-laden look at Hermione before asking her, "Gra... I mean, Hermione, is there anything else I can get you while I'm getting our assignments?"

"I... uhm... can't really think of anything right now, Pansy. Thanks, though." Hermione watched with interest as Pansy nodded and ran out of the infirmary.

Draco was released from the infirmary the next day, but Hermione had to stay. She wasn't at all pleased, at first, to have Pansy Parkinson as her nurse, but as each day passed, Hermione began to change her mind. The girl appeared to be truly sorry for what she'd done.

As for Pansy, she took her care of the Gryffindor girl to heart. It killed her everytime she had to put the burn salve on Hermione's back. The girl was brave, but sometimes, when she was over-tired, her little mewlings would be muffled by her pillow. On the second day of applying the salve, Hermione's skin was ultra sensitive to the point that even the touch of the salve itself caused her pain. Pansy had tried talking soothingly, but that made the injured child angry, which only made the skin more sensitive. Frustrated and ready to start crying herself, Pansy began singing a lullaby her nursery elf used to sing to her. Pansy didn't have the greatest voice in the world, but the hushed, gentle tones served to calm Hermione and the Slytherin nurse was able to do her job.

The rest of the time the girls did their homework together, ate their meals together, and Hermione introduced Pansy to the world of Muggle authors. Pansy may not have been a great singer, but when she wasn't giggling or fawning over someone in that false, high-pitched, childish voice she often used, she had a pleasant reading voice. She read to Hermione the girl's favorite book, Jane Eyre, and Pansy fell in love with the story.

Snape came by daily before lunch and at the end of the day to look in upon Hermione to make certain she was healing well. By the fourth day he was able to give the young girl the good news that she would not bear any scars. Snape even had a grudging compliment for Pansy for having brewed the burn salve to perfection. It was that compliment that had the young Slytherin visiting Professor Snape in his office while he was grading essays just before the holidays began.

The door to the office was open, but Pansy knocked, as was customary. "Enter," said Snape softly without looking up from the pile of first year essays he was working on. Pansy stood before his desk, waiting until she was acknowledged. When Snape finally looked up and put down his quill, he asked, "Was Miss Granger in good spirits this evening, Miss Parkinson?"

Pansy smiled, "Oh yes, Professor. She's excited about being released tomorrow. Madame Snape told me that if I wanted to, I could sleep in the infirmary with Hermione tonight."

"Will you be doing so?" She nodded. "Is that why you needed to see me, Miss Parkinson?"

"Uhm... no, Professor. I was talking to Hermione and she said I really ought to be talking to you since you're my head of house."

Snape sat up straighter. "What is this about, then?"

"Well, I never really thought about doing anything... well, other than getting married after school. I never have had to worry about a job since my parents are wealthy, but I think I would like to do something, sir. Something that matters."

"You'd like to do something other than marry yourself off to an eligible wizard?"

"Yes, sir. You did say I was smart, so do you think I could get a job after school? One I'd be good at?"

This was a question Snape never thought he'd hear from the girl in Slytherin who always seemed to be more concerned with her looks than with her education. "You are an intelligent witch, Miss Parkinson. My general irritation with you lies in the fact that I know you're intelligent, yet you rarely seem to apply yourself to your studies. Your grades, though adequate, would be so much better if you took your education seriously. Is that something you're willing to rectify now?"

"Yes, I am! Hermione's even offered to study with me. She knows the library really well." Snape smirked at that. Hermione ought to live in a library someday.

"Have you given any thought to what it is you would like to work towards, Miss Parkinson? A particular field that interests you?"

"I'd like to be a Healer. Or, if my OWLs aren't high enough, I'd at least like to be a nurse. Specifically, I'd like to work in Childrens Medicine."

Snape considered Pansy Parkinson for so long that she began to shift uneasily on the hard, wooden, office chair. Finally, he leaned forward and spoke quietly, "You do realise, don't you, that the area of Childrens Medicine can be one of the most heart-breaking of studies to work in? It takes someone with great fortitude to work in a field of healing where the lives of innocent children are concerned. Do you think you have that within you, Miss Parkinson?"

"Honestly, Professor, I don't know if I do, but I would like it to be there. I hurt Hermione, terribly. I know now that I could have permanently scarred her, or even killed her. I wanted to weep with her everytime she felt pain, but I didn't allow myself to, because she needed me not to. She needed to know that I was being strong and that I cared. I did cry, later, but Madame Snape said if I didn't cry at all, I wouldn't be human. Do you think I'd be able to do this, Professor? Do you think I could be a Healer?"

Pansy's hands clasped tightly together. She was prepared for her teacher to be blunt and to tell her that she didn't have such strength inside her. It would hurt, but maybe she could find something else to do. Even if it was at the Ministry. She didn't know she was holding her breath until Professor Snape rose from his desk.

"Miss Parkinson, I am proud to hear these words from you. I have no doubt, that as long as you can put your heart and soul into this desire, you shall have what you want. Enjoy your Christmas holiday for when you come back to Hogwarts I want to see you determined and prepared to work hard in all your classes. Your OWLs will be important this year, so I will inquire, on your behalf, if Madame Snape will provide you with tutoring in Charms and Potions that are specific to the Healing Arts."

Pansy could barely contain her excitement. She smiled and let out a nervous giggle. No longer able to sit in the chair, she practically leapt from her seat. "Thank you, Professor! Thank you so very much! May I go and tell Hermione?" Snape nodded once and the dark-headed Slytherin was out of his office before he could blink. Off in the distance he could hear a delighted shout for joy.

"Ouch! Ron!" griped Hermione. "Watch it with that broom!"

"What are you bringing that for, Weasel?" growled Draco. "It's snowing outside!"

"Yeah, but the twins said the stairs are perfect for a broom..." He yelped as his broom leapt from his hand and into Snape's.

"If you even think I'm going to tolerate you idiots flying inside... where's Harry?" Snape looked around and nearly tripped over a large trunk. "Bloody...! Whose trunk is this?"

"Stop your shouting, Severus!" yelled Lyrica from the bedroom. "It's ours!"

Snape and his little family were doing their best (or worst) in getting their trunks together for the holidays. They were going to #12 Grimmauld Place. Snape wasn't terribly happy since he'd learned that morning that Sirius Black and Remus Lupin would be there. Lupin he didn't terribly mind, but he'd dearly love to shove Black into a large snowdrift for the entire holiday. Ron was excited to see his parents, Draco was nervous about spending Christmas with, as he put it, 'a ton of Gryffindors', Hermione seemed a bit withdrawn (no doubt missing her parents, thought Snape) and Harry was so excited about seeing his godfather and Lupin again that he'd been practically bouncing off the walls all morning. Snape made a mental note to curtail the boy's indulgence with sweets before he wound up like Dumbledore.

"HARRY!" bellowed Snape finally losing his temper. "Where the hell is that boy?"

Harry's head popped out from his room. "Dad! Have you seen Kalima?"

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry! She's a Naga. She can take care of herself! Now get your trunk out here before I have a stroke." He felt cool fingers against the back of his neck and he turned slightly just as Lyrica kissed his cheek.

"Still want children of our own, Severus?" she teased in a low whisper.

"If they're anything like these four? No. Dammit, Harry...!"

"I'm right here, Dad. What're you shouting for?" Harry smiled and Snape glared down at his son.

"Are you packed?" he asked dangerously. Harry nodded. "Good."

"Yaghhhhhh! Bloody bells!" screeched Draco. Draco had been checking for something in his trunk when Kalima slithered out from the contents.

"Draco! Language!" yelled Snape.

"Kalima!" shouted Harry happily picking up Kalima and draping her over his shoulders.

"I'm gonna kill that..." began Draco. Kalima hissed at Draco.

"I don't want to be in the same room with your snake, Harry," interrupted Ron.

"Serpent, Ron," corrected Harry. "Or Naga. She's not a sn..."

"Silencio!" Snape smiled smugly as everything went blessedly quiet. He glanced around at the various trunks, shrank them, and put them in his pocket. "Front and center," he ordered. The four teens obediently lined up and he scrutinised them. "I expect each of you to be on your best behavior and believe me when I say that if you aren't, we'll be back at Hogwarts before you can blink." He removed the silencing spell. "Harry first, then Draco, Hermione, and then Ron." Lyrica held the box of Floo powder out to them. They both watched as one by one the children vanished into the green flames. Once Ron was gone, Snape took the box of Floo powder from his wife and put it on the fireplace mantle. He then took Lyrica into his arms and kissed her soundly.

"Oh my!" she gasped when he let her up for air. "Whatever was that for, Severus?"

"Considering the crowd we'll be amongst for the next few weeks, I am worried that may be the last time I'll be able to snog my wife." He smirked and Lyrica laughed. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, he threw it in and shouted, "#12 Grimmauld Place!"

As Severus Snape and company arrived in the living room of the Black ancestral home, #12 Grimmauld Place, they were surrounded by most of the Weasleys, including Arthur and Molly. The odd thing was, the usually boisterous family were all subdued and quiet. The reason for the quiet came from shouts emanating from the kitchen.

"...his godfather!" that was Sirius voice, his anger sprinkled with a fine variety of curse words. "Harry belongs to me!"

"You're a wanted man, Sirius! Be reasonable!" shouted Remus Lupin's voice.

"James would NOT have wanted this! My gods, Moony! It's Snivellus!"

The kitchen door burst open as Sirius Black angrily stomped into the living room. Wearing torn clothing and smelling as though he hadn't bathed in weeks, it was obvious he'd just come in from hiding out in the wild, most likely in his Animagus form, that of a dog. The second the wild-eyed man saw Snape he lunged madly for the man. Both wizards fell to the ground but even before Sirius had a chance to land his fist into Snape's face, the wild-haired man shot upward toward the ceiling.

"Let me down you bloody bastard!" shouted Sirius down at Snape.

"I'm not the one hanging you up, you imbecilic mutt!" cursed Snape furiously as he rose to his feet.

Sirius didn't see a wand. In fact, no one had a wand out. He did see a beautiful, young woman with amazing green eyes stepping toward him. The look on her face was as dangerous as any scowl he'd ever seen on Snape's ugly mug. She held out a slim hand and abruptly flicked it sideways. Sirius let out a shout as the living room and the people in it began spinning wildly around. When he stopped, it was with a stomach roiling jerk.

Snape's fist suddenly, and dramatically, connected with Black's face. His nose crunched audibly and he let out a pained and angry shout.

"DAD!" Harry finally yelled through the mayhem of shouts from the Weasleys, and cheering from the twins sitting between their parents.

Hearing Harry refer to Severus Snape as 'Dad' worked better than any silencing spell. There was absolute dead silence in the living room.

Still hanging in the air, Sirius stared at Harry. "No, Harry," he said softly, the hurt in his eyes too evident. "He's not your father. James is. This would kill him."

"No it wouldn't, Sirius," Harry stepped up next to Snape and to the man's surprise, Harry wrapped his arm possessively around Snape's forearm. "I love you, Sirius, but you've no idea what Dad's done for me recently. I'm not asking you to be friends with him, but I am asking you to respect what I've chosen. I have a real family now and I know my parents would approve. So, can't you at least try and be happy for me?"

"He's a Death Eater, Harry," argued Sirius plaintively. "He always hated James and he's treated you like shite for the last three years! What the hell could he have...?"

Sirius was interrupted by the timely arrival of the Headmaster. "Ah! It appears that everyone is here. I think the children ought to go and occupy themselves upstairs while the adults come with me in the kitchen. An explanation is in order." Dumbledore turned to Lyrica. "Madame Snape, would you mind letting Mr. Black down?"

She smiled sweetly to Dumbledore. "Of course, Headmaster."

Gravity claimed Sirius with a vengeance and he slammed with an 'oof' to the floor. Snape smiled wryly and kissed his wife's cheek as he led her over Black's prostrate form and into the kitchen. Remus scrambled over to Sirius and helped him up and did a healing spell on the man's broken nose.

"Moony? That's not Snape's squeeze? She's too beautiful for that greasy git!"

"Sirius, do you think you could act your age while we find out what's been going on?" Remus glared angrily at Sirius who pouted and scowled.

Remus grabbed Sirius by the arm and wrinkled his nose as he got a whiff of the man. Taking out his wand, he waved it over the scruffy wizard. "Scourgify!"

"Hey! Ow!" griped Sirius. "You put a bit too much force into that spell, Moony!"

"You reek, Sirius, and I for one, am not going to be trapped in that stuffy kitchen with you. Scourgify!"

"Dammit, Moony! Don't do that again!" Sirius quickly inspected himself. "I think you took a layer of skin off that time."

"Padfoot, why have you been lurking around Hogwarts in your Animagus form when you could be here, in your house?"

Sirius grimaced at his friend. "Have you seen this house? It's wretched. It's a good thing Kreacher decided to run away when he did. I was about to wring his neck and add his head to my mother's trophy wall of elf heads."

Remus nodded. "That elf gives a bad name to all house elves."

Arthur's head popped out from behind the kitchen door. "We're waiting," he smiled uneasily.

Remus followed Arthur, dragging Sirius behind him. In the kitchen, Molly had busied herself making hot chocolate for everyone. Sirius took his cup, but didn't drink it as he glared nastily at Snape and then eyed the man's wife.

"I'll blind you, Black, if you keep staring at my wife like that," warned Snape.

Sirius ignored Snape. "Interesting trick you pulled on me, Madame," he smirked as he addressed Lyrica. "And no wand, either."

"Ley Line Magic, Mr. Black," replied Lyrica, conversationally. Under the kitchen table she laced her fingers through her husband's and squeezed.

"Huh? Never heard of it." scoffed Black.

"Natural magic, Mr. Black. My mother was a practitioner, as am I. I rarely use a wand."

Dumbledore spoke up. "Madame Snape, I'd like for you to meet two other people that are important to Harry. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Gentlemen, this is Lyrica Snape."

"Very nice to meet you," said Lupin, somewhat shyly. Lyrica inclined her head to the man who was a bit ragged around the edges, but affable looking. Severus had told her that Remus was a werewolf.

"So, who were you before you married the Death Eater?" Black asked rudely, causing various gasps around the table.

Before Snape could react with another fist, or a curse, Lyrica's voice cut sharply at him, "I was almost your great-grandmother, Sirius Black!" Snape chuckled softly at the rebuke and the puzzled look on Black's face.

"Well," said the Headmaster, "I think before another fight breaks out and I have to start handing out detentions to adults, we ought to answer some questions. Severus, would you care to begin?"

"Hold it! What did she mean?" snapped Black.

"Sirius, I promise all of your questions will be answered if you'll just behave yourself and quit interrupting," admonished Dumbledore.

Black glowered and smacked his back against his chair. "Fine. Speak, Snape and make it quick."

Snape and Lyrica had decided only a few days after their return to their time that they would tell their story to a select group of people. Those were the people gathered around the kitchen table and the teenagers gathered upstairs. They had settled on an abbreviated version of their trip back in time and chose the Christmas holiday to reveal the story and answer questions. As Snape began the tale with the fist fight that had broken out between Draco and Harry back in September, those two boys were now upstairs with an attentive audience telling almost the same story about their travel back in time.

The end of Snape and Lyrica's story came when he rolled up his sleeve to show the absence of the Dark Mark. Nobody seemed more surprised than Sirius. He still didn't care for Snape and was still jealous of the fact that Harry had obviously chosen the enemy of his childhood friend over him. He did, however, have quite a cowed respect for Lyrica's powerful magic, and in deference to the damage she could easily inflict upon him, he silently vowed to tone down the more caustic of his remarks.

Arthur Weasley seemed pleased and was somewhat smug to know this new side of Severus Snape; a side he felt had been there all along. He thanked Snape for taking care of his son, and Molly, wept happily and gave the usually dour wizard a rib bruising hug.

From there the discussion turned to Natural Magic. Although Lyrica preferred to call it by its more technical term of Ley Line Magic, everyone else seemed to prefer calling it Natural Magic. She explained that she'd been teaching it to her husband and to the children. By far, the most proficient students were Hermione, Draco and Snape. She felt certain Ron and Harry would soon catch up.

"Shouldn't Natural Magic be a course at Hogwarts, Albus?" asked Molly.

"Someday it might, but for now I think it is a power we need to keep to ourselves," replied the Headmaster. "I've spoken at length to the children and they feel that there are other students who do need to learn how to draw upon the Ley Lines to enhance their own powers. I've set them the task of deciding which students ought to be trusted with this power and to form a class for them that Lyrica will teach. In addition, some of the staff will be learning as well."

"Only some?" inquired Arthur.

"A few of the staff members feel they are just too... hmm... set in their ways to introduce a new kind of magic to what they already know." Dumbledore smiled deprecatingly, "Such as myself."

Remus asked, "Will this extracurricular magic class be secret, or a privileged club, Albus?"

"It will have to remain a secret," replied Dumbledore.

"There is another strategy of Defense we want to introduce as well, and keep secret," added Snape. He glanced to Remus and Sirius. "As you know, quite by accident, last year Harry, Ron, and Hermione combined their Expelliarmus spell in the Shrieking Shack. They managed to not only disarm me, but to cause enough damage to throw me across the room and knock me out. Currently we duel with our enemies either one on one and sometimes two or more against one. By combining and coordinating our spell casting, we could not only increase our power and reduce our vulnerabilities, but cause devastating destruction to the enemy and undermine their confidence and guard."

Black sunk his chin in his hands. "That's actually... rather brilliant," he mumbled.

Snape cast a sneer of derision at Black who stuck out his tongue at the Potions Master. Dumbledore managed a quick warning glare between the two men. He truly intended to hit both of them with detention if they didn't stop. "Severus. Sirius. A word, please."

The others took that as a sign that the little meeting was over. They hastily exited the kitchen, leaving Sirius and Snape behind with the Headmaster.

"This grudge the two of you have been nursing for the last twenty years has gone on long enough." Dumbledore saw a brief flicker of betrayed outrage cross Snape's face before his expression became one of implacable stone. "Yes, Severus, I know that I am partially to blame for this hostility between you and Sirius, and I will apologise, again, if it is necessary. However, the two of you need to grow up. Neither of you are children anymore. Making Harry have to choose between you is reprehensible and much worse of a burden than anything the two of you ever did to each other. That boy loves you both, dearly. Don't you dare tear him apart by making him choose."

"He's already chosen, Albus!" snapped Sirius. "Eight months and Harry is calling HIM Daddy? Snivellus treated Harry like he was scum on the bottom of his boots for three years! Where was his compassion then? Not one, single, kind word and now Harry loves him? NO!"

Snape didn't argue or say a word. He knew he couldn't help lashing out at his childhood bully, but he heard Dumbledore's words and knew the man was right. There was a part of him, the gawky kid at school who was an outcast even in his own house of Slytherin, that wanted to jump up and down and shout, 'neener! neener! mutt! He chose me!' Then, there was the more grown up, adult part of himself that knew Black had a point. He had been playing a part, he had told himself day after day, but it had been a poor excuse. He knew his treatment of Harry had been abominable. At anytime during the last three years, he could have spoken to Harry, to let him know that someone other than Dumbledore was watching out for him. He could have done what no one else had done, which was to tell the boy what his mother was like. After all, Sirius and Remus had only known Lily after she began attending Hogwarts. Snape had known her from the time they were both eight years old.

Black spun toward Snape and shouted, "As usual, Snivellus, nothing to say for yourself? Standing there like some damn vampire, so bloody sure of yourself! Is it safe for me to turn my back or are you going to hit me with one of your curses?"

The temptation to do just that was so great that it nearly frightened Snape. That was the old Snape. The one that Harry would cringe from. Snape hadn't realised how close to his controlled surface that old Snape was lingering. His voice was low as he replied to Black, "I won't fight for Harry with you, Black. I won't make him choose between us." He then moved past both men and left the kitchen.

"Bloody bastard," growled Sirius. He then saw the look of utter disapproval Dumbledore gave him and dropped down into one of the chairs, his head in his hands. Dumbledore patted the man's shoulder.

"Think of Harry, Sirius. Think of Harry."

Upstairs Harry and Draco, who had dominated the storytelling of their trip back in time, were finished and the conversation moved on to some new pranks the twins were discussing for the joke shop they wanted to open one day. With parchment, quills and ink surrounding them, they all worked together, planning products and throwing ideas at each other.

Draco came up with a super bad breath chocolate bon bon and was busy discussing aspects of the recipe with George. Fred, Ron, and Harry were trying to figure out uses for a slimy licorice rope Fred had recently formulated.

Ginny and Hermione, not so much fans of the jokes, left for Hermione's room so that Hermione could show Ginny her ring and necklace from Draco. Fred saw the two girls depart.

"Oohh, you're in trouble now, mate," sniggered Fred glancing knowingly at Draco.

Draco looked up, "What do you mean?"

"Girl gossip," replied George.

Ron frowned. "What girl gossip?"

Fred answered, "Girls talk about boys, and their boyfriends. Ginny's going to hear about just how well you snog, Drake."

Draco blushed furiously. "No way! She can't do that!" He started to get up but George yanked him back down.

"It's a rite of passage, mate," said George soothingly. "You date a girl and you can't stop it. They're going to talk."

Draco glared at the closed door. "Hermione would never tell. It's private."

"Hey," said Fred, "Don't get mad at her. You ought to be pleased. When I dated that 6th year Ravenclaw Nyssa last year, she couldn't wait to brag to her girlfriends about my kissing prowess." Fred smiled smugly.

George waggled an eyebrow. "So, how does little Miss Bookworm kiss, Draco?"

"A gentleman never kisses and tells," sniped Draco.

"C'mon..." encouraged Fred.

"No, don't," interjected Ron very seriously. "Hermione's like a sister. Just as I don't want to hear about how Ginny kisses, I don't want to hear about how Hermione kisses. So, shut up you two."

"You know, you've got better ideas for a joke shop than what Gambol & Japes or Zonko's has," remarked Draco, changing the subject. "Any ideas on when to open your store?"

George replied, "We'd like to leave school..."

"...next year. But, Mum would..."

"...kill us," completed George. "Of course, we only have..."

"...230 galleons set aside," finished Fred.

Draco leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear. The two boys whispered back and forth until Harry asked, "Would you accept financial help from investors?"

Fred and George looked at each other and then answered together, "Yes!"

Draco grinned. "I have a personal account at Gringott's and so does Harry. I think, if maybe we talk to Dad, he might let us invest our galleons in your shop."

"Your dad?" asked Fred, his shoulders drooping slightly.

Harry smiled. "He'd never admit it, but he really does think you two are brilliant with the potions you invent. Let us talk to him. We think he might like the idea."

"Mum would still kill us, though," said George with a laugh. "So you might tell your dad he's contributing to our early deaths."

"Painful deaths," added Fred.

"He'd like that," chuckled Draco.

A knock came on the door and it opened slowly. Sirius, who finally had a shower and put on decent, clean clothing, stuck his head in. "Harry? Mind if we talk in private for a bit?"

Harry picked himself up off the floor. "Sure. I'll be back in a bit, guys."

"Okay, Harry. We're going out for a snowball fight in a bit. Us against the adults. You think Snape would play?" asked George.

Harry grinned at Draco who smiled back. Both boys knew the Potions Master would play, but he would cheat. "You can ask him."

Sirius scowled at mention of Snape. "C'mon Harry." He grabbed the boy's sleeve, almost yanking him out into the corridor. Sirius then grabbed Harry by the shoulder tightly and pushed him into his room.

"Let go, Sirius! You're hurting me!"

Black let go immediately. "I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to ask. Did he Confund you? Maybe Imperius?"

"Who?"

"SNAPE!" shouted Sirius and Harry backed up against the door.

"NO! What's your problem, Sirius?"

"I can't believe you'd choose him, Harry. He hated your father and I don't care that that stupid Dark Mark is gone. It doesn't erase the fact that he went willingly to Voldie's side and he hurt people!"

"You hurt him!" Harry spoke sharply.

"What? Snape you mean? Harry, he was a snot-nosed brat that thought he was better than anyone else. He knew the Dark Arts and he didn't care about hurting people!"

"He never hurt anyone until the Marauders started bullying him. Every single damn day, Sirius! And I know you weren't any more gentle than he was! YOU almost got him killed!"

"No I didn't!"

"Yes you did and if Remus had hurt him that night, the Ministry would have killed him!"

Sirius blanched, but then forged ahead with his original argument. "That berk followed us, sticking his abnormally large nose into other people's business. James and I saved his worthless hide!"

"Did my mum know Severus came to apologise?" demanded Harry, changing the subject and throwing Sirius off a second time.

"Apologise? For what? When?"

"At the lake. When Dad flipped him upside down..."

Sirius, who was confused at first, smiled at the old memory and laughed. Harry didn't laugh. "It was funny, Harry! And he deserved it too after using that cutting curse on James."

"Answer the question, Sirius. Did my mum know that Severus was sitting outside the Gryffindor common room all night waiting to talk to her?" Harry's arms were crossed and he was angry with this immature man that stood before him.

"Of course not! Lily was asleep and never came back down. I think Mary said she cried herself to sleep or something like that. James told me I ought to let Snivellus in, but he was a bastard for calling her a Mudblood, so I kept him out. Good riddance, I said back then and I still mean it. Your mother was too good and kind for a git like Snivellus."

"My mother would have listened to him, Sirius. You're the one's a git!" Harry sighed unhappily, allowing the anger over a past that had happened before he was born, leave him. "Sirius, I do love you..." Sirius smiled, for a second, but the fact that Harry didn't wiped the smile from his face. "But, Severus is my Dad. I love him, too. If you can't grow up and accept this, then I don't want to deal with you."

"Harry! You can't mean that!" Sirius fell to his knees, the anguish open like a wound upon his features.

"I do mean that, Sirius. I understand how you feel about Severus, but you've been holding onto this... this feud for way too long and you're trying to bring me into it. I don't want to be a part of it. Severus didn't have to hide behind a mask. He was patient, listened to us, and cared for us. He yelled, and he was frustrated, too, but..."

"He treated you like shite, Harry, for three years..."

"He had to, Sirius. He's the Head of Slytherin House and he's the godfather of Draco, the son of Voldemort's right hand man, Lucius Malfoy. He was spying for Dumbledore. How do you think it would have looked if he'd been nice to the boy that's supposed to defeat the so-called Dark Lord he's supposedly loyal to?"

"But... he's a bastard," Sirius offered lamely.

"No, he's not, Sirius. I love Severus. He's my Dad and Lyrica is my Mum. I'd like you to be part of my family, but if you're going to continue to hurt people I care about, I'm going to choose them."

Sirius dropped fully to the floor, sitting down. His heart hurt horribly. It was a pain almost as bad as the one he'd known since James and Lily had been killed. He didn't want to lose Harry, but to accept Snape? There was a soft shimmer and Sirius changed into the raggedy, black dog Harry had first seen over a year ago. The dog's black nose nudged Harry gently and then he padded out of the bedroom. Harry glanced after the dog whose nails clicked audibly down the stairs. He leaned against the doorframe and swiped angrily at a tear that slipped down his cheek.

"Harry?"

The boy turned to see his mother standing behind him in the corridor. "Mum." He sniffled angrily, determined not to cry in front of his mother.

"I overheard some of your argument with Sirius." Lyrica went to Harry and drew him into her embrace. She ran her fingers through his unruly hair and then tipped his face up slightly to look into his eyes. "You don't have to choose between Severus or Sirius, Harry. Even if neither of them ever have a kind word for the other, it is permissible to love them both."

"It hurts, though. Everytime Sirius calls Dad that stupid nickname, or gets angry with him it hurts me. Why can't Sirius see that Severus really has come to mean something to me and that just because I love him doesn't mean I'm forgetting my parents?"

"You can't force Sirius, or threaten him into seeing and respecting that your love of Severus is not some spell or potion. Sirius is going to have to figure that out on his own. If he doesn't, you can't tear yourself up over it." Lyrica leaned down and kissed Harry's cheek. "Give him time, Harry. And give Severus time, too. This feud isn't all on Sirius' shoulder."

"I know, Mum." He hugged Lyrica tightly, reveling in the moment of having this wonderful gift of a mother to make everything all right.

"Better?" she asked with a soft smile.

Harry returned the smile. "Yeah. Hey, we're going to have a snowball fight. Us against the adults. Think Dad'll join us?"

"If he doesn't, maybe all of you can convince him."

It took the combined effort of the twins, Ginny, Ron, Draco, Harry, and Hermione to get Snape outside and to join the snowball fight. Of course he cheated by spelling his snowballs to hit the other team from behind their snow fortress. As soon as he cheated, though, the twins decided they could, too, and brought out a ghastly spell that covered anyone who was hit by a snowball with coloured slime. By this point the snowball fight degenerated into a mad free for all that left all of them thoroughly wet and everyone liberally covered in slimy colours of red, blue, yellow, green, orange, pink, and purple slime.

Once everyone was cleaned up and in dry, warm clothing, Molly got dinner started. Sirius, still in his dog form, had retired to the hearth of the fireplace while the men set up the tree. Remus brought down several boxes of antique glass ornaments and fairy lights to decorate the tree. Hermione and Ginny transfigured tissues into garlands of ivy and glittering gold and silver tinsel.

"Mrs. Weasley," said Draco coming into the busy kitchen.

"Yes, dear?"

"Could I help you? Hermione's been teaching me to cook and I'm not too bad."

"Of course, dear!" With a wave of her wand, Molly levitated an apron over to Draco. "The dough's ready. Why don't you cut it into biscuits and then you can start preparing the salad ingredients."

As Draco stood next to her chopping the celery she glanced down at the contented expression on his face. She remembered the one time when Draco was a small boy he, his mother, and little sister had visited the same park she took her youngsters to several years ago. With his little sister, Draco had been as happy as any of her own little boys. Narcissa had looked haunted and although Molly had tried to engage the aristocratic beauty in conversation, it had been impossible. A few years later, about a year before her Ron and Draco went to Hogwarts, she'd seen the boy with Lucius. Dressed exactly like his father, he resembled a hard, blemished chip of ice. Molly had never expected to see Draco change. Beside her now was a young, teenage boy who was open and charming that knew how to laugh. He was completely smitten with Hermione and the Weasley matriarch had no doubt the future would see the two of them bound together someday. Molly only hoped that future held only promise and love.

"How do you like your new family, Draco?" she asked.

"They're weird," he said with a smirk.

"Weird?" that wasn't a response she'd expected.

"Yeah. The Boy-Who-Lived is now the son of an ex-Death Eater, also known as 'the greasy git of the dungeons, brother to the snotty Slytherin Prince, also known as the Boy-Most-Likely-To-Become-Dark-Lord-Snake-Food... well, we're just a weird bunch, I think. Mum's probably the most normal of all of us, unless you bring in the fact that she's over 100 years old."

Molly chuckled. "Oh your family is no odder than any other wizarding family. What's important is that all of you care about each other."

Draco scooped the celery into the large salad bowl. "Dad more than cares about me," he said softly. "He saved me."

Molly slipped an arm over the young boy's shoulder, giving him a one-armed hug. "I've always known that Severus was an exceptional man. He is fortunate to have all of you. Including Ron." Molly had noticed a new confidence about her youngest son that she could only attribute to the care he'd received at Snape's side, and that of Lyrica as well. "Cast a cooling charm over the salad, dear. Any thoughts on what we'll have for pudding?"

Draco grinned. "Apple pie?"

"Perfect!" Molly smiled in return.

Back in the living room Snape had levitated all of the glass ornaments with his wandless magic and everyone was watching in delight as he had them dancing around the room. As the ornaments passed the tree, a few would land upon its green branches. Not one ornament fell and within ten minutes all the ornaments were in place on the tree. They all applauded and Snape bowed curtly.

The fairy lights were left to the twins to put up until they managed to put more lights on themselves than the tree. Ron and Harry took over and got all the lights up and soon the tree was glistening with wintry beauty. Lyrica handed out mulled wine to Snape, Arthur, Remus, and Dumbledore, and her special hot chocolate to Fred, George, Ginny, Ron, and Harry.

A little while later, Draco, liberally covered in flour and something that glinted like green and red sugar crystals, announced that it was time for dinner. Everyone but Harry and Sirius filed into the kitchen to eat.

"Are you coming, Sirius?" asked Harry.

The dog shifted form until Sirius was back sitting on the floor. "I don't know if I should eat at the same table as you and Sni... I mean, your... uhm, Snape, Harry."

"Mum says I shouldn't choose between you and Dad," said Harry gently. "Sirius, could you at least try?"

Sirius shook his head sadly. "Not tonight, Harry. Would you ask Remus to bring me something later to eat. I'm going to my room." As Black rose to his feet and started to head up the stairs, Harry grabbed the man in a quick hug. Sirius smiled slightly, touched Harry's head and patted it, then went up the stairs.

"Harry?" Snape stood in front of the kitchen door. The wizard spared a slight glance toward Sirius. "Is the mutt pouting?"

"Dad," Harry glared. "You know, it wouldn't hurt you either to try and let go."

"That's a very difficult thing you ask of me, Harry." He motioned the boy over to him and draped an arm over his shoulders. He noted that Harry was finally beginning to put some decent weight on his body. He wasn't feeling so boney.

"Will you think about it?" asked Harry as he tugged idly on Snape's outer robe.

"I will... think about it." Harry smiled broadly up at his father. "Now, come to dinner. Your brother, it seems, was in charge of pudding."

Harry snorted, "We're all gonna die."

The next morning was a flurry of people going up and down the stairs and taking breakfast. When Lyrica bumped into Ginny, she was introduced to the very rude portrait of Sirius Black's mother as she started screaming about 'mudbloods', 'filth', and so on. Lyrica paused for only a moment before she waved her hand and Mrs. Black was summarily silenced.

"What did you do?" asked Ginny in amazement.

Lyrica smirked, "Take a close look at the painting."

Ginny leaned a little closer and then laughed sharply. "Her mouth's gone!"

"A little re-painting. I hope Sirius doesn't mind."

"Not at all, Madame Snape," said Sirius coming down the stairs. He paused to look at his mother's portrait struggling to speak. "I think she's never looked lovelier." Ginny headed back up the stairs leaving the two adults. Sirius stared uneasily at Lyrica. After several long seconds he spoke, "I didn't get a chance to... uhm... congratulate you, Madame, on your recent nuptials and... the adoptions."

Lyrica nodded graciously once. "Severus isn't the child you once knew, Sirius. He's a good man and he truly loves Harry." Briefly she touched his arm. "I would like to believe the same of you."

Sirius blushed and his gaze fell to his feet for a moment before he looked back into the young woman's green eyes. He couldn't help but wonder if those eyes, so much like Lily's, were what melted the heart of the ex-Death Eater. They were the only thing that reminded him of Lily, though. Lyrica was slightly shorter, not as athletic as Lily had been, and certainly not as boisterous or as loud. She had a polish to her that made her appear elegant, but somehow much more approachable than women of the same mien from moneyed, Pureblood families. He suddenly found that he wanted her to believe that he was a good person as worthy of Harry's love as Snape was. The realisation startled him, but not soon enough for him to say anything more to her because she was making her way down the stairs.

The hair on the back of Sirius' neck prickled and he turned around to see Snape standing at the top of the stairs. "You're a lucky man, Snape."

Snape started down the stairs until he passed Black. "So I have discovered... Black." At the bottom of the stairs, the Potions Master turned back and leveled the Animagus with his ebon gaze. "I propose a truce, Black. For Harry's sake." His arms crossed slowly over his chest, daring the man to refuse his olive branch.

Sirius nodded. "Truce Sni... Snape. For Harry."

Snape turned smoothly on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen. Before Sirius could quite figure out what happened, he was propelled down the staircase by an avalanche of youngsters.

Molly was handling breakfast with the help of Arthur. The wonderful aroma of bacon, sausage, pancakes, maple syrup, and scrambled eggs filled the kitchen. Hermione relieved Arthur, taking over the slicing of oranges to garnish the plates.

Arthur spoke up as he seated himself at the table and shook out his napkin, "Children, your choice. Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade today for Christmas shopping?" Five voices shouted their choices. "One at a time! Hermione?"

"Hogsmeade."

"Ginny?"

"Diagon Alley."

"Harry?"

Harry glanced at Draco and Ron. They each mouthed their choices. "Diagon Alley."

Arthur had seen the exchange and chuckled. "I think I'll refrain from polling you two. Looks like Diagon Alley is today's stop."

For the next hour the children tackled their breakfast and made plans as to what stores they wanted to visit. By the time breakfast was over Draco and Harry were deep in a whispering conference. As soon as Molly dismissed everyone, the two boys were the first out of the kitchen and were thumping up the stairs.

"I think I trusted them more when they didn't like each other," murmured Snape with a small smirk.

Molly and Arthur took charge of the boys and Severus and Lyrica took charge of the two girls. The groups split up after agreeing to meet for lunch at a new restaurant on Diagon Alley. The first stop for the boys was Gambol & Japes and right after that Quality Quidditch Supplies. The girls first stop was Flourish & Blotts Bookstore.

"Hermione," observed Ginny, "Do you always buy books as presents?"

"A book provides both entertainment and education, Ginny. And no," she grinned, "I don't always buy books as gifts."

Both girls consulted their gifts list and then parted. Snape started towards the Potions section, hoping to find a first edition of Piltnow's 99 Arcane Uses of Armadillo Bile but Lyrica stopped him. She leaned toward his shoulder and whispered, "We're being watched."

"Aurors," he said softly. "There's been an increase in suspicious activity since Lucius went to Azkaban to await trial."

"Will we be all right?" she asked.

Snape brushed his wife's cheek with his fingertips. "We'll be fine, but just in case, I gave each of the children emergency portkeys that will take them directly to their rooms at Grimmauld Place."

Lyrica smiled and sighed with relief.

Over in Gambol & Japes, the twins were under the spell of a new product called 'Real Fake Holes'. They were discs of varying sizes that would cling to any inorganic surface and give one the perfect illusion that there was a hole in an object. Draco, Ron, and Harry loaded up on Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Sugar Quills, and new Coloured Spit Gum by Willy Wonka. Once that bit of sweet shopping was completed, they had to practically drag Fred and George out of Gambol & Japes and over to the Quidditch supply store.

Always a busy store, the boys took a few minutes to appreciate the new model of broom, the Cosmos X. It was a sleek broom with a handle of carved black ironwood and the long black bristles were made from the beard of the Oriental Dragon. Harry smiled wistfully at the gorgeous and entirely too expensive broom before being yanked into the store by Ron. The boys all immediately split up in various directions as they were obviously buying gifts for each other and didn't wish to spoil any surprises. Finally, the Quidditch shopping was finished.

"Where to next, boys?" asked Arthur.

"Where's a good jewelry store, Mr. Weasley?" asked Harry.

Draco gawped at Harry. "Scarhead! Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No! Well... maybe... but no."

"You're not still pining for Cho Chang, are you, mate?" asked Ron. "She hasn't looked at you once this year."

Draco asked, "Hasn't she been hanging around that big Hufflepuff, what's his name?"

"Cedric Diggory," supplied Ron. "His dad works at the Ministry. Something to do with Magical Creatures, I think."

"Pffft," spat Harry. "No, it's not her. You remember that odd Ravenclaw girl we saw at the Sorting Feast at the beginning of term?"

Draco frowned, "That spacey girl with the white hair?" A dreamy smile suddenly came over Harry's face and Ron and Draco smirked at each other. "The man is smitten, Ron."

"He's a goner," agreed Ron.

Harry's cheeks went red as he realised what an idiot he must look like. "Shut up! I kind of like Luna, but I'm not getting jewelry for her. It's for Mum."

"I know just the place, Harry," interjected Arthur before the twins decided to jump in and tease Harry. Arthur led them further down the street to a small jewelry store.

Draco leaned toward his brother, "You really like Luna, Harry?"

Before answering, he checked to make sure he wasn't being set up for teasing. Draco's grey eyes only showed that he was genuinely curious. "Ron thinks she's an absolute flake, but there's something... sweet about her." Harry shrugged. "And, I do think she's rather pretty."

"Bit young, isn't she?"

"She's a second year. It's not like I'm in my thirties or something weird like that," frowned Harry. Draco only chuckled at his brother's reply.

"Have you asked her out?" Harry looked so terrified at this thought that Draco patted his back reassuringly. "You've at least talked to her, haven't you?"

"Of course," snapped Harry defensively at Draco's amusement. "A few times I've said hello."

Draco snorted. "You haven't said anything more than 'hello', yet she's on your Christmas list?"

"Yeah, but I have no idea what to get her. I want it to be something nice, but not a boyfriend/girlfriend type of gift, but something that will let her know I'd like her to be my girlfriend... and that sounds so pathetic I think I might vomit."

Draco slapped Harry on the shoulder. "You're over-thinking this. Just keep your eyes open. When you see the right gift, you'll know it."

Arthur was holding the door to the jewelry store open. "C'mon boys, you're lagging behind." Draco and Harry hurried on inside and made their way over to Ron who was looking particularly disgruntled.

"Who are you getting jewelry for, Ron?" asked Harry.

Ron was staring down morosely at a selection of bracelets. "Lavender Brown told me I better get her something pretty."

Draco frowned and Harry yelped, "Lavender Brown? You keep telling everyone that she's a 'bloody leech' or a 'vampire'."

"Do you like her?" asked Draco.

"She turns my stomach," admitted Ron.

"Then don't buy her anything, you dolt," chided Draco, "or she'll just think you do like her." Draco fake gagged. "Even Milli Bulstrode has more charm than Lavender Brown." At the mention of the rather un-pretty Slytherin girl, Draco caught a glimmer in the redheaded boy's eyes. "NO! You're kidding, right?"

"What?" asked Harry knowing he missed something.

"Shut up, Malfoy," warned Ron. Draco sputtered, laughing like a loon. "I said, shut up!"

"What? What's he laughing about, Ron?" Ron shot Harry a warning look before stomping away from the two boys. "What the hell...? Will you stop that, Goldilocks? You sound like a stupid hinky-punk."

Draco wiped at his eyes, "Ron likes Millicent Bulstrode!"

Harry's jaw dropped. "He called her 'troll girl' in first year!"

"Milli's not a beauty, Harry, but you've got to admit, she's starting to fill out nicely and she doesn't have a half-bad smile." Harry reddened as he recalled that all the boys at Hogwarts had noticed that Millicent had developed some rather plush curves before any of the other girls her age had. Despite her developing figure, though, she was a force of nature when it came to playing Quidditch against Slytherin and even if Ron liked the girl's generous curves, he expected Ron might also like the fact that Millicent loved Quidditch as much as he did.

"Do you think she'd go out with him?" asked Harry seriously as he looked back at Ron who was looking idly at rings.

"I don't see why not. No one's ever thought to ask her out. Doubt she's ever even been kissed. And, as far as Moldy Voldy goes, her family's been kind of neutral like Pansy's." Draco glanced at Harry and saw a calculating look in the boy's eyes. "What? You think we should get those two together?"

"Why not?" He turned away from staring at Ron. Looking down at several necklaces, Harry asked, "Help me find something for mum, Drake?" The two boys turned to the display cases and after several more minutes they decided to split the cost on a necklace for Lyrica.

Outside the jewelry store, Molly spoke up, "All right, boys. One more shop before we meet Professor Snape and the girls. Where would you like to go next?"

Draco spoke up, "Harry and I need to go to the apothecary, Mrs. Weasley."

"Can they go there, Mum, while we go across the street to Myrtle Maggi's Wyld Wydgetry?" asked Fred.

"Arthur, why don't you go with Harry and Draco. Fred, George, and Ron, you're with me."

A few feet up the street, Molly and Arthur split apart with their charges. Harry and Draco only spent a few minutes in the apothecary and then they went across the street to the Myrtle Maggie's. This store appealed to both children and adults. It was a place of ingenious devices such as clockwork animals, Foe Glasses, Sneakoscopes, Anti-Sneakoscopes, Brass Conundrums, and hundreds of other THINGS that glittered in copper, brass, aluminum, then silver, gold, and platinum. After a half an hour, Arthur had to grasp Fred and George by their collars and physically drag them outside or they would have been late for lunch.

The rest of the day was taken up by lunch, where Molly and Arthur switched their charges for Hermione and Ginny. More shopping ensued and then everyone met at the Leaky Cauldron and Floo'd back to Grimmauld Place. Remus was in the library reading, left alone after a restless Sirius decided to go running in his Animagus form. Snape ordered the children upstairs to put their packages away before retreating to the relative silence of the living room. He collapsed upon the couch and was soon joined by Lyrica.

"Tired, love?" Lyrica kissed Snape's brow. His eyes were closed and his head was tipped back against the wall.

"When we have children, we're only having daughters," he declared.

Lyrica smiled, "And why is that?"

"Because boys are idiots and I may wind up cursing my sons before they leave their teen years."

"Does that mean that Draco and Harry's lives are in danger from you?" she brushed a strand of his black hair off his cheek.

"Especially those two. I can do away with them in Potions class, though." Snape opened one eye to peer at Lyrica. "You wouldn't tell anyone of such a nefarious deed, would you, my wife?"

Lyrica smiled mischieviously and kissed the tip of his long, hooked nose. "If they were really awful, I think I'd help." Pulling his wife down beside him, Snape allowed his eyes to droop shut. Lyrica snuggled closer to Snape's chest, sighed in contentment, and closed her eyes as well.

The second and third floor bedrooms of Black Manor all had balconies with wrought iron railings that had begun to show the signs of rusted neglect. Hermione transfigured an empty plant pot into a loveseat and Draco cast a warming spell. They then sat down and Hermione nestled close to Draco's side as they watched the snow falling onto silent London.

"Are you going to tell me now what caused you and the boys to be spelled silent on our way home, my love?" Hermione asked with a smile.

Draco chuckled. "It's Ron's fault. You know, I would never have thought him to be so wickedly brilliant." Draco shook his head and shifted slightly to accomodate Hermione as she leaned into him. "Well, he created a fantastic charm that can make your robes billow almost like Sev... I mean, Dad's robes do. So he charmed all of our robes right after we left the restaurant. Then Harry and I got on Dad's left while Fred, George, and Ron were on the right. He thought it was a little odd we were walking that way, but when people started looking at us, and Lyrica began to laugh, he saw the billowing robes. But, that's not what really got him into threatening to use us as potion ingredients. Colin Creevey was there with his family, and that blasted camera that must be attached to him. He took a photograph of us."

Hermione laughed. "Oh gods, Draco. You really will all wind up in his potions!"

The next day a large, black raven arrived carrying a large package. Remus Lupin was in the kitchen when the bird swooped in and he caught it as the bird dropped it. It cawed sharply at him and flew off without any sort of reward.

"Good morning, Remus," smiled Molly cheerfully. "Is that another present?"

Remus looked down at the label. "It says 'special delivery for one Master Ronald B. Weasley from Rex Henry Tudor. Open at once.' How mysterious," marveled the werewolf.

