Chapter 44

A Brand New Thorn

xxx

"You want me to agree."

Albus Dumbledore peered over his spectacles at the dark haired man sitting in front of him whose expression was rife with skepticism and incredulity. His eyebrows lifted as Severus thrust himself from his chair and resumed the pacing he'd been requested to cease only moments before.

"You are incredible, Albus," Severus muttered under his breath, barely audible. "You realize what you are asking of me? He cannot be trusted; I can assure you of this! To train him... to teach him the art of deceit... it's a suicide mission, Headmaster!"

"Simply allow me to remind you that he has requested your counsel," replied Dumbledore slowly, steepling his fingers under his chin. "To deny him such a request is to demonstrate doubt in him... which may either diminish his usefulness to Voldemort, or push Kinnaird towards loyalty to the wrong side. We must play our cards very carefully, Severus. Even if we are to remain wary of his true intentions, which, I might add, I believe to be quite noble, we must maintain the illusion that we've placed utter faith in him."

"Surely, Albus, there are other ways—"

"But none better," stated Dumbledore firmly. "No one is more difficult to convince than you, Severus. To this day, you remain the most obstinate, cynical, taciturn man I've had the pleasure of knowing—"

"Please, Albus, you should know by now that mere flattery carries little weight with me."

"— and to earn your trust speaks volumes about the person in question. I do not ask you to place complete faith in the boy. But you did know him once, and thought highly of him. Surely, he cannot be that far gone. He respects you, Severus, or he would not have asked for your help. Your confidence in him will draw him closer to our cause, and reinforce Voldemort's confidence in him. And as you know, the more confidence Voldemort holds in him, the more information he will be able to glean for us. Your cooperation is vital, Severus. You wish to do something worthy for the cause; this is your opportunity."

Stopping in front of the fireplace, Severus crossed his arms and watched the flames flickering across each other. "And if he asks me something that I can't answer?"

"You've been my spy for years," Albus said quietly, rising from his chair. "I have no doubt that you will handle any situation that arises with admirable finesse."

A snort escaped Severus, and he glanced darkly over his shoulder. "Yes, quite a convenient setup you've arranged here," he said quietly.

"It's not as simplistic as you see it," said Dumbledore gently, in the patronizing way that made Severus cringe.

"Oh, but to the contrary, Albus, I see quite clearly," responded Severus in an astoundingly placid tone of voice.

"Severus?"

The dark man did not respond for several moments; finally, he turned and crossed the room in several long strides, arriving in front of Dumbledore's desk. "You wish to kill several proverbial birds with one extraordinary stone. Harry will certainly feel bolstered by the idea of another person placing his father out of danger, while I will be distracted from attempts of chivalry with another pet project to consider, and Kinnaird will take the weight of this responsibility and turn into a replacement for me. Very clever, Albus. Very clever indeed."

"Is that the issue you take with this, then, Severus?" questioned Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair and gazing at Severus with an air of observance. "You are threatened by the idea that another man could fill your former position?

Severus' eyes flickered to the ground before he raised his head in order to meet Dumbledore's eyes once again.

"Threatened is rather strong," Severus admitted, gaze unwavering. "Doubtful would be my word of choice."

"You don't believe Kinnaird has the same ability," Dumbledore responded.

A dark chuckle erupted from Severus' throat, and he shook his head. "It's not ability I am concerned with, Albus; I could teach him what I know. It is his intent. His will. What is his incentive? There must be more than simple desire to turn from the dark... there must be a driving force. Something that takes precedent above all that a true spy must endure. I believe he lacks the real motivation, in short."

"And what of your motivation, Severus?"

Severus hesitated before he answered, carefully evaluating the Headmaster's closed expression. "I am unsure what you are asking me, sir," he responded at length, draping his arms over the sides of the chair and waiting patiently for Dumbledore's answer.

"What sort of motivation did you have when you came to me?"

"You know exactly my motivation—"

"Severus," said Dumbledore sharply, his airy expression suddenly becoming quite serious. "Do not waste our time by avoiding my question. All that I require is an answer."

"I..." Severus opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but as Dumbledore slid his half-mooned spectacles off of his crooked nose and stared at him with something akin to chastisement, he reluctantly answered. "What the Dark Lord did to Lily, and to others... it was unnecessary evil. I felt guilty for having taken part in it."

Dumbledore gave a singular nod. "And when you first came to me, all I required of you was that admission. On faith alone, I gave you the second chance that you most certainly had not earned at the time. Tell me, what would have become of you if I had not allowed you that chance?"

"I am... not entirely certain," replied Severus, dark eyes contemplative. "I may have continued on the path that I was on... or I might have been killed."

"Precisely the scenarios I have described for Kinnaird should you deny him the help he has sought."

Dumbledore's acute statement punctuated the train of Severus' thought, and his eyes moved immediately to the Headmaster's, realization reaching the surface of the dark depths. A tense silence descended upon the room as Dumbledore watched Severus intently, the latter staring into the flames of the hearth as he contemplated the situation before him.

"You are certain this is the only way for him to succeed?"

"From what intelligence I have gathered, Riddle is being much more careful since his discovery of your betrayal. His Death Eaters are under greater scrutiny and must adhere to even stricter standards than before. Kinnaird has risked his very life by daring to speak to either one of us; I do not believe he would do so if he were not very serious about turning from that side. I have already issued an invitation for him to teach at Hogwarts, and Voldemort is very suspicious of my purposes. Kinnaird will need your instruction if he is to succeed at pulling the proverbial wool over Voldemort's eyes when he is already convinced that someone will try to do so." Dumbledore paused, and when Severus did not respond, he added, "Also... I believe that if we are able to convince Voldemort that Kinnaird has the ability to get close to you, he will have added value. The focus will be placed on you rather than on suspicion of Kinnaird's intent."

Severus returned his gaze to the man in front of him and blinked several times before saying flatly, "So I am now the sacrificial lamb?"

"Don't be dramatic, Severus," replied Dumbledore, frowning. "You were perfectly willing to place yourself on the alter when you were my spy. This is hardly different."

Severus snorted and shook his head. "It's not the same, Albus, and you know it."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes and folded his hands in his lap, leaning back in his chair. Noticing the subtle change in his expression, Severus asked keenly, "Why are you looking at me like that, Albus?"

