Severus Snape, Potion's Master, Head of the Noble House of Slytherin, Master Spy, and all-around Snarky Git, could not recall the last time he had been so humiliated and taken for such a fool.

"As if my life has not become complicated enough," Severus growled under his breath.

At present, he was striding back to his quarters through the ill lit and dankly cool dungeons after a rather unpleasant meeting with the Headmaster. The violence of his billowing robes was an outward manifestation of his rapidly growing frustration.

How on earth the senile old coot had manipulated Severus into agreeing to his plans was totally beyond the Potions Master. If it wasn't for the Headmaster's overt favouritism for the House of the Lion, one would swear that Albus Dumbledore, champion of all things Gryffindorish, was in all actuality, a Slytherin.

Albus was all too aware of Severus' sense of honour, and had no qualms what so ever about using it to his advantage. Tagged along with Severus' loyalty to the old wizard, there was not much the Headmaster could not ask of the man.

"I should have been a Bloody Hufflepuff," Severus muttered to himself.

He stopped abruptly at that comment. He was in the shock that he had actually verbalised it, as the vague memory of the Sorting Hat actually considering that very notion snuck itself into his consciousness. Severus growled even deeper as he silently cursed his mentor, as if Albus had actually made the suggestion himself.

Well, that little jaunt down memory lane certainly did nothing to improve Severus' mood. He shoved that memory behind his shields with all the contempt it deserved. He then continued to his quarters at an even quicker pace, as if trying to outrun the day's unpleasantness. His ebony robes billowing so madly, he looked as a passing thunder storm, and felt every bit like one too.

He couldn't help but to wonder what the hell he had gotten himself into.

Only two hours prior, Severus was in his private lab nestled in his quarters. He was anxious to complete the potions that Poppy would need for the following term. Severus wanted to make sure that his summer school obligations were met and at least that burden taken off of his shoulders before his life descended into total chaos.

Severus was in the process of cleaning his store room in preparation for the new potions he would soon be brewing. He foreswore his usual robes in favour of a black linen shirt, with his sleeves rolled up past his forearms and black linen trousers. His mark was blazoned on his left forearm. It was something he had to become re-accustomed to.

The mark had been dormant for fourteen years-invisible to the naked eye...until this past spring, when it literally became painfully obvious reminder that he Dark Lords return was indeed imminent. Severus was certain he wasn't the only one who had nearly forgotten its existence. He had willingly taken the mark, and though he had never been ashamed of his reasons, he had forever regretted them. He hated having the Mark stare at him-reminding him constantly of his sins. As if Severus hadn't constantly reminded himself enough. But he work was doing was dirty and sweaty, and there was no reason he could not be comfortable in his own quarters. There was little he could do to keep the Mark from controlling his fate...but Severus was determined to win some battles, no matter how small or immaterial.

Whilst engaging in the mindless chore he allowed himself the luxury of letting his thoughts wander. It had only been a few short weeks since the most dreaded fear amongst the Wizarding world had come to pass. The Dark Lord had returned to his corporal form.

Ironically, nobody was more terrorised about this development than Riddle's former minions. Those surviving Death Eaters that had managed to stay out of Azkaban had, for the most part, settled down into relatively normal and mundane lives. Many still had the old Darwinian prejudices concerning purebloods-vs.-half-blood and Wizard-vs.-Muggle. But those who had half a brain cell kept these ideas tightly ensconced in their small, tight and exclusive circles, mostly out of fear of retribution from the general populace.

Even Lucius Malfoy was not exactly thrilled about the prospect of playing Chief Brown-noser and Arse-kisser once again to his newly arisen master. Malfoy had been quite content to play Chief Brown-noser and Arse-kisser to the Ministry, thank you very much, as long as it was beneficial to his quest for political power. After all, why raise a sweat with violent bloodletting about the countryside when one could achieve the same goal by manipulation from within the system.

After the Chamber of Secrets incident just over two years ago, Severus had made a point to find out what Lucius' true intentions were. Severus had been invited to afternoon tea the following week. After tedious and long winded tirades about the ineptitude of the Headmaster and the audacity of Potter releasing his house elf, (Severus could not help but to chuckle internally at that little prank. It was a plot worthy of a Slytherin, but he would cut out his own tongue before confessing that to a soul) Lucius finally confessed his motives behind Riddle's diary.