"I just knocked on all their doors and since Ron is never late for a meal, I'm sure he'll be down momentarily." Molly tied on her apron and began the magical task she was so very skilled at; making breakfast.

A few minutes later the kids were thundering down the stairs followed by Snape shouting "WEASLEY TWINS I'M GOING TO EVISCERATE YOU TWO!"

Fred and George dove into the kitchen and were promptly caught by Remus. "What have you two done to Professor Snape this time?" he demanded, doing his best to suppress the grin that threatened. Yesterday morning they had switched Snape's shampoo out with a shampoo of their own creation that made his hair a lovely shade of purple.

Snape, sporting a rather luxuriant and long, black beard, burst through the kitchen door. Seeing that Remus had his two victims by their collars, he drew in his dignity and walked over to the twins mother. "Molly," he addressed the redheaded chef politely. She turned and smiled at the wizard. "Would you mind if I take your two sons and dissect them?"

"Mum! No!" cried Fred.

"You love us, don't you, Mum?" pleaded George.

Molly turned back to her cooking. "I certainly do love the both of you, but consequences are consequences. Their yours, Severus. Anything special you and your wife would like this morning?"

"Whatever you have there will be fine, Molly." Snape grasped the two boys by their collars. "Come with me you identical juvenile delinquents. I've a lovely project for you both in my lab." He yanked them through the kitchen door and vanished upstairs with the twins.

Hermione, Ginny, Draco, Ron, and Harry had been watching the scene and they all laughed. Hermione remarked as she sat down to the table, "If the beard and moustache were trimmed, your dad would look rather distinguished. A little like King Charles the I."

Ginny spoke, "Maybe you could convince him to try it Harry."

"No thanks," chuckled Harry. "I'll leave Dad's looks up to Mum, thank you very much." Harry's eye caught the large package on the table. "Another Christmas gift?"

Remus sat down. "It arrived for Ron a few minutes ago. From someone by the name of Rex Henry Tudor?"

Ron shrugged. "Don't know who that could be."

"It's King Henry, Ron!" said Hermione excitedly. "Open it!"

Ron grinned, knowing what it was. He picked up the package and opened it carefully, revealing the beautiful lute that the ghost of Ashmere, King Henry the VIII had given him. He held the instrument reverently and plucked a few notes out of it.

Molly was distracted from her cooking as she watched her youngest son with the old musical instrument. "It's lovely looking, Ron. Is it true what Lyrica told us that you learned how to play it?"

Ron nodded. "I did, Mum. King Henry taught me to play. Think I can play this evening, maybe?"

"He's really good, Mrs. Weasley," said Draco.

"Well, of course you can play. It will be a nice complement to the holidays. Go and take it upstairs, though, dear. It's much too nice to keep in the kitchen," directed Molly. Ron got up from the table and left the kitchen.

Snape had put the twins to work cleaning his small lab. With toothbrushes.

Fred, kneeling on the floor next to his twin, toothbrush in hand, began scrubbing the lab floor, "So, Forge, what's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

"Double Burp Mouthwash or Fabulous Fangs, Gred?"

They both grinned madly at each other and chorused, "Fabulous Fangs!"

In Snape and Lyrica's loo, Snape sat on the edge of the tub while Lyrica trimmed the beard which would disappear in twenty-four hours.

"At least I'm able to trim it without it growing back in full, Severus."

"If I must, I'll have them clean this entire house during the holidays and once we get back to Hogwarts, the castle will be next," he sneered.

"No sneering, love, or I might trim off a portion of your darling nose."

"Darling?"

She kissed his nose, then his cheeks and finally his mouth. "Yes, darling. Now, keep quiet, I'm almost finished here." Snape reluctantly kept any further thoughts to himself. After several minutes, Lyrica put the razor on the sink's edge and used a towel to wipe off the remainder of the shaving cream. "Husband, you are quite devilish looking, if I do say so."

Snape stood and looked into the mirror. Lyrica had given him a moustache and beard trim that was fashionable in her time and was known as a 'Van Dyke'. He turned his head to the left, then the right, and then he scowled.

"Well?" she asked.

"I think for twenty-fours I could live with it," he mused and winked at his wife.

"Good, because I'm quite hungry now."

Snape slipped his arm around Lyrica and pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly. "Perhaps I may relieve you of your hunger, my lady?"

A couple of hours after everyone else had eaten Molly's breakfast, Snape was in the kitchen making pancakes for Lyrica. They were smiling, talking about nothing terribly important and laughing. In the living room, Harry and Draco were playing chess, Ginny was braiding Hermione's hair, and Ron was playing his lute. Harry glanced toward the closed kitchen door.

"Do I want to know what they're so happy about?"

Ron shook his head. "No, mate."

Harry dropped his head melodramatically into his hands. Draco chuckled and sat down with a book he'd gotten from the library. "Harry, tell us about Luna."

"What?" His head shot up. "Why?"

"I want to know your plans for asking her out," explained Draco.

"My plans? Do I need plans?" Harry looked absolutely panicked.

Ginny laughed. "Of course you don't, Harry. He's just teasing. You'll ask Luna for a date when you're ready."

"Did you get her anything for Christmas?" asked Hermione.

"I wasn't going to," replied Harry, "but I saw something that just seemed right for her, so I bought it."

Draco leaned forward from the couch he was stretched out on, "So, brother? What did you get the little fairy princess?"

Harry blushed slightly. "If Luna likes it, maybe you'll see it when we get back to Hogwarts."

At that moment Fred and George thumped down the stairs and collapsed on either side of Draco on the couch. Draco grimaced and wrinkled his nose. "Ewww! Couldn't you two have showered before coming down here? You smell like rotten flobberworms!"

The twins each draped an arm over the Slytherin's shoulders and leaned into him. "You say..."

"...the nicest things," completed Fred.

Draco jumped up away from them. "Gah! You two really do reek!" He went to sit beside Hermione and quickly kissed her cheek.

"Gred, I think we're not wanted."

"I do believe you're correct, Forge. Let's go see what Snape's cooking that smells so good."

The twins eased off the couch and ambled on into the kitchen and were promptly tossed out by Snape. "Get cleaned up!" he ordered sharply. "I'll save you brats some pancakes!"

Christmas Eve was a difficult night for Draco who had spent most of the day thinking about Lucius. Of course his homelife at Malfoy Manor was mostly one where he spent either kowtowing to Lucius and being the perfect, hate-filled son, hiding out in his rooms, or trying to draw out the mother he'd once known that resided in the Ice Queen that was Narcissa Malfoy. Christmas was a holiday perverted by the presence of Death Eaters and revels held in the dungeons.

The boy stirred uneasily in his sleep as nightmares assaulted his senses. Lucius had him in his clutches as was punishing him with the Cruciatus Curse. He woke, shaking with a scream lodged in his throat. Throwing the covers off himself, he grabbed his dressing gown and belted it angrily about his waist. He poked his bare feet under the bed where his slippers should have been, but they weren't. Needing the light... the fairy lights on the Christmas tree downstairs, he didn't care about cold feet and so he padded quickly and quietly out of the room he shared with Ron and Draco. Once out in the corridor he made his way down the stairs, thankful that all squeaks and creaks had been dealt with before Lyrica had unpainted Mrs. Black's mouth.

He was about to curl up on the sofa in the living room, when the dark head of Sirius Black peered around at him from a tall-backed, plush armchair. "Aren't you supposed to be dreaming of sugar quills and chocolate frogs, Draco?"

Draco shook his head, unwilling to think any further about the nightmare. "How come you're still awake?"

"Insomnia. I haven't been able to sleep more than three hours at a time since Azkaban." Sirius shuddered lightly. "I do my best sleeping outside."

"Kind of uncivilised," commented Draco dryly.

Sirius snorted. "Try twelve years in Azkaban, young Malfoy, and then tell me where you'd feel comfortable sleeping." He had a drink in his hand and drained the amber liquid from the glass.

Draco figured the man had a point. Azkaban was someplace he hoped never to see the inside of. "What did my Dad ever do to you and Potter?" Draco suddenly asked.

The sudden change of subject threw Sirius. For a long moment, he hesitated. Other than emphasizing the fact that Snape was now his father, the question had been asked without sarcasm. Draco really wanted to know. Sirius shrugged. "To be honest, he was a convenient target. He was a Slytherin, but he was also an outcast in his own house. Snape was also smart. Really too smart for anyone. Hexing him basically got us the girls."

Draco's eyes were hooded with disapproval. "Then how come you're still single?"

"You mean, other than the fact that the closest kiss I have had in the last twelve years was nearly from a Dementor? I couldn't get married. Not as long as my mother was alive. I didn't date Slytherin girls, and none of the other girls from other houses met with her approval."

"I thought you turned your back on your family." Draco shifted, trying to cover his cold feet.

Sirius transfigured a lace doily into a blanket, got up, and draped it over Draco's lap. He then sat down beside the boy. "I didn't officially get erased from the family tree until my seventh year. It was obvious by then that my 'Gryffindor disease' had a tight hold on me and I wouldn't be joining You-Know-Who anytime soon."

"Was it worth it?" asked Draco softly.

"Worth it? Hmmm. Tough question. The only family I really ever loved was my brother, Regulus. I still wonder sometimes if I'd played the game of hating Muggles if I might have been able to save him. I couldn't, though. I mean, I couldn't pretend to be what I wasn't. I didn't want to bury myself in Dark Magic and become the slave of a mad man. I loved my friends too much to turn on them. They were the family I chose, not the one I was born into."

Draco smiled wistfully. "Severus should have been my real father. I first met him when I was three years old..."

"The Death Eater ritual of introducing children?" asked Sirius.

Draco nodded. "I hated it. I was scared to death and of all the Death Eaters, Severus was the scariest. He made a promise to me then, one no one else heard but me, that he'd always take care of me. There were hundreds of times Lucius came close to killing me and he would have if Dad hadn't intervened."

"It's too bad he couldn't have saved your sister," Sirius said sympathetically.

Draco sighed softly. "Sometimes I forget what Elydree looked like. Once, I asked Dad if Elydree was his daughter." Draco shuddered. "That was so stupid of me. That was the first time Lucius used the Cruciatus Curse on me in front of Dad and Dad openly defied Lucius..."

For a moment, Draco was lost in the memory that seemed like it was ages ago. Severus had been meeting with Lucius Malfoy in his office. It had just ended and Severus was stepping out when Elydree, a bright five year old child with dark hair and deep brown, nearly black eyes ran towards her godfather for a hug. Severus lifted her up into his arms, and though the severity of his expression didn't change, Draco caught the shine of a smile in the man's dark gaze. Elydree kissed her godfather's cheek and was about to launch into telling him about her afternoon when Lucius plucked the child from the other wizard's arms. Lucius snarled at the dark child and she scampered off.

Draco knew the second he spoke the fatal words, his father was going to kill him. "Elydree looks like you, godfather!"

Severus' stony facade was broken, for a brief second. He had no chance to react as Lucius had his wand in his hand and had shouted, "Crucio!" at his son. Draco fell to the floor, screaming in pain. The viciousness behind the curse was worse than what Severus had ever experienced at the hand of the Dark Lord. Taking out his own wand, he shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Lucius' wand flew from his hand and he was shoved backwards into his office. "What do you think you're doing, Snape?" shouted Lucius. "He's my son!"

"That he is, Lucius, but do not forget that as your first-born, he is promised to the Dark Lord. The punishment is enough, but you must not kill him or you will meet death at the end of our Master's wand. Have a care, Lucius!" snapped Severus. Out of the corner of his eye, the black robed wizard saw the little boy rising shakily to his feet. Lucius was slowly rising as well.

"You are right, Severus. Take the whelp with you. My anger is such that I may beat him to death for his ill-chosen words." Draco hid behind Severus as Lucius sneered at him. "Blister him, at least." Lucius slammed his office door shut, dismissing Severus.

"I'm s-s-sorry, godfather," Draco whispered shakily as silent tears poured down his cheeks. Severus simply picked him up, held him close, and apparated out of Malfoy Manor.

Draco smiled as he thought of how Snape had not only risked his life to save him, but to save Elydree as well. "Dad's not a bad man, Sirius."

Black wouldn't admit it, but he was beginning to see a little of what Draco and Harry saw in Snape. The man was good to them and that made his hackles rise. He didn't want to know that there could be compassion in the Potions Master because then it meant that he, Sirius Black, was lacking. He closed his eyes briefly. He was feeling trapped again, only this time it wasn't the walls of Black Manor that were closing in on him, it was his own conscience. He needed to run.

Sirius mustered a smile for the young boy, and tried his best to put a lighthearted tone in his voice, "I think you ought to try and get some sleep. Big day of gift opening tomorrow. Do you think you can sleep now, cousin?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah. I think so." He pushed the blanket off his lap and stood up. "G'night, Sirius."

"Night, Draco." Sirius watched as the teenager made his way up the stairs. When his keen hearing heard the sound of the bedroom door opening, and then closing, he allowed his form to shimmer. Now in his Animagus form, he shook his body and headed for the front door. A touch of his moist, black nose to the lower half of the door revealed a doggie flap. Pushing through, Padfoot made his way out into the silent street and across it to the nearby park. He broke into a run, leaving behind his past, the present, and his self. All that mattered was the cold night air and his freedom.

The next morning, Christmas arrived at #12 Grimmauld Place early. Ron was first out of bed, practically pushing Draco and Harry from their beds. Fred and George woke up the girls. The children then all gathered together and thundered down the stairs, waking the adults. Snape tried to bury himself under the covers, but was ungraciously pushed out of bed by his far too cheerful wife and her terribly cold feet.

"Bah, humbug!" he growled from the floor.

Lyrica looked over the edge of the bed, a silent laugh upon her lips. She yelped as Snape yanked her off the bed and on top of himself. With her elbows on his chest and her chin in her hands she smiled mischievously. "It's Christmas morning, my dear. The children are waiting for us downstairs."

"They can wait," Snape smiled wickedly. He made a grab for Lyrica but she scrambled away. With a wave of her hand she doused her husband with a bucket of cold water.

"AAAHHHH!"

Passing Snape and Lyrica's closed bedroom door, Molly and Arthur smiled and chuckled at each other. Remus stepped out of his room and ran his fingers through his grey peppered light brown hair. He greeted Molly and Arthur and fell into step behind them. Sirius was already downstairs having returned from his run less than an hour ago. Upon seeing the boisterous arrival of the young ones, he had taken some of the fairy lights and sent them dashing about the living room chasing the children.

Draco remarked at the angry shout from his father echoing down the stairs, "Sounds like Dad stubbed his toe."

The remark brought laughter from the adults. A few seconds later the fireplace whooshed and the flames crackled into green. The Headmaster came through, carrying a red bag filled with gifts upon his back. Behind him was Dobby, the elf, dressed in a silly green costume, with curl-toed shoes on his feet and a pointed green hat upon his head. Dobby was helping to hold the red bag of gifts.

"Merry Christmas everyone!" He smiled and his eyes twinkled merrily as he opened the red bag and allowed the gifts to leap out, fly around, and deliver themselves. Dobby ran around the room happily presenting all of the youngsters with Gryphon feathers.

"What's with the feathers, Dobby?" asked Harry as he spun his curiously. The feather was the length of his arm and several shades of gold, amber, and brown. The edge glittered with a natural fire.

"Me have Gryphon friend, Master Harry, sir," began Dobby. "Him give feathers. Feathers from Gryphon powerful magic. Use in potions, create wand, make new spell. You discover." He beamed happily.

Hermione waved her feather and a tiny shower of green sparkles fell from the tip. "Oh, this will be fun! Thank you, Dobby!"

They began opening their gifts from Albus, which were for all of them hand knitted, colourful socks. Coming down the stairs were Snape, wearing a perfect Ebeneezer Scrooge scowl and Lyrica following behind him. Harry and Draco looked up from their socks (Draco's were green with little silver snakes hissing around the anklet and Harry's were red with little lion cubs roaring) and smiled warily at their father as he sat down in the chair he'd comandeered as his the first day they arrived. Lyrica kissed Snape's cheek and then went to kiss her sons. She then kissed Hermione's cheek and hugged Ron. When Fred and George looked terribly left out of the affection, Ginny jumped up and hugged her brothers.

"Merry Christmas, Lyrica," said Dumbledore handing her his gift. Dumbledore then allowed one last gift out of the bag and it flew over to the disgruntled Potions Master.

"Merry Christmas, Headmaster, and to everyone as well," said Lyrica. She opened her present to reveal a pair of black and silver striped socks. "Oooh! Warm socks!" Tossing off her slippers, Lyrica quickly put the socks on. Lifting the hem of her red velvet dress, she wriggled her toes happily. "Wonderful! Thank you so much, Albus." She stepped past Harry and kissed the old wizard's cheek, causing him to blush with gratitude.

Snape glanced down at the socks as Lyrica stood beside him. "You look ridiculous," he griped.

"Oh be quiet and open your gift, Scrooge," cajoled Lyrica.

Snape didn't really look at his gift as he ripped the green foil paper off. It was when he realised that he wasn't holding the usual pair of socks that he looked down to see what the Headmaster had given him. It was a book. He frowned at it, glanced up at Dumbledore, and then back down at the book.

"What is it, Dad?" asked Harry.

Snape read the title stamped into the black leather cover, "Defense Against the Dark Arts 5th through 7th Years Master Curricula for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardy. Albus...?"

"Alastor is only available for this year, Severus. If you're interested, I'd like to offer you the position of DADA instructor for next year teaching the 5th through 7th years," replied Albus. In the back of his mind, Snape thought the old man's twinkling eyes were brighter than the fairy lights on the tree.

"But, who will teach the 1st through 4th years?" Remus raised his hand and smiled. Snape glared at the werewolf. "And, Potions?" He felt a finger tapping his shoulder and looked up at Lyrica. She smiled and pointed to herself. "You? Did you know about this?" He asked his wife incredulously.

"Albus told me a few days ago. Poppy is going to finish out one more year at Hogwarts before retiring, so I'll be available to teach Potions. If that's all right with you, Severus?"

Snape smiled, kissed his wife's hand, and nodded thankfully at Dumbledore. The Headmaster clapped his hands together and a group of presents from under the tree delivered themselves.

By the time everything was unwrapped the living room was littered with tons of shiny, torn paper, bows of all colors, and dozens of ribbons. Everyone received more sweets than they needed, some received practical gifts, such as Molly's knitted jumpers (Lyrica tried to wear hers, but Snape snatched it from her and hid it), and everyone had at least one gift that was the best.

Sirius received an engraved pocket watch from Harry that had an image of a smiling dog on its cover. Remus received a set of new teaching robes from Molly and Arthur. Dumbledore received a wonderful, and quite long, hand-knitted scarf that had all the colours of the Hogwarts houses from Hermione. Ron received a Chudley Cannons uniform jersey from Harry. From all of their children, Molly and Arthur received a ticket for a two week trip to Ireland. Fred and George were overwhelmed with a gift of 1,000 galleons from Draco, Harry, and Snape. Snape did tell them that the gift could not be used until they finished their seventh year at Hogwarts. For that alone, Molly kissed Snape which elicited a round of 'Ewwws' from the teenagers. Hermione received a photograph of her parents from the Headmaster that she cried over until Draco consoled her. Ginny received a gift certificate to Madam Malkin's Robe Shop from Hermione and Draco received a mysterious, sealed envelope from his father. Just as mysterious, Snape received three sets of dissecting tools from his sons. The boys whispered to him that they'd explain the odd gift later. Lastly, Lyrica received a charms necklace from her sons. It was silver with two, small, glittering gemstones. One was ruby, to represent Harry, and the other was emerald, to represent Draco.

By far, though, the most spectacular gifts were from Snape and Lyrica to their sons; brand new, sleek Cosmos X brooms with their names on engraved gold and silver plaques. This gift effectively sent all the children outside in the backyard so they could try out the magnificent brooms.

"Lovely," glowered Snape as he surveyed the destruction of the living room. "I suppose they expected all of this mess to clean itself?"

Sirius laughed. "Oh just leave it, Snape! It's Christmas." He slapped a large, green bow on the back of Snape's head and didn't duck fast enough to avoid a Jelly-Legs Hex. Remus laughed as Sirius plunged into all the paper while Snape and his wife went to the kitchen to help with breakfast.

That night, just before bedtime, Snape took Draco into the library to explain what the mysterious envelope was that he'd been given that morning. Draco sat down on the small library sofa beside Snape.

"What is it?" he asked, turning the envelope over and over.

"It's the first in a series of letters I felt were safe for you to read." Draco stared at Snape as his heart leapt up into his throat and lodged itself there, beating painfully. "Elydree had a very rough time the first year she was with the people I sent her to. She missed her big brother terribly, and of course, she didn't understand why she couldn't see you. I was firmly against her having any sort of contact with me as I felt it might put her into danger if ever I were to slip. It was my intention to maintain my resolve to keep my distance, but Elydree was pining for you, and for her mother. She made herself desperately ill. I went to visit with her, to bring her back to health, and to better explain why she couldn't see you."

"Couldn't you have explained before?" asked Draco, his throat tight with holding back his emotions.

"I didn't have time, Draco. The Dark Lord was in hiding and I was doing everything I could to discover where he might be. In addition I had my teaching to do. My time back then was not my own. That is, not until I realised I had to make time and make it clear to Elydree what was happening. It took two weeks to nurse her back to health and to finally get it across to her the danger that you both were in. She then asked me if she might write to me, but address the letters to you. I relented when I discovered that Muggle mail is quite a bit safer from tampering than owl mail is. Elydree also wrote to me, once a month. However, the letters she wrote to you were sent once a week and I've kept them for you. I think it would be safe to give them to you now."

Draco could no longer hold back the emotions that were fighting to get out. He felt silly for crying like a baby, but he cried anyway, throwing his arms around Snape's neck and embracing him tightly.

"I really wish you'd always been our dad. Lucius never deserved me or Elydree. Thank you, Dad."

"I wish that it hadn't taken me so long to be able to do this for you."

They were silent for a moment and then Draco looked up into the eyes of the man he'd always trusted. "You're going to have to kill Lucius, aren't you?"

"I will not risk going to Azkaban, but yes, I probably will have to kill him, someday."

"Good." Draco leaned against Snape, putting his head to the man's chest so he could listen to the steady beat of his heart.

"Will you explain the dissecting tools, now, Draco?" asked Snape with a small smile.

Draco chuckled. "Nope. Not until we get back to Hogwarts."

It was the last night of the holiday that reminded everyone of the darkness that huddled beneath the pristine snowfall of the new year of 1995.

Harry had gone to bed earlier than usual that evening. He'd been quiet and somewhat lost in his own thoughts, but as everyone was winding down to a degree, no one thought anything of it. In his bedroom that he shared with Draco and Ron, he was currently alone. A sliver of the crescent moon sliced through the heavy drapes with enough light to cast eerie shadows off the furniture. Harry, not feeling like a fourteen year old, but more like a four year old, pulled the blankets up and over his head. He pulled his feet up away from the end of the bed wishing, strongly, that there weren't such things as boggarts that liked to live in the dark.

The boy was tired, but he was sure he couldn't fall asleep. However, as soon as his eyes drifted experimentally shut, he dropped down into a deep sleep. It was not a restful sleep.

Harry was floating through darkened hallways in a house he'd never seen before. He went up stairs, then down. He walked through corridors wide, and hallways narrow. The house echoed maddeningly and everywhere he looked hung cobwebs thick with years of dust. He kept wishing that he'd stop floating through this house that made his heart clench tightly in his chest, but something was pulling him inexorably into the depths of the house.

Finally, ahead of him a room glowed from the light of flames burning in a fireplace. He recognised the rat-faced traitor Wormtail, Peter Pettigrew, kneeling before a large, red velvet chair close to the fire.

I don't want to go there, I don't want to go there, I don't want to go there! Harry's mind chanted frantically and to his relief he stopped just before crossing the threshold.

"I can feel him, Wormtail," gasped a voice that sounded wet and coming from a throat ravaged or unfinished.

"Who, Master?" asked Wormtail as his beady little eyes darted about wildly.

"Harry... Potter," the voice cracked into awful laughter. "He thinks... this is a... dream... a nightmare..." again that horrible laughter seemed to scrape right over Harry's nerves. He wanted to leave this dream or whatever it was. "Feed my pet, Wormtail. I believe the boy might appreciate some... entertainment."

Wormtail rose to his feet and Harry watched as the man darted towards the corner where Harry thought there was just some dirty canvas stored. Pettigrew lifted the canvas aside to reveal the insensate form of a young girl only a few years older than Harry. Just as the largest snake Harry had ever seen slithered past him and into the room, Harry began to shiver, knowing all to well what was going to happen. He really wanted to wake up.

The next few moments were a blur of screams, the snake thrashing crazily, and blood everywhere. And above all this horror was that hideous, malformed laughter. Harry's mind began to scream over and over the laughter, DAD! DADDY! HELP ME!

Down in the library, Dumbledore was speaking quietly to Lyrica while Snape and Ron played a game of chess. Snape suddenly let out a cry of pain and fell forward out of his chair. He pushed aside Ron's helping hand and pulled himself to his feet. "Harry!" he gasped.

Lyrica was right behind her husband as they both ran up the stairs and to the bedroom. Snape burst through the door to find his son still caught within his nightmare, screaming silently, and fighting madly to get away from what he was seeing. Snape could hear Harry's screams, though, in his mind, and the boy was absolutely terrified. Along with his son's screams was a laughter he recognised and it sent shivers down his spine. With his wand already in his hand, he pointed it at his son and shouted, "Ennervate!"

Harry shot awake and sat bolt upright in his bed. His eyes were wide open, and his pupils almost obliterated the green. His skin had gone so pale, it was nearly luminescent. It was also cold and clammy to the touch. Harry burst into hysterical sobs and Snape sat down on the bed, drawing the trembling child into the protection of his embrace. Lyrica sat down beside them caressing Harry's cheek and adding her own gentle voice to her husband's.

"Snape," came Sirius' concerned voice. "Are there any potions you need?"

"Calming Potion and Dreamless Sleep," replied Snape tersely. "Harry, child, the dream has you no more." His slim fingers cupped Harry's cheek as he tipped the boy's head upward. Harry's eyes held no sense that he knew where he was.

"Severus," whispered Lyrica, "what nightmare could do this?" She brushed sweat dampened hair from his forehead and revealed Harry's lightning bolt scar. It was an angry red that began to bleed profusely as her fingertips brushed over it. "Sweet Merlin!" Lyrica pressed the wide cuff of her robe sleeve over the bleeding scar to keep the flow of the blood from going into his eyes.

Hermione ran out of the bedroom upon seeing the blood and met Sirius just as he was emerging from Snape's third floor lab. "What's wrong now, Hermione?" he asked worriedly.

"He's bleeding from his scar. Go, Sirius!" she pushed him towards Harry's bedroom, and then ran into the lab. By the time she returned to Harry's room, Lyrica had administered the Calming Potion. Snape was incanting a spell to stop the blood flow. "Professor, I brought some Blood Replenishing Potion."

"Good girl," he said softly taking the small, red bottle from her hand. He gave it to Harry who grimaced at its heavy, coppery taste. "My son," Snape spoke softly, "Are you back with us?"

"Dad? You heard me?" Harry's eyes were clear and now focused on his father.

"I heard you very clearly, Harry. You weren't having an ordinary nightmare, were you?" Harry shook his head. "Can you tell me what you saw?"

"Noooo," gasped Harry. "It was him and he saw you, Dad."

"I know, child, I know. But you're here now, with your family." Harry buried his face against Snape's chest, drawing in the scent of sandlewood from the soft, woolen robes.

"Harry, would you allow your father to see your dream in your mind?" asked Lyrica.

Harry swallowed tightly. "No, please Dad... I don't want to see it again! Please don't do that," he pleaded.

Snape felt the papery thin hand of the Headmaster's on his shoulder. "My pensieve, Severus," said the old man curtly. "Bring him." Dumbledore swept out of the bedroom as Snape drew Harry to his side, keeping a reassuring arm over the boy's shoulders. Lyrica draped Harry's robe over him and helped him to slip his feet into his slippers. Snape then led his son out of the room after Dumbledore.

Arthur and Molly kept the others back at Grimmauld Place while Harry, Dumbledore, and his parents stepped through the Floo and to the Headmaster's office.

Snape, still supporting Harry at his side, Lyrica, and the Headmaster stepped through the Floo from Grimmauld Place and into Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore went over to a large, ornate cabinet which he tapped with his wand. The cabinet slid open to reveal a simple looking stone basin holding what appeared to be silver water.

Snape had seated himself upon a nearby chair and drew his son down beside him. He was worried about the glazed look in the young boy's eyes and wondered if the vision was still playing in the periphery of his mind.

Dumbledore leaned over, "Harry, I need you to concentrate on your nightmare, but only for a few seconds," Dumbledore spoke gently.

"I can't!" he gasped as he gripped his father's forearm tightly. "I can still see her screaming and the blood!"

"Shhh, it's over, Harry," Snape said softly, pressing Harry's head gently against his chest. To the Headmaster he whispered, "Albus, just do it."

Dumbledore nodded and placed the tip of his wand to Harry's temple. A long, thin, wispy strand of memory was drawn forth until Dumbledore could slip it into the pensieve. As soon as it was gone from Harry's mind, the boy slipped into a blessed faint. Snape laid him down on the chair and transfigured it into a small sofa so Lyrica could check on Harry. She sat down beside him, her wand over Harry as she incanted a diagnostic spell.

"He'll be fine, Severus." With his wife's assurance, Snape and Dumbledore placed their faces into the memory of the nightmare and were drawn into it.

"Mum?" asked Harry as he woke slowly. He knew he'd been dreaming and there were still shadowy images of the dream he could make out in his memory, but the fear he'd felt was much diminished.

"Your father and the Headmaster are looking at your dream now, Harry."

He shook his head. "It wasn't a dream, Mum. I saw Vol... You-Know-Who. He's horrid looking. Like something... ugh... not finished... wrong." He turned his head to look blearily toward the still figures of his father and Dumbledore bent over the pensieve. "I don't want that memory back." He shuddered at the memory of blood spattering the thing in the chair. "Wormtail fed her to that snake, Mum!"

"You don't have to take it back, Harry. It will be all right." Lyrica put her arms around Harry, and kissed his brow.

There was stirring from the pensieve cabinet as both men emerged from the dream. Dumbledore wavered and Snape caught him, steadying the older wizard on his feet. Dumbledore nodded his thanks and made his way over to his desk and collapsed into his chair. Snape went to sit beside Harry and Lyrica.

"Dad," whispered Harry, "I don't want that... back."

Snape squeezed Harry's arm and turned to his wife, "Would you take Harry back to our quarters, Lyrica? And see if Draco wants to come back home, too."

She nodded. "Come along, Harry." Lyrica held out her hand for almost a minute before Harry slipped his hand into hers and walked out of the Headmaster's office with his mother.

When the door was closed, Dumbledore spoke, "Were you able to recognise the house, Severus?"

Snape shook his head. "If we didn't meet someplace remote and outside, we were always at Malfoy Manor. That place looked ready to fall down from disrepair. Of course, that may be just how it looks to anyone passing by. The Dark Lord has a fondness for subterranean chambers and hidden passages so a decaying house would be a deceptive camouflage." Snape frowned in concern at the Headmaster who stared blankly across his office. "Albus? Are you all right?"

The Headmaster shook his head wearily. "The girl. I recognised her."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Who was she?" he asked softly.

"Melisande Dew, Madame Rosmerta's grand-niece. Her father was Muggle-born. Melisande chose to live in the Muggle world after her mother died a few years ago. The girl was reported missing before term began. She was only twenty years old." The Headmaster absentmindedly shifted some paperwork on his desk and then, without looking up, he asked, "How is Harry doing with his Occlumency lessons, Severus?"

Snape wasn't thrown by the change of subject. Smoothly he replied, "He is... adequate, but stubborn. He has not understood the necessity for the lessons."

"He must learn, Severus. Until he does, he is a danger to all of us," Dumbledore gave Snape a look that made it clear he now viewed Harry as a danger to himself and the Order. Before he could reply to that perceived threat, the Headmaster continued, "...and he is vulnerable to the whims of Voldemort. Perhaps now he'll understand," said the Headmaster sharply.

"Indeed, Albus." In truth, out of the four, Harry was abysmal. After this night, though, Snape hoped that his son would see the importance of the meditations he kept telling the stubborn child to practice each night. The vision showed very clearly that the Dark Lord was aware he could get into Harry's mind. Snape shuddered to think of the damage that vile wizard could cause Harry. "Albus..." Snape walked over to the Headmaster's desk meaning to ask if the wizard truly felt Harry himself was now a danger. The old man, showing his age, had lain his head down upon his desk and had fallen asleep from the stress of the evening. Snape stretched out his hand and lightly touched the white-haired head of the wizard. "You're too old for another war," whispered Snape gently. The Potions Master left the office, closing the door silently behind him.

Classes were back in session at Hogwarts. Dumbledore made plans to have the Order of the Phoenix meet on a weekly basis after Harry's vision. Although there was no suspicious activity either in the Muggle or Wizarding worlds, there was a heightened sense of caution at Hogwarts and amongst Order members and their contacts. Remus was sent amongst the werewolves to keep an ear out for any sign that Voldemort was gathering forces. Sirius, still a fugitive, chose to leave Black Manor and to haunt the Forbidden Forest in his Animagus form in order to keep an eye on Harry.

The Defense Association was begun a week after everyone returned to Hogwarts. Ron, the twins, Draco, Harry, Hermione, Neville Longbottom and a few other fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh year students participated in the lessons, making a total class size of nearly twenty-five students. Luna Lovegood, despite being too young for the DA according to Snape, became a part of the class when Lyrica discovered that Luna's mother had been a practitioner of Ley Line magic and that Luna was one of those rare witches that were born attached to Ley Lines. Lyrica told her husband that this made Luna a very powerful witch. Harry didn't care. He was finally in a class where he could talk to the ethereal girl.

Between regular classes and the Defense Association, Snape continued to teach Occlumency to the quartet. He had graduated Hermione and Ron from lessons since they had finally mastered it. Draco had as well, but he was now working on mastering Legilimency.

Snape was concerned about Harry's now evident mental link with the Dark Lord. His son had not had any new visions, but concern for Harry had Snape changing the Occlumency lessons. Where before they had been meditation exercises and gentle testing by Snape of his block, the new lessons had turned into something unpleasant for them both.

Due to the aftereffects of these lessons, Snape's students, including his own house, suffered point losses and a record number of detentions that had Filch, who was the dealer of the detentions, complaining to the Headmaster about the extra work and lack of sleep he was getting. Harry, rather like his father, had also become unusually short-tempered and had managed to distance everyone in Gryffindor. Draco, trying to patch things up between the Trio one day, only wound up getting into a fist fight with his brother in Transfiguration, garnering both a week's worth of detention from McGonagall, a black eye for Harry, a bruised cheek for Draco, and a shouting lecture from their father.

Harry did understand why he needed the lessons. He didn't want Voldemort in his mind and he didn't want to wind up giving out important information to the enemy. Dumbledore, also concerned that Voldemort could get to him through Harry no longer was approachable by Harry. The obvious rebuff from the Headmaster hurt. This, along with the now combative nature of the Occlumency lessons only served to push a wedge between father and son and both of them afterwards were emotionally wrung out and often physically ill.

Deep down Harry knew that his father didn't mean to cause him pain, but he never seemed able to think rationally when his father was practically attacking his unprotected mind.

On Friday night, near the end of January, when he was supposed to be at an Occlumency lesson with his father, Harry had skived off and retreated to the solitude of the Astronomy Tower. He didn't think anyone else was there and was startled when he heard a soft, dreamy, familiar voice.

"One of my favorite things to do up here is to draw constellations in the sky." Luna smiled shyly at Harry as she took out her wand and began connecting some of the stars together with a pale, blue light emanating from the tip of her wand. Harry looked at the lighted figure, then turned his head sideways.

"I don't recognise it, Luna," he said, tilting his head the other way.

"It's a Ligurian Double-Crossed Tiger." With a wave of her hand, the light was brushed away and broke apart into glittering dust. Luna sat down beside Harry. "I never got a chance to thank you for telling your mother about me, Harry. I like her very much."

Harry smiled and felt a blush creeping up into his cheeks at Luna's proximity. Looking at her, with the moonlight turning her long, pale blonde hair into a shimmering fall that seemed to glow around her, he wondered if it was that beauty that had given the girl her name. "I'm glad Mum could help you with your magic. You've really been doing well in the DA. I think Hermione's just a little annoyed that you're doing better than she is." He leaned closer to the girl and drew her scent into his nostrils. He couldn't identify it other than to describe it as gentle and light as Luna herself was.

Luna laughed and leaned towards Harry causing their shoulders to touch lightly. "Hermione is so much more graceful than I am, Harry. She has the beauty of Freyja, the Norse Warrior Goddess when she is fighting. Don't you think she's rather beautiful to watch?"

"I don't know who Freyja is, but I have noticed that Hermione seems to... hmm... radiate... something when she's casting spells. Not like she's glowing, or anything, but... well, Hermione's not you, Luna. You're beautiful." Luna suddenly tapped Harry's nose with the tip of her wand, causing glittery blue sparks to leap from the end of his nose. He laughed and again she laughed. Harry wanted nothing more than to hear Luna's sweet, musical laughter for the rest of his life. With his heart suddenly thumping rapidly in his chest, Harry slipped an arm over Luna's shoulders. When she didn't pull away, but settled herself so her head was upon his shoulder, Harry sighed happily. Looking down, he could see the little silver sparkle of the Aethonon he'd found at a gift store and given to Luna for Christmas. It was a winged horse whose wings fluttered every few minutes. It warmed him to see Luna wearing it.

Luna connected a few more stars with her wand tip identifying several fantastic creatures he'd never heard of before. She then turned her head slightly and spoke softly into his ear. "Tell your father the truth, Harry." She then kissed his cheek and stood up. "Goodnight, Harry."

Scratching a particularly caustic remark about a student's potion sample, he slammed the phial into the rack, breaking the glass. Almost by rote, he cursed, cleaned the spill, checked to make sure none was on himself, and repaired the glass. He then glared for good measure at the rack of samples he had left to grade.

Snape hated the damned Occlumency lessons as much as his son did. He knew that Harry was doing his best. He was practicing the meditation and he did the visualisations as well. Yet, every time Snape forced his mind into Harry's there came the memories, good and bad. Snape was beginning to feel lower than the boy's fat uncle; abusing his son's mind was NOT protecting him.

Thus, Snape really wasn't all that surprised when Harry didn't show up at 6pm that Friday for another Occlumency lesson. An hour later, he knew Harry wasn't going to show up so he put away the potions samples, retrieved a stack of essays, and closed up his classroom. He then headed back to his quarters. He wanted to be angry with Harry, but the truth was, he didn't blame his son for blowing off the lesson. He wanted to blow it off as well.

Stepping through the door, Lyrica had a glass of firewhiskey for him, and a note. "Hedwig brought the note a few minutes ago, Severus," said Lyrica as she sat down on the sofa beside Snape.

Snape took a sip of the firewhiskey and read the note.

Dad,

Please don't be mad at me, but I can't do the Occlumency lessons anymore. They're tearing me up inside and it hurts me to see that they're hurting you just as much. I really am trying. You know I am and I don't know why I can't Occlude my mind. I don't know why it was so easy for Draco, Ron, and Hermione, but not me. I feel stupid and I don't want to be stupid around you.

If you're not mad at me, will you meet me in the Astronomy tower? I'll be there until 9pm. If you are mad, that's okay. I understand.

Love,
Your son, Harry

Snape folded the letter closed and downed the last of his drink as a thought came to him. It felt like he'd just found the last, missing piece to a very complex puzzle. He smiled, very slightly, quite pleased with himself. Leaning down, he quickly kissed Lyrica. "Harry's at the Astronomy tower. I'll see if I can't bring him down here for dinner."

Harry knew he should have probably sent the note to his father earlier, but frankly, he was afraid of doing so. He was a little worried that Snape might come up and drag him to the remainder of tonight's lesson. It took what Luna said to him to dredge up the nerve to write the short note.

As he sat down on the floor of the Astronomy tower looking through the open, arched window at the night sky, he tried, again, to figure out what the hell was wrong with his brain. Why couldn't he Occlude his mind? His Dad had taught them all that they had to visualise something that would hide those thoughts they didn't want someone else to know. He did rather well with the visualisation and had settled upon a bright blue sky, skudded with large, white clouds. What Harry did find difficult was the control of his emotions. The more his father attacked, the angrier he became, and the more unstable his blockade was. His last lesson had gotten him so upset he had run away the moment his father had let his mind go.

He began to wonder if maybe it was something wrong with him. Maybe his uncle had hit him in the head too hard too many times. A tear of frustration rolled down his cheek and Harry swiped angrily at it.

"And why do I cry so bloody easily?" he asked the darkness angrily.

"For the same reason you laugh and get angry and love so easily, Harry." Harry turned to see the imposing silhouette of his father standing in the Astronomy tower doorway.

"What do you mean, Dad?" he asked plaintively.

"Occlumency is an art that requires the strict control of one's emotions, Harry. Not just hiding them, but one must also be able to substitute one emotion for another. Anger for fear, lassitude for passion, adoration for revulsion."

Snape sat down beside his son, crossing his legs. "I'm beginning to think that we're attempting to suppress a part of you that's as natural as taking a breath. You are who you are because you're so very open with your emotions." He gave his son a mock, stern look. "Sometimes I wish you had a bit more restraint where your anger is concerned, but you've never been mad without reason. You are Lily's son and she never apologised for being open with her emotions."

He smiled as old memories of Lily flitted by and he was secretly pleased that he could remember Lily fondly without castigating himself anymore. "Like you, Lily was a true Gryffindor, always there to help those that needed it, standing up for others, and herself. I always admired the fact that everyone knew where they stood with Lily." Snape then touched his son's chin and turned him to face him. "Your mother was absolutely, distressingly abominable at Occlumency."

"My mum tried to learn Occlumency?"

"Your mother wanted to be an Auror and back then it was a requirement to know both Legilimency and Occlumency. Dumbledore, who taught Lily and James, actually lost his temper a few times with Lily before he realised that the Occlumency required her to suppress a very large part of who she was."

Harry glared. "So I can't learn because I'm emotional? Honestly, Dad, that sounds kind of girly."

Snape smirked. "You're not an hysteric, Harry. You are just someone whom, as they say, wears his heart on his sleeve, and it's not a bad thing. Nor is it 'girly'. It just is." Harry didn't look at all convinced. "Do you think I'm saying that you have no control whatsoever over your emotions?"

Harry nodded. "That's what it sounds like. I've been doing the meditation exercises and I know that those help! Haven't you noticed that my anger doesn't show up as much?" The boy sounded so very hopeful.

"I have noticed and I think you should, at the very least, keep doing the meditation." Harry frowned as his stubborn streak began to surface and threaten Snape's patience. He put a firm hand on his son's forearm. "Listen to me, Harry, you're not emotionally out of control. That is certainly not what I meant. You are who you are because of the freedom you have in expressing yourself. You express your emotions with everything you are, including your magic. I believe one of the reasons you were able to produce a full Patronus when even adult wizards have a problem producing just a wisp is because your magical core channels your emotions. It is when you suppress your emotions that your wild magic goes awry and you have problems."

Harry frowned as he tried to process what his father was saying. "So, if my magic is affected by my emotions, is it possible that they are the reason I've been doing badly in my classes lately?"

Snape stared at his son. He knew Harry had been having some problems in Potions and in the Defense Association, but he wasn't aware there was trouble in his other classes. "What's been going on in your other classes?"

Harry sighed heavily. "In Charms, today, we were working on cleaning spells and instead of cleaning Ron's shirt, I cleaned it off of him. I was lucky I didn't take some skin off as well, according to Flitwick."

"Professor Flitwick," Snape automatically corrected. "What about your other classes?"

"Oh... uhm... Transfiguration last week was bad. I killed the mouse I was supposed to be turning into a goblet. It wasn't working and I just got mad at it and it..." Harry grimaced. "It just wasn't pretty and Mc... Professor McGonagall wasn't real happy with me. She had me cleaning the mice cages for detention." He frowned at the slightly amused smirk hovering on his father's lips. "Oh yeah. And you yelled at me in DA last night because I put too much power in my whiplash spell."

Snape scowled. "I didn't yell," he huffed.

Harry smirked. "All right, Dad. You spoke louder than usual and called me a cottonhead and told me to take the cotton out of my ears and listen."

"Hmm, yes. It seems that our Occlumency lessons are botching up your normal, emotional balance, thus affecting the way your magic is working."

A sparkle of understanding lit up Harry's eyes and he smiled. "So, if I can't feel the emotion... the true emotion that's going through me as I'm casting spells, it messes me up. Which means, if I were successful at Occluding my mind, my magic would be lousy!"

"I believe that's what I just said," Snape drawled, his eyebrow raised. Then he smiled as he draped his arm over his son's shoulder and Harry leaned against his side.

"So what do we do? Can I just take the Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

"It isn't a very good solution, Harry. If you use it too much, it can actually make you more vulnerable as your mind, needing dreams to survive, begins to fight it."

"I wonder why Vold... He hasn't made more of an effort to get into my head," he muttered.

"It may simply be that he's not entirely strong enough to do so. It is also possible that he tried but those were nights when you'd taken the potion."

Harry sighed, depressed. "So I can't learn Occlumency?"

"Occlumency is a very difficult discipline, Harry, and no one, not even the Boy-Who-Lived can do everything. I wish, for your sake, that we'd figured this out earlier. I am so very sorry for having hurt you during our lessons."

"No, Dad, it's all right," he said smiling resignedly. "I know you only wanted to protect me."

Snape squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly. He then unfolded his legs causing his knees to crack as he rose to stand.

"Ewww!"

"Oh be quiet," chuckled Snape. "Just wait til you get to my age and try to sit like this." Standing he leaned over and held out a hand to his son. "I know it's late, but I think we both missed dinner so why don't you come have dinner with your mother and me."

"Are you going to let me have pudding?" he asked grasping Snape's hand and letting the older wizard draw him up to his feet.

"Fine. You can have pudding. But only one. I know you have chocolate frogs and sugar quills in your dorm left over from Christmas."

A few days later Snape was in class with his fourth year Slytherins and Gryffindors and deep in the middle of a lecture about the caustic properties of certain magical ingredients versus non-magical ingredients when the door to his classroom opened. He stopped his majestic pacing to shoot a deadly glare at the intruder and saw a very worried looking Minerva McGonagall standing in the doorway, wringing her hands.