"I am merely wondering what has changed to bring about this reluctance," replied Dumbledore easily, though his nonchalance did little to fool Severus. He understood that Dumbledore rarely spoke without precise intent, no matter how serene he appeared.

"And your suspicion is?" asked Severus dryly, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

"You've become quite attached to Harry, haven't you Severus?"

"Oh, don't be absurd!" Severus snapped, unable to reign in a burst of annoyance before it escaped him. "Of course, Albus, I've come to view him as a father should his son. But quit this blasted analysis and listen to what I am saying to you. I do not trust Kinnaird and I do not wish to place my life, my position, and my son on the line in order to aid him in whatever his intentions may be! I require some more solid proof!"

"I have told you, I believe him to be—"

"Your judgment is not unerring!"

"Thank you, Severus, for that astute assessment." The response came in clipped tones and filled the short silence that had elapsed, sounding almost foreign to the atmosphere.

A long sigh escaped Severus as he moved a pale hand over the length of his face, leaning back in his chair. "I do not wish to fight with you, Albus," he intoned wearily, turning his head so that his dark hair obscured most of his expression.

"Nor I with you," responded Dumbledore. He did not elaborate, and the two sat in silence for some while, Severus with his gaze trained on the shadows dancing upon the floor in front of the hearth, Dumbledore watching the man in question.

"I must be getting back to Harry," said Severus, glancing at the clock mounted above Dumbledore's desk. He rose slowly from his chair, wincing as his back gave an audible pop, and moved to where a jar of Floo powder sat on the mantel. "It has been a long night and I am tired, and he will be awake in a few hours time."

"Of course," replied Dumbledore, rising from his seat and moving to where Severus stood. "Severus, I only ask that you consider what I have said."

"I always do," replied Severus reservedly, jaw tight as he fisted the powder, ready to depart. "That doesn't mean, however, that I see any merit in the idea. I will meet with you again at the end of the week and discuss my decision with you."

"I know I depend on you far too much," said Dumbledore, halting Severus as he moved into the fireplace. He did not turn to face Dumbledore, but waited. The older man did not continue, however, and after a moment, Severus replied quietly:

"That you do, Albus. That you do." With this final statement, he released his handful of Floo powder and disappeared in a torrent of green flame, leaving a stricken Headmaster in his wake.

xxx

A squeal escaped Hermione as she ducked behind Harry, a large chunk of marble whipping past her head and shattering against the wall behind her. Her immediate response afterward was to latch onto Harry's collar and tug him to the side of the room, a much safer location from which to observe. Harry, unharmed with the exception of Hermione's attempted strangulation, turned to look on. His eyebrows lifted as he took in the sight of the stone Griffin with its head blasted clear off. His eyes lingered for only a moment before his father's shout of rage dragged his attention back to the two men standing in the middle of the dueling ring.

"Fucking hell, Kinnaird, you're supposed to be aiming at me, not the architecture!"

"I don't think I've ever heard the Professor swear like that before," Hermione whispered to Harry, who chuckled.

"Well, what am I supposed to do when you throw up a rebound shield right before I cast my curse?" countered Kinnaird, wand arm dangling at his side as he stared at Severus incredulously.

"Most rebound shields are good for only one curse at a time," responded Severus, vexation ebbing as he reluctantly switched to lecture mode. "If you are able to process which shield your opponent is using at such a moment when you are unable to cancel the curse, I would suggest the immediate erection of another shield. If the curse cast is strong enough to have an effect on your opponent by the time it breaks the barrier of two shields, then I might try another rebound. If not, choose a strong shield that will withstand several rounds of hexing, because the time it takes to form a defensive spell will allow your opponent more time to fire an offensive one."

"Fascinating," whispered Hermione, trotting over to where her bound parchment lay abandoned on the stone bench they had just abandoned. Flipping to the middle as she moved back to join Harry, she pulled her everlasting quill from the back pocket of her fading muggle trousers and jotted down what the Professor had just said.

"Taught me that last month," Harry muttered under his breath to his friend, who was ignoring him in favour of her self-made notebook. Looking down and realizing she was paying little attention, he grasped her shoulders and directed her back to the side of the duelling pitch.

"Yes, well, that's all very well," responded Kinnaird, irritation edging its way into his tone, "but last I checked, defensive shields don't counter the killing curse. I would much rather spend the energy on offensive spells—"

"Oh don't be thick," snapped Severus, throwing his arms up in frustration. "Not every curse headed your way is going to be a killing curse; even if it were, you should be so lucky."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means that if the Wizard whom you are battling is aiming to kill you so easily, then no amount of fighting is going to help you if you don't know how to defend yourself first and foremost. Considering the skill level of most of the Wizards whom you may be facing, the defensive spells that block offending hexes will benefit you far more than the few offensive spells you have time to cast." Kinnaird opened his mouth to argue, but Severus cut him off quickly. "Especially," added Snape, cutting him off smoothly and pointing one long index finger in Kinnaird's direction, "since your opponents will be using their own sets of defensive spells. It's highly unlikely many of your offensive spells will hit the mark. It is better to avoid the weakness your enemies will most certainly inflict on you in favour of having the strength to escape; your arrogance will get you nowhere, Kinnaird. You must recognize that those who will seek to undo you will often be of a much higher skill level, magically."

A growl of frustration escaped Kinnaird and he shook his head, crossing his arms. "I thought that the point of this was for you to teach me better techniques of espionage. Occlumency. Legilimancy. The creation and administration of potions. I can duel well enough already."

Severus' eyes narrowed; to the side of him, Hermione and Harry immediately sat in synchronization, watching with intent interest. Hermione's eyes were wide, chin rested on her palm; Harry wore a smirk, shaking his head slowly.

"Tell me, Kinnaird, do you think I enjoy wasting my time?"

"Are you calling me a waste of time?" asked Kinnaird angrily.

"Oh, grow up," spat Severus. "What I'm telling you is that there is little point in investing hours of time into teaching you skills you won't live long enough to use. You told me you were a skilled duellist. I asked you to demonstrate for me. That was two months ago, Kinnaird, and you've yet to impress me. When you do, we will move on. I'm hoping that will be before the end of exams in June. Do you think you might manage to make a bit more improvement within the next three months?"

