Severus braced himself against the worktable and scanned the ingredients he’d lined up in front of him. Nothing particularly volatile, nothing that produced a poisonous gas…. He took a deep breath, checked the heat of the cauldron, and began to work.

An hour later he threw a cauldron of next-to-inert purple nothing against the far wall and then systematically smashed each of the vials that had contained the ingredients. Of course, it took longer than it would have if he’d had two hands to throw with, and he actually grabbed several centimeters to the left of two of the bottles…. This was a simple potion—for him, at least—that he should have been able to make in his sleep. Damn Albus for even suggesting that I try. Again. He’d been trying with successively simpler potions for the past three days, and nothing was working. Well, technically a first-year scouring potion for cauldrons that couldn’t be cleaned with a spell had worked—he’d needed it the first evening after the Veritaserum attempt—but considering that a reasonably adept gerbil could probably have knocked those potions into the cauldron in the appropriate order he hardly considered it a rousing success.

He stamped out of his workroom, as best he could, anyway, when he still had to be careful when placing his feet to avoid overbalancing or stressing still-healing bones and muscle, and dropped down on the couch in the sitting room. The fact that he couldn’t stay on his feet for much more than an hour at a stretch didn’t help matters any either; particularly since he could only stay up for that hour if he had something to lean on.

Horace Slughorn had agreed to take over his classes and Head-of-House duties until Poppy was willing to clear him for duty, but even if she hadn’t been preventing him from going on as usual…. Well, things weren’t usual, anymore, were they? He just didn’t want to interact with anyone. He wanted to be left alone, left to brood in peace, and he’d be feeling much better if the rest of the staff would just respect his wishes. They wouldn’t, of course; at least once a day Minerva, Albus, Poppy, and half a dozen other members of the staff who he rarely did more than exchange mealtime greetings with, found some reason to come down to his quarters to ‘chat.’ Poppy was due soon, in fact, although technically she did have a reason to be there. As if I need her to tell me that I’m still ‘regaining my strength’ and need to ‘take things slowly.’ As if my strength is the only thing I’ve lost. At least after the first of the little dunderheads had been sent running from his dungeons courtesy of an illusion spell Monday he hadn’t had to deal with any students.

A badly cast illusion spell; it overshot the mark I was aiming for by a good half a meter. Another thing he didn’t want to think about…he hadn’t appreciated just how drastically reduced his depth perception might be. Oh, over long distances—or extremely close—it was no issue, but he’d actually missed the cauldron once when emptying a vial.

The alarm he’d put on his door chimed, and sure enough the mediwitch entered a moment later. “Severus, how are you feeling?”

“Wonderful.”

She ignored his tone, as she had every other time that she’d visited, smiling brightly and waving her wand in a pattern that he was beginning to detest. Diagnostic spells were all well and good, but when they were being performed on you twice a day they began to get a bit wearing. “Well, you are looking better. Now, I’ve brought potions, so if you’d go lie down….”

It wasn’t as if there was any point in arguing, and he stretched out in his bed and allowed her to pour half a dozen potions down his throat. She claimed that in a few days his body would regain enough energy to stay awake while they worked, but for now he knew he’d be asleep within ten minutes. It was the same routine they’d followed every day, two times a day, since he’d been released from her domain. Not that he wasn’t perfectly capable of dosing himself, of course, but she insisted on coming down, and it just wasn’t worth the fight. As usual, as his strength deserted him to power the healing potions, and he dropped off to sleep fairly quickly.

///////////

“Severus?”

He blinked slowly, sitting up against the pillow. Albus. Brilliant. I didn’t even hear the door chime. “Can I help you?”

“If you’re able, Alastor and Tonks are available tonight to discuss the situation with the Dark Lord.”

It was bound to happen eventually; he’d told the full story from his perspective to Dumbledore once, but Alastor would want to hear it for himself. Besides which, there was the matter of the younger Horace girl. Albus had promised to make inquiries, but so far there had been no sightings. The girl was owed a life debt at the very least for getting him out of there—granted it wasn’t much of a life, but it was the principle of the thing—and he would see that obligation fulfilled. He sat up the rest of the way at that and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Are we flooing to Grimmauld Place?”

Albus held up a hand. “Poppy insists that you not be moving about a great deal, so I suggested that we hold it here.”