Malfoy's intentions were far from the resurrection of the Dark Lord. Lucius was unaware of the significance of the Riddle diary. His aim was to discredit Arthur Weasley after all of his embarrassing raids on homes (especially his home) in search of dark objects that summer.

Weasley would be hard pressed to explain how a personal possession of the Dark Lord ended up in the hands of his youngest child and in all honesty, Lucius and confided that he was glad to be rid of it.

It was Malfoy's house elf, Dobby, who recognised the object for what it truly was. Elf magic was little understood by the Wizarding world. When Lucius refused to listen when his servant tried to warn him about the significance of the diary, Dobby took it upon himself to warn Potter, knowing that it would eventually be Potter who would ultimately be the target of the evil that dwelled within the tome.

Unfortunately, bound as he was to the Malfoy's, Dobby was unable to give any specific details of the dangers that threatened the school that year. His master had purposely put the book into the possession of Ms Weasley. Dobby was duty bound to keep the existence of the diary secret, so the elf's warnings were cryptic and ultimately misunderstood.

Malfoy had no idea of the diary's connection with the chamber or the monster that waited within. He had no desire to release a Basilisk...of all creatures. After all, his only son attended Hogwarts. Although Muggleborns were the targets, who's to say that the occasional pureblood would not fall victim to the beast.

Fortunately for Lucius, he was not intent upon the resurrection of the Dark Lord. If he was, Albus would have dragged Malfoy to Azkaban himself and demanded the Dementors Kiss then and there.

"Hell hath no fury like Albus Dumbledore when he's truly in a snit," Minerva had been known to say.

As for Severus, he had no delusions about the Dark Lords disappearance. He knew the the Dark Lord had somehow insured himself against death. Just because he did not understand how, did not make it any less true.

He had warned Albus about the possibility of the Dark Lord's return being sooner rather than later. As his once faded and dormant scar slowly came to life, Severus knew that all hell would soon break loose. He had been mentally and physically preparing himself ever since Crouch Jr. had cast the first Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup the previous summer.

Though Severus has always been a powerful and skilled Occlumens, he knew that he would need to hone his skills before he could again face The Dark Lord as a spy. The Headmaster had been instrumental in helping him to do so. Severus was actually the more powerful Occlumens, but Albus' skills as a Leglilmens rivalled the Dark Lord's. And although Albus would not mention it until the deed was done, Snape knew the day would come when he would be asked to resume his duties as a spy. He had hoped that the day would be later as opposed to sooner. Oh well...sucks to be him.

Before Potter had returned from the graveyard, Severus knew. He had not actually been in attendance for the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. At the time he was in his personal chambers, pacing. For the first time in fourteen years, he was frightened. He could feel through his Mark that the time for the Dark Lord's imminent return was drawing nigh. He did not wish for anyone to see the pain and fear that he knew he could not completely hide.

When his Mark began to burn with the summons, Severus ran down to the Quidditch pitch to inform the Headmaster only to come face to face with the unimaginable. The Diggory boy was dead. Potter was inconsolable, protecting the older boy's body whilst screaming about the Dark Lord's return through his uncontrollable sobs.

For a fleeting moment, Severus felt sympathy for Potter. He would now become the focal point of the Dark Lord's rage. It was not an enviable position to be in.

Severus found it more than a little disconcerting to know that he too, would most likely meet a sticky end at the hands of the demented megalomaniac. Whatever that end may be, he was far from naïve-it would be most... unpleasant.

But the game was now afoot. Along with potion making and class preparation, he was going to have to balance his time between meetings with The Order and Death Eaters.

"Does anyone else have these worries," he moaned to himself. Severus very much doubted it.

He did not exactly know how his part would play out. However he did know this much, he would play is role well, and play out it until the bitter end.

Severus was eyeing an old phial of sleeping draught, checking it for colour, when he heard his Floo come to life in the sitting room. "Severus?" he heard Albus' disembodied voice call out.

Severus came out of the lab with the phial still in hand. "Yes, Headmaster?" he said with an all-suffering sigh of someone who had been frequently annoyed by such interruptions.

"Would you please meet me in my office at your earliest convenience?" Albus asked. His eyes were sparkling all the more through the flames of the Floo.

The Headmasters request sounded innocent enough, but Severus knew that it interpreted as, "Make yourself presentable and make haste; I have another favour to ask of you."