A dark laugh came from Kinnaird; tongue in cheek, he nodded his head slowly, expression dubious. "Unbelievable," he muttered, looking away from his mentor. "I still can't believe Dumbledore lets you teach children. I can do without the ridicule, thanks. I'm done for today."

"You would do well to remember that I am doing you a favour!" Severus shouted at Kinnaird's retreating back, fury evident in his eyes. As Kinnaird slammed the door to the Room of Requirement behind him, Severus' gaze shifted to Harry and Hermione, who were staring at him apprehensively. His eyes narrowed further and he opened his mouth to snap at them, but thought better of it as the words started to leave his lips and snapped it shut again.

Correctly reading his expression as one of warning, Hermione was the first to rise, subtly tugging Harry upward as she did. "I just remembered," she said hurriedly, nudging Harry as she gathered her things, apparently expecting him to do the same. "There's a big... erm... Charms project due this week, and we haven't even started. Harry," she said pointedly, as he stared at her in obvious confusion, "we should be leaving."

Harry frowned in confusion, and said, "Wait, we have a Charms project?"

"Yes, Harry, we do," Hermione said, grabbing her closed bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Come on."

Severus' dark eyes followed the two teenagers from the room; he waited until several moments after the door was closed to direct a well-aimed kick at the bench beside him, flinging it over onto its side. It had been many months now that he had been trying to instill the same principles on Kinnaird over and over again. He was truly tiring of it, especially when Kinnaird became cocky enough to provide a rebuttal to his criticisms. It wasn't that Kinnaird's arguments ever held any validity; it was the mere fact he possessed the nerve to defy him. And what was more, watching Kinnaird was making Harry more arrogant. Lately, Harry had taken to talking back quite a bit, making Severus question the intelligence in keeping Harry present for Kinnaird's training sessions.

The problem was, Severus knew that Kinnaird possessed knowledge of Dark Arts that he could never allow Harry to learn; he had hopes that his own instruction would help Harry to defend himself in the coming years against Wizards with such knowledge. Severus had begun training him around the same time as Kinnaird, making sure to keep the boy one step ahead, privately instructing the boy to take note of Kinnaird's strengths and weaknesses. His fear was that when Kinnaird took his place at Hogwarts the following year, Voldemort would ask him to go after Harry. He was unsure if it was paranoia, a consequence of his strengthening ties to his son, or logic that was causing this fear, but he didn't intend to sit idly by.

One thing was certain: Voldemort had certainly been quiet lately, and considering his fondness for striking at the end of the year, Severus wondered if he wasn't concentrating all of his efforts into the coordination of an attack. He had failed several times now. As a consequence (and as Severus had repeatedly told his arrogant son, who lately didn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation this placed him in) Voldemort was beginning to understand Harry, and the Death Eaters were familiar with his fighting techniques. Severus had been working with him to diversify his range of capabilities, but there was only so much he could do with school in session and another man to train.

Harry and Kinnaird didn't dislike each other, per se, but neither of them seemed inclined to become bosom buddies. Severus didn't mind. As far as he was concerned, Harry needed to maintain as distant a relationship with him as possible or Voldemort would use their closeness to his advantage. He had understood this imperative notion during his own spying days; whenever Voldemort had asked him to directly interfere with Harry or asked a question about him, Severus always had the excuse on hand that Harry and he were not close and to ask anything of the boy could draw unwanted attention from the Headmaster.

Of course, that excuse had lost its effectiveness when Voldemort had learned that Harry was his son. Never had Severus experienced such relief and disappointment at the same time as when he had been forced to quit spying for the Order. Despite his feelings on the issue, however, it was over and done with, and he understood the necessity of having a spy. He simply didn't understand the necessity of allowing a man with such a role access to the halls of Hogwarts, the living place of the boy-who-lived.

Severus knew he could only keep his best secrets for so long; Kinnaird was getting impatient, and the Headmaster had been hinting not-so-subtly that he knew the reasons why Severus was putting off teaching Kinnaird more than basic dueling strategy. There was truth in what Severus had repeatedly told his trainee, but as he and Dumbledore both knew, it wasn't the reason.

Severus cast a glance around the area he'd laid out for dueling. The room of requirement certainly provided an excellent arena on its own, but there were certain things that he required for training that the room didn't provide. Gathering the satchel of items that he would save from use until the next session, Severus wearily eyed the marble Griffin that had its head blasted off and was struck by the irony of it. When he left the room, it would instantly renew itself, ready for the next duel. He, on the other hand, was not afforded the same luxury.

Grimacing as he reached up to tug at his jaw, loosening the muscles knotted deep in his neck, Severus started towards the Headmaster's office.

xxx

"Kinnaird's getting more and more cheeky every session," Harry said quietly to Hermione as they strolled through the vacant library.

"He is," Hermione agreed quietly as they strolled through the empty library. "I would give the Professor some time to calm down before you go to ask him about that Potions assignment."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, unable to keep the resentful edge out of his voice. Well intending as his friend was, he privately thought that she had a little too much to say on the subject of him and his Father. It was annoying to him that she sometimes presumed to understand Snape more than he did... and more troublesome was the voice in the back of his head saying that it was entirely possible she did.

"So I was thinking," said Hermione, raising her voice just slightly so that she could be heard over the muffled thump of her bag as she dropped it on the library table. Beginning to unpack her books, she glanced at Harry to affirm that he was paying attention and continued. "We've got a busy few weeks approaching us, but that's no reason to fall into the trap of procrastination."

"Isn't this something Ron should be present for?" groaned Harry, leaning back in his chair and covering his face with a tattered edition of the Daily Prophet. On the front of the paper, authorities stood around the home of Auror Leon Williamson, inside of which was a very grim crime scene. Currently, it was the last of a series of attacks on Ministry officials and their families. Harry had been obsessing over the information available to him, hoping to see some sort of pattern and have a sense of when another would occur.

"Harry, take that off your face at once," demanded Hermione, though her tone of voice was gentle. She seemed to sense Harry's preoccupation.

Harry knew very well that he'd been acting out of sorts for the past few weeks and that his friends and father had been showing admirable restraint in the face of his churlishness, and so he complied. He folded his week-old paper and placed it on the table, straightened his posture and placed both feet on the floor in front of him, resting his chin on a fist and waiting attentively.

"Alright," he sighed, putting his best effort into a grin for his friend, "Tell me your plan to combat procrastination."