"Professor Snape, the Headmaster wishes to see you and your sons in his office at once. Madame Snape will be meeting you there. I'll take over for you."

Snape pointed to Harry, then Draco, and with a sharp flick of his wrist, indicated they were to go out into the corridor. He then addressed the class, "Pages 203 to 215. You will be quizzed when I get back." With a nod to Minerva, he joined his anxious sons out in the corridor. Once the door was closed to the classroom, he planted a hand against each of their backs and hurried them along to the Headmaster's office.

Upon reaching the gargoyle that guarded the spiral staircase to Dumbledore's tower office, they were met by Lyrica running towards them. "Severus! You're all fine! What's going on?"

"I don't know," he muttered. "Jelly Babies!" The gargoyle slid aside and with Snape in the lead, his family followed him quickly up the rotating stairs. "What is the problem, Headmaster?" demanded Snape as soon as he entered the office.

There was no offer of tea, sherbet lemons, and no sign of twinkling eyes. The Headmaster was standing by his fireplace, a grave look upon his face. "Lucius Malfoy escaped from the Ministry holding center over the holidays."

Fear hit Draco so hard, that his knees buckled, sending him to the floor. Harry caught him by one arm and Lyrica helped them both to chairs.

"How the bloody hell did that happen?" shouted Snape.

"It appears that a certain rat of our acquaintance found his way into the Ministry..."

"Pettigrew!" growled Harry.

"Yes. Peter Pettigrew. He managed to bring in a portkey that allowed Lucius to escape. He's been masquerading as Lucius Malfoy all this time using Polyjuice Potion. One of his guards was bringing new potion once every few days. That guard had a broom accident about two weeks ago and was killed, which means Pettigrew ran out of Polyjuice. When his dinner was brought to him, the deception was revealed."

Snape paced angrily, "How long?" he asked. "How long has that bastard been free?"

"Since the night following Harry's vision," replied Dumbledore. "I believe it would be unwise for your family to leave Hogwarts until the end of term, Severus. Also, I think for the summer it might be best for all of you to be as far from here as possible."

"I know where we can go," replied Snape.

Draco spoke up, "What about Hermione?"

Lyrica patted his arm, "Even before this it was arranged that Hermione would come with us, so don't worry about her."

Harry, whose gaze had bounced back and forth between the two professors, asked, "Will Ron be safe with his family?"

Snape answered this time, "He should be fine, however, far be it from me to break up The Quartet." Harry smiled slightly. "Invite him, if you wish and if his parents agree, he may come with us."

The Headmaster smiled, "Well, then. That's taken care of."

"Uhm, Professor?" Harry addressed Dumbledore and he froze at the odd, twinkle-less smile that fell upon him.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Did Pettigrew confess... I mean, is Sirius still a fugitive?"

Dumbledore did not meet Harry's steady gaze, and Snape, who caught this, frowned at the old man. "He did, Harry. However, even under Veritaserum an investigation has been called for so until your godfather is officially cleared, he must remain in hiding."

Harry nodded. Snape spoke quietly, "Draco, Harry, go back to class and please let Professor McGonagall know I shall be returning soon."

The boys both nodded glumly. A smirk graced Snape's face quickly, "And read pages 203 to 215. You'll be quizzed as well."

"That's not fair!" snapped Draco. "I'm distraught!"

Snape and Lyrica had matching glares, but before they could say something, Harry grabbed his brother by his robe collar, and snorted, "Oh give me a break, Goldilocks! You'll find regular death threats to be particularly motivating."

Draco shook off Harry as the made their way to the door of the office. "You really need to learn how to take advantage of a situation, Scarhead. We could have been graded on a sympathy curve!"

"Hah! Like Dad ever graded on a curve!"

The door shut behind them and Snape snorted. "As if!" His small moment of mirth was gone as he faced the Headmaster. "Albus, this shunning of Harry has got to stop. Do you realise how much you're hurting him?"

Dumbledore did not acknowledge Snape's dark eyed, angry stare as he ran his fingers over the titles of a section of books on his bookshelf. "Has the boy learned to Occlude his mind, yet, Severus?"

Snape sighed almost inaudibly. "He is unable to do so, Albus. Just as Lily was."

Albus turned, then, and faced Snape. There was a look of defeat upon his face. "I was concerned about that. I do know that Harry views my recent actions as... hurtful, but you understand why, Severus. I would hope that..."

Snape interrupted, "I have explained, Albus. Unfortunately, your past actions of not being truthful with him, of having cursed us in order to manipulate us into coming back, and now this... you're losing him and there's nothing I can do about that." Snape hated seeing the look of hurt that came into Dumbledore's eyes, but it was the truth. The Headmaster had made his choices, not ones he always agreed with, and Harry was the one left to suffer.

Dumbledore was about to reply, but as defeat and pain settled into his drooping shoulders, he turned back to the books, the fingers of his right hand resting on the old leather bindings. "Do what you can to keep your family safe, Severus. I shall do what I must."

There was a long and uneasy silence until Lyrica rose and took her husband by the hand. Wordlessly, they both walked out leaving the Headmaster to his thoughts.

After Lucius Malfoy's escape, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco did their best to go everywhere with each other. Sometimes Luna, Pansy, or Neville joined them. Hermione took this opportunity to start a study group. For awhile they met in the library, until Madame Pince threw them out for talking too much. After that they met in the Room of Requirement.

A week before the end of February, the quartet, along with Luna, Pansy, and Neville, were in the Room of Requirement studying. Hermione, always in charge of the study group, had requested a large library, with desks, and comfortable chairs. Draco and Hermione had paired off and were working on Charms. Harry and Luna had their heads together over Potions, and Pansy and Neville were deep into a discussion of Mandrake Root for Herbology. Ron hadn't even looked at the Transfiguration text in front of him. He had a dark scowl on his face that he kept throwing surreptitiously at each of the three couples. Draco, finally catching the glare, kissed Hermione's cheek, whispered to her and then stood up. He went over to Harry, nudged his shoulder and nodded towards Ron. Neville, curious about what the two boys were up to, was about to ask, when Pansy diverted his attention by dazzling him with a smile.

"You're a man in need of a girlfriend," Draco spoke conspiratorially as he sat down on Ron's left at the long table the redhead was seated at.

Ron frowned. "What would you know?"

Harry replied for Draco, "He knows the bliss of a young woman's kiss meant just for him."

Draco mock gagged, and Ron's jaw just dropped. "Mate, your brain's turning to mush," remarked Ron once he'd gotten his jaw back into place.

"You're a regular Romeo, aren't you, Scarhead?" sniggered Draco.

"Says the man who keeps sending his girlfriend pretty notes with hearts and cherubs all over the margins during mealtimes," Harry bit back good naturedly.

"Why are you two sops bothering me?" asked Ron as he flipped a page of his book.

Draco snatched the text away and hid it under the table. "Studying are you, Ron? What text was it?"

Ron narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin, "History."

"Hah!" Draco tossed the Transfiguration book back on the table. "You need someone to snog..."

"Draco!" admonished Hermione.

He flashed a smile of apology at Hermione for the crudity. He then leaned in toward Ron and whispered, "You need a mate, mate."

Twin blossoms of color dotted Ron's cheeks and he glared darkly at both boys. Harry nudged Ron's arm. "C'mon, Ron. I thought you were going to try and talk to Milli."

"I did," he asserted. "After the Gryffindor/Slytherin match, I told her she flew really well."

"And?" prompted Draco.

"She smiled at me," Ron said slowly.

"And?" said Harry, echoing Draco.

"And... and... and that was that." Ron thunked his head loudly on the table and did it again for good measure.

"What's the Weasel's problem?" asked Pansy as she sat down across from the boys.

"Ron? You're not sick are you?" Hermione sat down beside Pansy. Neville quickly slid into the chair on the other side of Pansy.

"NO! I'm not shick!" Ron's face was still somewhat smashed against the table top.

"Were you scared by the Nibbling Gastwinder that's been haunting the dorms lately?" asked Luna as she sat beside Harry.

Ron lifted his head. "The what?"

"Nibbling Gastwinder," Luna went on to explain. "It generally likes to eat parchment, therefore, it's rather fond of homework. I think Cho's been having trouble with one since she's told Professor Flitwick twice that her homework was eaten." Ron just stared at Luna as though she were from another planet. Luna glanced sideways at Harry and he caught the twinkle in her eye that he was learning meant she'd been teasing. As he got to know the strange girl, he had discovered that even though she spoke about an array of fantastical creatures that put Fantastic Beasts And Where to Find Them to shame, she also liked to make up magical creatures. Luna, had a subtle sense of humour and an imagination that caused others to just think she was crazy. Harry knew she wasn't. Luna was as sharp as a Unicorn horn.

Ron shook his head at Luna. He thought the girl was still looney. "I don't know what to say to her!" Ron blurted miserably.

"To who?" asked Pansy. She, along with Neville and Luna, had no idea who the boy was referring to.

Harry grinned, "Ron likes Millicent Bulstrode."

Pansy's eyes sparkled with mirth. "Milli?" Then she laughed.

Ron was angry as soon as Neville and Draco chuckled, too. "You know what? That's just rude! Just because Millicent isn't all flighty and skinny and thinking about makeup and clothes twenty-four hours a day, doesn't mean you all should laugh at her! She IS pretty! To me! And she can fly on a broom bloody better than any of you!" He shot a glare at Harry. "Including you!"

"Hey!" Harry shouted indignantly. "I didn't laugh!"

Ron pushed away from the table and made to leave when Pansy caught him by the sleeve of his robe. "I'm sorry. That WAS rude of me to laugh, Ron." Ron looked down at the petite, dark-haired girl who had quickly become a good friend of all of them, and apparently an even better friend of Neville's. "Sit down, Ron."

With a melodramatic huff, Ron went back to his chair and sat down between Draco and Harry. Draco thumped him on the back. "Good man, Weasel. Don't run away."

Harry spoke up, "Look, Ron, I know Dumbledore's cancelled Hogsmeade weekend, but there is going to be the staff/student Quidditch match this saturday. Why don't you ask Milli to go with you. You won't be alone since we'll all be together."

"That would be great, Harry," Ron said in a tone that clearly reflected it wasn't that great. "The problem isn't the date itself, it's asking her. My mind just goes... jumbles and I just sound like an idiot."

Pansy jumped up. "Bother all this! Wait here!" She ran out of the Room of Requirement oblivious to the stares of everyone.

"What do you think she's up to?" asked Neville.

Hermione smiled knowingly, and then grabbed her book. "I think she forgot her Transfiguration textbook. Let's get back to work, everyone. We have an hour before dinner."

They went back to their books and all of them were working on Transfiguring buttons into baby chicks when the door to the Room of Requirement opened. Pansy Parkinson walked in, her cheeks flushed from all the running she'd done. She had a slightly bewildered, but curious Millicent Bulstrode by the hand.

"Milli really needs help in Transfiguration and Charms so I told her she could join us. Ron? Will you partner with Milli?" Pansy pushed the athletic, tall girl towards the redhead.

Ron gaped up, stupidly, at Milli. Usually a rather taciturn faced girl who looked like she could pound you into a castle wall if you said the wrong thing, she smiled shyly at Ron. That simple smile seemed to be all that Ron needed to sort out his 'jumbles'. He clicked his mouth shut, smiled right back, and found his voice, "Uhm, yeah, uh... want to sit by me?" He asked, conjuring an empty chair next to him.

"Thanks," the girl said and sat down in the chair. "Pansy didn't give me a chance to grab my books. You okay sharing... uhm, Weasley?"

"Sure, but you can call me Ron, if you'd like?"

She smiled again, a bit brighter and Ron was sure his insides were going to melt. "I guess you can call me Milli, then."

"We're practicing changing buttons into chicks," he caught a little chick that was chirping its way down the length of the table. "You actually did pretty good in the last class when you turned that tea cosy into an eel."

"You were watching me?" she asked as a blush graced her cheeks.

Ron blushed as well and shrugged. "Heh, yeah, well. You're a lot prettier to look at then McGonagall."

With a smug little smile on her face, Pansy seated herself beside Neville. He nudged her gently, "That was pretty smart, Pansy," he said softly.

Pansy laced her fingers through Neville's and leaned against his shoulder. "We Slytherins don't believe in waiting for what we want." She squeezed his hand. "We go after it."

A Friday evening found the Snapes all enjoying a quiet evening in their sitting room down in the dungeons of Hogwarts. Harry lay in front of the fireplace, his brow beetled over his Charms essay. Every few minutes he'd look up, stare at the flames, and then write a few more sentences. Near the enchanted window that looked out over the eerily glittering spires of the Mer City under the lake sat Lyrica and Severus playing King's Table. It was an ancient game of strategy played by Lyrica's mother's family and she was teaching it to her husband.

Draco was stretched out on the sofa with a tall, fat book upon his lap titled, Secrets Hidden Away by Silas Spinner. The book was hollow inside and held all of Elydree's letters that she had addressed to her older brother since Snape had spirited her away from Lucius Malfoy's murderous intentions almost five years ago. Elydree's first letter to him was written near the end of November in 1990- the one Snape had given him for Christmas. The letter was written a few days after Snape had nursed the little girl back to health after she had made herself sick. Draco's heart clenched tightly as he read it.

Dearest Dragon,

I wish you were here. Uncle Severus is leaving after I write this letter to you. I know that you won't read it for several years. Uncle Severus spent time explaining to me the danger you and I are both in. He had promised to do his best to keep you safe so that someday we may see each other again. I promise to think of you everyday, Dragon. I hope you stay as close to Uncle Severus as you can. Please do not become like father. I should die if you do.

I will write to you more about my new foster family. They are good and kind and I shall be a good and kind girl to them.

All my love forever,
Elydree

Through his little sister's letters, Draco learned that she had been placed with a Muggle husband and wife who had lost a son the year previously to a Muggle disease called Leukemia. The husband, Marcus, sold cars and he seemed as passionate about cars as wizards tended to be about their brooms. Draco knew a little about cars and only knew that the fast moving vehicles composed of tons of metal were frightening. He preferred the wizarding forms of travel much more. It appeared that Elydree didn't care too much for cars, either.

...automobiles move too fast and I have to close my eyes tightly when we're in Uncle Marcus's auto. He keeps telling me not to worry, but I would much rather fly on a broom with you. It's awful...

The wife, Angie owned a bakery and through Elydree's descriptions it sounded to Draco as though the woman were the Muggle equivalent of Molly Weasley. Through Angie, Elydree found a love for baking and cooking and the two had quickly grown close. His sister, although she had permission to call Angie and Marcus mother and father, she chose not to. Elydree did not care to think about her real father, and could not call another woman 'mother' while Narcissa still lived. It was at that point in reading the letters that Draco glanced up, somewhat guiltily, at the woman he had taken to calling 'mum' so easily. Lyrica felt his gaze and as she turned her green eyes upon him he saw the love for him in her eyes.

Narcissa had always been 'mother' from the time he could speak. Draco knew Narcissa cared about him, but if she still loved him, he couldn't be for certain. It was possible that any love his mother once had for him was beaten out of her by Lucius. The smile he returned to Lyrica openly expressed the love he held in his heart for her. She was mum, and he was glad of it.

Draco returned his attention to the rest of the 1990 letters. Elydree went on to describe meeting the neighborhood kids and learning to 'fudge explanations' for bouts of her wild magic. They didn't happen too often, but when they did, Elydree did her best to appear just as mystified as her friends were when the magic happened.

Christmas in 1990 was a sad affair for little Elydree who missed her big brother terribly. Tears upon that particular letter tore at Draco's heart and he had to stop reading for a bit.

"Dad?" asked Draco.

Snape looked up from the game of King's Table and replied, "Yes, Draco?"

"How did you come to know Angie and Marcus?" Curious and looking for a break from his essay, Harry put down his quill and listened to Snape's reply.

"Not longer after I became a spy for Dumbledore, I was sent on a mission to discover how far the Dark Lord's influence was spreading amongst other wizarding communities around the world. I made a serious mistake that almost caused me to be found out for the spy I was. I was seriously injured and lost consciousness near a Muggle road. When I woke, I found myself in an automobile on my way to a hospital. As you know, Muggle medicine can sometimes make things worse for a wizard, so I convinced her to take me to her home."

"Were you cursed?" asked Harry.

"I'd been hit with a rapid fire cutting curse. I was bleeding from wounds that wouldn't close. At least, they wouldn't close magically. Angie, who had trained as a nurse in the military sewed my wounds closed. She was working on the last wound when Marcus arrived home with their son, Steven."

"Sewing? With a needle and thread?" Draco looked decidedly paler than usual and Snape chuckled at the boy's discomfort.

"It is as uncomfortable as it sounds, although, I did have a pain relieving potion on me that helped." Snape grimaced wickedly and a dark glimmer flashed in one eye. "However, seeing someone stick a sewing needle through one's own flesh..."

"Severus!" admonished Lyrica who was looking a bit green around the edges. "That sort of detail isn't necessary to the story."

Harry laughed. He'd been sewn up, once, and it wasn't that bad of a procedure. "So they kept you safe until you were well?"

"Marcus, quite frankly, wanted to call the police. Muggle Aurors," he explained as Lyrica sent him a questioning glance. "Angie had spent almost five hours sewing me up and listening to my story so she wasn't about to let her husband call in any authorities. Their arguing was about to send me on my way, when their son made the decision that I was to stay."

"Steven. Elydree says in her letters that he died," commented Draco. "How old was he?"

"When I met him, Steven was eleven years old. He didn't look sick, but he'd already been diagnosed with the Leukemia," said Snape.

"So how did a little boy change his father's mind?" asked Lyrica.

"It was something he said. It was, 'you gotta take care of him, mom and dad, he needs someone else to trust.' At the time, I thought nothing of it, but later I learned that Angie and Marcus believed Steven to be prescient. Personally, I think Steven was a very insightful child, but he was quite right. I did need someone else to trust. I needed two people I trusted to take care of Elydree."

Draco flashed his father a grin of thanks and then turned back to the letters. He was soon reading about 1991 and school. The little girl was going to a Muggle school where she took classes in English Grammar, Math, Science, History, and Physical Education.

...Physical Education is just a fancy name for playing. The only dumb thing about Physical Education is that we have to wear these horrible uniforms that make everyone look stupid. They also try to make you take a shower after the class. I refuse to share a shower. It's gross and, well, gross. The teacher kept deducting points from me for not taking a shower until Angie went to school and yelled at the principal. When Angie gets on her high horse, as she calls it, she can yell anyone into doing what she wants. So, I don't have to take a shower at school anymore...

Elydree was also taking music and art classes at school. She liked the singing but thought she didn't sing very well. Art was her favorite of all subjects. Draco recalled that his little sister had adored drawing and it was an activity that often kept the child quiet and out of hearing of her volatile father. An extra page of the letter had a drawing that Elydree had done of Draco flying on a broom playing Quidditch.

Towards the end of 1991, Marcus became sick. Most of Elydree's letters were about her worry for her uncle who had a heart condition that was getting worse. It meant that finances were getting tight even though there was income coming in from the bakery.

The year 1992 brought the death of Marcus from a massive heart attack suffered at work. Elydree was grief stricken and wasn't consoled even with the visit of Snape. She was pleased to see the Potions Master, but Elydree had pleaded with him to bring her brother. A later letter apologised for the earlier grief and Elydree mentioned that she'd written a long letter to Uncle Severus apologising to him for her immature behavior. Severus had replied to her apology with the gift of a silver locket that had a Muggle photograph of Draco waiting to board the Hogwarts Express. At the end of the letter, Elydree had drawn a picture of the locket, and then a picture of the photo of Draco.

"She's a very good artist," commented Harry who had gone out to the kitchen for a snack and on his way back to his homework, he'd glanced over Draco's shoulder at the letters.

"Elydree always liked to draw. Dad, did my sister ever draw on your letters?" inquired Draco.

Snape glanced up from the book he was reading. He and Lyrica had ended their game of King's Table a little while ago. "There's a drawing with every letter. No doubt yours are like that as well?"

Draco nodded, stood up and walked over to his father. He showed Snape the drawing of the locket and of himself. "I know that locket. Mother told me she'd lost it. How did you get it?"

"Narcissa did lose it, Draco. Lucius took the locket and gave it to one of his... lady friends in Knockturn Alley." Snape felt a glare warming the back of his neck and he turned, slightly, to face Lyrica. There was a warning in her gaze that told him to tread lightly. He smiled. "I can assure you, my dear, that my association with such women tended to be as distant as possible. With the exception of the woman in possession of that locket. A simple spell of confusion allowed me to divest the woman in question of the locket. As it would only bring Narcissa more trouble from Lucius, I chose to send it to Elydree. I simply replaced the smug image of Lucius with a Muggle photograph of Draco I had one of the Hogwarts elves take for me."

Draco smiled. "Thanks for doing that, Dad." Lyrica silently handed her son a biscuit and he walked back to the sofa and began reading more of his sister's letters as he munched on the biscuit.

The beginning of 1993 was more about school, friends, baking, and generally coping without the presence of Marcus. Big news came after Elydree's eleventh birthday. Uncle Severus had hired a tutor to instruct the child in the use of magic. One letter was all about her new wand and a visit to a magical community.

Dear Dragon,

I never knew there was a wizarding community hidden right next to the town I live in! I wish I could tell you the name, but it's a lot like Diagon Alley and its wonderful! My tutor Eamon Brisingamen took Angie and I. You should have seen her face! Gobsmacked! I think I looked just as silly.

Our first stop was the wand shop. Dragon, you wouldn't believe this, but the shop was Ollivander's Wands! How can Ollivander be here and there at once? Strange. Anyway, it wasn't very busy, so I didn't have to wait very long. I tried seven wands before my wand chose me. My wand is ebony inlaid with rowan. It is twelve inches and has a core of dragon scale. It's so very beautiful. When I held it, purple sparks spilled forth from the tip. Ollivander said he's never seen purple sparks before. My tutor has assigned me my first essay - to discuss the aspects of my wand and what they mean. I'll send you a copy when I've finished it.

After we bought my wand, I got my first Potions kit. Angie had all kinds of questions about Potions and I think the apothecary got a bit annoyed with her when she said Potions sounded like baking. Uncle Severus sent me a book on Potions which, now that I've had a chance to look at it, I realise it's your first year textbook! I spent the rest of the afternoon reading all of your notations and I love your silly cartoon drawings of that funny Harry Potter. My favorite one is where he's flying into the formula for Pepper Up Potion and slides down the letters.

"Ah hah!" Draco snorted as he stopped reading the long letter.

"Ah hah, what?" asked Harry. He'd finished his essay and was learning how to play King's Table while Snape read over the essay.

"I thought I'd lost my first years Potions textbook. Dad sent it to Elydree!"

Snape didn't look up from Harry's essay that he was looking over. "That I did. By the way, I hope you've stopped with the drawings in your textbooks. That one was a mess."

"What sort of drawings did he do, Dad?" asked Harry with a trouble-making grin on his face.

"None of your business," sneered Draco.

Snape finally lifted his head and the corners of his mouth lifted mischievously, "It seems that his favorite subject was the obnoxious Boy-Who-Lived."

"I'm not obnoxious!" snapped Harry.

"Scarhead was not my favorite subject!" Draco snapped at the same time.

The two brothers glared at each other and Snape laughed. A rare sound that, even if at their expense, was something they liked to hear. They both smiled.

Harry suddenly glanced down at his watch. "Draco, it's nine o'clock!"

Draco quickly scooped up his letters, organising them so that he could finish the rest later. He closed the hollow book and used the spell to seal it shut that Snape had taught him. "Go get the tools, Harry."

Harry left the game board and ran into the passage that led to the private lab. "Harry! Where do you think you're going?" shouted Snape.

"It's all right, Dad," explained Draco as he slid the book of letters onto one of the bookshelves in the sitting room. "Harry's gone to get the dissecting tools you stored in the lab."

"Ah. So you two are finally going to reveal what they're all about?" he asked as he settled back down in his chair. Draco merely smiled, mysteriously, in reply.

"Got 'em!" Harry returned, a little breathlessly, holding the three leather pouches that each held a set of silver dissecting tools. Harry handed one to his father and one to his brother. "Oh... you know... we might need our cloaks. It's kind of cold down there."

"And our dragon-hide gloves and boots," agreed Draco. He turned to his father. "You, too, Dad. We'll be back in a second." The two boys disappeared into their bedrooms before Snape could ask what was going on.

"Let them be mysterious, Severus," smiled Lyrica. "I'll get your cloak and gloves." She rose from the game table and went into their bedroom while Snape stared at the pouch of tools. He knew his sons had to dip into their Gringott's accounts to afford these tools; something he had asked them both not to do. With their accounts alone each boy was wealthy by wizarding standards, neither account was going to last with the spending habits the two had. Draco wasted too much money on expensive clothing, a habit Snape had immediately put a halt to. On the other hand, Harry rarely spent money on himself, but was constantly spending money on his friends. Not something Snape could truly disapprove of, but such expenditures tended towards food purchases, mostly sweets, and jokes. That was another habit Snape put his foot down on. As far as he was concerned, with a Headmaster addicted to sweets, there was entirely too much sugar circulating Hogwarts without Harry adding to the surplus.

Both Lyrica and Snape, as legal guardians of the boys, had been able to put some limits on the withdrawals made by the boys from their accounts. Anything over 100 galleons required a signature from a parent to authorise. In addition the Snapes were teaching their sons the art of managing their finances. Harry took to the lessons naturally, but Draco had balked until he'd understood that the galleons in his account weren't going to last forever and that it might be the only money he'd ever see from the vast Malfoy estate. It was more than likely that the estate and all the Malfoy holdings would get seized by the Ministry if it were ever conclusively proven that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater.

The boys emerged from their bedrooms just as Lyrica exited with Snape's long, black outer robe, and his faintly iridescent, dark green, dragon-hide gloves.

"Ready, Dad?" asked Draco.

"Am I allowed to ask where we're traipsing off to after curfew with dissecting tools and dragon-hide gloves?" he inquired archly as he slung his robe over his shoulders.

"Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom," supplied Harry as he stepped out through the hidden door.

"A bathroom?" sneered Snape.

"Yes. And, be nice to Myrtle, Dad. She's kind of twitchy and we don't need her to start moaning all over the castle," admonished Harry.

Wondering just what his sons could be up to, Snape followed along behind them until they reached the second floor girl's bathroom that had long ago been abandoned to its solitary ghost, Moaning Myrtle. At the arrival of guests, Myrtle rose up from the U-Bend she was currently occupying and swooped down towards Harry with a look of total adoration upon her bespectacled face.

"Hullo, Harry," she cooed as she swept around him. "You haven't visited me in a long time."

"I'm sorry for that, Myrtle. I've been working hard all year and it's been a strange one," apologised Harry.

"I've heard," she swept closer to Harry and he felt the uncomfortable chill of the girl's ghostly, plasmic, body assault him. Myrtle was eyeing Snape and Draco suspiciously. "I've heard that they're your family now. Slytherins, Harry?"

He smiled. "Yep. Draco's my brother and Professor Snape's my Dad."

Myrtle suddenly swooped angrily around Snape's head. Snape just barely managed to keep himself from swiping at the irritable ghost. "You'd better be nice to Harry, you long nosed, greasy git, or I'll tell the Baron!"

Draco tried to stifle a laugh and Snape glared darkly at the boy. "You can rest assured, Myrtle, that I shall treat my son with the utmost respect."

Myrtle tittered and then flew off. "Byeeeeee, Harry!"

"Insufferable chit," Snape muttered under his breath. He was beginning to lose patience with this outing and was about to chastise Harry and Draco when he heard the unmistakable hiss of Parseltongue. Harry's sibilant words were aimed towards the large, circular sink, and as he spoke at a snake-shaped tap, the sink groaned heavily and then moved until it sank downwards finally revealing a large, dark tunnel.

"The Chamber of Secrets?" Snape looked down into the dark, his mouth in an 'o' of wonder. He then glanced worriedly at his son. "The monster. Isn't it still down there?"

Harry grinned. "It is, but I killed it. With Fawkes' help, though. Did you know it was a basilisk, Professor?" Without realising it, he had reverted to his father's title. He was certain Dumbledore would have told all the staff about the basilisk. From the puzzled look on the Potions Master's face, the Headmaster had obviously kept the information to himself. "Huh. I thought Dumbledore told everyone."

"The Headmaster told the staff that you killed a large snake and rescued Ginny Weasley. He never mentioned that it was a basilisk." Snape's expression was one of disgust for having learned of another one of Dumbledore's mis-truths.

"Figures," Harry, himself, was beginning to tire of the Headmaster's stinginess with information. He shrugged. He didn't want thoughts about the Headmaster to ruin this time with his father and brother. "Anyway, I went back down to the Chamber of Secrets a few days later with the Headmaster and he put a preserving spell on the dead basilisk. See, I remembered that lecture in first year about rare potions ingredients and you mentioned basilisks and how rare they were. It kind of made me feel bad I had to kill this one after I realised I could have probably talked to it."

Snape pulled out his pouch of dissecting tools. "How did you know that a basilisk can only be dissected using silver tools?"

Harry smiled. "From Draco. He was asking about the Chamber of Secrets and I told him about it. He told me about the silver tools."

"We wanted to go dissect it ourselves, but I found a book at Grimmauld Place that mentioned how a Potions Apprentice messed up his master's basilik lung because he didn't know what he was doing. That was almost 10,000 galleons worth of damage. So I suggested to Harry the tools for your Christmas gift." Draco smiled happily.

Snape was very proud of his two sons for having the wisdom to wait for his participation. "It's good to see that you both realise what a unique opportunity this is. The last basilisk that was dissected was by Hieronymous Bellows in 1922. The basilisk took him a year and seven months to dissect as it was ten feet in length."

Harry suddenly snorted. "Wait until you see this one, Dad." He stood on the lip of the tunnel and then jumped. After sixty seconds, Draco closed his eyes and jumped as well.

"There has to be an easier way," muttered Snape and he jumped, too.

Harry had the foresight to cast a Cushioning Charm and so his touchdown at the end wasn't as jarring as it had been the time he, Gilderoy Lockhart, and Ron had entered the Chamber. As soon as he landed, he scrambled across the litter of small bones to make way for Draco. When Draco landed, Harry helped to pull him out of the way. Snape was right behind them and he landed, rather ungracefully, nearly falling forward on his face. If it weren't for the Cushioning Charm and his sons catching him, he would have broken his nose once more.

"That was an amazing ride, Hair!" grinned Draco.

Snape scoffed, "If you knew what the slime coating the pipes was, I don't think you'd say that." He cast a cleaning spell, and then a disinfecting spell upon himself.

Draco's grin faded as he looked down at the smudges and stains on his robes. "That's just... ugh. You didn't have to mention that, Dad." Snape smirked and cast the same spells on his sons.

"C'mon," Harry waved to them as he broke away from them and made his way through the tunnel. He disappeared from sight rather quickly. "There's a cave-in up here, but there's space to crawl through," his voice shouted back.

They each cast Lumos, lighting the tips of their wands. Right before the cave-in was the first of many impressive sights: the shed skin of the basilisk. "Wait, Harry." Harry already knew that Snape was going to want to examine the skin and he smiled as he watched the older wizard walk around the skin studying it. At one point he knelt down by the skin, took out his dissecting tools, selected a short bladed knife, and cut a thin swath of the skin. He then ran the strip through his fingers. "Harry, just this discarded skin alone will make you very wealthy."

"How often do basilisks shed their skin?" asked Draco as he knelt beside Snape and touched the dry, yet still supple, slightly pearlescent skin.

"Twice during babyhood, and then once every ten years when they reach adulthood."

Harry coughed. "They shed every ten years? Dumbledore told me the basilisk was probably in here over 2,000 years!"

Snape rose to his feet. "Well, you're not going to find all the shed skin. If the basilisk was hungry, and judging by its feeding area it only had castle rodents to feed on, it would have eaten its own shed skin."

"Dad," said Draco studying the length of the skin, "this is longer than the one you were telling us that Bellows guy worked on. There's at least fifteen feet of shed skin." Draco's eyes glittered greedily, "I want to see it, Harry."

"This way, then." Harry scrambled through a jagged hole near the ceiling of the cavern. He was quickly followed by Draco. Snape brought up the rear. Harry then led the way through the twisted earth until they reached a large, round door. He spoke in Parseltongue again which unlocked the door. It swung open onto the vast Chamber of Secrets itself. As soon as Snape stepped through he waved his hand to light the large torches that lined the hall.

"Merlin's teeth!" gasped Draco as he looked towards the end of the hall at the huge statue of Salazar Slytherin. The chamber was supported by tall pillars wrapped by huge snakes and the floor was partially flooded. In front of the statue was the long body of the basilisk. Even though it was quite dead, all three approached it carefully.

"What happened to its eyes?" asked Snape, his voice just slightly above a whisper as he knelt down to examine its head.

"Fawkes blinded it," replied Harry. He stared at the head and long snout of the creature, then at the mouth studded with long, dagger-like pearly teeth. In the firelight, its scales glowed with green and blue fire. He reverently placed his gloved hand gently upon the creature's wide head. "It's magnificent, isn't it?"

"Basilisks are grand beasts, Harry," murmured Snape. He laid a hand on his son's shoulder. "Although poisons of devastating effect can be brewed from many parts of the basilisk, there are many more beneficial potions that can be brewed." Harry smiled at that information.

"This is almost twenty-five feet long," whistled Draco. He'd been walking around the beast silently measuring it. "Has there ever been a basilisk this huge before, Dad?"

Snape shook his head. "None that I've ever heard of. Of course, you have to take into consideration that this creature was trapped down here for nearly 2,000 years. Average lifespan of a healthy basilisk tends to be only a few centuries."

"Dad! Harry! Come over here!" Draco was struggling with the tail end of the king of serpents. He had both arms wrapped around the tail and he was doing his best to lug it to the side. He would have levitated it, but they'd learned in Potions class that harvesting of magical ingredients should almost always be done without magic. Magic could lower the efficacy or destroy the ingredient. "Look!"

Hidden beneath the great tail of the basilisk was a broken, speckled egg. Lying amongst the opaline shards was a perfectly formed, yet unfortunately dead, infant basilisk. In the firelight, its scales reflected the fire. It would have been a silver basilisk. It was almost twenty inches in length. Snape dropped on both knees into the inch of flood water and picked up the dead, baby basilisk, put it carefully into his lap and ran his gloved fingers carefully down its body.

"A broken neck," murmured Snape. There was a touch of sadness to his voice.

"It was a mother," Harry whispered, now rather horrified at having been the one that killed the animal.

Draco, who had dropped the tail, was looking down at his father. "All basilisks are mothers, Harry." He dropped to one knee and gingerly laid his hand upon its head. "They lay their egg when dying. Sometimes, the baby doesn't survive its violent birth."

Harry stared guiltily down at the small basilisk that was a perfect replica of its mother. "Are you going to dissect the baby, Dad?"

"It would sell for a great deal, but I think it's more important to keep it intact and display it in my classroom. It's far too beautiful." He ruffled Harry's hair. "Don't you think so, son?"

Harry nodded and smiled sadly at the little creature. "Yeah. I like that idea better."

"Good. Now, I know you'd both like to get started, but we need much more than these dissecting tools to do this job correctly. Let's go back home, get a good night's sleep, and start early tomorrow morning." Handing the silver basilisk to Draco, Snape looked around the Chamber and then back the way they came. I hope there's an easier way to get out of here than the way we came in." Snape asked Harry.

"Yep. Follow me." Harry led his father and brother behind the statue and through an arched doorway that branched off in three directions. Harry turned to the left tunnel which slanted at a steady slope upward until they came to a simple, wooden door. A word of Parseltongue and it opened behind a statue of Pliny the Elder. The statue turned stiffly and scowled at them.

Snape carefully put the dead baby basilisk in his potions ingredients cabinet in his private lab within the confines of a preserving spell. He would manipulate it so its permanent pose would make it a true prize of his collection. He would order a special quartz crystal display case for it tomorrow.

"Poor little baby," the gentle voice of his wife spoke as she looked down at the lifeless basilisk. Lyrica's hand carefully brushed its nose.

"Careful, Lyrica," cautioned Snape as he stepped behind his wife and encircled her waist with one arm. "Although its teeth are quite small, they are still very deadly."

Lyrica leaned back against her husband's chest. "It's a pity it didn't live. Such a magnificent creature would have been perfect for Hogwarts."

Snape blinked. "I think you must be mad, my wife," he said evenly. "A basilisk would be a danger to all within the castle."

"Perhaps, but we don't know enough about the King of Serpents and maybe Salazar Slytherin had a way to tame the one that lived in the chamber."

Snape turned Lyrica away from the potions cabinet, closed the door, and reset the wards. "Unless there is a journal down there written by Salazar himself, I doubt we'll ever know whether that beast was simply trapped, or tamed."

Monday afternoon Harry was late for his Charms class but only by a few minutes and even though Professor Flitwick tended to be a little more lenient with his students than the other professors did, Harry was still running down the corridor with his heavy bookbag slapping against his back. He turned a corner abruptly and was startled when he found himself suddenly tangled in a net that had fallen over his head.

Tripping, he fell to the corridor floor and heard a laugh that wiped the scathing remark he had on the tip of his tongue far away. "Luna!"

Wearing a pair of rose-coloured glasses, the flighty girl crouched down and smiled. "Harry! You're not the Cornish Pixie I was after." She began to untangle him from the large butterfly net.

"Why were you chasing a Cornish Pixie, Luna?" Harry asked as he tried to straighten his hair.

"We were learning about them in Defense Against the Dark Arts today and I thought they were looking rather sad in the cage Professor Moody had them in, so I let them out. One of them got out of the classroom, so he sent me after it." She helped Harry to his feet. "I am glad that I caught you, though. You need to come with me to the library."

"I can't, Luna. I'm really late for Charms. Flitwick might not give me a detention, but I know I'm going to lose some points, which means Dad will give me detention."

Luna smiled beatifically. "This is worth detention, and points." Taking his hand, Luna led him away from the direction of his Charms class to the library.

In a few minutes they were in the library and Luna let go of Harry's hand as she rushed up a narrow, spiral staircase to a second floor balcony of books. She went to a shelf and began wrestling with a book on a lower shelf that looked to be as tall as she was. Harry reached the floor and levitated the book out and onto a table. Luna smiled thankfully at him.

"I always forget to use that spell." She flipped the large tome open until she came to a heavily illuminated page written in very ornate Latin.

"I'm not that good with Latin, Luna. Do you know what this says?" asked Harry as he traced his finger over the stylised serpent that wound its way around the margins of the pages.

"It's about Nagas. I've been terribly fascinated by Kalima ever since you introduced her to me and this is one of the books I came across in my research. It's all about magical creatures, but this chapter is about Nagas. It's fascinating, but what I thought would interest you would be this particular section." The way Luna's eyes fluttered so prettily in her excitement completely distracted Harry and he leaned over and kissed her. Twin blooms of rose touched her cheeks and Luna silvery grey eyes rested contentedly upon Harry. "You have such a nice mouth, Harry," she said softly as another blush flooded her cheeks.

Voldemort could blow up the school and everyone in it and Harry would go out with a smile on his lips and his heart. A disapproving 'harrumph' from Madame Pince, who stood across from them, was enough to break the spell. The heat of embarrassment made Harry cough and he looked down at the book. "Uhm, what is it about this you thought I'd find interesting, Luna?"

"Kalima can protect your mind from You-Know-Who. When a Naga chooses a master or mistress, they can bind their mind to the one they've chosen. Nagas also are natural Occlumens. If Kalima bound her mind to yours, she could protect your thoughts and emotions."

Harry sat down in front of the artistic pages, now desperate for a translating spell so he could read the text. He didn't know such a spell, though, so he settled for pulling Luna into his lap and kissing her soundly.

"That's enough of that!" snapped Madame Pince's harsh voice. "You're both supposed to be in class! Now go!"

The book in front of Harry slammed shut like a thunder clap and flew back to its place on the shelf. Taking Luna by the hand, Harry ran with her past the formidable librarian, down the spiral staircase, and out into the corridor. Once out of the library, Harry took Luna into his arms and swung her around once and then set her down.

"I have to go and find Dad, Luna. I'll probably have detention for missing Charms, but that's all right. This was worth it. I'll see you at dinner."

Luna smiled brightly as Harry turned abruptly and headed for the dungeons. She was just about to head towards her last class of the day when Harry skidded to a stop, turned back and shouted, "I love you, Luna Lovegood!" He then disappeared around the corner. Luna was completely unaware that as she walked to class she was floating a few inches off the floor.

Harry's interruption of his father's first years Potions class wasn't received very well. With a firm grip on the collar of his robes, Snape hustled his son out into the corridor. When he let him go, his arms were crossed over his chest and mirrored his stony glare.

"Harry James Potter-Snape, you're supposed to be in class! What are you doing here interrupting me as I am trying to make an impression upon those thick-headed first years skulls?"

"I'm sorry, Da... uhm, Professor, but I found out a way to protect my mind from Voldemort!"

Before Snape could chastise his son for the use of You-Know-Who's name, Harry's scar exploded with pain and he crumpled to his knees upon the floor.

His surroundings blanked out as he was drawn into the dreary house and towards the room where the hideously distorted Dark Lord sat. Lucius Malfoy stood disconcertingly next to Harry, but the blonde-haired wizard didn't see him. Lucius was looking towards the malformed thing seated in the red velvet chair before the fireplace.

"Luciussss..."

Lucius Malfoy stepped past Harry and into the room. He knelt down. "We are prepared, my Lord," said the elder Malfoy, his head bowed respectfully. "We shall have him this weekend."

"Remember, you are not to kill him. I want that pleasssure for myssself." A stubby, somewhat dessicated hand stretched out and stroked Malfoy's cheek. Dark, red blood was left behind on the pale skin.

A hand touched Harry's shoulder in the vision and he turned to see Snape standing beside him. Just as Harry was about to speak, that grotesque laugh burst forth like an infection from the creature in the chair.

"Father and ssson!" crowed the whispery voice of Voldemort.

The bulbous mass that was attached to the malformed body by a mere boney resemblance of a neck, turned slightly. Two bloody slits focussed on Harry and Snape. Snape hurriedly pushed Harry behind him. He would have had his wand out, but it wasn't here in this vision.

"You can't have him!" growled Snape.

"Master?" asked Lucius in puzzlement. He was looking toward the doorway, but didn't see what his Dark Lord was seeing.

Harry was weakening considerably and he grabbed onto his father's outer robe as he tried to stop from sliding to his knees. Snape turned slightly and caught Harry by slipping his arm beneath Harry's and pulling him close to his side.

"Luciusss," rasped a sharp warning tone in the Dark Lord's voice. "You mussst not fail me. Your death in place of hisss if you do."

Lucius lowered his head and a faint shudder went through the Death Eater's body as the sanguinated hand rested on his blonde hair, staining it. Lucius then quickly rose to his feet and strode through the door and through Snape.

The vision broke apart like shattered glass. Harry, now on his hands and knees, vomited violently. Snape, who had entered his son's mind by Legilimens felt just as ill and as violated. He swallowed the bile burning in his throat and drew the boy, trembling, closer to himself while he Scourgified the mess.

"Harry, I have you. It's all right now." One cool palm rested against Harry's brow.

"Da-da-dad..." he couldn't stop his teeth from clattering together. "Y-y-your c-c-class..."

"Dad!" Draco came running down the dungeon and skidded to a stop before he collided and fell over the two figures in front of the classroom door. "Harry?" He dropped down to his knees by his brother and touched a hand to Harry's clammy and shaking fingers.

"He had a vision," Snape said as he swallowed again. "Draco, I need you to dismiss my class as quickly as you can. Use the alternate egress. Then, bring Calming Potion and Anti-Nausea Potion."

Draco didn't hesitate. He jumped to his feet and pushed his way into the classroom through the door.

"Family emergency, kids!" shouted Draco with no hint of panic in his voice. "You have twenty minutes before your next class, so you're going to wait up in the Great Hall." He hustled the muttering children towards the back of the class where he revealed a door his height. The alternate egress led the class of slightly confused first years to the corridor outside the Great Hall. They milled around for a little bit, but then went into the Great Hall as Malfoy had ordered them to wait until the bell sounded for the next class.

Once Snape's classroom was emptied, Draco grabbed the needed potions and went back out into the corridor. He handed them to his father and helped Harry to drink down his potions.

"Dad, you take care of Harry. Someone's going to wonder what all those firsties are doing in the Great Hall. Do you want me to tell the Headmaster?"

Snape shook his head. "No, once you get up there, contact your mother. Let her know what happened. Until I've taken care of Harry, no one is to say anything about him having had another vision."

"All right." Draco squeezed Harry's arm and gave the boy a smirk. "Great way to dodge classes, Hair." Harry could only manage a weak upturn of his mouth before his brother jumped to his feet, went back into the classroom, and took the shortcut to the Great Hall.

"H-how did he... know?" Harry rasped.

Snape frowned for a second, then realised Harry was referring to Draco's timely appearance. "The portkey amulets that I gave all of you at Christmas. The amulets are portkeys, but the chains allow me to keep track of and contact you, Draco, Hermione, or Ron in an emergency."

Harry tried to stand, but wasn't very successful. Snape rose to his feet and supporting Harry, took him into the classroom and helped to settle him into a chair. The boy was still shaking, but it was lessening as the minutes passed and the Calming Potion took effect.

"D-d-d-dad... he's c-c-coming for m-m-me..."

Snape now could see a trail of blood leading from Harry's scar, down the side of his face and neck. Conjuring a cloth and warm water, he began to carefully clean the blood.

"I h-h-hate this!" spat Harry. "His hatred is so... so... it's like experiencing all your worst nightmares at once." Once the blood was gone, Snape drew up a chair beside Harry. The boy leaned against his father and Snape draped an arm over his shoulders. "You saw?" Snape nodded. "Lucius has something planned... this weekend." He felt Snape's body stiffen slightly and he looked up into his father's implacable gaze. "Oh no... you're not going to let me go to staff/student Quidditch match, are you?"

"Of course I'm not, Harry..."

"Bloody!"

"Harry!" snapped his father sharply. "I will not tolerate such crudity even when you're distraught! Your life matters more to me than some frivolous game."

Harry pulled away from Snape. "I'm sorry, but it's not about that, really. I'm just getting tired of having him... there... all the time!" Harry rose to his feet and began pacing. "Everytime I think I might be able to do something normal like enjoy my weekend with my girlfriend, I can't because he's out there plotting my death! It just isn't fair! Why me? Why did that stupid bloody prophecy have to choose me?"