Severus gave an exaggerated huff, "If it is not urgent, I only have another fifteen minutes before I'm finished here. Give me a chance to freshen up and I will be there shortly."

"Fair enough, my boy. I'll expect you in a half-hour," Dumbledore's vanished from his fire.

"Lemon drop, Severus?" Albus was shaking the little tin, offering it to Severus from across his desk.

Severus raised his eyebrow and intoned dryly, "Albus, for all of your alleged wisdom, one would think that after all of these years, you would come to realise that I despise lemon drops."

Albus then poured out the tea then passed Severus his cup. "Then you will simply have to enlighten me as to what sweets you do prefer Severus," he gave Severus a cheeky smile. The Headmaster never stopped trying to elicit a response from Severus.

Severus took the proffered cup and rolled his eyes in exasperation "I assume you have something of importance to discuss with me Headmaster—other than my lack of a sweet-tooth?"

"Yes, always straight to the point aren't you, my dear boy," Albus settled himself in his ornate desk chair directly across from his Potions Master. He took a sip of his tea, looked at Severus before he bluntly said, "I need you to teach Harry Potter Occlumency this summer."

The timing couldn't have been worse. Severus had been sipping is own tea when Dumbledore's words hit him. It was as though he had been gut-checked. His body violently threw itself forward as Severus sprayed his tea right into his mentor's face.

"Come again, Headmaster?" Severus inquired, practically choking on the words and embarrassed at his reaction to them. He wondered if his last Crucio at the hands of the Dark Lord had somehow affected his hearing.

Far from being taken aback, the Headmaster simply spelled himself clean and chuckled, "Your reaction would indicate that you heard me perfectly well, Severus. And as I do not desire another shower at the present time, I will refrain from repeating myself."

Albus then looked up from what he was doing, those damnable blue eyes still twinkling, peering directly at Severus. "Though I must say you took my request far better than I initially thought you would."

Damn right he took Dumbledore's 'request' well. Had it been anyone else suggesting that he impart his precious knowledge on the Potter spawn he'd well…well he did not know how he would react. But it would be one damn nasty curse, you bet. Severus damned himself for being rendered speechless in his own head.

Severus flung himself into a squishy armchair by his Floo and pouted. "I'm not pouting!" he tried to convince himself. It did not work.

He had thrown every argument against teaching Occlumency to Potter at the Headmaster and the old man still managed to get his way.

Severus first tried by suggesting that Potter did not have the intelligence to learn the art.

The Headmaster pointed out the boy did relatively well in most of his subjects and was by no means anywhere near the bottom of his class.

Severus scoffed at that, but acquiesced the point nonetheless.

Then Severus argued that he would not have the spare time due to the fact that he must replenish Poppy's potions supply before term began.

The Headmaster countered that Poppy was qualified to brew most of the potions herself, and what she could not, well the school could purchase some of the more common medicinal potions (that made Severus' pride cringe).

Then Severus thought he had the coup-de-grace. "Albus, for Occlumency to be taught and learned effectively, there must be a certain intimacy. More like something akin to a master and apprentice relationship. I am afraid there is far too much animosity between Potter and myself for your suggestion to ever work."

That was when Albus went in for the kill. "That is why I intend to bring Harry to Hogwarts for the remainder of the summer, so the two of you may have a chance to bond."

"Bond with Potter?" Severus jeered, "That's about as bloody likely as Lucius Malfoy inviting the Granger girl's parents to the manor for tea and scones."

Albus simply smiled and popped another bloody lemon drop. "Anything is possible, Severus."

"Even if I was willing to take on such an idiotic venture-and I am not," Severus pointedly added, " Potter will never agree to your asinine scheme."

"We shall see, Severus...We shall see."

Now safely ensconced in his private chambers, away from the twisted schemes of ancient wizards and their bloody lemon drops, Severus wandlessly summoned a bottle of Johnny Walker Red (the Muggle elixir was much finer than anything Wizard or Elf made) and crystal tumbler. He poured himself two fingers of the amber liquid and downed it in one swallow.

He sat for a moment with his elbow propped on the arm of the chair and holding the glass to his forehead as he grimaced whilst the liquid burned its way down his throat until the pain eventually numbed.

He slammed the glass onto the small round end table. "Sometimes," he said aloud to whatever gods that ventured to care and bend an ear, "I truly hate my life!"