With a fleeting smile, Hermione pulled a colourful chart from between the pages of the book she was holding and held it up for him to see. At once his expression twisted into one of distaste.

"Oh, don't make that face," chastised Hermione playfully, placing a hand on her hip. "It's not like the charts I made you and Ron last year. It's more of a proposal, really."

"A proposal?" questioned Harry, drawing his brows together. "Explain."

"Well," said Hermione with an air of introduction, "You told me last week that Professor Snape mentioned you are becoming accomplished enough in the area of dueling to begin working on other tasks. If he plans to continue dueling, that means more time spent training. Combined with the increased demands of our courses at the end of the year, you're going to be under a lot of pressure."

"Yes, thank you for reminding me," remarked Harry dryly.

"You're very welcome, Professor Snape Jr, but I'm not finished," responded Hermione good-naturedly. Her pleasant expression dulled slightly as she inhaled deeply and cast a glance around, raising her wand. "Muffliato," she said quietly, though there was no one within sight. "This is something I've given a lot of thought to, and this is my result. It is a plan of consolidation... not only for you, but for the Professor and me as well. The trouble is going to be convincing him that it's worth following.

"The Alcruor Prosapia is requiring more dedication every day the brewing process continues. If we could convince him that the time spent on the potion can double as time spent training, it will require less time from all of us. With the exception of the incantations, I'm certainly capable of tending to the mundane aspects of brewing while he is otherwise occupied. If he spent even half the time he spends supervising that potion on training with you, it would certainly cut down on the amount of time he must dedicate to each separate task. Also, it is possible that Mr. Kinnaird could be your dueling partner rather than the Professor."

"Hermione," said Harry carefully, grimacing as he struggled to choose the right words. "This is all well and good... But Kinnaird doesn't even know I'm training. And you know my Dad is nothing if not proud. He'll be offended if we even suggest—"

"I know, Harry," said Hermione. "Which is why we have to make him believe this was his idea."

There was a pause, and then a sigh. "He'll know from the moment we enter the room what we're up to."

"Harry—"

"You know I'm right, Hermione."

"I think you're being a bit pessimistic," responded Hermione somewhat patronizingly, tilting her head to the side. "We have a brewing session with him this coming weekend. I will casually demonstrate my familiarity with the potion, you will bring your homework and spend the entire time working, and I will mention my concern over when we will find the time for exams."

"Hermione, I think you're forgetting something."

A look of confusion crossed Hermione's face, and her eyes drifted upwards as she tried to recall what she had forgotten. A second later, she looked back at Harry, who stated baldly, "You are not a Slytherin."

"Oh," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "I never claimed I was. But who said strategy was exclusive to a certain house? Anyway, if we can't steer him the way we want to perhaps we may propose it directly and he will be interested in negotiation. Don't you always say he's very open to negotiation?"

"Except when he thinks he is the only one who's right... which is most of the time."

"Why are you being like this?" asked Hermione, sounding genuinely annoyed for the first time in their conversation. In all honesty, Harry was a bit surprised it had taken her this long. "It's not as though you are losing anything."

"I just don't see any reason to go through all this trouble so that we'll have a few extra hours to study," explained Harry, folding his arms.

"Have you looked at this?" asked Hermione, waving her chart in his face. "This is not a few extra hours. Follow this plan, spend four days a week training and brewing this potion. Follow the hectic schedule we're currently on and include additions to your training and spend seven days a week. Which sounds better?"

"Are you sure this isn't just a new way to show off for my Dad?" asked Harry, forehead wrinkling as he raised his eyebrows.

A wounded expression crossed Hermione's face. Excitement forgotten, the hand holding up her beloved chart fell limp at her side and she stared at her friend disbelievingly. "I'm just trying to help you," she said quietly. "You're always so tired, and you never—" she drew a shuddering breath, as though she were trying to keep the sad tremble from her voice. "You never smile anymore. I thought... I thought you would appreciate..." She broke off then, apparently not knowing what to say. "Never mind, it doesn't matter," she mumbled, beginning to put everything back into her bag.

"What, Hermione?"

"Nothing," she said more forcefully as she lifted her things from the table.

"Hermione, I wasn't serious," said Harry irritably, to which she scoffed. "Can't you take a joke?"

"You weren't joking," she said, shaking her head and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "And you know it."

"Where are you going?" asked Harry incredulously as she started to walk away.

"To meet Ron, he'll be out of McGonagall's detention soon. You should stay here."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione didn't wait for his response. Huffing, he sat back in his chair, looking around at the wide expanse of empty tables. He was unsure whether he was genuinely becoming irritated with Hermione or simply taking out his other frustrations on her because she was the nearest voluntary victim. Moreover, he was unsure why she was still putting up with it. Sadly, her altruism annoyed him even further, probably because it enhanced his own feelings of guilt.

Slumping forward, Harry rested his forehead on the surface of the table and groaned. Inexplicably, only one distinct thought entered his head: He sure was going to hear it from Ron.

xxx

Severus stood outside of Dumbledore's office, pacing back and forth in front of the door as he waited his turn to speak with the Headmaster. His exasperation was mounting with every turn he took; though he had only been waiting for a few minutes at most, he was unaccustomed to being asked to remain in the hallway while the Headmaster spoke with the likes of Lupin. This was yet another side effect of having lost his position as spy: he had been relegated to the position of doorman while a werewolf sat inside, speaking intimately with Dumbledore. The whole thing was infuriating.

"Thank you, Remus, I will certainly keep that in mind." Dumbledore's voice drifted through the opening as the handle jiggled and the door cracked open.

"No matter at all, Albus," Lupin was saying warmly, causing Severus to roll his eyes and snort. "And remember that I would be willing to contribute whatever you could make use of."

The door opened fully and out stepped a haggard looking Remus Lupin, who returned Severus' sneer with a weary smile. "Severus," he said, inclining his head.

"Lupin," replied Severus stiffly, returning the nod.

"Business as usual, I see," quipped Lupin, referencing Snape's surly look. Behind him, Dumbledore chuckled, to which Snape's glare darkened.

"Indeed."

Lupin sighed and shook his head, giving Dumbledore a small wave and heading for the spiral staircase.

"Come in, Severus," said Dumbledore graciously, welcoming Snape into his office.

Snape strode through the door without comment and Dumbledore closed the door.