“Here? As in my rooms, here?” The last time Alastor was in my quarters he nearly tore them to shambles in his search for evidence of my’ ‘true allegiances.’ It might have been years ago, but it hadn’t been a violation that he’d easily forgiven, and however much he might respect the ex-Auror on neutral ground, in his own territory was another story. Albus was looking at him expectantly though, and since he’d been the one to insist that something be done…. His lips curled in a snarl briefly. “Fine.”

“Excellent. They’re in my study with Minerva, I’ll just floo-call them to come down.”

He glared at Albus, who’d obviously expected his capitulation.

“They interviewed Mr. Potter before you regained consciousness, so it may not be as arduous as you expect.”

I’ll believe that when I see it. Not that he was particularly thrilled that Harry was going around discussing his torture, but it did explain why Alastor hadn’t been at Hogwarts the first day he regained consciousness demanding answers. He pushed himself up off the bed.

“Perhaps—” Albus began, blocking the door.

Severus cut that thought off with a glare. It was enough that he had to entertain company in his quarters because he was too weak to go elsewhere, there was absolutely no way they were going to be gathering in his bedroom. I do have some pride left. He made his way slowly into the sitting room, sinking into an armchair as the door announced that he had a visitor. He nodded civilly at Alastor and Tonks as they entered behind Minerva , waving them to seats. It was a relief to see that the old Auror didn’t look more than mildly interested in his surroundings, but when a crash distracted him, and he realized that between his annoyance at Albus’ high-handed maneuvering and his apprehension about the old Auror getting into his things, he’d forgotten about the younger one. Tonks. In my rooms. Despite her intelligence she’d been a terror in his classes, and from what he’d observed at the Order meetings she hadn’t become any more graceful in the intervening years. Merlin help anything not made of stone.

“The Horace girl is dead,” Alastor opened with customary directness. “The younger one, at least. She was found in the alley behind St. Mungos yesterday…her parents are dead, but an aunt flooed in this afternoon to confirm her identity.”

Severus closed his eyes for a moment. In truth he hadn’t really expected anything different—if she hadn’t been executed for not killing him, she would have been soon enough for refusing to kill someone else—but he couldn’t help remembering another scared, stupid child who’d gotten in over his head. At least I had a chance. “The sister?”

“That’s where it gets interesting,” Tonks said before Alastor could open his mouth.

Interesting? He’d assumed she was dead if she shared the same loyalty to her sister that her sister had to her; otherwise she’d be off with the rest of the ranks of the Dark Lord plotting what new harm to cause. It really mattered very little since his debt hadn’t been to her. Yet another failure. This does seem to be my week for them.

“This was found with the body.”

Severus took the scrap of parchment from her carefully. He had no doubt that it had been checked a dozen times for curses, hexes, and jinxes, but he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to know what it had to say. “SS. Hog’s Head. Nine-fifteen pm on the seventh. EH.” He considered for a moment. “I take it the rest of the Aurors haven’t seen this?”

“No, I’m the one that did the search of her things, and I left that out of the official inventory.”

Alastor gave a sharp nod. “Right thing to do.”

“You think she might be willing to switch sides?” Minerva asked. “After all, he did kill her sister.”

He’d done worse to other families without causing a great deal of dissention in the ranks, but Severus kept his mouth shut.

“We do need someone on the inside now that Snape has been revealed,” Alastor said.

As if I needed a reminder.

“Overall, though, I’d say the whole note seems a bit too convenient for my tastes.”

Albus made a soothing sound. “She hasn’t been a Deatheater long. Perhaps she’s had a change of heart.”

“She made her choice.” Alastor turned to Severus, who ignored the half-accusing glare. It wasn’t as if it was anything he hadn’t heard before. “What do you know about her?”

“Ellen Horace.” Maybe he wasn’t going to have to relive that night if all they wanted was information on the girls. He could live with that. “Not quite a pure-blood, her grandmother was muggleborn, but it wasn’t something she ever discussed. She was sorted into Slytherin house nine years ago and finished seven full years at Hogwarts. Fairly average grades. If I remember correctly she favored Astonomy and was one of maybe a dozen in her year who took Ancient Runes as an elective and kept at it all the way through NEWTs. Not a lot of close friends, but….” He shrugged. “That’s not particularly unusual in Slytherin.”