Snape stretched out a hand, caught Harry by the wrist, and drew him back over to the chair. "Come here. Sit down, Harry." Harry did so and slumped into the chair. "First of all, we've talked about these prophecies. The Dark Lord certainly believes in them, and so it seems does the Headmaster. However, you are not obligated to let them rule your life. You will be dragged into a fight someday with the Dark Lord because he sees you as a threat. Despite that, there is no way I will allow you to fight him alone. It's what we've been training for. We're also not going to sit on our hands waiting for him to come after us. When the time is right, we shall go after him."

"That doesn't sound like what Dumbledore has planned," Harry said quietly.

"Albus believes that you won't be ready to meet the Dark Lord until your seventh year, Harry. Although I've kept him up to date on your training, he has no idea what you and your friends are capable of. The Headmaster seems to be of the old school that looked down upon Ley Line magic as being a discipline only for witches, and a weak one, at that."

Harry frowned suddenly. "Yeahhh, I just realised... Professor Dumbledore hasn't come to any of the duels, has he?"

Snape shook his head. "No, he hasn't. He approves of the wandless magic, and our strategy, but he is demanding more concentration on the 'accepted' ways of fighting."

Harry shook his head. "Dad... this Quidditch match..." Snape started to glower, but Harry waved his hands in a mild form of surrender, "...no, wait. I'm not trying to change your mind, I've got a question about it." Snape then nodded at his son. "It's at the Quidditch pitch, isn't it? I mean, it should be safe there, shouldn't it?"

"I have had my reservations about it, which I've brought up with the Headmaster. It is, indeed, on the pitch and well within the wards protecting the school and grounds, but Albus has allowed the invitation of parents and intends to hold a fair, as well." Snape conjured a clean handkerchief and placed it gently against Harry's scar which had trickled a little more blood. "If it were just our students and staff, I wouldn't object as much, but this is going to be a much larger crowd of people and students and it can only mean trouble. Not just for you, but Draco as well."

"You think Lucius could sneak in?" Harry asked checking the handerkerchief a few times before he was certain he'd stopped bleeding.

"I have no doubt of it, Harry. So, for your safety, I want you and your brother to stay in our quarters. I'll tune one of the enchanted windows to the pitch so you can watch the game, if you'd like." Harry sighed and Snape frowned. "Oh really, son, you're not going to complain further, are you?"

"Oh no, Dad. I was just thinking it's too bad you're not playing. I'd really like to see you play."

Snape smiled slightly, pleased by the wish. He patted Harry's arm. "When I can suitably relax, then I'll join the game." He smirked suddenly. "I've always thought I'm the better Seeker in this family."

"Hmph! That sounds like a challenge!" Harry beamed.

"It could be. Now, can you tell me what brought you down to the dungeons when you should be in class?"

Harry frowned for a second. He had forgotten and he scoured his recent memories. Then he made a yelping noise. "Oh! Luna found this text about Nagas that said they're natural Occlumens and that if Kalima binds her mind to mine, she could keep You-Know-Who from getting into my head!"

Snape tapped his finger against the side of his nose. "Hm. Well, let's talk to Kalima after dinner this evening and see what she has to say on the subject. For now, I want you to go to our quarters and lie down." Snape went over to his stores cabinet and emerged a few minutes later with a potion Harry recognised; Dreamless Sleep Potion. "It's a small dose. I don't want you sleeping through dinner."

Harry took the potion and tucked it in his pocket. "Thanks, Dad." Harry started for the door, but then stopped and turned slightly. "You've been tracking us?"

Snape looked down his nose at his son, "So Luna is your girlfriend?"

Harry blushed. "Uhm... yeah. I guess we'll talk about this later." He sprinted for the door and vanished from the classroom.

Dinner happened to be one of those times the Headmaster had ordered all of his staff to be present. For the first time Snape saw that the interraction that had been occuring with his sons and their friends, had spread to others outside of their circle. There was a small group of Slytherins, all who had at least one parent within the Dark Lord's Inner Circle, that huddled together. Snape made a mental note of those nine students. He was surprised to see that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, Draco's bookends for his first three years at Hogwarts, weren't with the nine students seated at the furthest end of the Slytherin table. Crabbe was currently seated with a group of students that consisted of three Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw. The Ravenclaw girl was taking rather an avid interest in the boy's diet.

Now that he thought of it, Crabbe's grades had been improving, especially in Potions. Maybe it was the influence of that pretty, black-haired Ravenclaw.

Goyle, on the other hand, was still struggling in most of his classes, as he always had but it appeared that the shyness the boy had held up like a shield while tagging behind Draco, had gone. The boy was starting to lose some weight and to develop some muscle. He was actually looking better, much healthier than his father who had a bad addiction for sweets and fattening foods. One of these days the man would suffer a massive coronary under the Cruciatus Curse.

Gregory Goyle was seated with two other Slytherins, a Gryffindor, and a Ravenclaw. They were all involved in an animated discussion regarding various Quidditch teams.

By far, the largest group consisted of the Weasley twins, their sister, Ron, Neville, Pansy Parkinson- whatever did she see in Longbottom? his mind gaped- Luna, Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Millicent Bulstrode. On the periphery of this inner group were a few Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs.

Snape's observations were interrupted as he heard Moody's gruff voice addressing his wife.

"Seems a shame tha man' kept ye in hidin' all this time, Madame Snape." Moody's swiveling eye settled for a moment on Snape before continuing its erratic spin.

Lyrica glanced demurely at the old ex-Auror. She had complained a few nights ago to Snape about the man's rather haphazard, and what she considered dangerous, teaching practices. Since they'd come back from 1899, the man had sent no less than at least half of all his students to the infirmary with various injuries and need for spell reversals. The man's recent demonstration of the Unforgivables had both excited and horrified the students. Lyrica had been absolutely infuriated when she stumbled across Neville, after curfew, frozen and staring out a window. He'd been traumatised by the demonstration of the Unforgivables; two of which had been used on his parents.

Both parents were also disgusted when Harry began to suffer a few nights from dreams where he dreamt of Lily, bathed in the acid green death of the Killing Curse. Snape had been incensed when he found out that Dumbledore had actually approved of the demonstration.

Lyrica did not care for the man, but her graciousness did not permit her to show her dislike, or her evident displeasure at the rude question. "As always, my husband does what he must to protect those he cares for, Professor. It was safer to keep me as he did."

Moody snorted; a sound that put not only Lyrica off her meal at the moment, but caused Minerva, who sat on the other side of Moody, to glare at him disdainfully. "Who would have thought a Death Eater ever had a heart!"

The force of the slap rang out throughout the Great Hall stopping all conversations and sending all eyes to the staff table. Alastor Moody, the recipient, had been so caught off guard that his reaction had thrown himself and his chair backwards and tumbling to the floor. Lyrica was standing over the man while Snape watched with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Your words insult me and my family, Professor Moody. This is your only warning. Do so again, and I shall demand my Right of Honor."

Snape's mouth dropped open, as did the mouths of several others at the staff table. The Headmaster quickly intervened, "I think that a sincere apology ought to suffice, Madame Snape. I really cannot permit such a duel upon school grounds."

Lyrica inclined her head once in deference to Dumbledore. "You are right, of course, Headmaster. I shall require a sincere apology at dinner tomorrow. For now, I shall retire." She delicately stepped away from Moody, still on his back, on the ground, stopped beside Snape, who rose to his feet, and quietly escorted her from the Great Hall.

Moody grumbled and Minerva glanced down at the man, not even offering to help him rise. "Have a care, Alastor. Right of Honor is still legal and binding."

"She's a woman!" he snarled under his breath.

Minerva's pinched face scowled so darkly that Dumbledore leaned a bit away from the formidable Scotswoman. Alastor had said the wrong thing to the wrong person.

"Professor Moody, I was fourteen years old when I demanded Right of Honor from a man who was 25 years my senior." Her voice lowered considerably. "I took care of him with one curse. I may be much older now, but believe me, my reflexes haven't suffered one whit!" Pushing her chair back, Minerva stood. She turned to the Headmaster. "Goodnight, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "Goodnight, Minerva."

Moody righted his chair and sneered at the Head of Gryffindor House. "One curse," he snorted with a look at the Headmaster. "What could that woman have thrown at fourteen years of age?"

It was Hooch who replied, a wicked gleam in her eye, "I believe it was the Denique Castro Curse, wasn't it, Albus?"

Moody paled considerably while under the table his knees clacked audibly together. "She did that?" He shuddered.

Dumbledore shook his head and went back to his dinner. "That she did, Alastor, that she did!"

After the brief excitement at dinner Harry had forgotten about talking to Kalima and his parents about her becoming his Occlumens. He had homework to do which took some time and then he spent time playing chess with Ron. Harry was ecstatic when he actually won. He danced around the Gryffindor common room like an American Football player in the endzone. The jerky dance drew a few laughs from Hermione and Ron.

He spent that week in Gryffindor tower, mostly studying and preparing for his finals. He hadn't yet decided on what he'd do after school. It seemed to be a toss-up between being an Auror, a Quidditch champion, or possibly Potions Master.

That last was something he wouldn't have dreamed of before, but with his changed relationship with Snape, there was a part of him that wanted to do what sons had been doing traditionally for years; follow in his father's footsteps. He did enjoy Potions more and he especially liked helping his father brew potions. Maybe he would ask his father what he thought.

Friday night came and most of the castle were asleep early. Tomorrow was the fair and the big staff versus students Quidditch match. The students team had been made up of a good mix of all four houses and most of the staff were on the staff team. Minerva McGonagall with Lee Jordan would announce the game, and the Headmaster would share refereering duty with Ron Weasley.

A prize was being offered that was a combination of House points and galleons for the student team, and for the teachers, an entire week of vacation before the end of term. Everyone knew it was going to be fun, but it would also promise to be a tough contest.

Now curled up in his bed, Harry was just about to drop off to sleep when he felt something tickling his ear. Turning rapidly, he came face to face with Kalima.

"Do you have to sssneak up on me like that, Kalima?" he admonished.

"I do apologissse, Harry, but I was visssiting Ravenclaw when I learned you are in need of help from me." Kalima's smooth head butted gently against his temple.

"You weren't visssiting Luna were you? Can ssshe talk to you?" he asked excitedly.

"I am consssidering giving her the gift of Sssnake Tongue. Ssshe isss sssuch a fassscinating creature. You mussst have many eggsss with her, Harry."

Harry sat up abruptly choking and quickly had to cast a wandless Muffliato spell. "Kalima! I'm only fourteen! And... and... Luna'sss twelve!"

Kalima's tongue flicked against his cheek. "I ssshall wait. Now, what may I help you with?"

Harry explained to Kalima what Luna had found out about Nagas and why he had trouble Occluding his mind. Then, in case she didn't know, he told her about his scar and how Voldemort was getting into his mind via his scar.

"You mussst be sssure, Harry," Kalima spoke after a long silence. "The binding isss for life. I chossse you asss my egg, asss Lyrica isss my egg. For me to bind with you, I mussst accept becoming your ssservant."

"You mean like houssse elfsss?" asked Harry with concern.

"Yesss."

"I can't do that to you, Kalima," whispered Harry.

"You are my egg, Harry. I would keep the Dark Sssnake from you." Kalima stroked her head against his cheek and flicked her tongue against his ear. "I would keep sssafe all your eggsss with Luna."

Harry blushed and was glad it was dark. He'd have to discuss Kalima's preoccupation with 'eggs' later. "How doesss the binding work, Kalima?"

"It isss sssimple. Blood exchange." The serpent whipped her tail around until she was seated on a wide portion on her body. A quick strike and she had bitten herself. Two crimson drops of blood welled up. "Take the blood and sssay, vosss esss meusss vernula."

Harry grimaced as he cast Lumos, lighting the end of his wand. He wanted to remain ignorant of what Kalima meant by taking her blood, but he knew what she meant. He took a deep breath as he had a quick flash of some of the ingredients in potions. A lot of them were worse. He quickly leaned over and lapped up the two drops of blood trying not to be rude and grimace or stick out his tongue. He whispered the incantation, "Vosss esss meusss vernula."

Without warning, Kalima struck swiftly with her fangs, piercing the skin of his forearm. Her bite wasn't deep, but it did hurt. Two drops welled up, and Kalima flicked them away with her tongue. The Naga whispered, "Vosss esss meussss vinco."

A crimson spark of magic travelled between the two bites, healing them both. Harry rubbed his arm. The pain had vanished. He sat up, trying to figure out if he felt any different. He didn't.

"Time for sssleep, Harry."

"Kalima! You're in my mind!"

"Yesss, I am. I mussst weave the barrier while you sssleep. I wisssh you to asssk your father to tessst it tomorrow."

Harry smiled and made himself comfortable. "Thank you, Kalima. Goodnight."

"Sssleep well, Massster."

As Harry drifted happily into sleep, he looked forward to a lack of nightmares.

Snape was in the midst of putting on his outer robe and getting ready to check the castle wards one last time before the opening feast. Harry was in the living room, talking to him, and he was only half listening.

"What did you say?" Snape whirled on his son, thinking he heard something about Kalima and Occlumens.

"Dad, you weren't even listening to me!" Harry pouted crossly.

"I know, but you have my full attention now. Tell me again, but make it brief."

Harry huffed, but as he looked into his father's concerned, dark gaze, he simply said, "Kalima's my Occlumens now."

Snape had been bent over, now he straightened and closed his eyes for a moment. Draco walked in, finishing a pastry. "What'd you do now, Scarhead."

Snape narrowed his eyes at Draco. "What are you doing eating now, Draco? The feast starts in twelve minutes!"

"We're not going to the feast, Dad," reminded Draco. "Don't you remember? We're stuck in here all day."

Snape had forgotten. He muttered to himself, "This is going to be a long day. Harry!"

"What?"

"I thought we were going to talk to Kalima first before asking her to bind herself to you. That's not something you ask of a Naga lightly."

"I know, Dad, but it was actually Kalima who offered. I'd kind of forgotten about it, to be honest. I was studying and all. Kalima heard about me having problems Occluding my mind from Luna."

"You do understand the ramifications of this binding now, don't you, Harry?" Snape asked with concern.

"I think I do. It's like a house elf binding?"

"It's exactly like a house elf binding, Harry. Kalima is now bound to you, your children, grand children, and possibly great-grandchildren. She is literally your servant, bound to obey whatever orders you give her and to keep your secrets." Snape knelt down on one knee as comprehension of what he'd done showed on his face.

"I know how pure your heart is and you have nothing but the best of care in mind for Kalima. The fact remains that she is a Naga, a very powerful magical beast. When you pass her onto your children and grandchildren, you must be certain that no one will ever abuse her or her power. Look to what the Dark Lord has turned his Naga into. Nagini was once a proud, noble, and free serpent. She is bound to him, kills for his pleasure, and through her own pain, keeps his body alive."

A tear slipped down Harry's cheek and Snape thumbed it away. "I didn't know, Dad. I just didn't want to hurt anyone."

"I know you didn't, Harry. However, you really must think before you take such actions. Kalima chose to protect you, but you should have spoken to us first. You must take care of Kalima. Try your best to keep her from feeling as your servant. Promise me this."

Harry nodded. "Do you... maybe you should test...?"

"Easy first, then I'm going to push. Hard. Legilimens!"

Harry felt his father's mind slip into his, but then there was an odd shifting, a slithery-ness where he was certain he felt Kalima's mind and not his father's. After a few minutes he blinked and was staring into Snape's eyes.

"Did it work?" he asked.

"It did, and very well." Snape rose to his feet, and ruffled Harry's head. "I have to get going. Enjoy the game, and both of you," here he eyed Draco, "try not to get on your mother's nerves."

Snape left his quarters, nearly running up to the Great Hall, since he was late. He was met at the castle entrance by Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, and Minerva McGonagall. The entrance was crowded with students and their parents.

"Merlin's teeth!" cursed Snape as he looked around. "Is it going to be like this all day?"

"It's bad," muttered Moody, taking a sip from his ever-present flask. "Got more'n parents coming in. Some brought aunts, uncles, cousins."

Snape shook his head imperceptibly, and wondered again at the Headmaster's insanity. It was going to be a very long day.

Chaos reigned from that moment forward as more people crammed into the castle. Snape never thought the castle could feel crowded, but it seemed to be bursting at the seams. He tried taking points, but the Headmaster had declared that no points would be taken or given until after the game.

Moody, Snape, and a few Aurors were in charge of keeping an eye on everyone. Both Snape and Moody groused about there not being enough men and women to watch over everything. At least Snape knew that Draco and Harry were safely locked away in his quarters with Lyrica.

The fair that took over most of Hogwarts grounds was run by the house elfs. There were booths with food, sweets, jokes, and some of the students were running booths where they showed off tricks and talents with their magic. Sybill Trelawney was kept happy with a fortune telling booth that she was being helped with by Padma Parvati and Lavendar Brown.

Fred and George had a booth that held a variety of sweets that did everything from making someone smell bad to changing them into odd coloured birds. Dumbledore had permitted them to sell some of the more benign products. Even so, shifty-eyed Argus Filch hovered over the two Weasleys most of the afternoon plotting various ways to do away with the two boys and their mischief.

At noon the staff/student Quidditch game began. The fair continued on the grounds and as Snape followed his patrol for perhaps the thousandth time that day, he swore there were more people. Inwardly he cursed the Headmaster for holding such an event when they were hardly equipped to handle it.

"Snape!" shouted Moody stumping over to the Potions Master as quickly as he could. Snape stopped and eyed the ex-Auror. "Kingsley needs us to go check a breach by the Forbidden Forest!"

"A breach?"

"I'm just repeating his words. C'mon!" Moody turned jerkily and made his way toward the forest.

Snape rolled his eyes. Obviously he had to go and follow. His wand already in his hand, he strode up beside Moody and they approached the forest. Waving his wand, he checked the wards. As he was doing so, Moody let out a shout and headed into the forest.

The Potions Master and ex-Death Eater resisted the urge to shout at the old warrior. If Moody had seen something, or someone, the last thing he was going to do was to broadcast his location. With every sense on alert, Snape slipped into the forest, going after Moody.

Minutes passed by and the noise of the fair, the crowd and the game was silenced as Snape went deeper into the forest. Moody had completely vanished and he was worried now that something was wrong- more than just the ex-Auror having disappeared. A few more steps and he knew that his instincts were correct.

"Moody!" he hissed. The man was on the ground and blood was pooling beneath his head. Snape quickly went to the man's side and knelt down by him. This was his downfall.

Moody, with more speed than the old wizard was capable of, turned sharply, pointed his wand and had Snape caught in a full body bind before he could blink. Snape fell to the forest floor and an uninjured Moody rose to his feet. He snatched the wand from between Snape's fingers and threw it aside. Moody then cast a silencing spell and then grasped Snape's arm tightly in his fist. In seconds, Snape felt the pull of a portkey taking him away.

Snape woke up sharply and was quickly assaulted by the lingering pain of the Cruciatus Curse. He could taste blood in his mouth and knew he'd bitten his tongue several times.

His mind wanted to drag him back down to unconsciousness where nothing hurt, but he fought to keep a tight hold on his senses. If he didn't, he would lose any chance he had at escape.

Trying to move, he discovered he was still bound spread eagle against the front of a statue of the grim, angel of death by magic. Around him were old headstones, some broken, a few fallen over. He shivered in the breeze, despite the fact it was warm out beneath the stars. His robes were gone and he'd only been left with the dignity of a torn shirt and his trousers.

He couldn't remember how many times he'd been hit with the Cruciatus Curse while bound to the statue but it was enough for his back to have been severely abraded by the worn granite of the statue. He did remember who cast the curses...

Mad Eye Moody paced back and forth in front of Snape, not saying a word. It took the Potions Master a few minutes to determine that the man was waiting for something to happen. It wasn't long before it did and Moody stood before Snape as his features began to melt and his bones and joints cracked as the Polyjuice Potion wore off.

Snape had expected Lucius Malfoy, but that wasn't who stood before him. The man that stood before him had eyes that darted back and forth, afraid of being caught by Snape's obsidian orbs. His light brown hair was a ragged mess that brushed his shoulders and his tongue, nervously flipped out between his lips like some kind of twitchy frog.

"Barty Crouch, jr," drawled Snape and the young man ducked away from the dangerous tone of voice. Snape had always terrified the young man.

Crouch put on a passable sneer that was ruined by his darting tongue, "Severus Snape, you traitor."

"I see your death was an exaggeration, Barty. Who did your father bury?"

Crouch bristled at the condemnation in Snape's voice. "Mother. She sacrificed herself for me. Stupid woman!" Madness gleamed in the young man's eyes and he aimed his wand at Snape. "CRUCIO!"

Crouch didn't let Snape catch his breath between the curses. In the back of his mind, the ex-Death Eater almost wished it were Bellatrix LeStrange cursing him. She always had to taunt and gloat between throwing the Unforgivable and it often gave her victim a moment to gather their senses. Crouch kept up with his curses to the point that Snape nearly passed out.

"A little weary, are we, Severus?" the voice of cool satin brushed against his ear and Snape looked defiantly into the icy blue-grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy. "I ought to thank you for turning your back on our Master, Severus. Although I was his right hand servant, due to your betrayal, I am now his favorite."

"And so you've brought me to him so you could kill me, Lucius," sneered Snape. He would not let Malfoy know he was concerned for his family, nor would he give the wizard any clue that he was afraid of never seeing them again.

Lucius twirled his wand. "Alas, killing you is one thing I am not allowed. Our Master wishes that honor for himself. You hurt him deeply, Severus. The trust he had in you... such a waste." The blonde-haired wizard directed a Cruciatus Curse at Snape that only lasted a few seconds. Snape did not make a sound.

"Will you tell me, Severus, how you managed to destroy your badge of honor?" Lucius lifted Snape's arm and touched the clean flesh with the tip of his wand.

"Honor?" spat Snape. "The Dark Mark is a brand of slavery!" Snape could not stop the groan that escaped his lips as Lucius sent a bone crushing curse towards his foot.

Barty Crouch, jr. stepped towards Lucius and rasped, "It's time."

Lucius swept away from Snape, waved his wand and conjured a large cauldron of iron in front of the Potions Master. A blue flame burned hotly beneath the vessel and a sickly looking liquid of mottled brown bubbled beneath his nose. Snape suppressed the bile that threatened as the odour of rotted flesh floated upwards with the steam.

Lucius, now wearing his hood and his silver and white Death Eater's mask raised his arms and wand towards the sky. Dark shadows of heavy clouds roiled above them, blocking out the twinkling stars, and the full, Blue moon.

With a sudden flourish, Lucius spun towards Snape and swept his wand downward and shouted, "Sectumsempra!"

Blood welled up from a deep cut across Snape's chest. It took every bit of stoicism he had to keep from crying out in pain.

"Blood from an enemy, forcibly taken!" Lucius watched with glittering eyes as Snape's blood fell into the putrid, boiling liquid. Vicious steam immediately rose upward, blinding the bound wizard.

"Bone of the father..." Snape did cry out this time. Behind him, the statue split in half and the earth beneath him shook. His magical bonds stretched him apart to the point he felt his shoulder being dislocated on his right side. The wound in his chest stretched further apart, spilling more blood into the cauldron. Lucius' voice continued as an old bone fell into the now blood red boiling liquid, "...unknowingly given!"

More steam boiled upward and Snape's exposed skin was uncomfortably seared. He was very afraid now. Not for himself but for his family. He knew he was going to be killed and there would be no one to protect them. The steam cleared and Snape was able to see that Barty Crouch was now standing next to the cauldron holding his right hand over it. In his left hand was a sharp athame with a copper blade.

"Flesh of a servant...!" Lucius' voice demanded just as Barty Crouch, jr. brought the blade down swiftly just above his wrist. "...willingly given!"

Crouch fell to the ground, his self-inflicted, wounded arm clutched tightly to his abdomen. Lucius ignored him as he strode into the dark entrance of a tomb. He was gone only for a few seconds and emerged with a ghastly form; the stuff of Harry's nightmares. This thing was all that was left of Tom Riddle after casting the Killing Curse against the innocent baby.

Those that came to investigate the aftermath at Godrics Hollow only found the bodies of Lily and James and little Harry crying beneath the fallen form of his mother. The Death Eaters that had been with Voldemort had taken his destroyed body into the deepest dungeon at Malfoy Manor where they used every Dark Arts spell possible to breathe some semblance of life into the shattered body..

Riddle knew it would take years to repair the damage done to his body and so he had tried, at first, to possess the bodies of his faithful. Only Quirrel had been strong enough to host him, but as faithful as Quirrel had once been, his own fear of losing his body and mind to his master had made him resistant to his weakened lord's powers. That fear had also allowed the Boy-Who-Lived to banish the Dark Lord's spirit back to his ravaged body.

A second time he had managed to infuse his spirit into a younger memory of himself within the pages of a cursed diary. Riddle had very nearly succeeded, but was once more thwarted by damned Harry Potter.

Voldemort had no choice but to repair his damaged body and he found his salvation within the blood of his Naga, Nagini. Bound for life to her hideous master, Nagini kept him alive while he waited for the rare time of the Blue Moon when he could have his most faithful bring to him his greatest enemy and perform the Resurrection Ritual.

Lucius dropped the damaged thing in his arms into the swirling, boiling liquid. Voldemort screamed and Snape screamed as the steam from the cauldron rose up in a caustic, cloud of sickly yellow and acid green to burn his vulnerable flesh. He closed his eyes tightly, doing his best to protect them as deep within a flame of determination burned. He had to survive!

A burst of green light rose up from the cauldron, bathing everything nearby. The cauldron vanished as a ball of blood red smoke writhed above the ground like some evil birth contraction. The smoke took on form and soon the renewed figure of Voldemort, the Dark Lord stood beneath the cold light of the Blue Moon.

Lucius rushed over with a robe to clothe the dead white body. He kept his eyes averted from the terrible, snake-like face, and the red, reptilian eyes. Long fingers caught Lucius' by the hair as he began to draw away and he froze in place. The fingers drifted through the silken strands until they reached his chin and lifted Lucius' eyes upward.

"Do not ask me for the traitor's life, Lucius, but I shall give to you anything else you desire," whispered Voldemort.

"Snape took my wife," ground out Lucius, his eyes burning like flinty pieces of ice. "He took my son. Give me his wife so that I may pledge another heir to serve you, my Lord."

A grim smile touched the thin lips and Voldemort nodded. "She will be yours when Snape's sons are dead."

Lucius dropped to his knees and kissed Voldemort's feet. The Dark Lord then spun to face the traitor. "You do not look well, Severus," hissed the abomination.

Snape opened his eyes and looked into Voldemort's red eyes. The black orbs burned with the anger and hatred of the deepest most terrifying black hole of the cosmos. The gaze was such a palpable force that it caused the Dark Lord to take several wary steps backwards. This was the depthless gaze of a vow; an Unbreakable Vow that promised only death.

Severus Snape smiled.

He felt safe and warm wherever he was and he was reluctant to leave it. Unfortunately, something was pulling him forward and out of the cocoon. He knew he couldn't fight it, but he tried because wherever he was headed, there was pain.

The scream was wrenched from his torn throat. Every nerve felt like it was burning over and over again. Every muscle screamed out in protest of its own pain. It hurt so damned much that no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop the tears that ran down like rivulets of fire upon his burnt cheeks.

That was when he felt hands holding him down and a sharp order of someone shouting, "Put that wand down, Remus! I said, no magic! Now, please, help me... Sirius! Hold his arms, now!"

If it wasn't magic, something held his wrists and something else held his feet. He tried to shout out a curse, but his voice had fled. As he opened his mouth, a vile tasting liquid nearly choked him.

"Slowly, Harry!" The voice was female, but it wasn't the one he wanted to hear.

Again he tried to speak and another liquid entered his mouth. The pain faded and as he fell back into the cocoon, he heard tears. He wanted to brush away those tears, but the comfort and warmth were calling, soothing the pain.

His head and shoulders were bent over his tall desk and the fingers of his right hand carded through his lank, dark hair. He scowled at the array of puzzle pieces scattered across the desk. In his left hand was his wand. He tapped a few of the pieces. Straightening slowly, he noticed something for the first time; the pieces had faces. He picked up one piece and saw a woman with lovely green eyes and dark, burnished hair that fell like silk down her back. Another puzzle piece with green eyes, a boy this time, caught his gaze and he picked it up as well. They were not mother and son. Yet, something itched annoyingly that told him somehow they were. Who were they.

He couldn't deal with the puzzle now. Too many faces. He dropped the two pieces and swept all of the pieces onto the floor. As he laid his head upon the desk, a bony, white hand with hideously long fingers stretched over his shoulder and rested upon his cheek. He wanted to flinch away from the touch. He wanted to crawl or run away. He could only close his eyes tightly because he knew there was a vision at the end of that arm that was worse than the hand. Terrified, silent tears squeezed through his shut eyelids.

Please don't speak! Please don't speak! he begged in silence. He didn't want to hear the thing's voice.

"Ssseverusss..."

A bloom of warmth in his belly gently drew him away from the nightmare and the ruined puzzle. Something far away soothed away the tears, kissed his forehead, and talked in a language he could not understand, until he fell asleep in the comforting darkness.

He couldn't keep track of time where he was. Sometimes it felt like he awoke into the pain within seconds of leaving it, other times it felt like centuries had passed. With waking, pieces of his memory slowly returned, allowing him to put together the puzzle of who he was, where he was, and who the people were around him. As he bent over his desk manipulating the pieces until he found where they went, he was sometimes interrupted by that THING. He knew the Thing was the cause of the pain. He knew that the Thing had caused the puzzle to be torn apart. It frightened him and sometimes all he could do was weep until the ghostly kiss came bringing comfort.

The darkness was getting tiresome. Not the darkness where the Thing visited, but the darkness when he heard voices speaking around him, about him. That place where he was fed and given potion after potion. He found it annoying. Without warning the panic welled up inside him. He had to SEE! He started to shout angrily when he felt hands on his. Smaller hands gripping his and saying things in comforting tones. He couldn't understand the words the owner of the hands was saying to him. He forced his brain to concentrate on those words and as he did so, his body relaxed slightly as the meaning of the words finally made sense.

"...your eyes." A young boy's voice.

He tried to talk and felt his vocal chords burn him. His yelling had damaged something. Maybe the boy could read lips?

"I cannot see." He carefully mouthed the three words several times.

The boy, apparently understanding, spoke. "Your eyelids were burned, Dad. Just be patient and calm down. There's bandages over your eyes while they heal."

He wanted to ask 'how long', but he didn't have a handle on time, yet, so the answer would be meaningless to him.

"Dad?" He felt the smaller hand curl into his and heard something odd in the young voice. "Dad, you'll be all right." The words tried to reassure him, but the boy was scared.

Tugging on the hand that still held his, he brought the child to his chest. He felt the heat of tears fall upon him and the boy's body trembling. He stroked the smooth hair and patted the narrow back.

His comforting of the distressed child soothed him as well and soon he was drawn back into his mental darkness. He desired sleep and so he did. Slumbering for what felt like an age and a day until he was drawn away from the darkness by a pressure upon his chest and gentle snoring. He stretched out a curious hand towards the weight upon his chest and felt a shock of messy hair.

"Dad?" the voice whispered and it was different from the other voice that told him of his injuries to his eyes. He tried to reply. "No, Dad. Madame Pomfrey said you're not to try and talk. When you woke up this morning during Draco's visit and yelled, you re-injured your vocal chords. We're to keep you quiet, but if you don't listen, she's going to have to magically bind your voice to keep you from talking."

His hand went automatically to his throat. A vague memory insinuated itself from the depths of his mind. He knew the magical procedure the boy was talking about and it was a decidedly unpleasant one.

He slipped away from the messy haired boy and was back in the darkness looking over the puzzle. It was still mostly unfinished. There just weren't names to go with all the faces and it was frustrating. He was just about to sweep the pieces off the desk and onto the floor once more when he saw a spark of light hover briefly over the puzzle piece that had the face of the green eyed boy. He lifted it.

Messy. Black. Hair. He called me Dad. Beneath the smiling face, gilded letters inscribed a name. He squinted at it. Harry. He smiled. My son, Harry.

Another spark alerted him to a change over another puzzle piece. He snatched it up. The opposite of Harry. Pale, smooth hair. Neat. He watched as the gilded letters appeared. Draco. He allowed himself a sigh of relief. My son, Draco.

My sons. My children. I'm Dad.

Sitting down at the desk, he found the puzzle pieces he had put together that was of him. The gilded letters could only give him his name, Severus. He hadn't acknowledged that name because the Thing kept saying it. Quickly he locked the pieces of his sons beside him. He was rewarded with more gilded letters writing beneath his name. The letters proclaimed, 'Dad'.

From that point on he had less trouble putting the puzzle together. People were forming, along with memories. Not all of them had names, some were designations. Such as the Gruff Voiced One.

"Snape, if you don't get back here to insult me, and soon, I'll have the twins turn your hair purple until you do recover!" The gruff voiced one spoke harshly. He wasn't too sure he liked this one, but the careful squeeze to his wrist was reassuring. If this one wanted to be insulted, he would oblige as soon as he could speak again.

It felt like it was at least a century later when the bandages came off his eyes. His voice was a mere whisper as he cursed the bright light that hurt. The light instantly faded and he was able to see a face.

"Name," he demanded rasping.

"You're Severus Snape." She smiled gently.

He shook his head. He knew his name. He needed her name. "Name," he whispered again and hoped he wouldn't have to ask a third time.

"Poppy Pomfrey," she replied. She handed him a quill and parchment. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with it. "Your vocal chords were severely damaged, Severus, but they are healing. It should be just another two or three days. Mr. Weasley charmed that paper for you to use. It's self-erasing."

His mind scrambled to put more pieces together. He had a lot of pieces with red headed people. There were a lot of Weasleys. He was about to speak, but thought better of it. He wrote a name on the parchment with a question mark.

Poppy smiled. "Yes, it was Ronald Weasley that charmed the parchment for you. Hermione Granger brought the Always Inked Quill for you."

His mind was working faster now. Ronald Weasley. Red hair. Played the lute. Ah! Nephew. He's the Weasley he liked. Hermione Granger. Oh! That information came fast. Pretty, bushy-haired girl. Extremely bright. Niece.

His head exploded as hundreds of memories crowded his mind and the puzzle was gone for good. He shut his eyes tightly and despite the migraine that was building, he began to sort through the memories.

He wrote one large word on the parchment. LYRICA.

Poppy leaned over, patted his hand and smiled. "I'll find her."

Exhaustion swept over him and as much as he wanted to stay awake to see Lyrica, he was dragged back down into the darkness. His sleep was peaceful which allowed his memories to settle back into place. He had lost his Occlumency shields and he began reconstructing them at lightning speed. There were many memories that he forced behind those shields. Some memories would make him go insane and those he buried as deeply as possible.

Most importantly, he rebuilt his shields because he now knew what the Thing was... Voldemort. Whether it was a nightmare of a memory, or he was now somehow connected by blood to the Dark Lord, he didn't want that monster to have access to his mind. He shoved the Thing deep into a tiny chamber of heavy brick, burying it as completely as possible.

When the shields were back in place, his inner self leaned against a grand fortress of granite stone. Breathing a sigh of relief, he allowed himself to slip into natural, dreamless sleep.

When he wakened a few hours later, she was there beside him. Snape raised his hand to draw his fingers through her silken hair. He touched her cheek. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but all that he managed was, "Love."

Lyrica leaned over and kissed her husband, catching the tear that slid down his cheek. "I love you, too, Severus."

He took in her beautiful, sea green eyes and smiled. He had made it. He was back home.

Snape had his memories back and now knew that he'd been recovering from his horrendous injuries for almost a month. He recalled part of what happened and was able to tell Albus that Voldemort was indeed healed, and changed. What he could not tell the Headmaster was what had happened after the first Cruciatus Curse from the Dark Lord's wand struck him.

With his family around him, including Ron and Hermione, and the Headmaster, they were able to fill in the gaps as to what happened after Moody kidnapped him, and how he was rescued.

Hermione was the one to alert the Headmaster of trouble. She'd been high in the stands supposedly watching the game. In truth, the intrepid girl, worried from that morning about Snape, had been sending Draco's spying scarab after the Potions Master. Just when she was getting bored from the dozens of mismatched conversations and orders between Snape and the Aurors, she heard Moody's voice calling to her uncle. Looking out over the crowd she saw the two men very far away. They were headed for the Forbidden Forest. She lost track of their conversation when they stepped across the wards protecting the school. Suddenly worried about her Potions professor, she maneuvered her way down from the stands.

Meanwhile, in their quarters, Draco and Harry had not been watching the match on the enchanted window. Lyrica had tweaked the magic of the window so that they were able to watch Ron, Hermione, and Snape. When Snape stepped past the wards with Moody, both boys had had it with staying put. They wanted to leave the dungeons at once.

Lyrica did not stop the boys once her husband had vanished from the reach of the enchanted window as far as she'd been able to charm it. Following her sons, they left the dungeons and made their way outside, with no intention of stopping until Harry froze, halfway to the edge of the forest. The boy fell to his knees.

Snape's voice, almost back to its rich tones, interrupted the tale, "Did Kalima's Occlumens fail?"

"It didn't. She was just caught off guard for a moment," he replied. "When Moo... Crouch, I mean, portkeyed with you, Vold... You-Know-Who's emotion shot through me like a knife. I knew right away he had you, Dad."

The narrative continued with Draco describing Harry screaming for Snape and Draco tackling his brother in order to stop him from rushing headlong into the forest. Lyrica quickly calmed the boy down, sending Draco to get the Headmaster. As the Headmaster was refereeing the game with Ron, Draco summoned his Cosmos X and flew into the midst of the game.

"You caught the snitch," smirked Snape as he eyed the cheeky grin on Draco's face.

"It was right there by the Headmaster's ear, Dad. I couldn't help myself!" justified Draco.

Ron snorted, "At least you had your priorities in order!"

"It had the effect of stopping the game," groused Draco, crossing his arms over his chest. He was about to pout, but a kiss to his cheek from Hermione stopped it.

Albus stepped into the narrative at this point. With the Quidditch match aborted, and Professor Snape and Professor Moody now missing, the Headmaster ended the game and the fair. Mobilising the house elfs, they swept everyone that wasn't a student, a staff member or an Auror, off the grounds. Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt went to the last spot Hermione had seen Snape and Moody to begin a search.

The Headmaster coordinated the search from his office, kept company by an agitated Snape family.

A shrewd look from Snape towards his sons paused the recitation of events again. "Surely you two didn't obediently stay put, did you?" He smirked triumphantly as Draco's cheeks coloured and Harry's green eyes suddenly were looking everywhere else but at his father.

Lyrica spoke up, "They thought that they might join the aurors searching in the Forbidden Forest." She frowned, clearly still upset with the two boys even after all these weeks had passed. "They wound up as unwilling guests of the Centaurs until I negotiated a release."

Snape did not care for the dark look of disapproval on his wife's face. He already knew that relations with the Centaur population was a strained one between the creatures and wizards in general. He had spent years cultivating a tenuous alliance so that he would be able to collect potions ingredients within their territory. He frowned with deep annoyance. If those two idiot children had destroyed that...

"Negotiation?" he asked ominously. "What, pray tell, was the result?"

"The Centaurs have banned both Harry and Draco from the Forbidden Forest for five years. If either of them step foot in the forest and are caught, they will serve the Centaurs for five years. Bane wanted to kill them if either of them breaks the ban, but Magorian cited his respect for you, Severus, for having saved his son at birth, so he would not agree on a death sentence." Lyrica then turned to her husband and he frowned at her curious glare. "They've also demanded 'payment' of some special potions which I will not mention here." Harry snorted and Lyrica shot him a sharp look of warning.

"Idiot!" hissed Draco at Harry under his breath.

Snape added his own glare, one of disappointment, and said nothing more. Dealing with Centaurs was never an easy prospect, but it was worse for a witch to have any sort of dealings with the Beasts. Having to negotiate for the release of her sons when her husband had gone missing could hardly have been pleasant. Both boys were staring morosely at the floor.

With a nod to the Headmaster, Snape listened once more as the older wizard went on to tell him that while Shacklebolt and Tonks were in the forest, two other aurors, Liam Doggett and Trillian Vance, had been searching Moody's quarters for clues as to what the old warrior wizard was up to.

Doggett and Vance discovered a wizard's trunk that held the remains of Polyjuice Potion, and a very sick and starving Alastor Moody. The real Mad-Eye Moody was transferred to the infirmary where Poppy treated him until he could talk.

Albus learned later from Alastor that he had been waylaid by Crouch and Pettigrew a few days before he was scheduled to arrive at Hogwarts for the start of term. Other than that, he had little else to tell since he had spent most of the school year in the trunk.

Snape suddenly yawned, stopping the recitation of events. He was getting far too much detail when all he was really concerned with at this point was how he'd been rescued. Several voices spoke up, but it was Draco that quieted everyone and he took over.

"Harry tried, at first, to figure out where You-Know-Who was..." Draco faltered as he caught the scowl his father aimed at his brother. "Dad! He had to try!"

"It didn't work, though," said Harry softly, still ashamed that he hadn't been able to discover where his father had been taken. "All I could feel was... the Dark Lord. It was horrible."

"It was the scarab," interrupted Hermione and Snape settled a questioning gaze on the girl. "Draco's been working with the spying charms on the scarab. It remained attached to you, Uncle."

"You sent it, Hermione," stated Snape. Realisation of what the scarab might have been broadcasting to its listener drained what little colour Snape's skin had from his face. His long fingers curled tightly over Lyrica's hand which had been resting upon his thigh on the blankets of his infirmary cot.

"What did you hear?" Snape asked softly.

Hermione suppressed a shudder. "Laughter. Screaming. Spells I don't ever want to hear again." Draco grasped Hermione's hand and squeezed it tightly. "That, alone didn't help us to find you. It was when you tapped into the Ley Lines that it happened."

Snape did have a vague memory of that moment. By then he was upon the ground surrounded by the oily maelstrom that was Voldemort's hatred and madness. He knew he was dying at that point. He was thinking of his family, of Lyrica. The first time that he saw her descending the stairs in the Headmistress' office in the year 1898.

Such beauty, fragility, intelligence. She disarmed him by her mere presence. In that very moment when she stood on the last step and she stretched out her hand to him as a queen might to her knight, he had no need to return to the present. All those desires denied to him, her soft, green-eyed gaze promised him and he intended to take it.

He had not known that his waning magic was seeking out a Ley Line. He thought he was preparing to accept death. Yet his deep sense of self-preservation had tapped into the ancient magic of the earth, coiled it around his own magical core, and spun a powerful spell that sent him into an almost death-like, healing slumber.

Voldemort saw that Snape's broken, torn, and bleeding body no longer responded to his curses. Thinking he was dead, the Dark Lord motioned Lucius to his side and left the hapless Crouch to bleed to death.

Lyrica's voice brushed away his memory. "The scarab couldn't take the surge of magic from the Ley Lines and it shattered. It sent a kind of signal along the Ley Lines, a disturbance, a voice..." she faltered as she remembered the voice reverberating through her heart. Her husband had called out her name and in that instant she knew where to find him.

Lyrica had been in the Headmaster's office. Draco and Harry, released by the Centaurs, had been sent to their rooms in their quarters. Without supper. She was pacing angrily when a sharp pain stabbed her heart. She fell suddenly to her knees, unable to breathe. Albus caught her before she fell prostrate upon the floor.

"Madame Snape?" he asked as he helped her to her feet.

"Severus!" she finally managed to say. "I know where he is, Albus."

Dumbledore's fingers curled tightly around her wrist and she tried to pull away. "You can't go alone, Lyrica."

"He's dying!" she gasped.

It only took Dumbledore a few minutes to assemble everyone since they were either in the castle or on the grounds. Lyrica, accompanied by the Headmaster, Remus Lupin, Sirius in his Animagus form, Tonks, and Shacklebolt led the way to the Riddle Family Cemetary.

This was the first that Snape had heard about Lyrica having been one of his rescuers. He was both appalled and ashamed. "You shouldn't have been there," he whispered.

Sirius, still in his scruffy, black dog form, trotted over to a fallen, thin figure lying in a darkening pool of his own blood. Kingsley came up beside Sirius just as the wizard changed.

"Barty Crouch, jr.?" Kingsley Shacklebot stood over the thin figure and cast an identification spell. "I thought he was dead."

Sirius quipped, "Well, he is now."

"Severus!" Lyrica found Snape several feet from the body of Crouch beneath the gruesome statue of the Angel of Death. "Oh Merlin... Severus?"

The dark haired wizard was torn and bleeding and broken, yet as Lyrica leaned over him, she felt the lightest stirring of his breath against her cheek. "Remus! Sirius! Please help me!"

Remus, who was much better at side-along apparition, pulled Snape's body close and vanished from the cemetery. He was soon followed by Sirius and Lyrica. The Aurors remained behind to deal with the dead Death Eater.

"I couldn't stay here, Severus. I had to see you with my own eyes, and when I felt your breath, I had to make certain you'd be brought back home safely."

Snape didn't care that he had an audience as he drew his wife into his arms and kissed her. A cough from the Headmaster broke up the sign of affection and Snape caught the twinkling of those blue eyes. For once, the twinkle didn't annoy him.

"So I lived, but Barty Crouch, jr. died," stated Snape. His eyes hardened. "It's a pity bleeding to death is such a benign way to perish."

A sudden, bone-numbing weariness settled over the recovering Potions Master and his eyes fluttered vainly as he tried to keep them open. He lost the fight quickly as his eyelids finally dropped like lead and his head drooped to the side. Lyrica removed the pillows stacked behind her husband and shifted him back down onto the bed and covered him. His audience left quietly while Lyrica stayed behind to sit beside him as he slept.

Severus Snape's recovery was still a slow one. Madame Pomfrey would not let him leave the infirmary since he was still experiencing severe muscle spasms, and heavy exhaustion that hit him at the most annoying of times.

By mid-March he'd had enough of Madame Pomfrey's hovering and the infirmary itself. Against the matron's orders, he checked himself out, and with Harry and Draco supporting him, he returned to his dungeon quarters, his bed, and his wife.

That night, wrapped around Lyrica, he slept peacefully.

Teaching Potions was still out of the question. Even though he walked with the aid of a cane, it was the exhaustion that gave him the most trouble. He dare not drop asleep in the middle of a class. If he were to blow up a cauldron in front of Neville Longbottom, he'd never live it down. He did assist his substitute, Lyrica, by grading essays, potions samples, and tests.

Snape had been far too delighted to discover that as a Potions instructor, Lyrica was just as strict with his students as he himself was. Harry, of course, was quick to point out that she didn't sneer, and tended to smile when correcting a student's error. Snape chose not to hold that against her.

By the end of March the muscle spasms and tremors had abated enough that Snape was able to take over, not his Potions classes, but Defense Against the Dark Arts.