"How is the training going, Severus?" asked Dumbledore casually as he moved past Severus towards his desk. The latter looked at him quizzically.

"That is precisely what I am here about, Headmaster," replied Severus carefully, and as Dumbledore turned and gave him a knowing smile, Severus nodded. "I see Kinnaird has already been here."

"He insists that you are purposely sabotaging the lessons," said Dumbledore mildly, settling into his chair. "I assured him he must be mistaken."

Mistaken as Dumbledore might have been, there was no mistaking the hidden question and the hint of suspicion in the statement.

"The boy doesn't listen to a damned thing I say!" snapped Severus, infuriated that the ungrateful young man had the audacity to attempt reporting him to the Headmaster. "I will not enter into another arrangement in which I attempt to instruct an incompetent, arrogant imbecile in the most subtle kinds of magic."

Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted. "Harsh words for the boy you now call son."

"Son or not, those Occlumency sessions were an absolute nightmare, and you know it, Albus," responded Severus confidently, folding his arms. "What Kinnaird is asking me to teach him is more than even that. I must feel confident that he possesses the discipline to take instruction before I even attempt to teach him what he wishes to learn."

"Have you considered, Severus, that you might be approaching this the wrong way?" asked Dumbledore. "I don't understand. You two used to get on so well; you quite enjoyed him as a student."

"Yes, well, that was before he volunteered himself for enslavement, forced me into taxing training sessions and encroached upon the time I should have been spending training my son who is a great deal more valuable to me than someone who may or may not be on our side!"

Dumbledore sighed tiredly and folded his hands atop his desk, closing his eyes. "If you teach him what he is willing to learn, he will listen."

"I won't play by the rules set down by some foolish boy, Albus," replied Severus. "I refuse."

"Then what are we doing here, Severus?" asked Dumbledore, opening his eyes and rising from his desk.

"You requested that I take him up as a trainee, Albus, and I obliged."

"And what good is that to anyone if you are not trying to help the boy? Do this not for my sake but for his."

"Sir?"

"Without you, he will surely fail," said Dumbledore. "He knows this, and it distresses him. I think he is hurt by your refusal to help him and your rejection of him as a mentor. Treat him well, and he will respond in kind."

"Coddling him will not help, Albus."

"But befriending him may."

Severus shook his head in disbelief and looked away; a very small part of him knew that Dumbledore had a valid point, but the larger and more stubborn portions of him refused to bend to the will of Kinnaird. Given the boy's behaviour lately, he seriously doubted his ability to handle something as intricate as espionage. His sense of subtlety had apparently waned since leaving Hogwarts. The Kinnaird he had mentored got what he wanted by being eager to please, but subdued enough in personality that he was not an annoyance. Rather than seeking authority to solve his problems, he had found inventive ways to make things go his way on his own. Now, he had either lost sense of those skills... or Severus had him at wits end and he had run out of options.

"If you came here with hopes that I would be infuriated with Kinnaird's behaviour and release you from your duties and he from his, then I'm sorry that I cannot oblige," said Dumbledore. "Too much is at stake, Severus, and I beg you to recognize this. We have no other options. You agreed to do this for me, and I must hold you to that promise."

"So you have nothing else to tell me other than to put a smile on my face, pat the boy on his back, and give in to his will?"

"I assure you, Severus, it's not as great a sacrifice of pride as you are making it out to be."

"Ah," responded Severus, somehow stung by the implication that pride was his main motivation. It was clear to him that Dumbledore did not understand how great of a sacrifice he was making on the old man's behalf. Spying had been a great deal more difficult, yes, but at least that job had come with the perk of appreciation and a sense of importance. "Well, thank you for clearing that up for me, Headmaster. I don't know why I didn't realize before how truly petty my concerns were."

Dumbledore looked sadly at Severus but offered no words of consolation. Sensing that there was nothing left to be said in his favour, Severus shook his head. "Good day, Headmaster."

Severus turned and walked through the office, opening and closing the door behind him in one fluid motion. Stalking swiftly through the halls of Hogwarts, he reached his rooms with record speed. As he went, he did it with the distinct feeling that he really had been replaced. He knew it was an irrational thought borne of deep-seated insecurity, but he could not help but feel shocked that Kinnaird had somehow gained the power over Dumbledore to render Severus' arguments completely futile.

At one point, Severus' opinion had mattered. While Dumbledore was, in essence, his second master, Severus was treated just as much as an adviser as he was a servant. While everyone continually insisted that his importance hadn't diminished with his loss of Voldemort's trust, he realized that if that consoling thought were true, he would still have the power of persuasion on his side. Dumbledore, however, had not treated his concerns as though they held any merit; he had brushed them off and treated Severus as an errant child who is bound to misbehave and therefore must be forgiven for doing so in advance.

More infuriating than Dumbledore's betrayal was that Kinnaird seemed to believe Severus owed him something... even when he had first approached Severus, it was his lack of humility that had convinced him so thoroughly Kinnaird didn't deserve his help. Severus thought back to the night they had first met after a long period of estrangement, once again turning the details over in his head with painstaking attention to detail... he had viewed the memory in the pensieve more times than he could count, positive that Kinnaird must have said something incriminating at some point.

"I assumed you would make an appearance at some point. I've been waiting for you, Severus Snape."

"Waiting for me?" asked Severus, tone hovering somewhere between wariness and amusement. Unsure of Kinnaird's meaning, he questioned, "And why on Earth would you be hoping to run into me?"

"I didn't say I was hoping. I said I was waiting. There's a difference."

The smart retort was one Severus would have expected from Kinnaird; narrowing his eyes and glancing over the boy's features again, he felt a twinge of sadness at the fact that this was the boy he had mentored those years ago. The feeling left as quickly as it came, however, and he responded, "Don't evade the question, Kinnaird, that won't work on me. I suggest you state your purpose before—"

"Before you hand me over to your bodyguard? You can't arrest a man for conversation, Professor."

Severus' eyes drifted pointedly to Kinnaird's left arm. Kinnaird followed his gaze and seemed to comprehend his meaning immediately; wisely, he did not goad Severus any further.

"Often as I preach against it, I am not inept at wand waving," said Severus dangerously, raising his wand and lighting it just under Kinnaird's nose. "State. Your. Purpose."

"Not interested in catching up, I see," said Kinnaird easily, though his eyes were focused on the wand in front of him. "That's fine, we can get straight to the point. I'm certain Dumbledore's informed you of the task I've been set. I need your help."

"You certainly do," Severus agreed softly, one corner of his lips turning upward. "But what makes you think you deserve it?"

"If I am successful, you and Potter have a far better chance of living through this war. If I am not, you have lost nothing."

"You think too highly of your worth to our cause—"

Kinnaird rolled his eyes and interrupted, "I know you can do it; if it weren't for Potter, you'd still be in the Dark Lord's good graces today… hell, you certainly fooled me." There was a hint of bitterness in Kinnaird's voice, but after a pause and a once-over, he continued. "I could learn from you."

"The hell you could," Severus stated bluntly, lowering his wand an increment. "I've better things to do, Kinnaird, than to raise you up like a pig for slaughter, which is what you are if you are intent on betraying the Dark Lord… and otherwise, any help I could offer you could be just as detrimental to the Order as it could to him."

"A pig for slaughter," repeated Kinnaird, swallowing. "You did it. He didn't kill you."

"He was arrogant… he didn't believe anyone would defy him. He will be that much more wary now."

"Precisely why I need you."

"No."

"You could speak to Dumbledore on my behalf," persisted Kinnaird, a hint of pleading to his voice. "Tell him you wish to help me… he would certainly allow it, I'll answer any questions he has and any that you have—"

"Answering questions isn't good enough. You made your choice; you're the one responsible for recruiting half those young fools from the pub who are being initiated this week, or am I wrong?"

Kinnaird frowned, but didn't respond.

Severus considered him for a moment, and tilting his head to the side, he asked, "Why would you be willing to take this risk?"

"I have done unspeakable things… I didn't realize the horror associated with becoming a Death Eater. I saw only glory and a cause that my former housemates assured me was the right one."

"Textbook answer," responded Severus snidely, and Kinnaird looked at him disbelievingly. "You are a boy of twenty-one, naturally you would be horrified by the activities of the Death Eaters… but that means nothing to me. I don't believe that mere horror would spur you to such a dangerous job. Do not forget that I knew you for seven years, Kinnaird. I know nobility is not one of your finest qualities. If you won't tell me the real reason for turning away, tell me why you think you are the one for this task."

Kinnaird appeared taken aback by Severus' response, but he was quickly prepared with an answer. "The Dark Lord is gaining faith in me. I have done everything necessary to come under his good graces, and the rest have begun to accept me as one of their own. Malfoy has taken me under his wing; Rodolphus Lestrange has been instructing me in the Dark Arts. They are convinced that I will be brought into the inner circle within six months, and it is true that the Dark Lord was the one who suggested I gain a position at Hogwarts, given my relationship with you. I am gaining their trust; I know their greatest weaknesses… I know I can do this, if you will just give me the tools."

Kinnaird's argument had not been comforting, but Severus knew that the acceptance of the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters was key to Kinnaird's success. He had refused the boy, only to report the incident to Dumbledore and have the old man demand that he reevaluate his decision.

Most days, Severus regretted ever having told anyone he'd run into Kinnaird that night. The boy was a brand new thorn in his side.

He was tired of hearing others suggest that he wished for Kinnaird to fail. There were few people who desired Voldemort's fall more than himself. Moreover, he had seen substantial improvement in Kinnaird's dueling abilities over the past few months, reinforcing the thought that the practice was doing him good. Speaking in terms of magical strength and ability, the boy was certainly advanced; this Severus had always known. He had no doubt that his predisposition towards magic and learning combined with the magic he was being taught by Malfoy and Lestrange made him a formidable opponent… but if the boy planned to work for the Order, he would need skills that wouldn't get him sent to Azkaban. Few people seemed to recognize the importance of this… but then, what Kinnaird did on his own time was not known to many, nor should it have been.

Furthermore, Severus knew that he had helped correct many of the weaknesses that he suspected Kinnaird's fellow Death Eaters were purposely attempting to endow him with. He knew the way his former comrades liked to break in new and promising members: they always made sure that they didn't become more powerful than their superiors. Severus had spent years with those same men and knew what to watch for, and Kinnaird had certainly fallen into their trap.

He was delaying the inevitable by teaching Kinnaird these skills before those he was more desperate to learn, but they were vital skills nonetheless. Severus had hoped that by the time they had completed this segment of their lessons, he would have discovered Kinnaird's motivations and the reasons he was so desperate to learn not only Occlumency but Legilimancy as well. Kinnaird, however, was all too aware of Severus' subtle attempts at probing and had evaded all queries with remarkable ease.

This unnerved the Potions Master.

He was still unsure what the younger man was hiding, but he did know that he didn't want to allow him access to anything in his mind before he learned of it. The Headmaster did not seem to recognize the danger in allowing such a thing. Willingly giving access to his mind for the purpose of practicing Legilimancy could have detrimental effects on both Severus and the cause for which he fought.

With this thought, Severus put on a pot of tea and sat down on his couch, casting a baleful glance the stack of papers waiting on the table to be marked. The top essay was a good meter longer than he had requested, and with a sneaking suspicion, he checked the name. Ah, predictably, it read Hermione Granger in small, neat writing. The thought struck him that not so many years ago, Kinnaird had been another rare student on whom Severus could always count to go above and beyond. It was one of the reasons he had taken him on for private tutorship in Potions. He recalled that in those days, the boy had been respectful, grateful for the opportunity, and had confided in him often.

Severus murmured thoughtfully to himself, relaxing absent mindedly into the soft back of the couch.

Perhaps there was some merit to the idea of softening up on Kinnaird. If he appeared to be genuinely concerned for him, perhaps the boy would drop his defenses. Once he did so, Severus would have a much easier time of learning his intentions and the reasons behind them. He would once again confide in his mentor… but with any luck, his confessions of late would be much more telling.

At least speaking with the Headmaster had been good for something.

Smirking at his own antics, Severus summoned his kettle of tea and began marking the stack of sixth year essays, mind much more at ease.

xxx

The loud close of the dormitory door as the last boy left for breakfast in the Great Hall told Harry he was finally alone in his room. Sitting up and rolling his neck, he pulled back the maroon curtains on his bed and swung his legs off his bed…

…and promptly jumped when he looked up and saw Ron sitting on the bed straight across from him, giving him a dirty look.