With the death of the false Moody, the Headmaster had taken over the teaching of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Albus tried to offer the last few months of the position to the real Alastor Moody but the ex-Auror decided that it was more important for him to work on various missions for the Order, now that Voldemort was returned.

Snape ran his DADA classes no differently than his Potions classes. He expected his students to listen and to pay attention. For the rest of the term his upper classes worked on defensive spells and fighting tactics. For his lower classes, they dealt with defending themselves against dark creatures. He did have one session for all his years that dealt solely with the consequences of casting the Unforgivables.

Robes billowing dramatically behind him, Snape lectured his fourth year Gryffindor/Slytherin class. "Everyone knows the consequences of the Unforgivables on their victims. The Imperius Curse eventually will lead to the demise of the individual's mind. Sometimes madness, but more often than not, a complete loss of their own identity. The Cruciatus Curse will leave you with tremored muscles and joint pain, if you're lucky. Depending upon the viciousness of the caster, bones will fracture and break from the force of contracting muscles, internal organs will burst. Madness will occur after the mind breaks from the relentless pain."

As he spun to stop and look at his rapt class, his gaze dropped upon the very pale, slightly shaking Neville. Both Gryffindors and Slytherins watched in astonishment as Snape placed a heavy hand upon Neville's shoulder. The boy's shaking stopped and without looking at the teenager, he continued his lecture.

"As for the Killing Curse, the consequences of that curse to a victim is unquestionably death." His gaze dropped to Harry, and for one, fleeting second, the boy was afraid he'd be singled out as an example in the class. To his relief, Snape's mouth quirked on one side, a gesture that went nearly unnoticed by most of the class. Snape swept up to the front of the classroom.

"What none of you may understand is that these curses are Unforgivable because they extract a price from the caster as well as the victim. Who thinks they can tell me what the price might be of each curse?" His eyes swept over his class and he caught Hermione practically sitting on her hands. He smirked. He had recently discussed with the young know-it-all her bad habit of always raising her hand in class. He had pointed out to her that it was unfair and often intimidating to other students to know that 'Granger always has the answer'. Lately she had been trying to give other students a chance, but it was a difficult habit to break.

Neville slowly raised his hand and Snape nodded sharply to the boy to answer. "Doesn't madness affect all who cast the Unforgivables, sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom, it does," he replied smoothly. "Five points to Gryffindor. Yet madness isn't the only consequence."

Draco raised his hand and Snape nodded to him. He replied, "The Unforgivables are addictive, sir."

"They are, but of the three, which one is the most addictive, Mr. Malfoy?"

He grinned smugly, "The Imperius Curse, sir."

"What is so addicting about the Imperius Curse, Mr. Malfoy?"

"The power to control another person so completely that their life is in your hands is... seductive."

"Ten points to Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy." He then paced over to Hermione and decided to give her patience reward. "Miss Granger, tell me what aspect of the Cruciatus Curse is addictive to the caster?"

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at being able to answer a question. She spoke up as she released her hands. "The Cruciatus Curse causes a reciprocal reaction in the caster. Instead of pain it's..." she blushed hotly, "uhm, pleasure."

There was some sniggering and Snape spoke sharply over the noise, quelling it. "The reaction is a conditional one. Just as a mutt gets used to being fed his food at a certain time each day, when a caster casts the Cruciatus Curse on their victim, they associate the pain of their victim with pleasure. However, as the caster uses the Cruciatus Curse more often the more pain is required to get even the smallest taste of pleasure. Eventually the caster receives only the memory of pleasure and goes mad in trying to elicit that elusive taste."

"It sounds like illegal Muggle drugs," murmured Harry.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger," he threw over his shoulder. The girl beamed and Draco sniggered gently, his grey eyes sparkling affectionately at Hermione.

Millicent Bulstrode raised her hand and Snape quickly acknowledged her. "Sir, what is the addictive nature of the Killing Curse? Is it power, pleasure, madness or something else?"

"All three, to a point, Miss Bulstrode, but the Killing Curse is not so simple a thing as an addictive potion that one can be weaned off of. It is imprisonment and the eventual fracturing of one's soul."

"So do you risk your soul if you're protecting your family by using the Killing Curse against someone who would use it against them?" she asked.

"The Ministry and the Wizengamot believe that is so. However, whether one's soul is at risk or not is not something that can be measured by law. Justification, such as you describe, or the greater good, may balance the equation. To kill someone, though, whether by a curse, or a knife, is never an easy thing for those who are human. Such justifiable death may not always sit easily upon one's conscience, thus, the guilt will eventually fracture the soul."

"I'd have no guilt over killing someone who meant to kill my family, or someone I loved," Millicent declared stubbornly as she glanced over at Ron Weasley. Ron blushed furiously.

"A noble sentiment, Miss Bulstrode," Snape said softly as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. "The taking of a life changes one, though, and it isn't until your nightmares come to life that you understand the true import of how you have changed."

The haunted tone in his silken baritone was enough to declare that the lecture was at an end. As Harry had watched his father, he saw the ghost of what Snape had so recently been; a Death Eater and a spy for the Light. Harry wasn't naive. He knew that his father had killed before. Whatever it had done to his soul, Harry was certain that the presence of Lyrica, himself, Draco, Ron, and Hermione had changed and perhaps, if not healed the man's soul, at least soothed it.

The term passed quickly and thankfully with no sign of Voldemort. Dumbledore knew that the Death Eaters were gathering, but there had been no overt signs of violence. Both Snape and the Headmaster knew that the Resurrection Ritual wasn't a foolproof and perfect means for a return to life. There was no doubt in either wizards minds that the night of the ritual, when the Dark Lord had taken on the torture of Snape himself, the vile creature had seriously depleted his own magical core.

Voldemort would continue to need sustenance given him by Nagini, his pet, and he would have to refrain from performing magic that drained him. As much as this could be an advantage, the disadvantage was that more than before, the Dark Lord would be required to rely heavily upon a select few of his Inner Circle.

This raised an argument between Snape and Dumbledore. Logic dictated that Voldemort, in order to survive, would now have to trust his Death Eaters, such as Lucius, making them nearly his equal. This is what Dumbledore believed, so his plans for the war leaned upon the side of caution. Snape, however, believed in the Dark Lord's colossal ego, paranoia, distrust, and inherent need to mete out cruel punishments even to those loyal to him. The Potions Master and ex-spy felt that it was this glaring personality flaw that needed to be exploited and taken advantage of. Snape was in favor of going in on the offensive, preferring to seek out and attack and weaken their opponent instead of waiting for him to attack.

Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the Light and the greatest wizard of their time, continually shot down Snape's arguments. Snape knew it was a losing battle. He really didn't wish to openly defy Dumbledore and go against the man, but it frustrated him because he knew the man's infuriating policy of 'wait and see' would both indirectly and directly affect his son, Harry Potter.

Snape would brood after the Order meetings, but the next day he would gather his children together, and those of the Defense Association, and put them through their paces. In addition to their new combined spell tactic, dueling, and learning Ley Line Magic, he began to teach his students offensive tactics.

It was as they were at the Leaving Feast, that Draco, Ron, Harry, and Hermione finally realised that Snape was up to something and had no intention of telling Dumbledore.

"Dad's training us to attack," Harry said quietly as his gaze shot surreptitiously up at the staff table where his parents sat eating.

"Bout time," agreed Ron around a dinner roll. "Defenshe only getsh you sho far."

Draco grimaced at Ron. "Stop talking with your mouth full, Weasel. It's gross." Ron made a face as he ate a large spoonful of mashed potatoes. "Voldie's weak, so it would be much better to strike now, before he's got all his followers together."

"But, Dumbledore doesn't think we should attack," piped up Hermione.

Draco took Hermione's hand in his. "I'm not trying to put the old man down, My, but he's wrong. This idea of waiting for them to come after us is only going to get us killed. Look what it did to Harry's parents."

Harry's head shot up at the mention of his parents. Draco was about to apologise, but Harry quickly shook his head. "No, you're right, Draco. When the Order had a chance to attack, they chose, instead, to go into hiding. Dad told Dumbledore that their numbers were few and that they could have been routed, any number of times, at Malfoy Manor."

Ron put down his knife and fork as he spoke up, "'Mione, in the DA, we're learning apprentice spells. That's beyond OWLs, NEWTs, and seventh years. It's a huge risk, but by the end of this summer, we'll be more than capable of any adult that's fighting now. With the strategy Uncle Sev's teaching us, we can go after that bastard and blast him to ashes." Ron smiled. "Best of all, Voldie will be so used to the Ministry's denial, and the Order waiting, that he'll never expect us. It's a brilliant move."

"It's insane," worried Hermione. "We're children!"

Draco gripped Hermione's hand and gave her a stony look worthy of his father, Snape. "We're in a war, My. We don't get to be children."

Sudden tears glistened at the corners of Hermione's eyes, but she did not allow them to fall. She leaned in closer to Draco and his slipped his arm over her shoulders.

Chaos reigned supreme in the Snapes quarters, as it had during the Christmas holidays. Trunks were everywhere and it seemed every five minutes someone had gone missing. This time it was Ron.

"Where is that redhead?" demanded Snape as he mentally counted heads for the fortieth time that morning.

"Dad," Harry began with exasperation. "We're picking him up at the Hogsmeade Express station. He's gone to see off Fred, George, Ginny, and Milli."

"Millicent I can understand," said Snape as he neatly side-stepped a levitating trunk. "However, he's going to be seeing his family in a month."

"Yeah, well... OW!" The aforementioned trunk dropped firmly on Harry's foot.

"Sorry, Scarhead!" Draco chuckled as he sauntered from his bedroom into the sitting room.

"Did you pack the entire Slytherin Quidditch team in there?" snarled Harry.

"Hardly. Just all my clothes, books, and..."

"You really need to thin out your wardrobe!" snapped Harry. He started to advance upon his brother and was pulled up short as Snape grabbed him by the collar. Harry simply scrambled out of his robe, leaving it in his father's hand.

"Harry!" He threw the empty robe down on Draco's trunk. Harry ran into his room and Snape closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. "There were three, now there's two," glowered Snape. "What happened to Hermione?"

"In here!" her voice called out from the Snapes bedroom.

"She's helping me, Severus!" came Lyrica's voice before Snape could protest that his bedroom was being invaded.

Snape looked down as Harry opened his trunk and threw in a pair of trainers. "Why are you doing your packing out here, young man?"

Harry looked up at his father's glare. "I did pack in my bedroom, Dad. I just forgot these."

"Do you have everything now?" Snape's silken voice drawled knowingly.

Harry studied the somewhat jumbled contents of his trunk. "I think so."

"I think not," Snape replied smugly. "Where is Kalima?"

"Oh crap!"

"Language!" shouted Snape as Harry made his way into his father's private lab. "I think I'll ask Molly to teach me that Soap Mouth Washing Spell she uses," he muttered as he shrunk the two trunks that came from his and Lyrica's bedroom. As Hermione and Lyrica emerged from the bedroom, Snape looked over all the trunks. "Hermione, where is your trunk?"

"In the Gryffindor common room," she replied.

Snape waved his hand toward the fireplace with exasperation. "Use the Floo and bring it, so that I can get all of these shrunk. We need to be on our way."

"Where are we going, Dad?" asked Draco.

Snape smirked at the blonde. This was a question the teenagers had been asking for the last two weeks. "You'll find out when we get there."

A Floo, a stop at the Hogwarts Express Station, two more Floos and a long distance portkey, which equaled a travelling time of almost six hours (there had been a serious traffic delay at the last Floo station) left all of the travelers tired and short-tempered. As they walked up a heavily wooded path deep within a forest, tempers only got worse and before Snape could stop it, Harry and Draco were rolling around on the ground, each one trying to get the first punch in. He had no clue what the argument was about, and really didn't care. He found this behavior particularly annoying since it was a fist fight that had changed everything.

Snape's temper exploded. "Break it up!" he roared. "Break it up you two imbeciles before I puree your brains!"

If Ron and Hermione had been fighting, they'd both be obeying Snape's orders. Of course they weren't, but just in case they both chose to hide behind Lyrica. Snape caught both his sons by the collars of their robes and yanked them apart. He then shook them both until their teeth clacked together.

Before either boy could protest, Snape had them over a knee, delivered three swift, hard smacks on each backside, and had them back on their feet. He leaned over menacingly into their surprised faces.

"We have ten more minutes of travel time. If I hear one word or sound out of either of you before we reach our destination, you're both going to get a spanking that's going to leave each of you standing for the rest of summer." Harry started to open his mouth and Snape's index finger pointed sharply at him in warning. "Not. One. Sound, Harry James Potter-Snape. I'm not warning either of you again." Snape's eyes flicked sharply to Draco whose mouth clacked shut. "Don't test me, Draconis Malfoy-Snape. I'm not in the mood."

Snape then grasped their hands in his, forcing them to walk on either side of him like two toddlers. He strode up the path with his eyes straight ahead. Harry and Draco had to trot in order to keep up. Draco sent a sneer behind his father's back at Harry. Harry repeated the expression. A sharp jerk warned them both that their father knew exactly what was going on behind his back.

"Well that was..." began Ron as he fell into step beside a weary Lyrica.

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione warned with a hiss. "I don't want to go over his knee next!"

The path, such as it was, ended at the remains of a tall oak that at one time had been struck by lightning. What was left standing was dead, but life had exploded over the dried out, hollowed husk of the trunk. It was festooned with heavy ropes of ivy, big splotches of moss, and tiny wildflowers.

"Step into the trunk," directed Snape shortly.

Harry was the first to step through. Draco went next, then Hermione, and finally Ron. Lyrica stepped up behind her husband and slipped her arms around his waist. Snape let out a deep breath.

"I shouldn't have lost my temper like that, Lyrica," he said softly, closing his eyes against the dappling of mid-afternoon sun. "I promised never to punish them when I was angry."

"You weren't completely at fault, Severus. Their bickering was annoying all of us."

Snape turned and put his arms around Lyrica. "My father only ever hit me when he was angry regardless of whether or not I was at fault for annoying him."

"Then you need to talk to Harry and Draco. I know it is a painful time for you, but they need to understand that you came from a background that wasn't so different from theirs." She kissed his cheek as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Besides, those two are too old to keep resorting to fistfights and wrestling to solve their differences so I don't believe either of them were that shocked at your reaction."

Snape kissed his wife, allowing himself a few seconds to forget everything but the woman in his arms. When they parted, a pained expression came over Lyrica's face and Snape frowned. "I hope that's not a criticism of my kissing."

Lyrica chuckled and shook her head. "No. It's just that my feet are really starting to hurt."

"Ah." Dipping his hand into his robe pocket, he plucked out a small phial of Pain Relief Potion out. He handed it to Lyrica and she drank it down. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Ohhh thank you, Severus!"

Taking his wife by the hand, he directed her toward the large split in the trunk. "After you, my dear."

Lyrica ducked a bit and stepped into the shadowed hollow. A few seconds later, Snape followed.

Harry tumbled out of the shadows he'd found himself cloaked in for several seconds and right into bright sunshine. Draco fell right into Harry and was knocked further forward when Hermione stumbled into him. Ron was the last and he tripped over Hermione's legs. They helped each other up and took a look at their surroundings.

The landscape was exceptionally boring, and very green. It was a flat expanse that at first appearance seemed to stretch infinitely in all directions. The sound of the ocean rolling up onto a rocky beach caused them all to look a little closer at the land to the north of where they stood. It ended, seemingly sliced off like the drop at the edge of the flat Earth.

A second look, not too far ahead of them and also to the north, was a deep split in the cliff face. Harry started to go closer for a better look, but Draco stopped him.

"I think we'd better wait for Mum and Dad, brother mine," he warned.

Harry huffed, but stayed where he was. Wisely, none of them moved but took in the scent of the ocean and the cool feeling of the sea in the air.

"Any guesses where we might be?" asked Hermione.

"I'm pretty certain that forest we walked through was in North America," commented Draco. "Or possibly Canada."

Ron piped up, "How about Snape's portkey? That wasn't from a portkey station. That was a pretty expensive looking pocket watch Uncle Sev had."

Draco nodded. "I've seen it before. When I was little, sometimes I saw Dad wearing that watch when he came to the manor."

"Boys, summon your brooms!" Snape's rich baritone startled them all as he appeared. He was removing the trunks from his pocket and held them out on the palm of his hand.

"Uncle Severus, I don't have a broom," said Hermione.

"You can ride with me, My!" smiled Draco waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"You'll ride with me," declared Snape as he summoned his broom and returned it to full size. "The flight down into the gorge can be tricky if it's your first time." He looked pointedly at Draco. "I don't need you tossing yourself and Hermione because you haven't ever dealt with wicked updrafts."

"That's where we're going?" asked Lyrica warily as she peered over the cliff's edge.

Snape smiled. "Wait here, my dear. I'll take Hermione down first and then come back for you." Once Ron, Harry, and Draco had summoned their brooms, they mounted them and hovered, waiting for Snape.

Snape mounted his broom and hovered beside Hermione. She climbed onto the back of the broom and wrapped her arms tightly about his waist. "I hope this is quick," muttered Hermione.

Snape patted her locked hands. "You'll be fine, but try not to scream in my ear, all right?"

"Scream?"

Snape's broom lifted upward from the ground and sped toward the split in the landscape. Right behind him were the boys. Suddenly, he dipped his broom down sharply into the gorge. Hermione's grip tightened and although she didn't scream in Snape's ear, she did scream into his back as her stomach dropped out in the quick dive.

They landed at the bottom of the gorge in the midst of a gardener's paradise. The boys were mesmerised by the sight, but Snape had to interrupt their appreciation. "Draco! Help Hermione, would you?"

Draco trotted over and peeled the shaking girl off the Potions Master. The Gryffindor had become so unbalanced by the roller coaster ride, that she promptly threw up on the Slytherin's chest.

Snape smirked. "I'll leave you to it, son." He then turned his broom around and shot upwards and disappeared over the lip of the cliff side.

Draco used a cleaning spell, but couldn't help grimacing. "I do love you, Hermione, but could you try and not vomit on me in future?"

Shooting him a deadly glare, she dropped to the grass and propped her head in her hands. It seemed that within seconds Snape was back with Lyrica and her aunt was offering her an Anti-Nausea Potion to soothe her stomach.

They had landed at the bottom of the gorge with its cragged walls sloping upwards on either side. The split cut into the coastline, narrow to the south and widening out to the north towards the ocean. Where they stood now was a slice of the Garden of Eden. Climbing plants of all varieties festooned and softened the sharp cliff edges that rose above them. There were trees, roses, bushes, flowers, herbs, and a swath of lush grass that snaked along the gorge until it disappeared from sight at the narrow, south end.

At first look the garden seemed to have no organisation, being allowed to grow wildly on its own. Students of Pomona Sprout (that paid attention in class) were able to tell that every plant grew where it was because it either benefited from those around it, or it benefited them. Magical and non-magical plants grew in this paradise which was a Potions Master's dream of ingredients.

To the north was another brilliant sight. Closing in the garden was a structure of wood, glass, granite and basalt stone, and brick. The foundation was narrow and its east and west sides that followed the surrounding cliff, it spread until it was at its widest at the roof. Floors and rooms jutted out in various places as though the entire structure was a series of children's blocks haphazardly stacked one atop the other. Staircases and balconies traced the sides as though they had been attached as an after thought. It was a fascinating piece of chaotic architecture that no one ever thought the precise Potions Master Severus Snape would ever own.

"That is insane!" whistled Harry in appreciation.

"It's bloody brilliant!" gasped Ron, his head tilted back in order to see all of the house.

"It looks so impossible it's beautiful!" marveled Hermione.

Draco snorted, "I'm with Harry. That thing is insane. Dad, I didn't know you had crazy people on your family tree."

"Setimar Cornelius Prince wasn't crazy, but he was eccentric. He was an Herbologist, a Potions Master, Charms Master, and a Thaumaturgical Archaeologist." Snape glanced down at Hermione anticipating the question on the tip of her tongue about the last occupation. "It is a branch of archaeology that deals specifically with the ancient secrets of the wizarding world." He motioned his family to follow him towards the house.

Lyrica asked, "How long has this been in your family, Severus?"

"Almost two hundred years. Setimar Prince spent nearly seventy years of his adult life building the house and cultivating the garden. He didn't use one bit of magic except for it being Unplottable and the wards used to protect the entire gorge and a large portion of the beach."

Snape, who prided himself on being a very ordered man that paid attention to detail and required everything to be neatly in place, had always enjoyed the chaotic nature of Billeghdonn Manor. It seemed to go against all accepted architectural convention, yet appeared to be so very right.

Harry, glancing back at his father, was astonished by the absolute beatific look upon Snape's face. Although the expression was there for no longer than Harry could draw breath, this he knew was a part of Snape only a select few had ever seen. A contented Severus without a care in the world. Harry smiled, glad of catching such a precious gem.

"Wait until you see the inside," warned Snape. He then ushered his family along the green path and up onto what could only politely be called a porch. Like the tracery of stairs and balconies above, the porch appeared to have been put together from leftover stone and brick only after the architect realised that a porch was needed.

The porch ran the width of the narrow foundation and framed a double door of heavily carved black oak. While the children studied the fantastical carvings that told a story amidst tendrils of ivy and celtic knotwork on the door, Lyrica went over to a porch swing and seated herself.

"Feet still aching?" Snape inquired quietly.

Lyrica smiled and shook her head. "No. I just had to try out this porch swing. I've never sat in one before."

"...it is, too!" declared Hermione hotly.

"No it isn't!" shot Harry right back.

"Look, Harry," said Hermione pointing to one panel, "This is Gandalf and beside him is Bilbo Baggins. Down here, those are most definitely Orcs."

Draco peered at the last carving Hermione was pointing at. "So that's an Orc? Looks like a skinny troll." He had no idea what an Orc was, nor who Gandalf or Bilbo Baggins were. He quietly thought that the Gandalf wizard looked a bit like Dumbledore.

"All right, so maybe it is Lord of the Rings," conceded Harry.

"It is," confirmed Snape. "The door is one of my additions and I've always been fond of Tolkien's interpretation of the wizarding world."

Hermione and Harry stared at Snape gaping. He tapped each of their chins closed. "Much of what is taken for fantasy in the Muggle world was based on fact. Tolkien was not only a powerful wizard himself, he had a gifted imagination."

"So how come I never heard of him?" demanded Draco.

"Lucius was too busy filling your head with Dark Arts texts than fine literature. A deficit you're quite welcome to remedy once you see my library of fiction."

"So, let's go in," said Ron grabbing for the door handle.

"Not quite so fast, Ronald," cautioned Snape. "This, despite all appearances is not the front door. This is the outer door to my potions lab. Follow me."

Snape led them towards the west side of the porch opposite the swing. On this side was one of those sets of stairs that appeared to be rickety wood, but was quite sturdy and solidly anchored to the building. The staircase rose up the side of the house and then over the porch to a balcony that led to the second floor. The door, the official front door to Billeghdonn Manor, was a wide, arched door of colourful art nouveau stained glass.

Snape turned on them all suddenly. "A warning to the hoodlums hiding within you; this glass cannot be repaired by magic so don't you DARE slam it. If any one of you cracks it or breaks it, I will take it out on your hide. Am I clearly understood?" Four teenaged heads nodded in solemn understanding. A wave of his hand and the wards shimmered and fell down. Removing an ornate key from his pocket, he slipped it into a lock in the door's center, turned it three times, and the door gracefully swung open.

They walked into a wide, but short entryway of Spanish tile. Snape was the first to remove his outer robe and hang it upon a clawed hook which snatched at the fabric and grabbed it securely. More of the clawed hooks appeared next to Snape's and one by one they each removed their robes and hung them up.

Leaving the entryway they emerged into a circular parlor decorated in pleasing colors of blue, green, and gold. There were three sets of French doors that Snape opened with a wave of his hand. To the right the doors led into a library and next to that was an office. Opposite those two sets of doors was a more spacious and informal sitting room decorated in wood panelling of cherry and ironwood. The furniture was dark stained leather.

Hermione, obviously salivating to see the library, couldn't stop herself from heading in that direction. Snape caught her by the shoulder. He smiled down at his little know-it-all.

"Why don't you allow me to conduct a formal tour?" Hermione nodded and smiled back at her uncle. "This parlor is purely for guests. I expect it to be kept neat. The fireplace you see here is the only one that can be connected to the Floo network. However, it will only be connected to a secure connection through Hogwarts and in an emergency, or if we're expecting someone." He headed towards the door of the sitting room. "This is the sitting room. As you can see at the back there is a circular staircase that leads to the third floor which is where the kitchen, dining room, fiction library and quarters for Dobby are."

The sitting room was an irregular rectangle with a wide window that looked out upon the ocean. They all crowded over to the window to get their first glimpse of the water rolling up onto a rocky shoreline. The beach was black sand that glittered in the sun.

"The ocean seems awfully close, Severus," remarked Lyrica with consternation.

"Very strong wards protect the manor from the worst the sea can send, my dear. I can assure you that we'll be able to see some spectacular storms, but we'll be quite safe."

"There's a lighthouse out there!" crowed Hermione pointing toward a single tower that nestled firmly within the black rocks that rose from the waves crashing against it. The lighthouse was a sturdy structure of grey stone walls and thick, heavy glass that surrounded its lens. "Will we be able to go out to it, Uncle?"

"I will take you out there a little later," replied Snape.

He then showed them the study, his small office, but didn't allow them entrance. Decorated similarly to the sitting room, it held a large desk, a fireplace, and a tall, thin window that overlooked the garden. An inner door led into the library that Snape finally let Hermione into.

The library was a magnificent room that took up the rest of the second floor. Just as irregularly shaped as the sitting room, it was pleasantly decorated in the same dark wood stylings of the sitting room. Ornate wooden desks with green hooded research lamps and comfortable leather chairs sat at convenient intervals allowing several individuals privacy to study and write. Tall, thin windows lined the wall allowing in light from the garden.

The bookshelves reached the high ceiling and rolling ladders gave one access to the higher shelves of books. It was a much more impressive library than the one at Hogwarts.

"You can read anything in here except those books that are spelled shut. I know each of you have the intelligence to break such spells, but don't." The warning was clear, but not quite to one. The glitter in Hermione's amber brown eyes gave her intention away very clearly. Snape laid a hand firmly on Hermione's shoulder. "I mean it, Miss. I will not tolerate the sneakiness Madame Pince allows you at Hogwarts."

"I don't sneak!" she declared hotly, her cheeks flushing.

Snape's right eyebrow lifted. "I suppose it wasn't you who forged my signature to release the school's copy of Most Potente Potions from the Restricted Section to you in your second year?"

The colour in Hermione's cheeks deepened considerably. How in the world had he known that? her mind quailed.

Snape leaned over and caught Hermione's chin gently with his fingers. "I mean it, my dear girl. There are some very dangerous books in here and if I must, I will impress upon you just how serious I am."

Hermione turned absolutely scarlet and backed up right into Draco. "You can't spank me!"

Lyrica patted the girl's shoulder reassuringly. "Of course he won't, Hermione dear."

"No, that I won't do, Hermione, but you will be barred from the library and you'll only be allowed your school textbooks for the rest of the summer," Snape clarified.

That didn't seem to mollify the young girl and she stared at her aunt and uncle in horror. "I'd rather have the spanking, please!"

Snape laughed and the boys chuckled. Harry patted Hermione's shoulder. "Only you would take a spanking over the loss of your books, 'Mione."

Snape smirked and led them out of the library then into the sitting room and on up the staircase to the third floor.

Outside of the third floor library, which were all fiction books, they were met by an enthusiastic Dobby.

"Welcome Masters and Mistresses!" he cried. "Lunch is being ready. Are you one and all hungry?"

They were and the elf led them into the light and airy dining room which had a wide picture window that overlooked the garden. Before them was a welcome meal of sandwiches, soup, salad, pumpkin juice, coffee and tea.

Silence descended as they allowed their appetites to take over and they indulged themselves in the good food.

The tour proceeded in earnest after lunch concluded. The fourth floor was next and here were four bedrooms, each with their own bathroom. The four bedrooms were connected by an octagonal common room that had a shelf of books, a fireplace in the center of the room, several chairs and two sofas. The decor was cozy and was similar to the sitting room, but the wood panelling was sepia stained pine.

Each bedroom was furnished with a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, an empty shelf for books or knicknacks, two chairs, and a settee. Two rooms looked out upon the ocean and two of the rooms looked out upon the garden.

There was almost an argument about who was going to get what view until Snape pointed out that each window was enchanted and if they wanted to change the view, they could. Ron and Harry took the two rooms that looked naturally out upon the ocean, while Draco and Hermione took the other two rooms.

As soon as Hermione had chosen her room, Snape stepped towards the door and began weaving a spell.

"What are you doing, Dad?" asked Draco curiously.

Snape finished the spell. "Try the door, Draco," suggested Snape.

Draco eyed his father suspiciously, then put his hand on the doorknob. He yelped as he felt a spark of energy leap over his fingers. "Hey! That's not fair!" he shouted.

"Of course it is," Snape countered. "If the door is open, and remains open, you are allowed inside. The second the door is closed, you'll be sent to the common room." Snape went over to Draco's door and incanted the same spell. He then glanced over at Hermione with a raised eyebrow. "I trust you about as much as I trust him." Hermione just crossed her arms in exasperation.

Harry peered into his room at the plain white walls, furniture, and bed clothing. "Will we be able to change colors and stuff, Dad?"

"We'll work on that tomorrow. You can have the night to think about what you want. Now, are each of you still wearing the emergency portkeys I gave you at Christmas?" Snape was very pleased to see four identical amulets around the necks of his children. "If you hold the tip of your wand to the amulet, by saying second, third, fourth or fifth floor, you'll be transported there immediately. I want each of you to try it for the fifth floor."

One by one, the teenagers vanished from the fourth floor common room. Snape quickly gathered his wife into his arms and kissed her before leading her over to a graceful staircase that lined the southernmost wall of the circular common room. They walked up it and emerged into a wide room that took up the entire floor. There was a dueling platform amongst a variety of games and exercises meant to tone the body and test one's offensive and defensive skills. The machines were either of clockwork manufacture or magical. As Snape and Lyrica arrived, the teens were already trying everything out.

Hermione loved the treadmill that surrounded the user in a forest, a park, a street, or busy city to walk or run.

Draco thought the punching bag was great, until it punched back.

The game that pitted two to four players against each other and tested one's defensive spells appeared to be the clear favorite and the adults waited for a little bit while one game was played. Ron won the game.

"I demand a rematch!" shouted Draco. "Harry bumped me."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Quiet," intervened Snape. "The tour ends here, so if you want to play some more, you can. The sixth floor contains smaller guest rooms, storage, and an extra potions cabinet. The outer area is an observation deck all of you have access to. There are doors and stairs that lead either down to the gardens or to the beach. No swimming in the ocean is allowed. As you've seen, it's far too rocky, rough, and dangerous. If you walk all the way to the end of the garden, you'll find a freshwater pond and waterfall where you can swim. My only rule there is that you must have Dobby with you if you go swimming."

"What's on the seventh floor?" asked Harry.

Snape smirked and slipped his arm around Lyrica's waist. "Our room. Consider it off limits, unless there is an emergency." Taking Lyrica by the hand, he kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear. Eschewing the stairs, Snape apparated his wife to the seventh floor.

Draco suddenly caught Hermione's hand and pulled her back down the stairs to the fourth floor. Ron scowled. "I miss Milli."

Harry's frown matched Ron's scowl. "Yeah. I miss Luna." Aiming his wand at the game, he silently challenged his best friend to another match."

The seventh floor was a luxurious master bedroom with a large bath and six French doors that led out onto a wide, shaded deck that surrounded the room. The bedroom was decorated in mahogany, gold, silver, green, and white.

The beautiful and spacious room held no interest for Lyrica at the moment as she was far too busy enjoying her husband's embrace and his kisses.

Snape gave the teenagers a few days to acclimate and explore Billeghdonn Manor and the cove before he got after them to begin their homework assignments. Harry was more concerned about learning defense for his fight with Voldemort, but Snape had decided that those lessons could wait a few days as well. What he didn't tell them was that he just wanted some peace and quiet, either alone, or with Lyrica beside him. He didn't want to think about school, the Dark Lord, or any of the hundred or more thoughts that would soon be occupying his days.

The pool at the end of the garden was the most popular spot for the quartet.
Situated at the end of the garden, they had to slip through a narrow split since the walls of the gorge had joined together at that point. Once through the narrow few feet, they were in a hidden area where a fresh water waterfall spilled over the height of the gorge wall into a wide and deep pond. Sandstone boulders had been carved into varying, wide steps that were perfect to either jump off of, or to sit and lie down upon.

Dobby always went with the children and kept a close eye upon them. He didn't dare let any of them get hurt and thus bring the wrath of Master Potions Master Snape upon him.

The boys also kept themselves busy with flying on their brooms. They would either race the length of the gorge, or the two miles of beach that was encompassed by the wards.

On the first weekend afternoon at Billeghdonn Cove, Hermione asked Snape if they could all go out to the lighthouse. With Lyrica bringing up the rear guard, he led the entourage down a narrow staircase on the outside of the manor on the west side. The staircase was suspended between the house and the steep wall of the gorge. It was a little claustrophobic so Hermione gripped Draco's hand tightly.

The staircase dead ended at a large, black boulder. Snape tapped the boulder with his wand and intoned, "Reveal your secrets!"

The boulder shimmered and revealed that it was a heavy door sunk vertically into the ground that took a strong levitating spell to lift open after the wards had been released. In single file, with their wand tips glowing, the Quartet followed Snape down a set of stone cut steps and into a long and annoyingly twisted tunnel. At one point the temperature dropped and Snape cast Warming Spells on all their clothing.

"We've descended below the sea," explained Snape.

"It would have been easier to fly to the lighthouse," grumbled Harry.

"Of course you can fly out to the lighthouse, Harry," replied Snape, "but that won't get you into the building."

The tunnel curved, twisted, went up, then down, and up a final time before dumping out into a cave beneath the lighthouse. They clambered up a set of stone steps and finally emerged in the main floor of the lighthouse.

When all was said and done, the lighthouse wasn't as exciting as they had hoped. It was simply a tall cylinder, roughly five stories in height, with a light and a huge, cut glass lens, at the top. Snape had no interest in tackling the hundreds of stairs and persuaded Lyrica to stay on the main floor with him while the four teenagers raced up the long spiral staircase.

Harry, easily the swiftest, made it to the top first. He pushed through a metal door in the floor of the watch room and then flopped down away from the door beside the huge, slowly rotating lens.

Hermione showed up next, so breathless, she couldn't speak. She collapsed near Harry with her back to the wall and her head down between her knees.

Draco showed up a few minutes later, cast a cushioning charm, and fell face forward upon the floor. He muttered into the invisible cushion, "Jusht... tell Dad... I'm shtaying all shummer."

When Ron didn't show up some minutes later, Harry crawled back to the floor door and shouted down, "Ron? You down there?"

"Bugger this!" came a sharp, breathless retort.

Harry laughed and let his forehead drop gently to the cool floor. "You do realise... we have to go back down these stairs."

"Shut up, Harry!" This came from both Draco and Hermione.

An hour later found four, very subdued and tired teenagers arriving on the main floor of the tower where Snape had conjured comfortable chairs and tea for himself and Lyrica. They were both bent over a game of chess. Snape looked up after moving his knight.

"Ah! I can see you're all ready for a vigorous lesson in Defense!" He shook his head with silent mirth at the wearied moans and groans that met his comment.

They collapsed around the table and Lyrica poured tea for each of them. Once their tea cups were empty, Snape vanished the chairs, the tea, and the chess game and ushered them all back into the tunnel, up the stone steps, outside, and up the narrow, wooden staircase that took them to the second floor of the house. Tired and with sore leg muscles, the four teenagers carried themselves the last few feet to the sitting room where they each collapsed, unceremoniously, either upon the soft carpet, or the furniture.

Dobby popped into the sitting room. "Masters and Mistresses lunch is... oh no! The little masters and mistress!" He glared at Snape. "What did you do, Snarky Master?"

"I did nothing, Dobby," Snape spoke firmly. "They've been exploring. I don't think any of them are ready for lunch."

In fact, they were all asleep where they had fallen. Lyrica began putting cushions beneath their heads. "I don't suppose you could have shown them a shortcut to reach the top of the lighthouse, could you, Severus?"

He smiled wickedly. "They never asked if there was one."

The first Ley Line Magic lesson at Billeghdonn Cove wasn't cancelled, but delayed til just before dinner. Snape, who had gone to work in his lab while the children were napping, was excused from the first lesson.

Lyrica had her four students outside on the black sand beach and she was lecturing. "For the next few days, we're not going to learn any new spells, but we're going to learn to use the enemies shields against them. Harry, please cast a medium blast shield using your wand and no Ley Line Magic."

Harry did as instructed and suddenly found himself flying backwards, right into Ron. "Hey!" he cried indignantly as he picked himself up.

"Remember the shield I taught you that you can use to repel your enemies at the same time protecting yourself?" They nodded. "Same principle, but this time you're casting a force of energy that slams their shield into them. The nice surprise with this spell is that your force will double upon hitting their shield and depending on the strength of the shield, will either knock them down, or toss them backwards. It will often shatter the shield, allowing you to slip in an attack spell. Now pair up, and we'll practice."

Casting the force that Hermione dubbed a 'Concussive Wave' required the tapping in of the Ley Line reserve, concentrating the power, and then throwing it like one would throw a ball. Nearby rocks were tossed aside, or holes were gouged in the sand as the energy careened off target. Not one of them managed to hit the other's shield.

Lyrica stopped the practice and conjured up four balls each about the size of a standard baseball. She then transfigured a rock into a target.

"Get in a line and one after the other, throw the ball until you each hit the center once."

After seven throws, Harry was the first to hit the bulls-eye. He massaged his elbow and grinned happily.

Ron was next, taking ten throws before he hit the center. He went to sit beside Harry to watch Draco and Hermione.

Draco had never thrown any sort of ball before in his life and it was frustrating to him that his aim was so terrible. Hermione was also getting frustrated with not hitting the target and she was about to give up when Lyrica stepped in.

She took Draco's ball and transfigured it into a dagger. "Since Severus has been teaching all of you to use a dagger and I saw you throw one rather well during DA, try throwing this and hitting the target."

Without any effort, Draco threw the dagger unerringly right in the center of the bulls-eye. He smiled smugly. Lyrica summoned the dagger and handed it back to him. "Throw it again, but this time, try to be aware of your throwing stance."

Draco didn't throw the dagger immediately, but tried to think of the way he stood right before throwing his weapon. He felt where his muscles tensed, and where they relaxed. When he was certain he could mimic the stance again, he threw the dagger, again hitting the center.

Lyrica summoned the weapon and changed it back into a ball. She handed it to Draco. "Now hit the bulls-eye," she commanded gently.

The ball flew from Draco's hand and hit the red bulls-eye dead on. He jumped up and down in triumph and shouted.

"All right, you've got it, Draco. Go sit with the boys." Lyrica smiled and then turned her attention to Hermione. "Your aim isn't that bad, Hermione. The problem you're having is that you're not putting any force behind your throw. You're just throwing with no real intention of hitting your target. So, here's a little help." A wave of her hand transfigured the bulls-eye into a Death Eater.

The Death Eater advanced upon Hermione and instinct took over. She threw the ball at the Death Eater's head, cracking its mask and knocking it backwards. Draco gave a shout as Ron and Harry cheered.

"Uhm... Aunt Lyrica..." pointed Hermione, "the Death Eater is getting back up."

A wave of her hand turned the rising Death Eater back into a simple boulder. "All right, pair up again and I want to see each of you knock each other at least once back into the sand."

This time the students succeeded. They wanted to do it again, but each of them were showing the signs of magical weariness. They headed into the manor where Dobby greeted them each with cold glasses of pumpkin juice. They then went to shower before dinner while Lyrica went down to the first floor potions lab in search of Snape.

Snape hadn't been to his potions lab on the first floor of Billeghdonn Manor for several years and the neglect showed. As much as he'd wanted to dive right into his research for a potion that would help to alleviate the symptom of joint pain and exhaustion a werewolf suffered before and after the full moon, he had to clean up first.

What truly annoyed him was that the stasis spell and preservation wards he'd put up in the lab had somehow failed leaving him with a lab coated with dust and overrun by spiders. There was damage to many potion ingredients as well and this really tore at him. Some of the ingredients had been quite rare and expensive. It would take months, if not years to replace some of them.

Loathe to use magic for such a monumental job, Snape set about cleaning the lab the Muggle way, something that would astonish his students that wound up doing detention and had to clean cauldrons without magic. There were Potions Masters that used magic without a thought to clean their labs, but Snape had learned, even before attending Hogwarts, that 'silly wand waving' wasn't always the answer to every task.

Everything from the equipment, to the ingredients, to the worktables had a subtle to profound effect on a potions end result. Some potions were brewed in iron, not because the brewer preferred iron, or it was cheaper than copper, but because the iron itself lent certain magical properties to certain potions. Stirrers and phials came in all materials, because they, too, contributed to the efficacy of a potion. Cleaning with magic was always at risk of changing a cauldron's properties, altering the magical arithmetical quotient of a stirrer or pipette, or subtly destroying an ingredient.

Severus Snape was well versed in cleaning the Muggle way, and although his students often thought he was being just plain mean in making them clean the same way, he never did anything without a reason.

After two hours the lab was clean, but Snape was the one who was a mess. Dust had turned his black trousers to a fine dark grey. His robes and frock coat were in a heap on a chair as it had gotten hot as he worked. The sleeves of his no longer white cotton shirt were rolled up to his elbows and the collar was unbuttoned. A sweating brow had caused his fine hair to turn into the lanky look that had long ago given him the nickname of 'greasy git'.

After Apparating to the seventh floor, he went out onto the deck and peered down at the beach to see that Lyrica's class was in session. He caught her glancing upwards at him and he waved before heading back into the bedroom.

After a long, and very hot shower, Snape was back down in the lab. He leaned against an old and worn work table of hard ironwood and surveyed it. After having worked in Lyrica's beautiful lab at Ashmere, Snape didn't have quite the pride in this one he'd once had. Of course, once he'd established his marvelous private lab and stores at Hogwarts, it was simple to lose the fondness he'd once held for his Billeghdonn Cove lab.

Much of the equipment was old, and there were very few books down in the lab. Most of his research material was at Hogwarts. Due to the damage, he'd lost quite a lot of his ingredients and determined that a trip to some of his favorite apothecaries was in order if he was going to make any inroads on his research over the summer.

He was taking inventory when Lyrica arrived in his lab. He walked over to kiss her and she smelled his scent of fresh soap. "What have you been doing down here that required a shower, Severus?"

"Stasis and preservation wards failed. It was a disaster. Now, after getting everything cleaned up I've decided this lab is going to require some improvements before I can settle seriously into my research. I also need to replenish quite a number of ingredients and update some of my equipment."

She ran her hands over the smooth, black surface of the heavy worktable. "I hope you intend to keep this worktable, though. Ironwood is it?"

Snape nodded. "It stays. It was a favorite of Setimar Prince. Supposedly it was crafted from a single ironwood tree that was almost 1,000 years old."

"It's quite beautiful." She brushed her fingertips over the various indents and blemishes the table had accumulated over the years. "So, will we be visiting Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade for supplies?"

"I think not. I'd like for the children to come with us, and with the Dark Lord near there, it would be better to travel to some other apothecary. There are places in the United States, Canada, and I have a favorite apothecary in Africa..." a puzzled expression crossed his face and then he smiled, like the cat that ate the canary.

"What?" asked Lyrica. "You've discovered something?"

"Coincidences are fascinating. The apothecary I most often do business with in Hogsmeade introduced me to Imamu whose specialty in Africa is the Laurel Red Heart. I just realised that in 1898, I purchased Laurel Red Heart from Imamu's father Imoo."

Lyrica smiled and slipped her arm around his. "Then perhaps we should start in Africa, Severus. Maybe we can quiz the children on the trip."

Snape chuckled and kissed his wife's cheek. "The lesson is over, I gather?"

She nodded. "They did well. Dobby is preparing dinner. Will you come join us?"

He shook his head. "I will have to decline, my dear. I need to finish what I've started here."

"I will come down after dinner and help you. Would you care for a sandwich?" Lyrica started towards the second floor stairs and turned back to see her husband already buried within his ingredients cabinet. He didn't answer. "I'll take that as a yes," she smiled.

Lucius Malfoy despised libraries and he despised the tedious nature of research. It was an unfortunate matter for him that his Master would trust this particular research to no one but him. The hatred aside, he desperately wished he had access to his considerable library. His was a collection of arcane books to rival any in Britain, with exception of the library belonging to the Traitor Snape. Unfortunately, Malfoy Manor had been seized and although the house and its content had not been touched by the Ministry, he had no access to it. He was stuck with his Master's mediocre excuse for a library.

Deep within the labyrinth that made up the Dark Lord's sanctuary, the elder Malfoy paced in front of a long table covered with books, parchment, quills, and ink bottles. Torches, candlelight, and the flames from a large, granite fireplace lit the library and his workplace.

Malfoy's Death Eater robes hung over a wooden chair. He wore dark blue, tailored trousers, black dragon-hide boots, and a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His long, blonde hair was beginning to escape from its dark leather tie at the nape of his neck.

A small book in one hand, he paced up and down the length of the library, his boots cutting a staccato rhythm on the stone tiled floor. In sudden fury, he threw the small, old book across the room. With a shout he vented more of his anger by scattering the notes he'd made, and open books upon the work table. His rage ended as he slapped his palms with a crack upon the table and leaned over it, breathing heavily.

"Luciusss."

The wizard spun at the sound of his Master's voice and dropped on bended knee to the floor. His lowered his head until his forehead touched the cold floor as well and he remained in place until the Dark Lord was standing over him. He stretched out his hand, took a portion of the dirty edge of the black robe in his hand and pressed his lips to it.

"My Lord," he began.

"I grow tired of waiting, my ssservant." Voldemort curled his unnaturally long, and thin, pale fingers into Lucius hair until he was lifting the man to his feet by his blonde locks.

Now on his feet, his grey-blue eyes looked steadily into the terrifying, red-eyed gaze of his Master. He did his best to mask his fear. In that moment he felt the Dark Lord's mind pierce his like a molten sword. He could not stop the scream that tore through his throat as his mind was assaulted.

Pain ceased abruptly as Lucius dropped like a marionette with its strings cut to the floor. He kept his head bowed and tried to stop the shaking of his body.

"Familia Vestigium," hissed Voldemort. "Why have you disssmissed this ssspell?"

"My Lord, the problem with the Familia Vestigium is that it is affected by Unplottable and Fidelius spells, and many security wards."