"Ron," Harry said, breathing slightly quicker. "Scared me."

"You've been avoiding me," said Ron, pushing off from the edge of the bed and crossing his arms.

"No I haven't," responded Harry, directing his attention to pulling on the nearest pair of socks.

"Is that why you didn't get out of bed until you thought everyone was gone? And you didn't come to bed until late after curfew last night."

"I was with my Dad," Harry lied, avoiding eye contact. "Had to rewrite my Potions essay completely once he was through with it."

"Funny," said Ron coldly. "Because Hannah Abbott said she saw you going into the Room of Requirement and wondered if we were having a late night DA meeting."

Caught, Harry merely shrugged and began dressing.

"Why are you being such a prat to Hermione?"

"Oh, you're one to talk. You're always a prat to Hermione."

"Yeah, but she expects it from me," said Ron in complete seriousness. "You, on the other hand, she counts on to be kind."

"Can't a bloke have an off day every now and again?" asked Harry defensively, irritated by the inquisition.

"Sure. But lately all your days are off, so what are we supposed to do about that?"

"Very funny," Harry grumbled.

"I wasn't trying to be," responded Ron. "I know she's a head-case. But you're not supposed to tell her she's a head-case."

"I didn't call her that," Harry protested.

"Harry, just tell her you think it's a good idea, because if I have to sit up with her in the common room for one more night while she comes up with a better plan, I'm going to be a nutter too."

Harry wanted to protest, but he privately agreed with Ron. He owed Hermione at least recognition for her effort, even if he didn't believe that rearranging their entire schedule for the sake of homework was a worthwhile cause. And more than that… Ron didn't look like he was willing to take no for an answer.

"Yeah, okay," he agreed reluctantly, clasping his robes in the front and pulling on his trainers. "Let's go."

Upon meeting Hermione in the common room, Harry stiffly delivered his apology and encouragement as Ron had suggested, all the while with his red-headed friend standing behind Hermione, arms crossed. Hermione had naturally accepted his apology and forced a cheery smile for his sake, but Harry got the feeling that she suspected Ron's role in all of it.

Conversation was strained over breakfast that morning, but the tension gradually lessened throughout the course of the day as they moved from class to class. It was obvious that a rift had occurred within the trio, but for the sake of their friendship, Hermione continued to force falsely pleasant conversation between them until Ron had quit grunting all of his responses and Harry had begun to use more than one word in his.

Somehow, it pleased Harry that he could count on this.

It wasn't until dinner that the general flow of their conversation had eased considerably and Hermione became brave enough to suggest presenting her idea to Snape that night.

"Well," Harry began to hedge, until he received a dark look from Ron. "As long as we find out what his mood is like, first. I don't quite feel like being hexed tonight."

"Oh, of course!" responded Hermione brightly, apparently pleased that he had agreed. "If he doesn't seem receptive, we can try another time."

Harry pretended not to notice Ron's look of approval as he focused on his dinner. He glanced up at the head table and noticed his father watching them with a mild expression. Catching Harry's eye, Severus nodded once. Harry gave him a small smile and returned his attention to his friends, who were now arguing over the length assigned for their most recent Transfiguration essays.

Shaking his head, he found that he was not truly annoyed by their banter. He was grateful for the simplicity of it. Rising from the table and leaving them to their conversation, he walked up the aisle towards where his father sat, picking over his food.

"Good evening," said Severus with an air of moderate surprise as Harry came to stand before him.

"Hello," Harry responded. "I was wondering if you might be in your office later tonight."

"I will," responded Severus slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Need I be worried?"

"Oh, no!" said Harry, grinning despite himself. He should have guessed that his Father would immediately jump to the worst conclusion. "Hermione and I just have some questions for you regarding the upcoming Potions test," he said, laying extra stress on the word potions.

"Ah," said Severus, immediately catching his meaning. "In that case, you may feel free to come any time after seven-thirty. I will have completed my marking by then so we may have unlimited time."

"Great," said Harry, and he meant it. Lately, the only time he got to spend with his Father was in training and a majority of the words they exchanged then were often of a less friendly nature. "I will see you tonight then."

Severus nodded in agreement and Harry made his way back to where his friends sat at Gryffindor's table. Hermione and Ron were looking at him quizzically.

"Seven-thirty," Harry said, sitting down and resuming his dinner.

"Oh, that will give us time to finish our Charms homework," said Hermione, looking genuinely happy about that prospect. Beside her, Ron groaned.

Thanks to Hermione's insistence that they finish what they started, the two did not end up leaving for Snape's office until roughly eight that night. Both Harry and Hermione insisted that Ron should come along, but he was wholly convinced that it would be better if he remained behind. While Hermione had become quite accustomed to Snape's fits of pique and dark demeanour, Ron remained steadfastly intimidated.

The door was already propped open when Harry and Hermione arrived; that in and of itself seemed promising. Knocking lightly on the door to let him know that they were arriving, they entered the office. Snape's desk had been vacated and a stream of light issued from the crack in the door of the storage room.

Crossing the room, Harry pushed the door open. Severus stood on a ladder, pulling various vials off of the top shelf.

"Ah, there you are," said Severus, extending the vials in his grasp downwards. "Set these on my desk."

Harry wordlessly did as he was asked, holding them carefully as not to drop them and walking back into the office where Hermione was waiting. A short moment later, Severus joined them.

"What's all this?" asked Harry, looking around at the vast array of tiny glass encased potions.

"They are for the infirmary," said Severus dismissively, walking back to the storage room to close and lock the door. Pulling his wand from his robes, he flicked it and the door to the office swung closed.

"Now, explain to me exactly what it is you wished to discuss," said Severus as he moved to the chair behind his desk.

"Well," said Hermione as the two of them sat, "I've been looking over the instructions for the potion lately, and I've noticed that it's going to be requiring much more attention."

Hermione paused and Severus nodded, waving for her to continue.

"Most of the things that need to be done seem relatively easy, but the problem is going to be time consumption. We were curious how we will be able to give the potion the attention it needs with the increased demands of our school work and Harry's training."

"Surely, Miss Granger, you do not believe I would allow you to neglect your studies," said Severus in a deceptively benign tone. There was an underlying suspicion in his expression that Harry did not believe Hermione recognized, for she continued on.

"Of course not," she said, shaking her head. "We were just curious."