"I do not care, Lucius. You have Ssseverusss blood, and your ssson'sss. Make the ssspell work." Voldemort turned to leave the library. Lucius did not move a muscle. As he expected, the Cruciatus Curse enveloped his body. Five minutes of nerve tearing fiery pain ripped through him. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming.

Severus Snape's blood ran through the veins of Voldemort tainted only by the blood of Nagini that continued to sustain him. Lucius held up the phial of nearly black blood his Master had given him and removed the wax seal. He dipped the tip of his wand into the thick liquid and whispered a spell that drew all the blood into the wood of the wand.

Even before he began the Familia Vestigium, he could feel the dark magic of Voldemort's blood changing the power of his wand in his hand. The feeling sent a ribbon of disgust through his veins that he forced himself to ignore.

Standing in the center of the Death Eaters meeting chamber, Lucius began the complicated chant of the spell that would allow him to possibly track his old friend, the traitor, Severus Snape. If he were within any wards, such as that surrounded Hogwarts, or anywhere else a Fidelius or Unplottable charm were used, the spell he cast would be useless.

"Familius Vestigia!" he shouted the final words of the spell. A lurid ribbon, deep crimson in colour, flowed from his wand. Lucius kept his arms outstretched as he began to circle slowly in place. His sight of the chamber he was in was soon overlaid by a dizzying array of different locations around the world. The images swam over his grey-blue eyes like cataracts. So many images, but nothing that showed him where he might find Snape.

He suddenly collapsed to his knees, exhausted from the drain upon his magical core. He closed his eyes to the after-images that plagued him, and he shoved his wand away from his hand as it suddenly felt like some obscene violation.

A serpentine voice laconically incanted, "Crucio."

As drained as his magic was, Lucius was viciously drawn down into a black sea of pain until he felt nothing and was aware of nothing.

Voldemort nudged the elder Malfoy with his filthy, pale foot. "You have one lassst chance to find me Harry Potter, Luciusss." With a flourish, he walked away from the unconscious wizard.

Lyrica awoke late in the night feeling as though a dark shadow were pressing upon her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. Staring up at the ceiling, she shivered despite the heat contributed by her husband's sleeping body. She briefly turned on her side facing him, curling her knees up towards her chest and tried closing her eyes. The second layer of darkness descended like funeral linen and Lyrica's eyes shot abruptly open. Feeling suddenly confined, not just to her bed, but the room itself, she slipped as quietly as she could from the bed.

Snape's sleep was deep and free of nightmares this night. He breathed smoothly, his chest rising and falling gently. Standing over him, Lyrica touched his bare shoulder, feeling the smooth, alabaster pale skin beneath her fingertips. He stirred, slightly, and she snatched her hand away before she woke him.

Distracted by his research, Snape had worked very late, only reluctantly going to bed after Dobby began to nag him. He had found Lyrica, sleeping, but she was tossing and turning. For awhile his presence in their bed seemed to soothe her and that is when he finally drifted off to sleep.

This was Lyrica's second week of restlessness and it was beginning to affect her usually calm demeanor. This evening she was to have taken the teenagers through another lesson in Ley Line Magic, but she refused to teach the lesson.

She had tried to read, but found the exuberant voices of the quartet annoying. Once she snapped at Hermione arguing with Ron, and that had been enough. Putting down her book, she had gone to bed early, but only after taking a Calming Potion.

Nothing helped, though, and this was where she was now. Pacing uneasily and feeling trapped. In desperation she summoned her robe, and walked out onto the deck. Usually she loved looking up at the stars as the ocean crashed against the rocks below, but tonight it wasn't enough to dispel her uneasiness. Making her way to the edge of the deck, she used one of the outer staircases to descend to the midnight coloured sand below.

Once she was away from the house a fair distance, Lyrica cast a blue ball of flame to bounce ahead of her and light the way. The lighthouse did not cast any light upon the beach as it was one whose light did not intrude upon the inhabitants living behind it. As it blinked on and off, signaling to both Muggle and Wizarding travelers the dangers of the coast, its bright light remained pointed out to sea.

At the edge of the beach, Lyrica tossed off her slippers and stepped warily onto the black sand which picked up enough of the moonlight to glitter like a reflection of the stars overhead. The grains of the black sand were coarser than the she expected. Severus had explained that the sand was composed of rare, heavy minerals. A layer of silica caused the sparkle that reflected any source of light.

The closer she walked to the water as it splashed over the many rocks lining the beach, the more Lyrica felt able to breathe. Three weeks they had been here at Billeghdonn Cove and she loved it. What she couldn't stand was this feeling that overwhelmed her late at night. It invaded her dreams and when she woke, she either felt like laughing, or crying, or making mad, passionate love to Severus. Her husband certainly didn't mind the last, but the tears definitely made him uncomfortable, especially when it appeared that Lyrica was weeping over nothing at all. She was worried that her erratic behavior was causing an undue strain upon their marriage.

Perhaps that's why he's been in the lab so much, she thought with rising, abrupt bitterness. Severus had been in the lab quite a bit. His work on the Wolfsbane Potion seemed to be all that he could think of. Lyrica had to admit that he'd tried, on several occasions to interest her and to draw her in to assist him, but she had found herself snapping unreasonably at him. There were also some odours of ingredients in the lab that had never bothered her before that now made her nauseous.

Lyrica stopped and took in the cool air as the dark blue water of the sea grazed her bare feet. The water was like ice and it sent a soothing chill up through her body. For just a moment, she felt free of the oppressiveness and able to breathe. An irresponsible part of her wanted to stay put until her body turned to ice, but the last thing she needed was a chill. This small moment of ease would have to suffice.

As she slowly, and sensuously lifted her feet from the wet indentations she'd sunk into, she wondered if she might wake her husband upon her return. She smiled at the thought as she began to walk quickly up the beach. By the time she'd reached the spiky sedge grass at the edge of the beach, Lyrica knew there was something wrong; something much more than a shadowed phantom disturbing her sleep.

As she advanced to where her slippers waited, she felt a constriction in her right foot. As soon as she thought to ignore it, sudden pain bloomed from her foot and up her leg so quickly, she collapsed to her knees, unable to put pressure on the sole of her foot.

"Dobby, help!" she cried out.

The elf was instantly at her side. "Mistress Lyrica! Me take you to Master Snapes." Touching his small hand to her shoulder, the elf apparated directly into the master bedroom.

"Severus!"

"Master Snapes!"

Both Dobby and Lyrica shouted at once, waking the Potions Master from a dead sleep into full wakefulness. He threw off the sheets and ran over to Lyrica who was grasping her right foot in a futile effort to contain the crescendo of pain.

"Dobby, what happened?"

"Mistress injured on beach," said the elf plaintively.

"I was just walking on the beach, Severus. I couldn't... sleep..." she groaned as the pain surged over her hips and upwards towards her abdomen.

Snape quickly lifted his wife and laid her on the bed. "Where did the pain begin, Lyrica?"

"My right foot. It... keeps... rising..."

"Bloody hell!" he muttered softly under his breath. Looking at the sole of her foot, he saw the angry red mark that indicated the problem.

"Goddess, it hurts!" She cursed rather spectacularly in Latin before asking through gritted teeth, "Severus... what is it?"

"You've been bitten by a sand spider. The venom, as you can already tell, causes a great deal of pain. Unfortunately, there is no treatment other than waiting for the venom to run its course. A Calming Potion will help temper any panic, and I do have a tea that helps a little."

"Anything..." she bit her lip as the pain rose higher.

Snape leaned over and kissed her brow. "Dobby, bring Lyrica a Calming Potion. I'll have the tea brewed soon."

Dobby popped out and Snape grabbed his dressing gown and apparated down to the kitchen. Minutes later the Potions Master returned with a pot of tea and a cup filled with black, watery tea. He put down the teapot on the nearby bed table.

"I need you to sit up, love," he spoke quietly.

Lyrica had curled up into a foetal position under the sheets. The Calming Potion had dealt with her panic, which only helped a little to dampen the pain. She struggled to sit up until Snape helped her. He handed her the tea and aided her in wrapping both hands around the warm cup.

Lyrica leaned over the cup and blew across the hot liquid. It didn't smell very pleasant. There was licorice, lemon, and something that smelled like old, sweaty socks. Her nose wrinkled in distaste.

"I know it smells bad and it doesn't taste much better, but it will help just a little bit."

She took a sip of the liquid and almost spit it out. "Oh that is foul!" she grimaced. Lyrica took a much bigger sip which only caused her face to screw up at the rancid taste. "You know, if you ever need to make a point in a detention, Severus, I recommend using this tea. Merlin's Crossed Eyes! This could kill You-Know-Who!"

"Just drink it, Lyrica," he said a little too sharply and immediately regretted his tone. He softened his voice and sat down beside her. "None of the pain potions in existence will take away the pain. The Calming Potion, and this tea, will help you to bear the pain until the venom has run its course. The tea contains a rather strong infusion of Valerian Root..."

"H-h-how long?" she asked interrupting as she leaned against her husband.

Snape slipped his arm over her shoulder and drew her against his side. "It takes, at most, eight hours."

Taking another sip of the horrible tea, Lyrica asked firmly, "Please tell m-m-me about the sand spider."

Just as the tea and the Calming Potion helped her, so did the silken, velvet tones of her husband's voice. He replied, speaking gently into her ear, "It's called the Dunnee Sand Spider. It isn't a true spider, but a tiny, nearly transparent crab that resembles a spider. It prefers the cool of the waters edge. It is indigenous to this part of the world and there are so few people bitten by it every year, that developing an antidote, or a pain reliever has never been a priority."

"I think I'll make it one," she gasped as another wave of pain swept up through her chest and down her arms. "Wh-what if a ch-child gets b-b-bitten?" Curling forward, Lyrica couldn't imagine a child having to bear such pain for eight hours. "Th-th-the venom... is it... is it deadly to anything?"

"Birds, insects, but its preferred food are nearly microscopic fish that gather in tide pools," Lyrica continued to ask questions and Snape answered each of them as he held onto his wife's trembling body.

Dobby kept bringing Calming Potion and once an hour she imbibed the awful tasting tea. After almost three hours, Lyrica let out a sudden and frightened wail. Scrabbling away from Snape, she pushed off the blankets to reveal the thick, liquid warmth she'd felt gushing from inside her; blood. It stained her gown and the bed darkly.

"Severus!" she screamed in a panic. "No! No! No!" Seeing the area of the stain between her hips, Lyrica's mind knew at once what had happened and it terrified her.

Snape stared in horror at the blood and felt his breath catch painfully in his throat. Grasping Lyrica by her shoulders he forced her back against the pillows. His wand was in his hand and over her abdomen, confirming the blood loss, and its source.

"No! No! It can't be, please," she wept.

"Dobby!" The elf popped in properly. "Blood Replenishing Potion and then wake the children and bring them up." The elf was about to pop out, but Snape stopped him. "Make certain the children know they are not to panic or ask questions. This is important. Understand me?"

"Dobby sees and knows, Master Snapes." The elf popped out.

Snape cleaned away the blood as soon as he stopped the flow. Lyrica was getting close to hysterical with her muttered cries so he caught her face in his hands. "Lyrica, listen to me. The baby is fine, but you're not helping by panicking. You need to try and calm..."

"You try to be calm!" she shouted angrily pulling away from Snape. "I hurt and my baby is in danger and I'm supposed to just wait!" Lyrica struck out and before her hand connected with her husband's cheek, he caught both her hands in his.

"Lyrica, stop this! I know it hurts," he hissed. "Now lis..." She tried to yank her hands from his grip and he pulled Lyrica tightly into his arms. With one hand on her chin, he forced her to look at him. "Listen. To. Me. You can keep taking the Calming Potion and the tea, but you need to help the baby by doing everything you can to keep calm. The only way I can help the child..."

Lyrica interrupted, and through her tears, "No, please, don't let our baby die, Severus, please!"

"Hush, Lyrica," he kissed her cheeks and brow. "I believe that if I put the baby into a light sleep, it should be all right." Dobby returned with the Blood Replenishing Potion and immediately left to wake the teenagers. Snape helped her to drink the potion and then gave her another dose of the Calming Potion. "I'm having Dobby send the children up to sit with you."

"Our baby," she gasped as more pain rippled through her body.

"I will make sure our baby is fine. Do your best to remain as calm as possible, my love," he said gently cradling her against his chest.

Draco, Ron, Harry, and Hermione, still in their nightclothes and dressing gowns, rushed into the master bedroom. Dobby had warned them to keep their voices down, and not to ask questions.

"Draco, Harry, sit with your mother. She's suffering pain from a bite that is not treatable. Keep her talking. Hermione, keep that tea warm. The recipe is in the kitchen if you need to brew more. Ron, you're in charge of making sure your aunt has Calming Potion, one phial, every half hour. I have to go to the lab to brew a potion to protect the baby. Send Dobby if there is a problem." With those orders quickly given, Snape kissed his wife and apparated to the lab.

Harry and Draco sat, almost possessively on either side of Lyrica. Draco drew the blanket up over her body as she curled on to her side. Harry conjured a cool cloth and placed it against the back of her neck.

"Mum?" said Harry gently, "Can you tell us what happened?"

Lyrica spoke shakily of her walk on the beach and then of the spider bite. They kept her talking and soothed her with the tea, the Calming Potion, and holding on to her when the pain became too much.

Snape swept into his lab, went over to his potions ingredients cabinet and was thankful to see that he had everything he needed for his potion. He snatched various containers from the shelves and then went out to the ironwood work table. He summoned a small, iron cauldron, a glass stirrer, a copper knife, and began.

She hadn't known she was pregnant.

Snape dropped the glass stirring rod to the floor where it shattered.

He had looked briefly into Lyrica's mind to see if she had decided on her own to stop taking the Contraceptive Potion without consulting him, but she hadn't. The potion had failed. Potions sometimes did fail. As a Potions Master he should have known better and used a Contraceptive Spell on himself as well. It was highly inconvenient for the Potion to fail now.

As he cleared away the broken glass and retrieved a new stirrer, he couldn't hold on to the irritation he wanted to sustain him. He didn't mind that the potion had failed. Quelling the smile that was starting, he concentrated on the very delicate potion he was brewing.

Just as Lyrica was affected by the venom of the Dunnee Sand Spider, so was the baby. The bleeding, although just traumatic bleeding, could very well lead to a miscarriage if he didn't do what he could to protect his child. By putting the baby to sleep, Snape hoped to reduce the trauma for his child and thus keep it alive. However, putting a foetus to sleep was just as dangerous as the pain Lyrica was going through.

The potion itself didn't take long, only an hour and twelve minutes to brew. As he made his way up the stairs- he didn't want to risk any magic disturbing the balance of this particular potion so he didn't apparate- his worry was in treating his unborn child.

Muggles were much more advanced in in-utero infant care than the wizarding world was, and medi-wizardry had only recently begun treating the unborn. He was versed in pre-natal care, and if need be, he could deliver a baby both naturally and magically, if necessary. The field of in-utero obstetrics was a very small one and the number of experts were few. He was hardly an expert and was far too cognizant of the fact that he could very easily be the death of his child if he made one mistake.

When he arrived in the master bedroom, Lyrica was curled on her side, her head cradled in Hermione's lap. Lyrica's sobs tore at his heart, but he had to push aside his own emotions.

Draco saw Snape first and jumped up off the bed and trotted over to him. "Dad," he whispered softly, "I think mum's pain has gotten worse. We were keeping her talking up until a few minutes ago, now she can't stop weeping."

Snape squeezed Draco's shoulder. "If the pain is getting worse, that means the venom is getting clear of her system. Possibly another hour or two." He leaned closer to his son. "There hasn't been any bleeding has there?" Draco's eyes widened and he just shook his head no. "Good."

Snape walked over to the bed and sat down as close to his wife as he could. Harry scooted out of the way, and then off the bed. "Lyrica," he spoke softly. "Lyrica, I know it hurts, but I must have your attention."

She raised her tear-stained face up from Hermione's lap. "S-s-severus... it won't s-s-stop!" she cried out in desperation.

He leaned over and stroked her cheek gently. "I know it hurts, my dear, but that is a good sign. I need you to straighten out for me upon your back."

Lyrica shook her head jerkily. "No... it hurts too much... please..." Her arms were around her belly as though she were trying to contain the pain.

He dropped his voice into that tone he used to discipline his sons, and his students. "You must overcome it, Lyrica. I need to spell this potion into our child. Now straighten out. Hermione, help her if she needs it and keep your aunt's hands off her abdomen."

With great effort, Lyrica turned so that she was now upon her back. It was the hardest thing in the world to straighten out for the pain now seemed centered upon her belly. She could not stop her hands from trying to cover her stomach so Hermione caught them and held them down.

Hermione realised just what Snape was attempting to do. Although she hadn't read much on medi-wizardry practices in obstetrics, she knew they weren't as advanced as Muggle medicine was. "Uncle, are you sure...?"

Snape glared at the inquisitive girl, "Hermione," he said sternly, "This is not the time for questions. Do as I say, or I'll have one of the boys help me."

Hermione coloured slightly and concentrated on her task. She quickly mumbled an apology.

Snape placed a hand upon his wife's belly, gently pressing down. He sent his magic delicately into his wife's womb in order to sense where his unborn child was and how it was positioned. He whispered a diagnostic spell used specifically for expectant mothers and soon detected the foetus. Merlin, it's so very tiny! He moved his hand and pressed down again, eliciting a low wail from his wife.

Drawing on a nearby Ley Line, he used it to sharpen the focus of his ability to sense others magical cores. He would try to sense his son or daughter's magical core first, but if he couldn't, he would then try to sense the heartbeat. As he moved his hand smoothly over his wife's abdomen, he soon felt a tell-tale warmth reaching out to him. It was the tiniest pulse of a developing magical core. In the tiny tendril of magic he sensed a familiarity he couldn't describe, but he knew this tiny life was part of him. It was overwhelming. A whimper from Lyrica reminded him of what he was supposed to be doing, so he re-focused his concentration.

Keeping his hand in place, he addressed the boy nearest him, "Ronald," Ron stepped closer. "Hold this phial of potion just above my hand, I'm going to need my wand for this."

Ron took the phial and held it over Snape's hand. His hand shook a bit. "Hold it still, mate," urged Harry softly.

Snape took out his wand, tapped the phial and then tapped the wand to Lyrica's abdomen. The spell was a silent one and they all watched as the potion became a silvery thread that zipped from the phial into Lyrica's womb. Lyrica took a deep breath as the pain that had concentrated in her belly began to dissipate. Hermione let go of her aunt's hands.

"Will the baby... be f-f-fine?" Lyrica asked.

This was a question Snape did not want to answer. "I have increased the child's chances, my dear, but that is all I can do."

Hermione scooted out from under Lyrica as the older witch began to cry again. She touched her uncle's shoulder, "Send Dobby if you need us, Uncle," she said quietly and then ushered the boys out of the bedroom.

"I shall. Thank you." Snape then moved to draw Lyrica into his arms. He hoped that he'd saved their child. This was one of those unfortunate situations where only time would tell.

Severus Snape woke up to a sliver of sunlight that found its way through the drapes over one set of French doors. He yawned and stretched very carefully. Lyrica lay partially curled on her side, her head pillowed on his upper thigh. His arm had been draped over her shoulder protectively. He looked down at her as she slept, finally, and deeply.

Lyrica's hair was streaked with dried sweat and her face and skin were without colour. Her night of pain showed upon her features even though she was now free of that pain.

"Accio wand," he spoke quietly. His wand leapt into his hand and he incanted a diagnostic spell. He sighed with relief as all sign of the spider venom was gone and except for exhaustion and mild dehydration, Lyrica was well.

Snape then hovered his wand over Lyrica's belly and began the slightly more complicated diagnostic for a foetus. He held his breath as the runic symbols that detailed his child's status appeared in the air. The soporific he had brewed was gone from the baby's system and he allowed himself a small smile as the diagnostic showed him that his child was fine.

Casting a minor levitation spell on his wife, Snape was able to shift himself so that he was no longer sitting up. Now lying down, he brought Lyrica down beside him, her head now nestled upon his shoulder. He placed his wand on the bedside table, yawned once more, then closed his eyes and drifted back into sleep.

Harry stared into his bowl of oatmeal and wondered why Dobby's oatmeal never had lumps in it. He wanted a lump just so he'd have something to get angry at.

I'm being stupid.

Yeah, you are stupid, you big dummy.

Shut up.

You shut up!

No, you shut up!

Harry shoved a spoonful of the oatmeal into his mouth. He really hated internal dialogues. They never helped with anything.

"Hey, mate, wanna go flying?"

Harry looked over at Ron stupidly. As soon as he realised that Ron had asked him a question, he did his best to wipe his stupid look from his face. "Nah... I don't feel like flying. I'm kind of tired."

"What are you worried about, Harry?" Hermione asked. She'd been watching Harry since they sat down to breakfast and could see that he was struggling with one of those internal dialogues of his that only seemed to make his worries worse.

"What?" Harry dropped his spoon into his oatmeal, splattering some it onto the table. "I'm not worried. I mean, yeah, I am about mum, but we all are, aren't we?"

"Dobby told us they're fine, Harry, so why are you sitting there as though that oatmeal is your worst enemy?" He didn't answer with anything more than a darker glower. "Harry, please talk to us. You know you'll feel..."

"I don't know what you're on about, Hermione," he scowled and slapped his spoon into the thick oatmeal. "As for the oatmeal, it tastes terrible!" Harry pushed away from the table and stomped out of the dining room.

"Why do you push him like that, My?" Draco accused. He actually thought he might have an idea of what was really bothering his brother, but for just this moment, he was annoyed by Hermione's need to interfere.

"I wasn't pushing him, Draco. Can't you tell he's worried about something?" she glared at the blonde.

"Yeah, I can, but you always seem to think he needs to talk about everything. Can't you give him just a little while to try and sort things out on his own?"

Hermione's jaw dropped as she stared even harder at Draco. "Harry doesn't sort things out, Draco. He worries himself until he goes off and does something stupid! You'd know that if you cared about him!"

Draco slammed a fist on the table. "Just because I've been hexing him since first year doesn't mean I don't care, My! He's my brother and I do care about him, but you're always watching Harry like he's some piece of china that's going to break if you can't help him sort out his problems."

"Because he will break!" she shouted across the table.

"No! He won't!"

"Yes...!"

"No, 'Mione," interrupted Ron. "Harry won't break." Hermione glared suddenly at Ron, surprised that he wasn't backing her up. "Look, 'Mione, Harry knows we're here for him, but there are some things he has to learn to sort out for himself. If he can't, then he'll ask us. This isn't like we're first years and had to practically beat it out of him that there was a problem."

Hermione crossed her arms stubbornly. "I'm just worried about him. He's been brooding ever since... you know."

"Since what?" asked Ron taking a large bite of pastry.

Draco gave Ron a look of exasperation. "Harry's been upset since dad said mum's pregnant, you dolt."

"So? If he's worried about the baby, Dobby said it's fine."

"You really are an idiot, Weasel," growled Draco.

"What?" he tossed the remainder of the pastry to his plate. He saw the knowing looks that passed between Hermione and Draco and this made him even angrier. "I don't get it!"

Hermione sighed indulgently as she explained, "Harry's feeling threatened by the baby, Ron."

Ron gaped. "He's what? Threatened? Oh now that's just mental, that is."

"It's quite understandable," said Hermione knowledgeably. She then glanced at Draco. "It's probably why the two of you keep getting into fights."

"What? We don't get into fights!" Draco protested.

Ron snorted. "Two fights before end of term, that fight in the forest, and what... five or six since we got here, 'Mione?"

"Don't exaggerate, Ron." She began to peel an orange. "It's been one wrestling match and a couple of verbal matches."

Draco scowled and took the orange from Hermione. "What are you talking about, My? What do mine and Harry's fights have to do with mum having a baby?"

"Harry's acting out. He's asserting his right to be in this family." Hermione glanced at Ron and then Draco. By their puzzled looks she realised they had no idea what she was talking about. "Harry was orphaned and then placed with people who had little regard for him. The Dursleys certainly didn't consider him part of their family. Uncle Severus made Harry his son, but it's been such a short time, that he's still insecure about whether or not he's a legitimate part of the family. When you were adopted, Draco, as much as he cares about you, and likes having a brother, he still views you as a rival. He provokes arguments with you in order to test your mum and dad."

"I told you," said Ron leaning back in his chair. "Mental."

Draco finished peeling the orange and handed Hermione a slice. "So, Harry's afraid that mum and dad will send him back to the Dursleys?" Hermione nodded as she ate the slice of orange.

"Mental," muttered Ron.

"Will you stop saying that, Weasel?" Draco suddenly snapped. "Harry's not mental!"

Ron sneered, "He thinks a baby is going to send him back to the Dursleys, Draco."

Hermione huffed with annoyance. "Honestly, Ron, for someone who can be so intelligent, you can be so obtuse at times. Harry doesn't have anything against the baby. He has a valid insecurity about himself being a part of this family."

"So?" Ron blurted. "Then Sev can just tell Harry it's nonsense. They aren't going to un-adopt him." He pushed away from the dining table. "Why do you always have to blow things out of proportion?" Shaking his head he stalked out of the dining room in search of Harry.

"He does have a point," muttered Draco and immediately wished he hadn't said that aloud.

Hermione slapped the palms of her hands upon the table, glared darkly at Draco, and then she stormed out. Draco dropped his forehead onto the table.

A small popping sound announced the arrival of Dobby. The small elf patted Draco's shoulder. "Is Master Draco not feeling well?"

"I wish." Lifting his head he looked down at Dobby. "Dobby, are there roses in the garden?"

Dobby smiled. "All kinds, Master Draco. Want me to get some for yous?"

Draco shook his head. "Nope, I better do this myself." He stood up. "I know, maybe you could find some crystallised honeycomb for me?"

Dobby was happy to please the boy and his head bobbled enthusiastically. "I find Master Draco best kind."

"Thanks, Dobby." Draco watched as the little elf popped away and then he left the dining room to head outside to the garden. He had an apology to make.

Harry had taken his Cosmos X and flew up and down the beach until he'd worn himself out. He ended by flying out to the lighthouse where he perched upon its roof. He knew he was being an idiot which was why he had to leave the dining room. Hermione, the know-it-all with all the answers had no doubt analysed him and dissected him thoroughly for Ron and Draco. He dropped his head onto his knees.

"I ought to be happy for mum and dad," he told himself aloud. Deep down he knew he was, but with the nightmares he'd been having, he was confused. They weren't of Voldemort, thankfully. Kalima had helped a great deal in keeping that monster out of his head. But, he had been dreaming of the Dursleys. He didn't know why. He was happy. Really happy. Wasn't he? Shouldn't he be?

Just as he lifted his head from his knees he saw a redheaded dot flying swiftly towards him. He kept an eye on the dot that resolved into Ron until the boy landed breathlessly upon the tin covered roof and settled himself close beside his best friend.

"You do know you're mental, right?" asked Ron seriously.

"Seems so," agreed Harry. A sea bird suddenly dropped down out of the sky to stand on the roof's edge. It looked expectantly at them. "Go away." The bird squawked angrily and then flew off. "I suppose Hermione explained everything."

"When doesn't she?" Ron smirked and nudged Harry's upper arm with his elbow.

"I'm not jealous about the baby, Ron," asserted Harry.

"Course you're not, mate, but how come you think you're going back to the Dursleys?"

Harry gawped at his best friend. How did he know that? "I don't think that!"

"Maybe not, but I know you've been having nightmares about that lard-butt Vernon, again." Harry only stared incredulously at Ron. "My bedroom is next to yours, Harry. You ought to talk to Uncle Sev."

"He'll think I'm nuts." The black haired boy jammed his chin onto his knees and glared out over the roiling sea.

"He's your dad, Harry. I mean, he's not the greasy git anymore. That's still weird sometimes, you know? I mean, he's still not something to be crossed in class, but, well..." Ron drummed his heel against the tin roof for a minute and then looked sideways at the lost looking teenager. "Harry, you do know you're supposed to be able to talk to your parents when you're worried, don't you?"

"Huh? What are you on about, mate?"

"Well, I mean, since you've been adopted, have you ever talked to your parents?"

"Of course. We talk all the time."

Ron banged his heel in frustration against the roof. "That's not what I mean, Harry. Sev and Lyrica are your parents now. They aren't there just to make sure you do your homework or to give you your own room. If something bothers you, since you have parents that means you can talk to them now. Remember you told me once that one of the toughest things for you when you lived with the Dursleys was that you couldn't ask them questions? That you had to deal with it all by yourself?"

Harry nodded. That had been one of the hardest things he'd ever admitted to Ron.

"Well, that's what parents are for. Even if you think something is stupid, or embarrassing, parents that love you aren't going to make fun of you."

Harry let out a deep breath. "I know, Ron. I just get... uhm... scared, you know?" His gaze was locked out to sea. He was afraid of looking at his friend in case Ron might look at him like he really was crazy.

"Sev's not going to send you back to the Dursleys, Harry." Ron grinned and punched Harry's shoulder. "He's your dad, mate."

Harry grinned and felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. He knew he had to talk to his parents- he had parents!- and that would be tough, but he thought he could do it now.

Ron stood up. "C'mon. Race ya to the waterfall, okay?"

Harry jumped to his feet. "Why don't you use my broom, Ron?" Harry held out the Cosmos X to him.

Ron smiled and took the proffered broom. He handed over the old Nimbus 2000 to Harry. The boys mounted the brooms and both launched themselves from the roof of the lighthouse in a burst of speed.

It felt like weeks had passed. Weeks spent in the most blissful, dreamless slumbers ever. In reality, only the morning had passed. Lyrica woke just as the final minutes of the afternoon crawled across the sky. She moved gently from Severus' side and with slightly shaky legs, made her way to the loo. A passing glance at herself in the mirror showed a woman that looked like she'd fallen from her broom. Quickly removing her nightgown and dropping it to the floor, she turned the shower water on and stepped under its stinging heat.

Once Lyrica had washed her hair and body, she gingerly touched her abdomen. She carefully sent her magic inward, searching for her child. The lightest, silvery tendril of developing magic timidly touched hers and she smiled. Very carefully she sent her love towards the tiny tendril until she enveloped the very small life that grew within her.

"Hello, little one," she whispered.

Later Lyrica emerged from the loo, dressed and clean. She sat down upon the bed beside her husband and kissed his brow. Severus stirred slightly until his eyes slowly opened.

"You look like you're feeling much better," he said softly as he laced his fingers through hers.

"We're both feeling much better, my love." Lyrica's smile diminished briefly. "Severus, you're not angry, are you?"

Snape raised himself on his elbows and frowned. "Of course not! Lyrica, how could you think that?"

She heard the undertone of hurt in his voice and leaned over to kiss him. "Forgive me, love, but I know that we agreed..."

"That we did, but it seems Fate decided otherwise." He sat up, and then smirked. "At least it is as I decreed; a daughter instead of another son."

"You're horrid, Severus!" Lyrica laughed. "Get showered and dressed. I'll ask Dobby to bring us something to eat and then I think we ought to find out what the children are up to."

Snape drew himself out of bed and to his feet. He was about to head for the shower, when he stopped, turned back to Lyrica, cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her deeply. "I love you, my wife."

A few nights later, Snape peered over the edge of his book and watched as the four teenagers filed out of the sitting room and headed upstairs for bed. His brow furrowed and he laid his book upon his lap. Lyrica was seated in front of the window deftly crocheting a small baby cap.

"What's wrong, Severus?" she asked as she'd looked up and caught his odd stare.

"Harry. He's been far too well-behaved and nauseatingly polite the last few days. In three days he hasn't once argued for a later bedtime and not one single argument between he and Draco for nearly a week."

"I had noticed that. I was wondering when you would," her eyes twinkled teasingly- a sight Snape despised seeing in Dumbledore's eyes but didn't mind in his wife's eyes.

His left eyebrow rose with mock indignation. "Madame, are you implying that I am neglecting my son?"

"You are most attentive, dear heart," Lyrica's lips curved slowly upward mischievously while she cast her gaze demurely down towards her bare feet. She then sighed, became a little more serious and put down her crocheting. "I had hoped that Harry would get up the nerve to speak to one of us, but he hasn't."

Snape's fingers drummed on the arm of his chair as he tapped his chin with his left index finger. "Harry tends to bring up problems only when he's angry." Using a wandless bookmarking spell, he closed his book and placed it on the ottoman. "I'm going to talk to him." Rising to his feet, Snape went over to the staircase and began to ascend.

Lyrica stretched slightly and examined the little cap of sea green yarn she was crocheting. She smiled down at her belly and touched her still flat abdomen with wonder.

Kalima slithered into the sitting room and up onto Lyrica's lap. The serpent coiled herself about until she rested heavily upon Lyrica's abdomen.

"Kalima. Are you laying claim to thisss egg of mine?" Lyrica stroked the Naga's smooth head and smiled indulgently at the serpent.

"All Sssnape eggsss I mussst watch over. I failed when ssspider bit my eldessst egg. I am grievousssly assshamed."

"Oh, Kalima. There wasss no way for you to know."

"Even ssso, I have decided we ssshall find a way to protect othersss from the pain. No more will sssuffer, child."

Snape apparated into the fourth floor common room, walked over to Harry's closed door and rapped sharply on it. A few seconds passed and then the door opened.

"Something wrong, Dad?" Harry asked looking up at his father.

"I'd like to speak to you, Harry."

Harry wondered if he was in trouble as he opened his door wider to let his father into his room. He watched his father warily as the older wizard looked around the decorated bedroom.

Snape hadn't seen their decorating efforts and half expected to find himself assaulted by the reds and golds of Gryffindor colours all over Harry's room. The decor was spectacular but definitely NOT Gryffindor.

Harry had chosen a blue colour scheme to go along with his wide bedroom window view of the ocean and the beach. Light pine wainscoting lined the lower half of the walls while the upper half was painted in a fantastical mural of colourful life beneath the ocean. Two chairs in blue stained leather sat before the fire where a tea had been laid out on the table between the chairs. One chair also had a light blue, patterned, afghan (quite possibly a gift from Molly Weasley) on it. The bed, also outfitted in shades of blue with dark blue, velvet drapes, was noticeably neat.

"Were you planning on staying up after I sent all of you to bed?" Snape asked with only curiosity in his voice. He sat down in the other chair and indicated Harry should take the one he'd so recently occupied.

"Am I in trouble?" Harry asked quietly as he sat down and picked a corner of the afghan to worry between his fingers.

"I'm concerned, Harry. Lately you haven't been acting like yourself. Although I must admit I could get used to your more polite self, you've been far too polite. You've been terribly correct about not starting any arguments or fights. I've caught you no less than three times desiring to backtalk me, and instead, you bit your tongue. Would you like to explain what's going on?"

Harry's jaw dropped open slightly and then he clamped it shut. "I'm in trouble for being good?" He slammed his back against his chair and crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

"Oh stop being so dramatic!" snapped Snape. "I did not say you were in trouble. Would you mind listening to me when I speak?"

Harry chuffed and nodded his head. The glower stayed put, though.

"Are you doing everything you can to keep from starting trouble?"

"I'm just trying to be what you want," he sighed heavily. "I thought you'd like it if I were on my best behavior."

"No child is on their best behavior twenty-four hours a day, Harry. What I want is for you to be able to be yourself."

Harry shook his head. "I can't do that. I get into fights with Draco and Ron and I always manage to wind up doing something stupid that gets us hurt. That stuff always makes you mad."

"Ah," Snape said with a little more understanding. "It isn't that you're trying to keep from getting into trouble, but you're attempting to make certain I don't get mad."

Harry, looking as though one of his deepest secrets was being peeled apart, chose to keep silent. He watched his father's face for some clue as to what the man was thinking, but Snape was far too good at keeping his thoughts from showing on his face.

Snape was thinking, but he was thinking this was one of those times where he just needed to sit silently and wait the boy out. It had worked once before and he hoped the little trick would work again.

Five minutes passed and Harry was really starting to feel uncomfortable with his father's silence. Snape didn't look angry. More placid, really, as though he were waiting for someone to serve him tea. Harry glanced at the tea set and briefly wondered if he ought to go ahead and offer his father some tea. He shrugged to himself thinking that was a stupid idea and shifted in his chair.

Suddenly Snape rose from his chair, walked over to Harry's small bookshelf, perused the titles and picked out a book. He then re-seated himself and opened the book and began to read.

Harry stared incredulously at the older wizard. Now what's he doing? he thought to himself. I thought he wanted to talk to me.

You don't seem all that willing to talk to him.

Shut up, Harry snapped at his inner voice.

You do know you've been an idiot all this time, insisted his inner voice.

If it keeps him happy...

Oh right, he looks really happy. I think it was happiness that made him tell you that you have been acting like some kind of Imperioused puppet.

Harry really wanted to punch his inner voice. When had it become so damn sarcastic?

"Dad?"

Snape really wasn't reading, but he didn't look up from the book. "Yes, Harry?"

"Uhm... are you happy about becoming a real father now?" Harry bit his lower lip and tugged the corner of the afghan between his fingers.

Snape looked up slowly and closed the book. "I was under the impression that I've been a 'real' father for quite some time now. Over a year, now. Do you think otherwise?"

"I...!" Harry's jaw was working, but no sound came out. He was certain he'd said the wrong thing, but Snape looked as calm as he had been before. "I mean... the baby... she's yours, but I'm not. Well, not by blood... I..." Harry slumped in complete embarrassment and dejection. When he finally had enough nerve to raise his eyes to look at Snape, what he saw in the older man's eyes made his heart hurt.

Snape was disappointed, but not in Harry. He was disappointed in himself for not realising that the adoption had not so easily allayed all of Harry's fears and insecurities. He had not known that Harry still wasn't entirely secure in the knowledge that he was wanted.

"Harry, have you been worried all this time that Lyrica and I won't want you after the baby is born?"

Harry abruptly shook his head in a fierce desire to deny what his father was saying to him. He didn't think that, did he?

You know that you do, smirked his bloody stupid inner voice. Why would they want a freak when they're going to have a nice, normal child?

Harry blanched and felt sick. That inner voice had sounded way too much like his Uncle Vernon. Even worse- Uncle Vernon was right.

Snape's gaze hardened as Harry's bright green eyes dulled and began glazing over. Kneeling hastily down on one knee before his son, he held Harry's chin steadily in one hand, silently incanted Legilimens, and was immediately assaulted by the siight of the huge, intimidating figure of Harry's Uncle laughing at him.

"What have I been telling you, stupid boy! Freakishness always will out. So they've done the kind thing, but what did you expect? No one wants a filthy, little, snivelling freak like you when they can have their own, normal children!"

Snape watched as Vernon grasped Harry by the collar of his over-sized shirt, dragged him across the floor and over to the stairs. Vernon then opened a small door and shoved Harry into the small space, kicking him for good measure.

Snape left Harry's mind and spoke firmly, "Harry James Potter-Snape, you're MY son. You are not a freak!" grasping Harry by his upper arms, he jerked the boy sharply. "Listen to me!"

Harry took a deep breath and fought to focus his gaze down upon Snape. He spoke slowly, as though he were emerging from a thick fog, "Uncle Vernon's been coming in my dreams and I just can't shut him up. I know he's wrong, but he's so much bigger than me and... and..." his cheeks reddened with deadly embarassment. "He still scares me." Harry's hands grasped tightly onto Snape's shoulders. "I'm not jealous of the baby, really I'm not. I just... I just... I can't..."

"You can't help it when those memories of the past remind you that you don't deserve to be wanted or loved by anyone." Harry simply nodded and bit his lip again.

Snape transfigured the chair into a small sofa so he could sit beside Harry. Kneeling was a bit tough on his knees these days. Once he was seated next to his son, he put an arm around his shoulders and drew the boy comfortingly against his side.

"I never imagined myself with a family, Harry. Especially since I fully expected to be a casualty of this war. All of that changed when we were sent back to 1898."

Harry sighed heavily and grimaced. "Yeah, we gave you migraines and you were stuck with us. I can see how that changed everything," Harry's voice was laced with sarcasm.

Snape's arm tightened in warning about his son's shoulders and he frowned, "I'll not deny that the four of you greatly irritated me, but Harry, that is the nature of children. Even the fight you and Draco got into my classroom before that disastrous detention wasn't entirely unexpected."

"You have to admit, though, you were stuck with us," insisted Harry.

"Of course I was!" he snapped and when Harry made to yank away from him, he tightened his embrace. "That fact didn't bother me, though. I was... worried that I was inadequate to the task of providing all of you with what you needed from a caring adult. In your case and that of Hermione's and Ron's as well, I knew that any affection I might show would be seen as suspect. When I realised that I no longer had to play a game or kowtow to Death Eaters, I discovered that I was capable of caring for all of you."

"So were you afraid of losing that when we got back to our time?" Harry asked as he leaned closer to his father's warmth. He curled his bare feet up onto the sofa and Snape adjusted the afghan over his son's lap.

"I was terrified of what I'd be going back to. A place where I wouldn't have Lyrica by my side, and a place where I couldn't show my children that I loved them. That very last moment when you stepped through the Mirror of Erised I made the decision that I couldn't wait for others to decide my future. I knew the risk I took in bringing Lyrica to the future, but I wasn't going to be without her. I felt the same way about you when I asked you to be my... our son, Harry."

"I thought, maybe, that you were repaying a debt to my mother." Harry's fingers were so intent on tearing a hole in the edge of the afghan that Snape laid his hand over his son's hands to still them.

"I didn't adopt you because you're Lily's son, Harry." He tipped Harry's face up so he was looking into his eyes. "I adopted you because I love you and want you in my life. You deserve to be with a family that loves you for who you are, simply Harry. Not the Boy-Who-Lived." A single tear slid down Harry's cheek and Snape thumbed it away. "I am pleased knowing that I will be a father, for a third time, for 'real'."

Harry's heart, which had felt torn so very recently, filled with warmth, with love from HIS father. It felt good knowing that Snape, his DAD, hadn't wanted him for some ulterior reason, but because he was just a kid. A normal kid that sincerely wanted someone to take care of him, talk to him when he was worried, and wouldn't turn their back on him when he got in trouble.

"Harry, how do you feel about having a little sister?" A shadow of a smile crossed his lips as he asked the question.

Harry didn't answer immediately. Truth be told, he hadn't really thought of the baby that way. He grinned suddenly. He was going to have a little sister! "I'm going to be a big brother!" Harry beamed as he realised what he was saying. "Huh. That's kind of a big deal, isn't it?"

"As it should be. I expect you and Draco to take your roles as big brothers very seriously. Draco has had some practice in the big brother department, so you'll follow his lead, won't you?"

Harry nodded, the smile still radiating from his face.

Snape patted his son's shoulder and tousled his hair. "I think you can go to sleep now, can't you?"

"I think so." He stood up and padded over to his bed. He allowed his father to help tuck him in. Just as Snape was stepping away from the bed, though, Harry grabbed his forearm. "Dad... the nightmares..."

"I'll bring you some Dreamless Sleep Potion, but just for tonight. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow so I'd like you well rested."

Harry sighed happily knowing that at least for this evening he'd sleep untroubled. "Thanks, dad."

Plans to visit an apothecary went out the window the next day when an owl from the Headmaster disturbed breakfast: an emergency Order meeting had been called. Breakfast was forgotten as everyone went to dress and then used Snape's amulet portkey to take them to the street in front of #12 Grimmauld Place. Once in the door they were greeted by a harried looking Headmaster who appeared as though he'd not slept in at least 48 hours.

"Severus, Lyrica, normally I would send your sons upstairs with the other children, but what has happened concerns them."

Snape noticed the grip the Headmaster had on his forearm was a firm one that at first he took to be the old man needing physical support due to his lack of sleep. A look in the old wizard's eyes told him that it wasn't age that plagued the Headmaster, but distress.

"Draco and Harry can attend but should the topic disturb them in any way, I will send them out," he glanced between the two boys and they nodded acceptance of their father's decree. Then he looked to Ron and Hermione, "Go upstairs. I'm sure you'll discover soon enough what this is all about."

Ron gulped wondering if his uncle knew of the twins latest invention for spying: Extendable Ears. A smirk from the man confirmed Ron's suspicion. With a roll of his eyes, he yanked on Hermione's arm. "Let's go, Hermione."

Hermione pulled away from Ron's grip and quickly kissed Draco's cheek. She then went to follow an exasperated Ron.

Once Ron and Hermione were headed up the stairs Snape, Lyrica, and their sons were ushered into the kitchen. To Snape's surprise the kitchen was crowded with Order members, many who didn't attend every meeting.

Molly Weasley, who was usually busy putting the kitchen to its proper use sat wringing her hands at the table with her husband, Arthur, standing behind her. Next to Arthur stood the senior Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt and sitting in front of him was the rather skittish, blue-haired young Auror, Nymphadora Tonks. Skulking in the corner was the redoubtable thief, Mundungus Fletcher, whose body odour leant a decidedly unpleasant tang of filth to the already stifling air in the kitchen. Snape wondered, for the umpteenth time, why the Order either didn't increase the size of the kitchen, or met in the much larger living room.

There was no place else to sit in the cramped kitchen, so Snape pulled Lyrica close to his side, away from Mad-Eye Moody, and directed Harry and Draco to stand in front of them.

Moody's sharp elbow bruised Snape's upper arm and he glared at the old Auror who was just as unpleasant as his faux counterpart. "Ye really lose that Mark, Snape, or did you find a good glamour for it?" hissed Moody glaring down at Snape's left forearm.

Harry couldn't stop himself and struck out his arm sideways at the older wizard. Snape caught his son's arm, gripping it tightly in warning, before the blow could connect. He leaned down and hissed in the younger wizard's ear, "Behave yourself or you'll be headed up the stairs, young man."

"But, he..." Harry began to protest.

"Quiet!" snapped his father as he clamped both hands upon Harry's shoulders.

Dumbledore had observed the short exchange and shot his own warning glare at the fractious Moody who merely sneered and then moved to the other side of the room.

"Kingsley," Dumbledore's voice overrode the minor murmuring amongst the Order members. "If you would?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt took a deep breath as he wrapped his dark fingers over the lapels of his robes. "Late last night there was a mass escape of Death Eaters from Azkaban. They were aided by the Dementors who vanished with the escapees. The Minister has decided that this information must be kept from the general public for as long as possible. Although the Daily Prophet will make no mention of the escape, The Quibbler is preparing an article that will hit stands this evening." He smiled wryly.

Dumbledore nodded thanks to Kingsley as those who had not heard this news muttered either to themselves or their neighbor. Lyrica felt Draco begin to tremble and so she wrapped her arms around him. Draco put his hands upon his mother's forearms and gripped tightly.

"Fudge doesn't believe Voldemort's back?" blurted Harry. "Even after this?"

Arthur, Kingsley, Nymphadora, Moody, and Dumbledore all shook their heads. Dumbledore added, "It would not serve his political career if Cornelius Fudge admitted that Voldemort had returned, Harry. At a time when he could be a force for uniting the wizarding world, his desire for more power only further divides it. A situation that Voldemort quite prefers."

"So what do we do?" asked Harry, his voice slightly tinged with uncertainty.

"We prepare. Severus, your family is safe where they are, are they not?" Snape nodded firmly. "Good. You'll let Mr. Weasley know that he can either stay here at Grimmauld Place with his family, or return with your family."

As the meeting continued there was talk about the Dementors, werewolves, and giants all joining the Dark Lord's forces. Snape listened and grew more and more angry that his sons had been brought into this particular meeting which only added to their fears. Harry was determined to hear all of it just for one thing that might help him to kill Voldemort, but there was nothing. Draco had remained silent and holding onto Lyrica. Just as Tonks began talking about the guards at Azkaban that had been killed by the mad witch, his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, Draco bolted from the kitchen, quickly followed by his brother.

Draco raced up the stairs and slammed his way into the bathroom. Falling to his knees in front of the commode, he vomited up what little he'd had in the way of breakfast. His head was spinning and hot so he lay down sideways with his cheek against the cold tile of the floor.

This was how Harry found the panicked Slytherin. Grabbing a washcloth, he wet it and knelt down beside Draco. Gently Harry began pressed the cool cloth to the back of his brother's neck.

"They're both out there now," rasped Draco as he struggled to sit up.

"Lucius and Bellatrix," affirmed Harry and Draco nodded.

"Why aren't you scared, Potter?" Draco accused as he pulled away from the Gryffindor's ministrations.

"If you hadn't beaten me to the bathroom, I'd be where you are right now."

Draco smiled grimly and took the washcloth from Harry and draped it over the back of his neck.

"I'm scared... a lot, Draco. I worry about you, Ron, Hermione and Mum and Dad... everyone. I worry about whether or not I'll be able to face HIM."

"Draco? Harry?" a timid knock sounded on the bathroom door and Hermione peeked around the door. "What's wrong?"

"Death Eaters!" Draco snapped acidly. He then shrugged. "What else?"

"Bellatrix, Pettigrew, and a bunch of other Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban last night. Seems that Draco and I are on the top of Voldie's hit list," explained Harry resignedly.

"Oh no..." Hermione whispered as she knelt down beside Draco and enveloped him in her embrace. She helped him to his feet after several quiet minutes. "Maybe you should lie down until the meeting's over."

As Harry watched Hermione leave with Draco he leaned back against the tub, rubbed at his scar and sighed heavily. He missed Luna and hoped that she was all right.

The Snape family spent two days at Grimmauld Place after the Order meeting mostly so the teenagers could have an impromptu get together. After waffling a bit, Ron had opted to stay with the Snapes and Hermione at Billeghdonn Cove for the rest of the summer. He'd see his family again when they returned to Grimmauld Place to celebrate Harry's birthday at the end of July.

Unfortunately, two semi-unwelcome guests had followed Snape and his family to his ancestral home: Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. The two men had sat in for a few lessons at Hogwarts during Defense Association classes, but neither one had a chance to put into practice any of the lessons. They came now to learn how to tap into Ley Lines and to increase their abilities in order to be better able to fight beside Harry.

On a bright Saturday morning, Snape in his teaching robes strode back and forth before an appreciative (except for a disgusted and bored looking Sirius Black) audience.

They were all out in the widest part of the garden behind Billeghdonn Manor. The teenagers were attentively seated upon the grass while Lyrica and Remus Lupin occupied a stone bench. Sirius stood behind the teenagers alternately scowling at Snape and taking in his surroundings.

Snape faced his small class and began his lecture, "In any fight you have a better chance of succeeding if you understand the weaknesses and strengths of your enemy. I have created a series of golem enemies for you to encounter after this lesson. You MUST memorise what I tell you. This is not knowledge that you can write down. You will be unable to take your notes into battle." He gave Hermione a pointed look and she glared back at him.

"I have had an unfortunately unique opportunity to study the Death Eaters," Black interrupted with a sarcastic snort that was ignored by everyone, "so listen carefully. We will begin with the most dangerous of the Dark Lord's minions and that is Bellatrix Lestrange."

Snape conjured a bench and seated himself with a flourish, casting his teaching robes dramatically behind him. Lyrica quickly hid the smile that came to her lips at seeing her husband's intimidating teaching pose.

"Ronald, tell me why the witch Bellatrix Lestrange is dangerous."

Ron answered firmly, "She's barmy."

Harry sniggered and quickly stifled the noise from a sharp look from his father.

Snape crossed his arms over his chest. "A little elaboration, Ronald, if you would."

Ron considered his reply and then spoke, "She's completely mad and a fanatic for the Dark Lord which makes her vicious and unpredictable."

"So what are her weaknesses, Snape?" demanded Sirius, not yet willing to concede that the Potions Master knew what he was talking about. "How do children best that wench?"

"By not hesitating," he replied sharply. Snape was annoyed by Black's presence and it was getting harder to reign in his temper.

Lyrica intervened, "What is her skill in fighting, Severus?"

Snape took a deep breath and then spoke, "Bellatrix is skilled at Rapid Fire Casting. She is able to incant at most three spells; one right after the other. Her favorite Rapid Fire combination is a Disarming Curse, a Blasting Curse, and then a Cutting Curse. Her goal is to cause as much damage as possible so that she can knock down her opponent and cast the Cruciatus Curse. She then likes," he sneered distastefully, "to use an Evisceration Curse as a killing blow. Rarely will she use the Killing Curse."

"The Whipcord would disrupt her Rapid Fire Casting," remarked Draco and he was met with agreement by nods from the other three students and an approving smile from his father.

"What's a Whipcord?" asked Remus.

Draco spun quickly, shot out his hand, and the werewolf was knocked off the bench.

"Draco!" Snape ground out a stern rebuke.

The blonde cringed and stammered out an apology as Lupin, with Lyrica's help, drew himself dazedly back onto the bench. "I really didn't mean to put that much force into it, Dad."

Snape was now standing over his son. "Do that again, and I promise that you'll be the main ingredient in my next potion. Understood?"

Draco gulped and nodded.

"Severus, what was that spell that Draco hit me with?" asked Remus.

"Ley Line Magic, Lupin," explained Snape. "By tapping into a Ley Line and coiling, or storing it around his own magical core, Draco is able to access that energy at will and to mold it into his use. My son," he cast the blonde boy a quick glance that was warm with pride, "crafted the more benign Summoning Spell into an offensive force that acts very similarly to a whip. Harry uses a variation of the Whipcord that is called the Noose to yank an opponent off their feet, to bind, or to choke. I think you'd find it similar to Locomotor Mortis," he said with a pointed frown at the werewolf. Remus seemed to withdraw somewhat into himself as the past haunted him momentarily.

Snape continued without regard to Lupin's discomfort, "Hermione is quite talented in wielding another aspect of the Whipcord she dubbed Dagger."

Lupin's jaw dropped as he realised what the young girl could do. "That sounds decidedly deadly, Severus."

"I hope to never kill anyone with it," she murmured softly, almost to herself.

"With enough force and intent, all magic can be deadly," said Snape flatly.

"But you'd use it, Hermione?" asked Sirius with a tinge of horror in his voice.

A steely glint came into the girl's brown eyes, "I would, Sirius."

"What the hell are you playing at, Snape?" shouted Sirius in outrage. "You're turning them into killers?"

Snape found Black suddenly too close to him and shouting into his face. "I'm giving them what they need to fight killers, Black. Do you expect them to win a war against a group of powerful, Dark skilled witches and wizards with simple disarming and stunning spells?"

"Their souls, Snape," hissed Sirius. He felt a hand tightening on his forearm and he jerked away instinctively. When he felt the grip harden he looked down at his godson. "Harry? He's trying to turn you into a murderer."

"The Dark Lord murdered my parents, Sirius. The Death Eaters have tortured and murdered... many. I don't want to kill anyone, but if the price is the life of someone I love and a Death Eater's, I won't hesitate."

Sirius fell to his knees and gripped Harry's shoulders tightly. His expression was full of anguish. "What has happened to you, Harry? Don't you understand the consequences of taking someone's life?"

Harry angrily tried to shake Sirius' hands off his shoulders, but the man's grip was too tight. "I killed Professor Quirrel in my first year. I killed a basilisk in my second year. I almost killed you in the Shrieking Shack last year. A prophecy tells me I have to kill Voldemort." He finally jerked his body out of Sirius' grasp and stepped back in front of his father. "I think I have a pretty good idea what the consequences are, Sirius."

Sirius backed away from Harry and then advanced upon Snape. Lyrica rose to her feet and stopped Sirius before his threat towards her husband could escalate into a fight. She turned the man to face her.

"We don't want the children to kill anyone, Sirius, even a Death Eater. However, on the battlefield these children will be soldiers and they must be prepared to kill if a fight comes down to it. They cannot afford to hesitate."

"But, their souls..." whispered Sirius to Snape's young wife.

Lyrica touched the distressed man's hand and looked deeply into his dark brown eyes. She spoke softly, "Many innocent souls will be tarnished before this is all over, Sirius. It will be our love for each other that will save us. Now, please allow Severus to continue with his lecture. The information he has to impart is important."

With Sirius sufficiently subdued, Snape continued with his lecture. One by one he detailed strengths and weaknesses of each of Voldemort's Inner Circle of Death Eaters. By the time Dobby brought lunch out to everyone they had finished and were discussing amongst themselves what they'd learned while Snape interjected with pointed questions every few minutes.

After lunch was a practical lesson in combined fighting. Remus and Sirius watched for a half hour as the teenagers were paired up and went through a series of spells against golems that Snape had constructed to mimic the Death Eaters he had talked about in the lecture.

Harry and Draco were paired first and started out against the Bellatrix golem. They began using their wands and went through a perfectly choreographed, side-by-side dance that destroyed the golem with a final, combined casting of Expelliarmus, the Disarming Spell.

"That was far too perfect," said Lupin with a slight frown upon his face. Both boys had rather triumphant looks upon their faces as they both breathed heavily.

"It was wicked!" exclaimed Sirius. "You two looked like mirror reflections of each other."

"That's what was too perfect," insisted Lupin stubbornly. "It's impossible to be that coordinated unless you've been drilling them ceaselessly." The werewolf glared at Snape.

Harry chuckled. "It's our Ley Line Magic, Remus. Lyrica showed us that not only can we tap into it, but we can link our magical cores and fight together. We think and react as one."

"Yeah!" shouted Draco with a little too much enthusiasm.

"Sever the link, you two, before you burn out," warned Snape.

In the blink of an eye, the euphoric expressions on both boys faces vanished. Harry flopped to the ground and Draco soon followed.

"Harry? Are you all right?" asked Lupin going to the boy's side.

"It is a side effect of linking magical cores with the aid of the Ley Line energy," explained Snape. "It causes euphoria... a kind of adrenalin burst, if you will."

Lupin crossed his arms tightly over his chest, still very concerned. "Severus, what did you mean by them burning out?"

"They cannot link indefinitely. It is a drain on both of their magical cores, even with the extension of power given by the Ley Line. We have determined that it is best to sever the link after six spells and re-tapping the Ley Line in order to re-charge."

Harry could see that Lupin was still dubious about the method. "We don't have to link, Remus. It isn't as smooth, or as powerful, but we have memorised routines which can be used by anyone who doesn't like the link."

"I'd like to see that," the werewolf entreated.

Draco stood up. "Ron? Blasting combo routine?"

Ron stood up and joined Draco. Snape activated another golem and this time, without wands, the boys attacked the advancing golem with a series of memorised spells that ended with a combined Concussive Wave that sent the golem crashing right into Sirius. Both golem and Sirius landed heavily in a bed of tall Delphinium flowers.

As the golem disintegrated, Remus and Harry went to help Sirius to his feet. The ex-fugitive brushed his hair from his forehead and settled a hard gaze upon Snape.

"All right, Snape. I'm convinced. Think you can teach me and Moony this magic of yours?"

Within a few days both Remus and Sirius had mastered tapping into a Ley Line at Lyrica's instruction. She also took them through the practice of basic spells before turning them over to Snape. Snape taught his two enemies the combined spell casting routines and then taught them how to link their magical cores via the Ley Lines.

The first time Remus and Sirius linked to fight one of Snape's Death Eater golems he set a Lucius golem against them. The golem, programmed with Lucius Malfoy's fighting skills, attacked brutally and fast. It was when the golem stepped back in perfect imitation of its real counterpart to appraise its work that the two men were able to take their advantage. Casting a one-sided shield that prevented most spells from reaching them, but allowing them to cast their spells, they soon had the hapless golem scattered to its component organic material.

The euphoria hit both men as soon as the Lucius golem was gone. Sirius began jumping around yelling triumphantly at the top of his lungs. Remus couldn't stop giggling. Snape ordered the two Marauders to sever their link. Once the link was gone, they were still acting somewhat like idiots. Irritated with the two men, the dour Potions Master cast a Sobering Spell that calmed them both instantly. While they collapsed wearily upon the sandy beach where they'd been working, Snape left them for the solitude of his lab.

Lucius was accompanied by Pettigrew and Bellatrix Lestrange as he worked the spell to find his son. He had failed in finding Snape, but hoped that with the furor over the mass escape that he'd have a chance at detecting Draco with the blood spell. If not, punishment from the Dark Lord would be severe and possibly deadly.

"Why not a simple tracking spell, Lucy?" she asked, deliberately using the insipid nickname she'd coined for him when he was much younger. She tried to flash him a winsome smile, but with the toll her imprisonment had taken on her body, and her teeth, it only gave him a chill of disgust.

Lucius Malfoy ground his teeth together and wished, once more, that they had been allowed to leave Bellatrix behind in Azkaban. He was attempting the Familia Vestigium spell upon his son and the blasted witch would not keep her interfering nose out of his business.

"As you well know, dear sister-in-law, a Tracking Spell is limited by distance. I would need be within a mile of my traitorous son in order to track him." For once Lucius desired Snape's ability to frighten even a Death Eater with those cold, black eyes of his. He had never been able to intimidate the vile mad woman, but the ugly Potions Master had managed, at least twice, to put the fear of the Dark into Bella.

Lucius did his best to ignore the skelatally thin Bella and began his spell by dipping his wand into a phial of his son's blood. He did not need to use his own since he'd long ago collected Draco's blood for other uses.

The wizard had expected his wand to feel as disgusting as it had when he'd used the Dark Lord's blood, but this time there was an uncomfortable feeling of warmth and familiarity traveling up his wand arm. The feeling unnerved him much more than the way the Dark Lord's blood had caused. Beginning the complicated incantation and the wand gestures he cast the spell until the final shouted words.

"Familia Vestigia!" This time there was a glowing nimbus of grey-green light emanating from his wand. Lucius smiled a smile completely without warmth.

He'd found Draco.

"Are you certain this is safe, Severus?" asked Lyrica as they walked down the beach past the anti-apparition wards that surrounded Billeghdonn Cove. The children, animated and excited at their anticipated excursion, were ahead of the two adults.

"Enough, Lyrica," Snape ordered tightly. "We are together and all of us have our emergency portkeys. We are also traveling to America. In order for the Dark Lord to track us that far, it would take some considerable Dark Magic."

"But..." she began a new protest and he stopped, catching his wife by the elbow.

"My dear, have we not taught those children to defend themselves?" she nodded, a blush coming to her cheeks. "They are strong and well prepared, Lyrica, especially our sons. Now please, put your worries aside and let us enjoy this excursion."

Snape leaned down and kissed Lyrica's cheek as he put her arm over his and they continued onward to meet the teenagers at the apparating point. He knew very well that it was a risk traveling beyond the safety provided by their home, but it had been two weeks since the Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban at the beginning of July and he wanted to do his restocking of his lab for items and equipment he hadn't been able to obtain through Owl Order. That and the four teenagers needed at least one day of freedom. Snape felt confidant that Nereid Gardens located in the United States, would be relatively safe.

He hoped he was right.

It was a beautiful, clear day in Monterey, California. Snape, his gaze hawk-like over their busy surroundings, led his family across a small picnic park, down a cobbled path, and to the crowded tourist trap of Fisherman's Wharf.

At the mouth of the wharf, an organ grinder played his tinny music while his little Capuchin monkey danced, jumped, and then collected coins from the appreciative spectators. The air was filled with the brisk scent of the ocean, and the fishy scent that marked the wharf. Fat, lumbering, lazy seals barked and seagulls growing large on bits of popcorn and other assorted trash flew, chattered, and screeched at anyone ignoring their begging. A large, grey pelican, that Hermione mistook for a carving, snapped its large beak at her and she screamed and bounced into Draco's protective embrace.

They all blended in well with the Muggle side of Monterey. The teenagers wore t-shirts, jeans, and trainers while Lyrica wore a summery, sleeveless dress of yellow decorated with a green ivy pattern. She wore a light shawl over her shoulders and allowed her dark red hair to hang loosely down her back. Snape wore a pair of black Dockers, a white cotton shirt, and casual shoes. His hair had been neatly tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck with a piece of leather.

The first place to catch their eyes was a pink monstrosity of a shop called Harbor House. The display window held a variety of fantastic Muggle chess sets made from marble, alabaster, granite, or crystal. There were also dozens of porcelain Harlequin dolls, colourful dragons protecting glittering treasure, trolls, ogres, and wizards wielding magic. The display windows also showcased an impossible array of ostentatious jewelry made from common stone on up to precious gems. There was so much colour and glitter, Snape knew there was no way on earth they wouldn't be going into the shop. Especially since four faces and four sets of hands were currently liberally plastered against the glass of said window.

Heading for the main entrance, they joined a crowd of tourists also be-spelled by the shiny objects and soon found themselves in a store whose shelves were crammed with more of what had been seen in the display windows. By the time they exited the store, Snape had spent almost two hundred American Muggle dollars. Snape discretely shrank their purchases, pocketed them, and allowed himself to be dragged two shops down to Carousel Candies. A taffy pulling machine loaded with blue taffy had caught the eyes of the quartet.

Snape refused to spend any money on sweets, but didn't stop them from using their own allowances to buy enough Muggle sweets to rot their teeth ten times over.

Draco handed Snape a piece of blueberry saltwater taffy. "Try it, dad!"

Snape glared at the obnoxious blue piece of candy that resembled nothing more than a lump of colourful rubber. "It's blue."

Draco snorted and rummaged around in his bag of sweets until he found a Slytherin green piece of taffy. "How about this one?"

Lyrica nudged Snape. "One piece won't kill you, Severus." He sneered disagreeably at his wife, but took the piece of taffy, unwrapped it from its waxy white paper, examined it warily and then put it into his mouth.

Draco, happy enough that he'd gotten his father to try the taffy turned to compare sweet purchases with Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

Snape quickly turned away from the four, took a handkerchief from his pocket, and spit the remaining piece of taffy into it. He then tossed handkerchief and taffy into a nearby wastebasket. Lyrica was laughing softly. "That was vile," muttered Snape to Lyrica.

"Oooh, look! Tintypes!" crowed Hermione as they walked out of the sweet shop. She was pointing towards a small shop practically squeezed between two larger shops and beneath a set of rickety wooden stairs. She turned to her aunt and uncle. "Could we get one, please?"

"Whatever is a tintype, Hermione?" asked Lyrica.

"A type of old-fashioned photograph. Tintype studios have costumes you can dress up in and then they take a photograph." She led them closer to the small display window that held sepia toned, still images of people in vintage Muggle clothing.

Snape felt his upper arm being suddenly gripped by Lyrica. She pointed at one particular photo of a leggy young woman in an old west barmaid's outfit. "I..."

Grabbing his wife by the elbow, he ushered them all into the shop, "Shall we, my dear?" he grinned rather wolfishly at Lyrica. He rather liked that outfit in the photograph she'd shown him.

Nearly two hours later the large family had added five tintypes to their collection of purchases. The western costumes were the most popular. Harry, Draco, and Ron had all dressed up as gunfighters for their tintype. Draco looked rather dashing in a costume called 'Black Bart'. The entire outfit, with a knee length frock coat of wool, was all black. Harry had gone for the rugged 'John Wayne' costume. Ron really liked the Mexican bandito look with a crossed bandolier of bullets over his chest and a droopy moustache.

The next tintype was of Draco and Hermione dressed rather regally as a Spanish landowner and his beautiful Spanish wife. Hermione wanted one in a barmaid's costume, but Snape wouldn't let her near those costumes. She finally settled on a rather prim looking, more Southern Belle style costume. It's scoop neckline that revealed her bare shoulders enthralled Draco much more than the more risque costumes did.

Harry and Ron then dressed up as the Clanton brothers from the OK Corral, Draco dressed as Wyatt Earp, and Snape was bullied into dressing as Doc Holiday with pencil moustache and a thin cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth. His bad-tempered sneer only added to the photograph's final result.

The last tintype was the one that Snape wanted of Lyrica in the barmaid's costume. However, he had discovered a beautiful green gown of silk with a magnificent beaded peacock down the front of it. The photographer explained that it was a genuine antique costume created for a rather infamous Painted Lady from Tombstone, Arizona. Snape really didn't know what a Painted Lady was, but Lyrica was mesmerising in the dress and in the tintype.

Lyrica quickly shrank the carefully wrapped and framed tintypes and hid them away in a pocket. Snape retrieved his pocket watch, popped it open, and looked at the time. "We need to be on our way to Nereid Gardens, so come along."

They traced their path past the picnic park, down the short, cobbled path to a wide, circular plaza with a heavy, stone fountain at its center. In one part of the plaza, bleachers had been set up around a large, square stage that resembled a chess board. People in homemade costumes stood on the squares.

"It's a human chess game!" chuckled Ron at the novelty of such a thing.

They watched as the two kings, one oddly dressed like a rabbit, the other like a duck, were arguing. A pawn, a young woman in black leotards and a short black dress, jumped up and ran across the board.

The pawn-lady began shouting, "Pawns for peace! Pawns for peace! Your majesties, why don't we just negotiate?"

The duck king and the rabbit king both stared at the prettily dancing pawn. Both kings removed old fashioned pistols from their belts, and two, deafening shots rang out, scaring everyone. A look of astonishment came over the pawns face, and as she fell to the stage floor, she pouted, "Oh fine then! It's war!"

The crowd laughed and applauded as the pawn was dragged by other pawns back to her square.

Harry mumbled in Ron's ear, "I thought they really killed her."

"Would you idiot children come along?" demanded Snape testily. "We haven't time for this nonsense."

Snape ushered his family towards an old adobe building dripping with ivy. A weathered sign proclaimed that the building had once been the Custom House for Old Monterey. They didn't go inside the building but through a narrow arch into the courtyard behind the adobe. Their destination was a giant, draping pine tree in a corner of the courtyard that slightly resembled a drunken mountain troll. Making certain no one was in the courtyard to see them, they hurried behind the tree where Lyrica tapped her wand on the crumbling wall.

As the entrance to Diagon Alley worked, so did the entrance to Nereid Gardens. The wall split apart allowing them through and then quickly knitted itself up behind them.

Where Diagon Alley was a series of connected streets, Nereid Gardens was a series of courtyard gardens connected to each other like a honeycomb. Flowers grew everywhere and many of the quaint, old buildings were heavily festooned with varieties of climbing ivy.

Where they stood now was a wide plaza, very similar to the one they'd crossed that had the human chess game. A fountain in the center of the plaza of a mythical Neried on the back of a dolphin spouted glittering, crystalline water. At the edge of the plaza were arched niches that led to various other parts of Nereid Gardens.

A bent, old witch with an apple-dried, wrinkled face smiled up at them. "Welcome to Nereid Gardens. Is this your first time?"

"Malva, is your memory fading?" asked Snape with a sardonic expression that was touched by a long time affection for the witch.

The old witch cackled which caused her face to wrinkle even more. "Memory's fine, Master Snape, it's me eyesight that's fading."

"Maybe you need to visit Alastor's Oculist, Malva."

Malva shook her head. "Not yet, not yet, Master Snape." The witch pulled parchment maps out of a small basket on her arm and handed one each to the youngsters. "Just in case you get lost, touch the parchment with your wand and ask the map, 'where am I'."

"Thank you, ma'am," Hermione acknowledged politely.

Harry tried out his map. He tapped his wand to it and was delighted when the blank parchment began to fill itself in with a beautiful ink drawing of all the courtyards and their interconnecting paths. He was able to see his name on the map in front of the entrance to Nereid Gardens. Each courtyard was a hexagon with five shops or restaurants on its edge.

"This is really great!" mused Harry. "Where do we start, dad?"

"Bitters Apothecary and then we'll be free to explore," replied Snape. He pointed to an area on the map. "Care to lead the way, Harry?" he smiled very briefly.

"Yeah!" He marched out ahead of his family and then waved his hand just as Draco ran up beside his brother. "Follow me!"

Madame Bitters was a striking looking, sharp-faced witch with one eye. The other eye was covered with a black, silk patch. She was stern and brooked no nonsense in her shop. She was quite content to deal with Snape, whom she had dealt with before in the past, but her patience, what little she had, grew quickly short with the teenagers. It wasn't long before she'd magically tossed the four teens out through the door of her shop.

Lyrica had been sitting on a bench in the courtyard when the four teenagers were so rudely ejected. "Scary witch isn't she?" commented Lyrica as she rose to help Hermione to her feet.

"That's putting it nicely, mum," grumped Draco.

"Too true, Draco," she smiled. "Instead of sitting here and waiting, why don't all of you take a look at the other shops in this courtyard?"

A quick glance around the courtyard revealed that there was a sweet shop, a toy store, and two clothing shops. Since they had all the sweets Snape would allow, the toy store seemed the most interesting shop to look into.

The Imaginarium, as the sign in the toy shop's window said, was a place of sparkle, splendor, and noise as Lyrica followed the teenagers inside. There were a few delighted children scattered here and there, but the shop was not crowded. An elf, dressed as a clown, greeted them by showering them with glitter that didn't cling to their skin or their clothes. The elf then handed each of them a sugar quill before vanishing.

The boys were instantly captivated by a display of a miniature Quidditch pitch and two teams currently playing. They found that one could collect professional teams, and to Harry's surprise there were also house teams from Hogwarts.

"Look, Harry!" exclaimed Ron as he held up a boxed figure. "James Potter, Chaser for Gryffindor, 1972!"

Harry took the box, almost reverently, from Ron, opened it, and gently removed the figure. The mini James Potter grinned up at Harry, saluted him, then mounted his broom and darted over to the other players over the Quidditch pitch.

"Does he have a stats card?" asked Draco as he watched the small James Potter flying impressively around the other players.

Harry checked inside the box and found a narrow card that had statistics for James Potter's playing career at Hogwarts. "Doesn't look like Gryffindor did well at all against Slytherin. They came close, though."

Draco began rummaging through the Hogwarts past Quidditch game players. He knocked over the one of Lucius Malfoy and had a brief flaring desire to crush the box and figure under his foot. He was close to doing so, when he saw an interesting box behind the place where the elder Malfoy's box had been upright.

"Dad!" crowed Draco in delight. "I didn't know he ever played!"

Ron snatched the box from Draco's hand and the blonde boy gave him a narrow, sharp look. "Severus Snape, Seeker for Slytherin, 1972."

Draco ruthlessly snatched the box back from Ron and gave the redhead a withering glare reminiscent of their days before they'd become friends. Ron just shrugged off the blonde's irritation and began looking through the Chudley Cannon figures.

Silently, the younger Malfoy made his way over to the proprietor of the shop, a rather ludicrous looking round figured man with bright red cheeks, a button sort of nose, and a balding pate trimmed by short, white hair. As Draco handed the overweight wizard his desired purchase, the proprietor's smile dimmed somewhat as he saw the figure.

"You a collector, boy?" asked the rotund proprietor with a distinct British accent.

"Not really," replied Draco, wondering at the man's odd look at the figure in his hands.

"As the Hogwarts set of figures go, this one isn't very popular. Little value and undoubtedly it will be worthless as collectibles go."

Draco angrily slapped a few coins down on the counter and snatched the figure back. "This is my FATHER," he bit out sharply, "and his worth is immeasurable!" The young Slytherin stomped out of the toy shop, leaving a puzzled shop owner staring after him.

Harry had overheard the exchange and as he walked up to the counter he scowled at the proprietor. Behind him was Ron. Silently both boys shoved their purchases toward the fat man and paid for them. Harry wasn't planning on saying anything and so he was pleasantly surprised to hear Ron speak up.

"Don't believe everything you read in The Daily Prophet. Professor Snape's a good man."

The proprietor, usually a pleasant looking man, jolly even, narrowed his eyes as he studied the boy's red hair and freckles on his face. He then looked at the black haired, quiet boy behind him with the glasses. Then his jaw dropped in sudden recognition.

"You're Harry Potter, the son of the Death Eater!"

Harry's head shot up and his green eyes glinted with sudden anger. "He's not a Death Eater!" he shouted for all in the shop to hear.

At that moment, Snape stepped into the shop with Draco beside him. The shop owner looked toward the tall man in the black robes. His face was devoid of emotion and terrified the man.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, Lyrica," he spoke calmly but with authority that quickly gathered his family to him. "We're leaving now."

Outside under the clear California sky a distressed Harry Potter grabbed his father's robe sleeve. "Sir, please don't make us go back home. I didn't mean to ruin everything by what I said in there."

Snape rested his hand on Harry's head. A very faint smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. "Did I say we're going home, Harry?" Harry quickly shook his head, but the stricken look was not yet gone. "We're perfectly safe here, so don't worry. I just felt it was best for us to leave that shop."

Harry let out a heavy sigh of relief and yelped as Draco knocked him in the side with his elbow. Harry elbowed his brother right back.

"Behave," Snape muttered a warning to his two boys with a smirk. He took his wife's hand and led his brood into another courtyard.

By late afternoon the Snape family was tired out, pockets full of shrunken purchases, and drowsily sated from a large lunch and far too much sugar. Snape and Lyrica were certainly ready to go home, but the teenagers, experiencing one last bout of adrenaline, had found one more courtyard to visit that held some interesting stores.

Snape wanted to follow, still conscious that even though they were far away in the United States, the Dark Lord could possibly still find them. Lyrica, feeling exhausted and in need of their comfortable bed, talked her husband into sitting beside her where she could lay her head against his shoulder. She drifted off to sleep while Hermione disappeared into a bookstore, Ron vanished into a jewelry store, and Draco and Harry slipped past the store they had told their parents they were going to in order to visit another store both were interested in.

Lyrica's breath was soft and even as she slept easily against her husband. Hermione was the first to return before the thirty minutes Snape had allotted was up. She sat down on the other side of Snape and silently perused one of her books, an illustrated book titled, The Preparation & Use of Basilisk in Potions by Eldon Wade.

Snape looked over the young girl's shoulder at some of the lurid looking illustrations and quietly asked, "Perhaps you'll allow me to borrow that book when you are finished, Hermione?"

She simply smiled and nodded. Snape then caught the title of her second book, An Essay on the Differences Between A Wizard and A Magician by M. Norrell. At that moment Ron came out and with his enthusiastic outburst he woke Lyrica.

"Sorry about that, auntie," he blushed.

"Quite all right, Ron," she yawned and stretched. "Did you find something for Millicent?"

He held out a small, velvet box to Lyrica and she opened it. "Ooooh! A charm bracelet! This is lovely, Ron."

He grinned. "She'll like it. Where are Harry and Draco?" he asked looking around the quiet courtyard. "They're a bit late, aren't they?"

Snape suddenly stiffened and rose abruptly to his feet. "What shop were they going to?" Ron pointed and with his wand drawn, the Potions Master rushed over to the shop. The windows were dark and there was a closed sign on the door. Holding out his wand, he whispered, "Point me Harry and Draco."

The wand sputtered a few grey sparks, but there was no tug in any direction. "Draco! Harry!"

Snape's heart constricted painfully as he rushed around the courtyard frantically. His sons were gone!

Harry's left leg was brutally broken but at least it was the only bone broken, he thought to himself wearily as he lay on the damp, cold, stone floor in the darkened cell. The rest of his body was a mass of bruises and cuts and his tender nerves spasmed with the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

The cell he was in was small, completely dark, and stank heavily of things he didn't care to think about. It was least offensive towards the center of the cell and that's where he'd crawled to when Bellatrix had thrown him into the darkness some time ago.

He tried to raise himself to a sitting position, for the third time since waking up after he'd passed out from the pain in front of Voldemort. Unfortunately his head swam as though his brain had been severely loosened from its moorings and if he tried to move it anymore, he was sure he'd black out, again. The spinning also threatened his stomach and although he'd already emptied his belly of the sweets and the lunch he'd eaten at Nereid Gardens, he didn't want the dry heaves. His chest hurt and he couldn't stand anymore violence to his body.

Curling up on his side he tried not to shiver from the cold. He couldn't stop the tremors from Bella's favorite curse, but those seemed more tolerable than shivering did. His robes were gone, his shirt and trousers were torn and soaked with his own filth and blood.

His hand curled tightly around the amulet his father had given him. The last thing he'd thought to do before he and Draco had left for the other courtyard was to cast a Disillusion Charm over it. He only hoped that Draco, if he was still in that circular chamber, would eventually be thrown in this cell with him. He'd seen Wormtail tear Draco's amulet from his neck.

The day on Fisherman's Wharf and then Nereid Gardens had been so perfect. Not even his dad seemed to know that they'd been watched all day long. The moment Harry and Draco decided it might be fun to go off by themselves, and be safe, Harry had just pocketed his wand when a heavy, Patchouli Musk scented arm wrapped itself around his neck and a wand at his throat was followed by a spell that froze his vocal chords. The cackling in his ear, and the crooning of 'ickle Potter-kins' told him that Bellatrix had a firm grip on him. A scream of pain, and the laughter of Lucius told him that his brother was in trouble as well.

In the blink of an eye both he and Draco were thrown at the feet of a monstrous, snake-like man...

NO! He could not see those eyes again. He closed his eyes against the darkness and just before the heaviness of sleep swept over him, he felt a gentle hissing deep within his mind.

Kalima? he spoke softly across their mental connection and began to weep at the familiar comfort of the Naga touching his mind.

No tearsss, young egg. Be ssstrong.

Mum. Dad. Do they know?

Yesss child. I have been trying to touch your thoughtsss for a long time. Are you badly hurt?

Tears sprang to Harry's eyes, but he did his best to push them away as he replied. My legsss broken. I can't sssit up.

Where isss your brother egg, child?

Draco'sss in the chamber... I think. Luciusss hasss him.

He couldn't stop the tears now, not when the image of his brother being beaten and cursed by Lucius Malfoy invaded his mind. Draco's screams would be in his nightmares forever.

Hush child! Kalima's sibilant voice felt harsh in his mind. I know you are afraid, but you mussst calm yourssself.

There was a clanging of metal and for a brief moment bright light pierced Harry's cell as the narrow door opened. Something heavy, wet, and horribly mushy sounding fell to the floor near him and he turned slightly to see the hideous, angelic silouhette of Lucius Malfoy haloed in the doorframe.

"Do what you will with him, Potter," sneered the wizard of ice. "It won't matter."

The door slammed shut with a mighty ringing noise that hurt his ears. Kalima was still talking in his mind, but he ignored her as he shuffled toward what he now knew was Draco's body. Stretching out his hand, he felt something wet and sticky. Draco moaned so piteously it came close to tearing Harry's heart in half.

"Draco!" he whispered softly. "I'm here. You're with me." Ignoring what he knew to be blood and his own nausea, he forced himself to a sitting position and pulled the boy into his arms. Draco felt like a rag doll stuffed with rocks.

Kalima, I have Draco. Asssk dad if it'sss sssafe to ussse the portkey.

It felt like hours before the Naga answered and when she did it was one simple, blessed word that made Harry catch at a sob that threatened to burn his throat.

Yesss.

Ignoring Draco's moans at his pain, Harry pulled his brother tighter against his chest, found the boy's hand and tried not to panic as he felt the fingers tightening spasmodically around something. Taking a shuddery breath, and holding it as footsteps thumped towards the cell, he grabbed his brother's other hand and held it so his fingers touched the small amulet. Harry used the last bit of energy he had to search for and tap into a Ley Line. Saying a small prayer that this would work without a wand, he whispered to the emergency portkey.

"My room, Billeghdonn Manor."

Harry hobbled around the hospital rather quickly. He was nearly healed with the exception of his leg which had been more than broken; the bone had been fractured in a dozen places from hip to ankle. A single dose of Skele-Gro would not work as the pain would be agonising for such an injury over a twenty-four hour period. Two orthopedic Healers had been consulted and at one point, Harry had been terrified he might actually lose his leg.

It was his father's re-formulation of Skele-Gro, the Bone Regrowth Potion, that made the Healers wait on an amputation.

Harry's leg was supported by a leg brace and at night he'd take a small dose of the Bone Regrowth Potion. In the morning he'd take the Bone Strengthening Potion. It wasn't a comfortable recovery, but the pain was nowhere near what it could have been, and his leg wasn't amputated.

For two weeks Harry was closely monitored by his family, friends, and his Healers at the prestigious American Magical Hospital, San Asclepius. By the end of the second week Harry was able to take his first awkward steps on his leg still encased within its brace. It was a bittersweet celebration since Draco had not yet regained consciousness.

Draco had been nearly beaten to death by Lucius Malfoy and had suffered numerous broken bones and internal injuries. On top of that, a curse had hindered healing and it took a team of Healers to finally break the curse. The head of the team, Healer Aubrey Tannis, then placed the young wizard into a healing coma. Draco had been brought out of the coma the day after Harry's uncelebrated birthday, yet after a week Draco had not yet wakened from his natural sleep.

Snape had practically taken up residence in Draco's hospital room. He read to the boy, talked to him, and slept in a small, uncomfortable cot by his bedside at night. Harry, Lyrica, Hermione, and Ron took turns relieving Snape's vigil so he could eat, shower, and change into fresh clothing.

One afternoon the older wizard had returned to Draco's room after lunch to find Hermione beside the younger wizard. She had been reading to him when Snape had left, but he found her with her head on Draco's chest weeping silently and begging the Slytherin teenager to wake up.

After watching quietly for a few minutes, he walked into the hospital room, widened the chair Hermione had conjured, and drew her into his embrace and quietly calmed the distraught Gryffindor girl and wiped away her tears.

"Why are you crying, my brave Gryffindor?" he asked with a gentle smirk at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm not brave at all, Uncle Severus," she sniffled and dabbed at her tears with the handkerchief he'd given her.

"Of course you are, Hermione. Don't forget, you stopped much of the bleeding Draco was suffering from by your use of Muggle First Aid techniques. You saved his life and gave us and the Healers the time they needed. Very brave, I'd say." He pushed a curl of her hair out of her eye and tapped her cheek lightly with his fingertips.

"But I'm so afraid for him. I don't want to lose him."

"We will not lose, Draco, my dear. Healer Tannis says that all his injuries have healed well..."

"Then why doesn't he wake?" she demanded. "I'm sorry," she softened her voice.

"It's a question we all want the answer to, but that answer is not a simple one. Draco suffered a terrible trauma, not just physically, but mentally as well."

"Are you able to Legilimens him?" she asked delicately.

"I have. His mind is not gone, but he is afraid."

Hermione leaned towards the sleeping young man and took his limp hand in hers. "Does he know we're here?"

Snape nodded, but seeing that she hadn't seen the gesture he replied, "He does. For now, though, he needs the safety that his mind offers and we'll allow it. If Draco refuses to wake on his own, though, I will start drawing him out next week." He rested an assuring hand upon Hermione's shoulder. "He will recover, little Know-it-all. Now, why don't you read some more of Peter Pan to him while I take a short walk?"

Hermione smiled and kissed Snape's cheek. "Thank you, Uncle."

Rising to his feet, he bestowed a kiss on Hermione's forehead and left the room.

It was rocky, grey, and the sky was dark as if ready for a storm to break. All was silent, though, across the forbidding landscape. One lone figure, pale-skinned with grey eyes that matched the wisps of clouds overhead, and nearly white-blonde hair to his shoulders, walked along the razor cut edge of a cliff that fell away into a roiling maelstrom of nothingness.

"Draco!"

The young man's slight frame turned at the sound of his name and watched as a tall figure in black strode across the slate grey landscape towards him. Draco's figure changed until he was no taller than a three year old. Dressed in dark green velvet dress robes, his hair was now short and perfectly slicked back from his cherubic face. A smile of pure joy broke the solemn nature of his face and he dashed towards the tall figure that had frightened many a Death Eater.

"Daddy!" Draco was scooped up by the man in the black robes who kissed his cheeks, but did not smile. Draco could see the man's smile in his ever-black eyes, though. He threw his little arms around the man's neck and kissed his cheek. "I missed you," he whispered.

"I have never been far from you, child," Severus spoke softly as he held the young Draco in his arms. "Do you remember me now?"

Draco nodded and smiled shyly. "You're Daddy."

"And him?" Severus pointed towards a ghostly figure, also tall and dressed in pristine, white robes. This figure's grey-blue eyes pierced the many shades of grey landscape angrily and tried to move towards them, but was stuck in place.

Draco trembled in Severus' arms and tightened his hold on his father as he looked at the angry man. "He's nothing. Will you take me home, Daddy?"

"I will take you home anytime you are ready, Draco. Are you still afraid?"

Tiny, crystal tears dropped to his cheeks. "I keep hearing screams and there is red... only red in my nightmares."

"Please don't cry, my Little Dragon." The small child pushed his face into Severus' chest trying not to cry, but he couldn't stop the tears. Severus spoke soft, nonsense words as he gently patted Draco's back. When the sobs were faint hiccups he pulled the reddened face a little away from his chest and began to clean the little boy's face with a soft cloth. "Better now?" Draco nodded. "Will you come away with me today, then?"

"Can I stay small, Daddy?" he asked plaintively.

Severus shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you know you're not small anymore. You'll be sixteen soon."

Draco tugged on his father's collar until his mouth was close to Severus' ear. "If I'm big, you won't kiss me or hold me anymore."

"Idiot child," he admonished teasingly. "Of course I will. You're my son and I will have kisses and hugs for you even when you're old and wrinkled."

Draco laughed. He slipped from Severus' arms and quickly began to grow until he was almost up to his father's shoulder. Severus put his arm around the thin shoulders and pulled the young boy to his side. For a brief moment they looked out across the bleak landscape towards the angry ghost of Lucius Malfoy.

"I am sorry that I was unable to prevent what he did to you, Draco. I wish that I could promise you that it won't happen again, but unless the Dark Lord punished him so severely that he died..."

Draco slipped an arm around his father's back so he could move closer to the older wizard. "He's still alive, Dad."

"Then I can only do my best to keep you and your brother safe. Should I ever encounter Lucius before the final battle, I swear to you, I will kill him."

With his other hand, he brushed a pale lock of straight hair from his son's eyes and leaned over to kiss Draco's smooth forehead.

Draco watched as the ghost of the elder Malfoy vanished as it was broken up by gusts of wind from the nothingness. "Dad, I think I'm ready to come home, now. How do I...?"

"You're only asleep, Draco. All you need do is to wake up. Trust me, Little Dragon. I'll be waiting for you."

Severus drew Draco tightly into his embrace and Draco hugged his father back firmly. A few minutes later, Severus faded away as he left the young wizard's mind.

Draco's eyes slowly blinked open and he stirred beneath the covers on his hospital bed. He felt someone holding onto his hand and looked to his left to see his father, Severus Snape, seated next to his bed.

"Dad," he croaked and coughed harshly. Snape stood to conjure a glass of cool water for his son. He drank the water down and quietly asked, "Is Harry all right?"

"He's fine. His leg has a little more healing to do, but then he'll be ready to race you and Ron on your brooms."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Almost four weeks. It's August 18th today."

Draco stared at the window that looked out through the tops of some very tall trees. He then turned to see a small figure on a broom whizzing about over the bedside table. Snape deftly caught the tiny Slytherin Quidditch player out of the air and held it out to his son. Draco's face relaxed and broke into a very child-like and somewhat shy smile as he held onto the figure carefully.

"That fell from your hand after you were put into the healing coma," Snape explained. When the healer had brought him the little figure and told him that they had not been able to make Draco let go of it until he was in the relaxed sleep of the coma, he had been embarassed by the tears that had threatened.

Snape had hated the little figures when he'd first heard about them. The 1972 year teams of Hogwarts had been issued almost two years ago. He'd bought every single one he possibly could and burned them. He would never have guessed that the figures would have been sold overseas. Knowing that Draco had held the figure in his hand all while his real father practically beat and tortured him to death, touched something very deep within his soul.

Draco breathed a little jerkily just as tears glistened at the corners of his eyes. "It's dumb, but I felt like you were with me so I couldn't let it go. It made everything he did... bearable." He sniffed, rolled his eyes, grinned smugly and let the tiny figure of young Severus Snape go so he could fly again.

"Would you like to see Hermione?" asked Snape after they had watched the figure flying for several minutes.

Draco's face brightened and he nodded. Snape rose to his feet, opened the door of the room, and was soon ushering Hermione inside. She rushed over to Draco and began showering his face with kisses. Before he might witness sentimental affection he didn't wish to witness as a parent, Snape slipped out into the corridor where the rest of his family waited.

"He's awake?" asked Lyrica quietly. Snape nodded and she threw her arms around her husband in relief. He kissed the top of her head.

"We'll give Hermione and Draco a few minutes, then you can go in next, Ron. Harry, I'll be with you both when you visit, all right?"

"Sure, Dad," he agreed softly. He wanted to see Draco, but at the same time he was nervous about seeing his brother.

Snape had dictated ten minutes for Hermione, Ron, and Lyrica. He expected Harry might need more time before exhaustion would take Draco over and steal him away for the night.

Ron's visit was quick and whatever they had to catch up on had Draco laughing so much that Snape cut the visit short. He didn't want the boy to tire out too soon.

Lyrica was caught off guard when she entered her son's hospital room and he suddenly began weeping. Draco, deep down felt mortified over the sissy tears, but he felt immediately safe when his mother quickly enveloped him in a Verbena & Honeysuckle scented embrace. He ached slightly for his real mother, but not very much since he recalled she had yet to reply to the letter he'd written several months ago.

Lyrica sat down beside Draco and brushed his lengthening hair out of his eyes. "How long do you think you'll let your hair grow?" As random as the topic seemed, she'd chosen it purposefully so that Draco wouldn't feel pressured into talking about anything he didn't want to.

"Is it messy looking?" he asked tugging at a lock behind his ear.

His mother gave the blonde hair a critical once over. "It is in need of a proper trim. Would you like to take care of that after you get home?"