"So you've scheduled a meeting with me during office hours so that I might... allay your curiosity?" Severus lifted a brow in question, and Hermione instantly began to stutter her response.

"Well, I—no—"

"Miss Granger, you have a point, that much is obvious. I must request that you kindly get to it."

Outrageously, Harry had to fight the urge to laugh at Hermione's blatant lack of cunning. He had warned her. "Hermione, just show him the chart."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, staring at him with such a look of betrayal that one might think he had just suggested sacrificing her to Lord Voldemort.

"Miss Granger?" said Severus, looking inquisitively in her direction.

Tearing her gaze away from Harry, Hermione appeared not to know what to do. After staring at the Professor for several moments with her mouth agape, she finally heaved a sigh and tugged her bag onto her lap, extracting her chart.

"I hope you will see some merit in this," she said apprehensively, extending it to him. With a look of amusement, he reached across the desk and took it from her.

Several long minutes passed in which Severus surveyed the chart and Harry wondered how long Hermione could stay upright without breathing.

Severus finally laid the chart flat on his desk and raised his eyes to Hermione, his expression pensive. "You realize the amount of work you are asking to take on might interfere with your studies, do you not?"

"I believe I can handle it."

"Your friend is willing to take on a substantial amount of work for you, Harry," said Severus, glancing in Harry's direction. "And for me as well. Why is this, Miss Granger?"

"Sir? I don't understand what you mean."

"Explain to me your motivations, and I will consider allowing you to assist more often."

"I enjoy the work, sir," said Hermione earnestly, unconsciously scooting forward in her chair. "I know that you are both very busy and I wish to be of service. If there is anything I can contribute to this war it is my academic skill, and I believe that by using it in this way both you and Harry will be better off. Certainly everyone would be better for it."

Severus was resting his chin atop laced fingers, now, watching Hermione with a placid expression. When she finished speaking, his gaze shifted to Harry, who stared back at him passively.

"Very well, Miss Granger, you've convinced me," said Severus, unfolding his hands and sitting back in his chair. "You may certainly spend more time working independently on the potion; I believe you are skilled enough to do so. We will discuss how this will fit in with your school schedule at a later date. Agreeable?"

"Yes, sir, thank you," said Hermione in a rush of gratitude, smiling from ear to ear.

"With that decided, I believe you are dismissed, Miss Granger. I will hold on to this," he said, motioning to the chart.

"Yes, sir," said Hermione quickly, standing and picking up her bag. Harry stood as well, but Severus held up a hand.

"I wish to speak with you alone," he said. Harry sank back into his chair.

Hermione looked as though she wanted to remain behind or at least ask a question, but apparently did not wish to try her luck.

"I'll see you in the common room, Harry," she said instead. "Good night, Professor."

"You agreed rather quickly," Harry commented once the door was closed behind Hermione.

A wry smile curling his lips, Severus replied, "I spoke with the Headmaster about enlisting Miss Granger's further aid a week ago. I was simply waiting until the time when she would be needed had arrived."

"Why didn't you just say that from the start?" asked Harry amusedly.

"Why, I wanted her to believe it was her idea," said Severus deviously, giving Harry a knowing look. "More to the point... if I hadn't let her elaborate, she never would have given me this splendid chart," he finished, picking it up and snapping it tight.

For the first time in weeks, Harry erupted into laughter... and for the first time that he could recall, Severus joined him.

As their laughter died down, the two shared a moment of contented silence, and then Severus sobered, leaning forward in a manner that told Harry he'd been held behind for a real purpose. Wiping his silly grin from his face, he waited for Severus to tell him what it was.

"I do want to talk to you about your training... and about Mr. Kinnaird," Severus said, frowning slightly at the mention of the latter. "I believe it is time for Kinnaird to move on to other pursuits, as it is for you... but it will be very difficult for me to manage both while hiding the fact that I am training you."

"But... you don't mean to train us together?" asked Harry, thinking that tensions were high enough when he and Severus worked on their own. Adding Kinnaird to the mix would only strain an already delicate working relationship.

"Not quite," said Severus, grimacing. "However, dueling needs to be paid attention to... and I would like you to take note of some of Kinnaird's weaknesses. Firstly, I'm interested in your perception of your enemy's level of strength and secondly, I believe that news of your training would be beneficial to pass on to the Dark Lord."

"Why?" questioned Harry, frowning deeply. He didn't like the sound of that plan at all.

"Because you are going to make Kinnaird believe you are weaker than you are," said Severus, watching Harry's expression carefully. "If you do that, he will have the benefit of the Dark Lord's added confidence in his abilities to glean useful information from us, and the Dark Lord will make your demise less of a priority."

"But if he knows that I am getting stronger—"

"He always suspects that you are getting stronger, Harry," said Severus gently, hearing the alarm in his son's voice. "He simply doesn't know how strong. We have to make him underestimate you; with your magical ability and the use of the potion unknown, he will not exert nearly as much effort into killing you. We must not forget that his arrogance is one of our greatest advantages."

"I thought you didn't want Kinnaird to know any of my weaknesses."

"I didn't," responded Severus. "And now I do."

"Is this your idea or Dumbledore's?" asked Harry, unable to keep the spite out of his voice.

"Dumbledore has no part in it," said Severus honestly, though he appeared to be somewhat surprised at the accusation. "You must believe that this is in your best interest. You are not being played as a pawn like you seem to believe. I am presenting this to you before anyone else, Harry, believe that."

Harry hesitated, sizing Severus up, but the older man kept his expression neutral. It wasn't that Harry believed he would lie about this. It was simply that the position Severus was taking on the issue now was so radically different from what he had said in the past. Lastly, Harry trusted Severus never to hurt him too badly... but if he was supposed to convince Kinnaird that he wasn't a skilled duelist, then how much would he be required to take?

But then... Severus had said it was in his best interest. And he was positive that coming to any serious harm wasn't in his Father's definition of best interests. Really, it was a decision he could only make based on trust.

And he did trust his Father.

"I'll do it."

The corner of Severus' mouth curled upwards, and he nodded curtly. Secretly, he felt an incredible amount of relief. Not for the first time, he felt as though he were catching a glimpse of the man Harry was going to become, and he didn't feel overconfident in his belief: Harry was going to survive this war.

xxx End Chapter 44 xxx