Draco nodded and then leaned against Lyrica as he stared out the window at the redwood trees. "How could he hate me so much?" he asked very softly.

Lyrica carded her fingers through his hair and replied candidly, "A man cannot love another if he has no sense of his own worth. He punishes you for his own perceived weaknesses, his lack of worth."

"I don't want to ever be him, mum, but I want to... to... kill him. I hate him so very much!"

"He hurt you, my dear." Lyrica kissed his cheek. "You are allowed to hate, but only for a little while. You will eventually hurt yourself and those you love by nurturing such hate."

"Then how do I get away from it?"

She touched her hand to his heart. "By leaning on your family. By treasuring the love you have for Hermione."

He smirked. "That sounds a bit Hufflepuff, mum."

Lyrica chuckled and put a finger to her lips. "Let's keep that to ourselves, shall we?"

She left her son's room and nodded briefly to her husband and then to Harry. Putting his hand in the middle of Harry's back, Snape ushered him inside.

Draco saw the metal brace on Harry's leg and the smile he had on his face faltered slightly. Harry hobbled quickly over to his brother and grabbed his hands. His own smile brightened the room.

"Hey, Goldilocks. I've missed arguing with you."

Draco managed a brief smirk. "I think you annoyed me in my dreams, Scarhead." He gripped Harry's hands tightly and then he frowned. "Do you have to wear that all the time?" he indicated with a nod of his head towards the brace.

Harry let go of Draco and stepped back a bit. "Another week, I think. It's been a hassle, but Bella really trashed my leg."

"Bitch," muttered Draco who immediately shot his father a worried look. Snape made no sign that he objected to the short description of the insane witch that had tortured Harry.

There was a long, awkward silence between the two boys and Harry began to stammer, "Draco, I wish... I tried..."

Draco's cheeks blushed sharply as tears rose to his eyes and he forced them back. "It's... Harry, we never had... a chance."

"Yes, you did," Snape interjected firmly. "And Harry took it when Lucius made the grave error of putting you into the same cell as your brother. Neither of you need offer the other apologies. You are both safe, whole, and alive."

Harry and Draco looked at each other and smiled grimly. Draco then looked to his father, "Dad, I think Lucius has our wands."

"I've contacted a wandmaker from Neried Gardens who will meet us here tomorrow before you're discharged so we can replace your wands," replied Snape as he seated himself in the chair he'd practically lived in during Draco's recovery. "I doubt very much that Lucius kept them. No doubt they're broken by now."

"I never liked mine," said Draco with some satisfaction. "It belonged to my grandfather."

"Mine had a feather from Fawkes as its core," said Harry wistfully.

"I missed your birthday, Harry," Draco sighed sadly.

Harry shrugged and shook his head. "We didn't celebrate. Too worried about you, I guess." He smirked and his green eyes sparkled. "Mum's arranged a party at Grimmauld Place once you're released from hospital. Luna, Milli, Neville, and Pansy have been invited."

"Cool! You're really going to make out with lots of presents!"

"I hardly think that's important, Draco," said their father dryly from his chair.

Harry laughed. "It's fine, but I really want to see Luna."

Draco suddenly was trying to stifle a tell-tale yawn. Snape saw the yawn, but gave the boys a few more minutes before he finally ushered Harry out of Draco's room. When Harry was on the other side of the door, Snape stepped over to Draco and leaned over surprising the sleepy teenager with a gentle embrace of his shoulders.

"You're never going to be too old for kisses and hugs, my son," Snape whispered.

Draco reddened and then smirked. "You realise, Dad, that if any of your students heard you say that, they'd wonder if you're a Polyjuiced, emotional Gryffindor."

A corner of Snape's mouth lifted and his gaze hardened, "Which is why, if ever you tell anyone, I'll be sure to hang you from the Astronomy Tower by your thumbs and take 500 points from Slytherin."

Draco guffawed and slid down on his bed until he could pull his blankets up to his chin. "Love you, too, Dad."

Ron and Harry were in their common room in Billeghdonn Manor playing King's Table. The strategy game, an older one than chess and supposedly devised by Merlin to teach Arthur's knights the finer arts of war, was preferred by Harry. Ron was an undisputed chess champion and counted Snape as his toughest opponent. However, at King's Table, Harry had grasped the principles better than Ron had and he enjoyed playing a strategy game that he had a chance of winning more than half the time.

Harry's braced leg was stretched out upon an ottoman which put him in the awkward position of having to lean towards the board and then lean back in his chair when it was Ron's turn. After a month of being so hobbled it was becoming annoying and he couldn't wait to get the brace off. It did bother him that he'd have another week of strengthening therapy but that would be done with his father and it wouldn't be at the hospital.

This evening Snape and Hermione were spending the last night at the hospital with Draco. He was to be discharged tomorrow.

"I concede," Ron said with disgust as he had been staring at the pieces for the last ten minutes. Harry just smiled. He knew better than to boast about a win in front of Ron. "You want to play anything else, Harry?"

Harry stretched and yawned. "I think I'm done for the evening." He lowered his braced leg and with Ron's help, he rose to his feet.

"I'll go play on my lute for a bit. I sure wish Henry could come visit," Ron sighed heading towards his room. "I thought ghosts could go anywhere they want."

"Maybe Henry just doesn't want to leave Ashmere," suggested Harry.

Ron smirked, "Don't see why. Place has got to be boring without us there. Night, Harry."

"Night, Ron."

Harry slipped into his bedroom, but didn't light the wall sconces. He always liked looking out his enchanted window at the dark sea and the intermittent glow of the lighthouse signaling out across the waves. For several long minutes he just watched the quiet scenery before stepping away to get dressed in his pyjamas.

A soft hoot alerted him to Hedwig's presence and he wondered when she'd arrived. Going over to her perch, he found some owl food for her and picked up the small scroll that had fallen from her foot when she'd alighted on her perch.

Lighting a candle, he carried it over to his bed, struggled a bit with his leg to get comfortable, and then leaned back against the headboard. Hovering the candle close, he unrolled the letter and began to read.

Dearest Harry,

I really don't want you to worry about me, but please know that it does make me smile knowing you do. Father and I are well since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named doesn't seem to be annoying any wizards or witches at the moment.

I'm sending you a recent article from The Quibbler I believe you'd be interested in. Muggle London has experienced a spate of mysterious deaths that are being attributed to a deadly variation of the flu. You will notice that the symptoms in the article sound very much like a Dementor attack.

Have you been studying? Please give my regards to Professor Snape and your mother. You are fortunate to have such intelligent parents to teach you year round.

I miss you terribly, Harry, and I do know that something went wrong recently. The Gillywongs told me. Luckily they also told me that you survived. I think my heart stopped beating for a day when they mentioned you were hurt. Don't die, Harry. I think I would be awfully cross with you if you did.

Be good and do not worry, too much, about me.

All my love,
Luna

Letters were always a mixed blessing from Luna. They were scattered in thought and she had a terrible habit of bringing up things without explaining them. Summoning parchment, ink, a quill and a large book to write on, Harry bent over the parchment and began to pen a reply back to Luna.

Dear Luna,

I am all right, but I can't tell you anything in a letter. Are you still coming to Grimmauld Place next week? I think Dad will let me tell you then what happened.

What are Gillywongs?

I'm studying lots. Dad has two libraries here. Hermione's in heaven over all these books. Did I tell you that Mum actually caught Hermione trying to steal a couple of books? She swears she was only going to borrow them until she'd read them, but the trouble was, one of the books was spelled shut. Dad warned Hermione not to break the spell on any books. She WAS right clever in breaking the spell, but Dad was NOT happy with Hermione.

Did you know Hermione can run real fast? Dad caught her at the entrance to the pond, though. It's kind of a dead end so she was just delaying the inevitable. Kind of funny to see Dad running after Hermione, though. Brilliant girl that she is (she really ought to have been in Ravenclaw) talked herself out of a spanking but right into three weeks of detention once term starts. McGonagall will go spare!

There's a lot more I'd like to tell you Luna, but I can't. Not yet. I do miss you very much and I think of you every day and every night. You keep safe, sweet Luna.

Love,
Harry

He re-read the letter, then rolled it up and went over to Hedwig's perch. As he tied the letter to his owl's leg, he spoke gently to her.

"Why don't you stay with Luna tomorrow and keep her company, Hedwig. You can rest up, or play with her. I think you like those Flutterbye hunts she goes on." Hedwig hooted positively. Using his wand to open the enchanted window, he let his owl out into the night and watched as she flew out over the beach, past the lighthouse, until she was as small as the twinkling stars in the sky.

Putting out the candle and clearing the quill and ink and the large book from his bed, Harry climbed in clumsily under the silky sheets, rolled onto his side, and buried his face happily into his feather pillow.

As tired as he was, and as much as he wanted it, sleep eluded Harry. For two hours he tossed and turned in his bed. Finally he sat up, threw his covers off, glared at the brace he was unable to remove, and left his bed. Moving over to the window seat, he stared out at the dark sea and the shadow obscured lighthouse.

He was getting awfully sick of nightmares. Uncle Vernon, then Voldemort, and now Bellatrix the insane Death Eater. Not to mention there were nightmares about his friends, his family, and the ever-present fear that he would face the Dark Lord alone... and he'd fail.

He looked away from the window as he heard a soft knock on his bedroom door. Thinking it might be Hermione or Ron, he didn't answer. He just didn't feel like facing them right now. As he turned back to the view of the lighthouse, his door opened quietly.

"Harry?"

"Mum," he acknowledged quietly.

"Having trouble sleeping?" Lyrica asked as she walked further into the bedroom. She drew a chair over to where he was sitting and sat down.

"I wasn't even bothered by nightmares tonight." Harry's voice was rife with defeat. "I'm dead tired, but I just couldn't sleep no matter what."

"Would you like a Sleeping Potion?"

"No!" he snapped. "This isn't going to be fixed by potions, mum! Everytime I think things are all right, it turns sour. Potions won't stop Lucius or any of the other Death Eaters from coming after me and trying to kill everyone I love."

"You are right, Harry. Potions are not a solution, but they are a tool you can use to help you through difficult times. You can also talk to your family, to your friends, and let them know when you need help."

"I do..." he protested.

"You do not. You are still trying to protect all of us by bottling up your emotions. Do you really think it helps you to sit and brood in the dark as you worry about the future? Who will live? Who will die?"

"That's not fair, mum," he nearly whined. "You don't underst..."

"Don't you dare tell me I don't understand, Harry." Her voice was a mere whisper, but there was a stern warning laced within the tone. "I spent months falling in love with each of you despite trying not to because I was certain I'd lose you to a future I couldn't begin to imagine. I nearly did lose you."

Lyrica rose from the chair and seated herself beside her son. "You have a right to be afraid, to worry, to have sleepless nights, and nightmares. You do not have the right to wallow in despair by yourself when there are those so close to you that would help if you just asked. You're terrible at asking, Harry," she chided.

He bent his good leg at the knee and put his chin on it. "I know I am. I just spent so many years relying upon myself, though, that it's a very hard habit to break."

"And it is just that, my dear, a habit. You'll break it soon enough. However, let's not dwell on that. Tell me now what's keeping you awake tonight and see if we can't alleviate your worry enough so that you can get some sleep."

Harry nodded, but he was quiet for several long minutes. He finally spoke, but kept his eyes looking out the window.

"All this training that you and dad have been giving us didn't do any good. I couldn't do anything to help my brother and I bloody well couldn't do anything to help myself. I know dad thinks it was really smart of me to have Disillusioned my amulet, and I know we're both safe and alive because I used it when I did. I can't help the feeling that I failed somehow and I don't know what's wrong with me for thinking this way."

Lyrica considered the look of anguish on her son's face before speaking. After they were both silent for a little while, she replied, "I don't believe that you feel your failure lay in preventing you and your brother's torture, Harry. I believe that where you truly feel your failure lies is in the fact that you were face to face with the Dark Lord... and you were afraid."

Harry's head jerked roughly away from looking out the window. His stricken expression spoke volumes.

"You saw him in nightmares and you've heard many tales about him and his cruelties. You're a child. No matter how grown up you may feel at times, in front of the Dark Lord, you are so very young and to be faced with the truth of his reality frightened you to death. It still does. Especially knowing that all this training you've been doing isn't just practice for points and better grades, but to kill someone: the Dark Lord."

Harry swiped angrily at a few tears that had escaped. "He's nothing like what I saw when he possessed Professor Quirrell, mum. That whole thing has never felt like it was real. I sometimes wonder if it really happened. Voldemort is tall and his skin is whiter than white. He has red eyes that just bore right inside of you making you feel like something rotten."

Bellatrix's fingers dug sharply into the back of Harry's neck as she propelled him across the chamber and towards the figure of the Dark Lord standing at his throne. He was like pure, white stone draped in the finest, blackest silk that moved like a kind of dark wraith in a non-existant breeze.

Voldemort stepped down from the dais and as he came closer, Harry could smell the distinct odour of disease and decay from the Dark Lord. He was able to see that the white stone was blemished by smudges of ashen grey around the eyes, the slit of a nose, the sharp corners of the thin mouth. More smudges of the same grey were on the backs of his hands and the tops of his bare feet.

The Dark Lord spoke, but whatever he said was lost to Harry as those unnaturally long fingers trailed through his hair, hovered over his scar, and then caressed his cheek and neck. It was a clammy cold beyond snow or ice. It was the cold of the frozen earth from a graveyard. Harry knew without a doubt that he stood before the nightmare of Death.

He was glad that his tongue was frozen. He wanted to cry out for his Daddy; both James and Severus, but he didn't in front of this monster. His body did betray his fear, though, as his bladder loosened to the delight of the mad witch.

"Make him ssscream for me, dear Bella," his voice hissed as he smiled at Harry.

"Did you scream, Harry?" Lyrica had taken Harry's hand in hers. She'd tried to put her arm around him, but he had pulled away.

He shook his head vehemently. "Not for him. And I didn't."

The Dark Lord crouched down where Harry was curled up tightly upon the floor of the chamber.

"Look at his eyes, Luciusss," he marveled. "I see hisss fear of me, but I can also sssee his defiance." Voldemort rose to his feet and swept in a swirl of black silk back to his throne. "Luciusss."

"My lord?" Lucius dropped down to his knees before his master and yanked Draco down beside him.

"Perhapsss young Harry hasss no regard for himself, Luciusss, but he calls this one 'brother'. Take your son, Luciusss, and teach him what a disappointment he'sss been. We'll sssee if Harry will ssscream for him."

"I couldn't do anything, mum!" Harry's tears were running freely down his cheeks and his eyes stared blankly out at the sea. "I couldn't think of a thing to do. All I could do was hear Draco screaming and begging and then I was screaming, too. How could I have failed?"

Lyrica forced Harry into her embrace and grasped his chin with one hand and turned his gaze away from the window until he was looking into her eyes. "You were afraid, Harry."

"But I'm a Gryffindor," he rasped.

"Even the bravest man in the world isn't without fear, Harry. You did NOT fail. You acted as any man or child would have done in your place. I cannot imagine what it would be like to face that abomination and it frightens me that someday, soon, I shall. You had every right to be terrified, to scream, and to cry for your father to come rescue you." Letting go of his chin, she began to wipe away his tears. "The next time you face him, my dear child, you will remember this, and although you will feel afraid, again, you will stand stronger and you will not fail."

"How do you know, mum?"

"Because I will stand with you. As will your father, your brother, and your friends." She kissed his cheeks, smoothed back his hair, and hugged him. "And never forget this, Harry. The only reason you're here now, and alive, is because you kept your amulet and you used it for yourself and your brother."

An hour later, Harry was deep asleep, happily, and without nightmares.

The week of Harry's late birthday celebration arrived and Grimmauld Place was crowded. Sirius, Remus, and Moody had spent the day before charming many of the rooms with increased space to comfortably accommodate everyone. Molly Weasley took the chance to also increase the kitchen which usually served as the meeting place for the Order of the Phoenix, and was most certainly the social center of the house.

The Snapes were the last to arrive at #12 Grimmauld Place. The teenagers appeared first, tumbling through the Floo in an ungraceful tangle of arms and legs. Snape and Lyrica arrived a few seconds later and managed to just miss falling over the quartet of bodies that were still righting themselves.

Sirius and Remus helped the teenagers, but Molly zeroed in on Lyrica who was leaning against her husband as a very faint shade of green tinged her skin. Snape allowed Molly to lead Lyrica to the kitchen where she prepared an herbal tea for the young woman.

"Small sips," Molly instructed as she sat beside the young woman. "Ginger root is the main ingredient. It helps the nausea."

Lyrica shot the Weasley matriarch a curious look and then lifted the tea and took a small sip.

Molly smiled knowingly. "How far along are you, Mrs. Snape?"

"Three months in a few days. Please call me Lyrica," she replied taking a few more sips. The tea was really helping. "I've had quite good luck as far as the morning sickness goes. I just don't do well with the Floo, portkeys, and Apparition is completely out of the question." Just thinking of those modes of travel made her grimace as her stomach flipped in warning.

Molly patted the young woman's hand and summoned a plain biscuit. "I was fortunate with Ginny. She was such an easy baby. No morning sickness and she had the good sense to arrive on schedule. None of my boys managed that. Little Ronnie, if he'd had his way, would have stayed put if it hadn't been for my mother's licorice tea."

"It induced labor? I wasn't aware licorice has such properties."

Molly laughed. "Oh no! It doesn't. It was the smell of the tea brewing that did it. I couldn't bear the smell of licorice. My Ronnie has never liked hates licorice since the day he was born. When is your due date?"

"My Healer says March 5th, but Severus is certain it will be the end of February."

The two women began discussing all aspects of pregnancy. Lyrica was pleased to be questioning an expert such as Molly, for she'd determined from her first meeting with the vivacious redhead that she was a formidable woman, and a most competent mother.

Snape stepped in at one moment in the hopes of escaping the noise of so many children decorating the living room for the party but arrived just as the two women were discussing an aspect of birth that had him turning green and practically running from the kitchen. Molly and Lyrica broke into gales of laughter over the squeamishness of husbands.

That night was a celebration that encompassed Harry's missed birthday, Draco and his brother's good fortune in escaping the clutches of the Dark Lord and recovering, and the news that Lyrica and Severus were expecting the arrival of a daughter in March of the following year.

After a generous feast cooked by Molly with Dobby's help, and a very large cake, Dobby chased everyone out into the living room, including Molly, so he could clean up. The teenagers involved themselves in somewhat quiet games of chess, King's Table, Exploding Snap, and Gobstones while the adults split up into two groups: the women were, Molly, Lyrica, Tonks, and Minerva McGonagall, and the men were, Snape, Moody, Remus, Sirius, Arthur, and Albus Dumbledore. The subject being thoroughly dissected was Lyrica Snape's unexpected pregnancy.

Snape had tried to force himself into a corner, away from everyone, but Albus would have none of it and the other men had followed, all prepared to 'rib him good-naturedly'.

"Who would have thought?" sneered Black with a smile that was as warm as a stomach full of acid. "Sniv... Severus the family man!"

Snape glared openly at his childhood enemy. He truly resented having to share such good news with this man.

Dumbledore patted Snape's shoulder warmly. "I never had any doubt that the boy had it in him. After all, you've seen how well he treats his sons..."

Black interrupted sharply and hissed, "James' son!"

Lupin interjected before a fight could break out between the two dark men, "Have you decided upon any names for the baby, Severus?"

An older part of Snape was sorely tempted to hex Black, but he chose to reply to Lupin's question and silently thanked the werewolf for his timely intervention. "Lyrica is leaning towards the names Perdita or Juliet whereas I believe the name Eowyn would be more suitable."

Moody snorted, "Shakespeare and Tolkien, eh?"

Snape's eyebrow rose suspiciously, "I find it hard to believe that you, Moody, ever read either of those authors." He sipped his brandy. "Actually, I find it difficult imagining you read at all."

Moody snarled, and Snape's black eyes glinted with the dig he managed.

Lyrica was enjoying listening to tales of Molly's children, Minerva's nieces and nephews (she had one each, which was quite enough), and Tonks expressing her own desire for children someday.

"Do you have a prospective father in mind, Tonks?" asked Lyrica of the flame-haired young woman.

"Well," began Tonks as a bright blush coloured her cheeks. Her long lashes partially hid striking blue eyes as she cast a quick look towards the men. As Lupin felt a pair of eyes upon him, he looked away from the men's discussion, caught Tonks' gaze, and smiled warily. Tonks' blush deepened and she looked away quickly.

"Remus?" asked Minerva. Her lips were thin and straight, not quite approving, it appeared. "He's a good man, Tonks, but you do realise the regulations regarding werewolves and marriage outside their own."

Tonks' bright smile diminished to a soured grimace. "Of course I do. I also happen to know that Dolores Umbridge is doing everything she can to make things worse. You have heard that she's attempting to re-classify Metamorphmagi, haven't you, Professor?"

Minerva's right eyebrow quirked dangerously. "I had not."

"We're no better than werewolves in that pink monstrosity's eyes so I think Remus and I would make a good match." Her tone was stubborn and underlined by a sudden, triumphant smile towards the werewolf that had him suddenly blushing.

"Looks like Tonks is settlin' her sights on you, Lupin," snorted Moody as he elbowed the younger wizard sharply in the ribs.

Remus rubbed at the offended rib as Snape took this small opportunity to draw the conversation away from himself, which had been getting far too personal for his tastes. "She's a bit young for you, isn't she, Lupin?" he poked verbally.

Lupin scowled at the insult. "Her infatuation is flattering..."

Sirius clapped his friend on the back and Remus coughed at the assault. Black grinned, "That look's not infatuation, Moony! Mark my word, Tonks will have you under the mistletoe by Christmas pledging your heart to her!"

Lupin's look of utter panic had the men chuckling at his discomfort.

As the evening wore on, the adults soon congregated in the kitchen to idly discuss the Ministry, Voldemort, and the recent Muggle attacks which had been determined to be Dementor attacks. In the living room, the teenagers had settled down, tired of the games, and were now talking amongst themselves.

"It's silly," asserted Millicent as she leaned against Ron.

"No it isn't!" snapped Hermione indignantly.

"All of you really need to back off," chided Pansy. "Personally, I hate flying on brooms, so I can understand what Hermione's going through."

"I can, too," agreed Harry, but backtracked as soon as he caught Luna shaking her head at him. "All right, I really can't since I love flying." He turned to his best friend and watched for a moment as Draco lazily braided a few strands of her curly hair. "Hermione, I know you've been scared since you and Ron had that broom accident, but you have to get over it. You know one of our strategies for fighting is on our brooms."

Hermione slapped Draco's hand away from her hair as she glared at Harry. "What you're trying to tell me is that if I can't fly, you don't want me fighting with you."

"I don't want anyone fighting with me!" It was his turn to gripe in frustration. "I don't want me fighting with me!"

Draco chuckled. He pulled Hermione back against his chest and kissed the edge of her ear; an effective way of lowering the young girl's hot-headed temper a few degrees. "Much as I hate to agree with my brother, love, you have to see that he's right. You really need to get back on a broom and get over this fear." Hermione struggled in the firming grip of his embrace as she prepared to tell him just how wrong he was. "I'll teach you."

Hermione's struggles ceased. "I know how to fly a broom, Draco."

His grey eyes sparkled wickedly as he ran his index finger down the sensitive edge of her ear, down her neck, and to the collar of her blouse. "Of course you do, luv, but I'm a better teacher than Madame Hooch is."

Hermione melted at the silky tone of Draco's voice, and from the touch of his lips to her throat.

"That's our cue, Ron!" Millicent jumped up, grabbed Ron's hand and yanked him to his feet. "Want to go out in the backyard for a little bit?"

Ron grinned. "G'night everybody!" Slinging an arm around Milli's waist, the couple nearly ran to the kitchen, burst in on the impromptu meeting of adults, and quickly left through the backdoor to the outside without a by-your-leave to the curious stares of those in the kitchen.

The rest of the teenagers were breaking up as well with the exception of Draco and Hermione who had staked out the living room. They were already concentrating quite happily on each other.

Very early the next morning, Draco sneaked into the girl's bedroom, woke Hermione, and whispered in her ear. With a quick kiss, he left and went downstairs, through the kitchen and out to the backyard. Close to fifteen minutes later, Hermione joined him. She wore a knit jumper over a white cotton blouse, and a pair of jeans, and her trainers. It would get warmer later in the day, but this early in the morning the backyard was shady and there was a distinct chill in the air.

Hermione noticed that Draco's Cosmos X leaned against the back porch swing and she gave it a kind of sickly, green look. She'd watched Harry and her boyfriend on those brooms and their antics always made her want to close her eyes permanently.

Draco chuckled and kissed the girl's cheek. "You don't have to ride my broom, Mi, so stop giving it such a death look." He smirked, cast a silent Summoning spell, and a package leapt from a nearby bush and into his hand. He bowed and handed over the gift.

Hermione took the broom-shaped package and smiled slightly. "You bought me a broom?"

"I had dad's advice on this one. I know Quidditch brooms inside and out, but I know you don't need a broom capable of speed and acrobatics."

Curiosity piqued, she tore open the package to reveal a beautiful looking broom with a handle of Yew and boar bristles. She turned it over and over in her hand as she felt the broom connect with her magic. Hermione smiled. "Where did you get it, Draco?"

"O'Daire's Brooms For the Discerning Flyer in Ireland. Called the Mercury 9 it's made for normal, everyday flying and comes equipped with a Disillusion charm and a Warming charm for cold weather. It also has a great weather detection feature so if you get caught in rain or snow, it will detect it and put up a Deflection Spell." Draco demonstrated how to activate the first two spells and then took the broom from Hermione. He then balanced it easily on his index finger.

"Very nice," smirked Hermione.

"Funny girl," he smirked right back. "This isn't a trick. It's to show you how balanced the broom is. You'll get very smooth maneuverability and control with it. When you've become familiar with your broom, you'll find the transition to fighting while riding it isn't all that difficult."

"We'll see," she said skeptically taking her broom back. Hermione smiled as she felt the tingle of the broom's magic connecting with hers. She'd never felt such a connection with the school brooms before. Oddly, she felt rather eager to try out the broom.

Draco insisted on taking Hermione through first year basics of flying which annoyed her, at first, since it made her feel a bit like a baby. However, she saw the wisdom in the young man's teaching method as she didn't feel at all nervous when she first began flying a foot off the ground around the back yard. By the time Mrs. Weasley called them in for breakfast, Hermione was blissfully flying above the roof of Black Manor.

The week continued on as a mostly noisy affair due the teenagers who, to Snape's displeasure, couldn't manage a low decibel. All of them were all recipients of essay assignments from Snape including threats of point losses and detention. None of them, including the usually perfect Ravenclaw, Luna, escaped. Somehow she had managed to prickle Snape into assigning her a three foot essay on Potions ingredients versus baking ingredients and a detailed analysis on why they were NOT the same.

Remus, to the delight of the beleaguered teens, pulled a prank even James Potter would never have had the patience or thought to think up against Snape.

All week long Sirius couldn't keep his mouth shut and kept managing little barbs to throw at Snape whenever they were in the same room together. In turn, instead of getting angry, Snape merely threatened Black with some sort of creative death. After Snape threatened to 'steam the mutt with fava beans' and to 'serve him with a vintage Chianti for Christmas dinner', Remus began to collect the death threats as well as keep count of the number of times Sirius insulted the Potions Master. At the end of the week, he'd bound all of Snape's best death threats into a small volume entitled, Death by Snape, and had given it to the teenagers. He had charmed the books so that it looked like a normal school textbook whenever Snape came near them. For that, Snape hexed Remus with donkey ears for two days. Remus was later heard to say that the price of donkey ears was worth the prank.

The week at Grimmauld Place ended with a good natured game of Quidditch between the adults and the teenagers. Both Draco and Harry were delighted to learn that their father would be playing in the game, as Seeker.

Harry, rather interested in his father's flying style during the game, kept getting distracted from his goal, that of catching the Snitch. This distraction cost the game for the teenagers when Snape flew at Harry, spiralled around his broom, and caught the Snitch out of the air just as it flittered past Harry's nose. So impressed was he by that final move, Harry didn't mind all that much in losing.

The evening of the last night was a long and drawn out farewell for everyone. Ron was hugged so many times, and so tightly by Millicent, that his ribs ached for at least an hour. Or so he claimed while he grinned smugly.

Instead of going straight to Hogwarts for the last week of summer, which was Snape's usual routine, he kept his family at Billeghdonn Cove for three more days. He'd prepared his lesson plans for Defense Against the Dark Arts long back when he had first applied for the position right after finishing Hogwarts. There were only a few changes to update, and that had been completed in one night. All he had left to do was set up the classroom for his fourth through seventh years. Fortunately, Dumbledore had decided that he and Lupin needed their own classrooms and so Remus had his classroom closer to Gryffindor, whereas Snape's classroom was the original dungeon classroom for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Snape tried to assist Lyrica with her lesson plans for Potions. That assistance became interference every time he took issue with something she planned to present or demonstrate. In order to finish her lesson plan, she'd locked Severus in his lab for one day, leaving Dobby to feed him his meals and let him out before dinner.

Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Ron used their last three days of absolute freedom in racing their brooms and swimming in the hidden pool.

On their last night, after the teenagers were all in bed and sleeping deeply, Snape sat with his wife on the seventh floor deck, both tucked in together beneath a warm blanket against the chill coming off the ocean. Lyrica leaned against her husband's side as his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.

"You did speak to Albus, didn't you, Severus?" she asked quietly.

He stared out at the stars twinkling overhead before replying, "We did talk, at length, that last night at Headquarters. He's still being stubborn."

"About the Prophecy," she stated flatly.

"And about the fact that he believes Harry is not ready to encounter the Dark Lord."

"That boy is a fool, Severus."

Snape laughed at the thought that Lyrica, who had known the Headmaster as a teenaged boy, still remembered him that way.

"You know that he is. He still refuses to come see what Harry, Draco, and all of the other children are capable of with Ley Line Magic. Not to mention Remus and Sirius. Oh, yes, and Poppy who has made great strides in using Ley Lines to enhance her own healing skills."

"I tried, Lyrica. I tried to make Dumbledore see reason, but he is an old man set in his ways."

"Those old ways are going to get our children killed," she said so sharply that Snape pulled slightly away. Lyrica pulled him back and kissed his cheek. "Severus, I do love Potions and it will be good teaching it this year, but I truly would like your help in introducing a course on Ley Line Magic... or Natural Magic... whatever they wish to call it. Just because it was considered Women's Magic it should never have been forgotten. It's an important tool, just as the wand is."

Snape smiled and kissed his wife's forehead. This was a subject he'd heard before. "I have said before I will help you, Lyrica, but we must deal with the Dark Lord first. It is unfortunate that Dumbledore still thinks it wise to wait until Harry is older. The children are ready, we have the fight routines in place, and various battle plans that we can easily switch or modify as needed. The Dark Lord is still weak and the time to draw him out is now before he gains more strength."

"What did you discuss with Remus and Sirius, then, this afternoon?" she asked settling closer to his side.

"Both think that Lucius is the key to further weakening the Dark Lord and I am inclined to agree. Shacklebolt has told us that Lucius' magical signature is evident in these Dementor attacks that have been occurring. We need to take down Lucius first, then we can lure the Dark Lord from his hiding place."

"Will you keep Albus apprised of what you're planning?"

"I don't want to undermine his authority, Lyrica. I know you think I should, but even though I consider him to be wrong, Albus Dumbledore is still a very powerful wizard in his own right. The Ministry, particularly Fudge, may be against him, but he still wields a great deal of influence over the Wizengamot."

Lyrica shifted suddenly and turned so she faced her husband. "Would he send you back to Azkaban?"

"It is not a possibility I have dismissed, my dear. I have enemies on both sides who would like to see not just me dead, but my whole family. I will not allow that. Dumbledore MUST be made to see reason. We can't sit on the sidelines anymore or else our losses will be so great that even a victory will be nothing but a bitter potion. To that end, I have set the mutt a task he ought to do well at."

Lyrica laughed lightly. "Severus, do you mean to imply that there's anything Sirius Black can do well?"

He grimaced. "Unfortunately. However, I prefer to not speak of it at this time. I also discussed the DA with those two. Something else I am loathe to admit is that Black can teach. He tutored quite a few of the Muggle-born students who had trouble when we went to school. It was one of the rare times he was... tolerable. He and Lupin have prepared a crash course in Ley Line Magic and our combined fighting tactics that he'll be teaching to Moody, Shacklebolt, and Tonks. In turn, they'll teach the Aurors from the Order that are trustworthy." He adjusted the blanket covering them. "I have also recruited Minerva to help us goad the old man into attending a demonstration of what the DA can do."

"You've gotten Minerva on your side? I didn't know that."

"It was actually Harry and Draco that managed that. This week at Grimmauld Place those two idiots decided to show off some of their 'tricks' to Luna, Pansy, and Millicent. Minerva happened to go outside and was rather impressed by what she saw. She was... annoyed when Harry told her that the Headmaster had yet to see what they could do."

Lyrica laughed fully, then. "I haven't known Minerva long, but I've learned that when that witch is annoyed, you'd best watch yourself! She's Albus' Achilles Heel, Severus. She'll make him see reason. I've no doubt of it."

Snape waved his wand to straighten one of eight gruesome paintings on the wall behind his desk in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They added a macabre lustre to the sculptures that occupied shadowed niches along the two walls that flanked the rows of desks.

"Really, Severus. Is it your intent to give your students nightmares?"

His lips thinning in annoyance, Snape turned to face the Headmaster whose garish yellow robes with red phoenixes on them, gave him an instant migraine.

"It is my intent to show my students that the Dark Arts are neither 'wicked' nor a 'great way to get girls'." Albus stifled a chuckle. "I do believe I have heard that whispered quite a number of times."

The Headmaster walked over to a statue of a woman whose face had been melted. "Volutabrum Tergum. This was a favorite curse of Grindelwald." He stepped to the next statue which was of a man who appeared to have been killed by hundreds of long, thick splinters. Albus grimaced as he muttered the curse, "Praemium Ossis... The explosion of the skeleton. I believe that was crafted by Salazar Slytherin."

"And used to devastating effect during the Goblin Rebellion by Salazar himself," added Snape.

The Headmaster gaped at the third statue, which was twisted upon itself. Any sunny mood he'd come in with had been replaced by a chill that would take hours of hot tea to erase. Snape stepped down from the lecture dais and walked up to stand beside his mentor.

"I know you remember this one, Headmaster," he spoke softly, but with an undertone that was razor sharp.

The bile rose in Dumbledore's throat. "You would teach Harry about this one, Severus?"

The fear in the old man's eyes softened the hard edge to Snape's gaze. He placed a consoling hand upon his elder's forearm. "Wasn't it you that told me once that there can be no Light without Dark? It has touched all of us at some time in our lives, Albus. Even you; the creator of the Binding Muscle Curse."

Snape guided the older wizard to the center of the classroom and transfigured a wooden desk bench into a padded chair that the Headmaster dropped into wearily. With a wave of his wand darker shadows hid the statues and obscured the paintings. The younger wizard then conjured a cup of hot tea and pressed it into Dumbledore's hands.

"These curses and hexes are a nightmare, Headmaster. A nightmare of our own reality for these are all Dark Magic that the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters have used before and will do so again. I do want to prepare my students for this war, but I also want them to understand that the Dark Arts hold nothing but a life of slavery for the wielder." The gentle tones left his voice as his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. "I refuse to sugar coat the Dark Arts, Albus. If this is too much for you to bear, I would ask you to return me to Potions before the term begins."

For several long, silent minutes, the Headmaster sipped his tea. Deep down he knew that Snape was right. He did not wish to see these images and he did not want his children to be exposed to such horrors. Yet, were they not already reading in the daily news of the terror that now fed upon the world of Muggles? Would they not encounter such awful things in battle someday?

Snape saw the consternation behind the Headmaster's blue eyes and saw a brief dulling of their usual glimmer. It was a sight he was beginning to see more often of late. Not just the older wizard's body's realisation of his age, but his mind feeling his age as well. It was the weighing down of all his responsibilities, fear as to whether or not he was truly acting in the best interests of all concerned, and self-doubt.

Transfiguring another chair, Snape seated himself, leaned forward and placed a hand on the older man's forearm. Beyond a handshake, or a supporting hand, Snape had never initiated touch towards Albus Dumbledore. A large part of that had been self-preservation. To touch someone was to let down those barriers that protected the heart from being hurt, and emotions best left hidden to awaken.

Snape did have great respect for the aged wizard. This is why it had hurt so much when he and Harry learned that Dumbledore had placed a Dark Magic spell on them in order to manipulate them both into leaving the ease of 1898 and returning to the fear that was their present. Dumbledore should have trusted in Snape, and not some horrid spell. The two wizards had been able to forgive Dumbledore for both of them loved the old Headmaster. They also knew that the older wizard was not perfect. No one was.

Rarely, though, had Snape ever shown Albus how he felt. This wise, yet flawed wizard, had been the father to him that his own, Tobias Snape, had not. Of course Dumbledore had failed the youthful Severus Snape, but he had redeemed himself when Severus truly needed someone to care for him and to love him despite the worst mistake he'd ever made in his young life.

Spying had not been easy and he had nearly lost his own life the night that Harry Potter had been marked by the Dark Lord. His injuries had been brutal, but it was Albus Dumbledore who fixed the broken bones, cleaned the grievous injuries, changed the bloody bandages. It was Albus who read to him each day and who had comforted him when he woke from nightmares that brought renewed pain. Snape recovered and was entirely prepared to continue spying upon his contemporaries in a search for the gravely injured Tom Riddle.

There wasn't the open torture that Voldemort preferred, but the danger was there. Snape constantly had to be on guard against those wishing him dead. Twice he'd been nearly fatally stabbed, and once, as a prank, Lucius had tested a new poison on the Potions Master; a poison made from the venom of the Dark Lord's pet, Nagini.

The Headmaster had been certain he would lose Severus, his son, that night, but he used his strongest magic to keep the young wizard from succumbing to the poison's fatal fire while he himself brewed a complicated antidote.

Severus Snape reached out, now, to his mentor and did not speak until those blue eyes, that so often maddened him no end with their twinkling, looked up into his own. The weariness in those eyes softened the words he had intended to be stinging. In fact, he carefully re-thought what he planned to say, and then spoke gently.

"Albus, the Dark Lord is not Grindelwald. Grindelwald was impulsive, gregarious, and bent solely upon your destruction. The Dark Lord is a cunning creature who hides beneath the earth while he sends others to do his bidding. The damage is small and deceptive now as he gathers strength and gathers followers. We cannot wait for him to strike for by then, even if we prevail, our losses will be so severe as to threaten our continued existence."

Snape was encouraged by Dumbledore's other hand covering his and squeezing tightly as the old man listened. Snape continued speaking.

"Allow me to show you the plans we've devised. Come and see what all of us are able to do with the magic Lyrica has taught us. These young witches and wizards would make you proud. And, Albus, there is no better time to see to our enemy's demise than when he is weak."

Dumbledore took several deep breaths before replying, "Minerva called me an 'old fool'. She also suggested that I be sent to St. Mungo's ward for 'Doddering Old Twinklers'." He smiled gently and Snape merely quirked one corner of his mouth in a tight smile. "You of all people, my boy, may understand how difficult it is for one to ask for help... to relinquish control." Snape nodded solemnly. "These days, Severus, I feel so tired. Right down to the marrow in these brittle, old bones. There are times when all I want to do is to remain in bed with my blanket over my head. I have been fighting, in one form or another, for nearly all of my life. Whether it be Dark Wizards, their ignorant followers, or the hopelessly inane politics and policies of the Ministry and the Wizengamot, I am always fighting someone."

"Then choose not to fight me, Albus. We are on the same side. I came back to help you so allow me to do so," urged Snape.

Snape smiled as the blue eyes of the Headmaster lit up with a brief twinkle. "Why don't I have dinner with you and your family tonight, Severus. Then you can show me these battle plans you've drawn up."

Dumbledore let go of Snape's hand and slowly rose to his feet and smiled, the full twinkling now possessing his cerulean gaze. A swift rolling of his eyes and Snape was on his feet, transfiguring the chairs back into hard, wooden benches. "Perhaps I shall see if Dobby can concoct those ghastly lemon things you're fond of, Headmaster."

"Ah, yes! Lemon Love Notes! That would be splendid, Severus."

"Six o'clock then, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement and then left the classroom. Snape took a deep breath as he clasped his hands tightly behind his back. He owed Minerva for directing the Headmaster down to his classroom. He owed that witch big time.

That evening, after dinner, Lyrica reviewed her lesson plans, Ron played his lute, Harry taught Draco King's Table, and Hermione was lost in her Transfiguration textbook. Snape and Dumbledore went to the Potions Master's private lab to look over the battle plans that had been drawn up.

Snape unrolled the various parchments and explained, "Ronald Weasley helped heavily in drawing up these various plans. That boy has a unique ability to visualise his opponents, their weaknesses and strengths, in conjunction with various locations. I decided to test him one evening and played a game of chess with the boy without the use of a chessboard and pieces. He trounced me soundly."

"Did he now?" asked Dumbledore who was pleased to hear such praise for a Weasley coming out of the acerbic Potions Master's mouth.

"Ten games. All ten were won in less than fourteen moves." Snape scowled. "I think I shall stay away from the bloody game for awhile." Snape smoothed out the parchments, incanting silently a spell that would keep the ends from snapping back into a tight scroll.

Snape tapped the first set of plans that pictured Hogwarts with a slim finger. "If the Dark Lord comes for Harry, Hogwarts, I think you would agree, is the most likely place for a battleground. You, yourself told me that Tom Riddle always looked upon the school as his home. Hogwarts also would be an important political jewel in his proverbial crown were he to control it."

Dumbledore linked his hands loosely behind his back as he leaned over the table. He then unlinked them, adjusted his spectacles, and looped the fingers of one hand into his beard. "I have never doubted that Tom might try to take Hogwarts, Severus. Please continue."

"Hogwarts is guarded very well by layers of secure wards. There are internal wards in place throughout the castle, many of which were placed there by the Founders." Snape glanced at the Headmaster. "I know you do know most of this, but just hear me out, Albus. The Dark Lord, like any student that attended Hogwarts, knows of these protections. We know of several incidents in which he has tested these wards and I strongly believe he will continue to do so. Part of our plan for luring him to Hogwarts is to set up a believable incident that weakens the outer wards."

Dumbledore's hand grasped Snape's wrist. "That would be folly, my boy!"

Snape smiled lightly, and knowingly. "Not quite. Let me divert for a moment. I have become acquainted with an interesting artifact my son received as a questionable gift from two identical Weasley baboons in his third year. Lupin tells me you're aware of it. The Marauder's Map?"

"Ah. That explains quite a bit. I understood that Mr. Filch was in possession of that ingenious bit of parchment?"

"Apparently not. Whatever it's history has been of late, it was vital in identifying Peter Pettigrew as Ronald's rat. It has also shown us an impressive network of hidden tunnels and rooms, one of which is the Chamber of Secrets, that would be beneficial to defending Hogwarts and turning the castle into a veritable trap for the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. I have spoken with Lupin and Black who can duplicate portions of the map and also secure the duplicates so that no one outside of the Order can use one."

"The wards, Severus. You would not weaken the interior wards?" asked the Headmaster dubiously.

"Not quite. Our ruse of weakening the outer wards would simply be that, an illusion. It is our intent that once the Dark Lord steps within the boundary of the wards, they are strengthened to the point that any who are with him are trapped." Snape went through the various pieces of parchment until he found a smaller one that had what appeared to be Hogwarts surrounded by a colourful, woven abstract.

"Credit this to my little Know-it-all, Hermione, Albus, and be thankful she's on our side. As you can tell, these are all the layers of wards surrounding Hogwarts. These marks indicate where the wards intersect with the wards surrounding Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest."

Albus lifted the smaller piece of parchment and his hands shook slightly as he held it. "Severus, only I, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, know all the wards that surround the castle. How did that child discern this?"

"As I overheard Black once say, the girl is the brightest witch of her age. Hermione already has an innate talent for deciphering wards and breaking them. She broke into my lab at Billeghdonn Cove and broke a very complicated sealing ward on one of my most dangerous Dark Arts books." Albus bushy eyebrows rose at this. "The girl is a Houdini, Headmaster."

Albus chuckled and stroked his beard. "Even so, Severus, I have known other Houdinis and Miss Granger couldn't have produced this without some help."

Snape tapped the map of wards. "Ley Line Magic, Albus. In the hands of a female, it is formidable magic and Hermione has discovered aspects of the old magic that surprised even my wife. The girl, when she tapped into the Ley Lines beneath the castle learned that Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff had connected some of those wards directly to the crossed Ley Lines. Hermione, using her connection to the Ley Lines, was able to trace every single ward within and without Hogwarts."

The Headmaster paled somewhat as he realised how intelligent a witch the Muggle-born Hermione was. Snape took the parchment from the Headmaster and tapped it with his wand. They watched as the wards on the map shimmered slightly and a wide portion thinned.

"This is how the wards can appear weakened, Albus. Those are the particular wards connected to the Ley Lines. That hole is created by essentially lowering the power of the wards in that area. Like a dying ember in a fireplace. The power can be easily lowered so that the Dark Lord and his minions can come through. It can then be snapped back into place, thus trapping them inside the boundaries of Hogwarts. The wards, will of course, keep them from Disapparating, and Disillusionment charms will be useless as well. Lastly, we'll add a final ward which will disable their portkeys. The only portkeys that will work, will be ours."

"Ingenious, Severus! Now, what about the younger children? How do you propose to keep them safe?"

Snape put aside the ward map, and they went back to the main schematic.

"Hermione and Luna will be in charge of taking all the first through third years here." Dumbledore leaned closer to see where Snape was pointing. The older wizard squinted at the small lettering. "The Marauder's Map showed us Rowena Ravenclaw's old workrook beneath Ravenclaw tower. It's immense, Albus. We couldn't get in, at first, but Harry and Luna discovered a cipher book at the rear of the fireplace in Ravenclaw tower that was the key to Rowena's complex wards. The workroom is extremely well protected and the younger children will be safe there."

Dumbledore perused the various parchments that illustrated different plans for defending Hogwarts and for conducting the battle defenses. For several long moments both men went over the parchments while Dumbledore pointed out minute weaknesses and areas of the castle that not even the Marauder's Map knew of.

"What's this notation about the house elfs, Severus?" the Headmaster pointed to a notation near the kitchen.

"Lyrica reminded us that the house elfs are a completely untapped source of magical power. They are pledged to protect Hogwarts and the children. Dobby will be in charge of a contingent of house elfs that will apparate amongst the Death Eaters as snipers."

"Snipers?"