“And her relationship with her sister?”

“If they had contact, I never noticed it. Sprout might know more, but I barely remember the younger girl.”

“Then why did she save you?”

The paranoid glint was starting to appear, and Severus glared. “How should I know? I certainly never asked her to, nor was I in any shape to interrogate her about her true intentions when she was doing it. At a guess, I’d say she simply didn’t have the stomach for what the Dark Lord desired.” He curled his lips. “A pathetic reason to die, but she wouldn’t be the first.”

“It could be a trap,” Tonks pointed out, taking the note back. “If they knew Amelia helped Professor Snape escape, Ellen might have left the note for him to try and get him somewhere else….”

“Lure him out of Hogwarts?” Minerva pursed her lips. “It’s possible, I suppose. Deatheaters certainly won’t be able to get to him here.”

“Constant vigilance!”

She jumped slightly, and Severus wondered why. After a statement like that, he’d have been surprised if Alastor didn’t say something of the sort. Especially after last year. Still…. “Fair enough. I’ll go.”

Tonks frowned. “What?”

“To Hog’s Head. If it isn’t a trap, I’m the one person here that she’ll recognize. After all, I was named in the note, unless one of you can think of another SS who might be connected to this mess.”

“And if it is a trap?” Minerva demanded. “You’re in no sort of shape to defend yourself—you can barely stand!”

“I’m well aware of that fact.” Thank you for pointing it out to everyone else. “But sending Order members into a trap isn’t a particularly wise idea either. It only takes one Avada Kedavra, no matter how healthy you are.”

“And if they do capture you? Kill you?”

“Well, at least then you’ll know it was a trap, won’t you?” And somehow that didn’t sound quite as sarcastic as it should have, but….

Albus sighed. “Severus, I know you’ve been having trouble adjusting, but just because your—”

Apparently his one-eyed glares were becoming more effectual, because Albus actually closed his mouth. “What else would you have me do? Hide here and wait? It’s not like I’m accomplishing anything, or rather anything short of mass demolition. And don’t suggest I try yet again.” He gestured sharply towards his workroom, giving a half growl when he realized that he’d picked the wrong arm—again—to use. “I’ll show you what’s left of it, if you like.”

“We are not sacrificing lives needlessly, and that includes yours,” Albus overrode. “Now, I’m sure we can find some way to get the girl a message.”

“Professor Snape can meet with him,” Tonks said. “Or at least someone who looks like him. If they do want to capture him, they’ll be pretty surprised when he is in shape to fight back.”

“And if they just want to kill me? I’d say at this point the Dark Lord has probably had as much fun with me as he planned to.”

“We will, of course, put an Order member or two in place just in case it does come down to a killing curse,” Alastor said. “I assume you have polyjuice?”

“Already brewed and bottled, fortunately for you.” He certainly couldn’t brew any more, and his control on his temper slipped at bit. “Why, there isn’t any left in your flask?”

“Severus!” Minerva chastised as Alastor’s fingers twitched towards his wand. “That was uncalled for.”

That depends entirely on your point of view. He’d found it rather relaxing to lash out at someone. Albus was the one who’d really annoyed him with that whole little spiel, but the headmaster was always a difficult one to get even with. He just smiled.

“Who needs polyjuice?” Tonks interrupted before anyone else could say anything. Her features shifted around for several moments, finally settling into a mirror of his own. Minus an eyepatch, although she did manage to shorten her left forearm to a stub. “And I can hold it as long as I need to without drinking more potion. Pretty cool, huh?”

“The voice isn’t what I’d call believable,” Severus returned. “And the day that I utter the phrase ‘pretty cool,’ I expect to be immediately committed to the mental ward at St. Mungos.”

“For the voice aspect alone, we would need a man using polyjuice,” Alastor agreed, drawn back into the actual agenda of the meeting. “Besides which, I would prefer you were lurking somewhere in the background. Depending on the length of the meeting, you could come and go as several people without arousing suspicion.”

“Hm. I didn’t think of that. Will they believe he's recovered so quickly though? I mean, he barely looks like he should be out of bed.” She flushed slightly. “Uh, sorry, Professor.”

“No one here aside from a small group knows how extensive the injuries are,” Minerva offered. “And I doubt any of them have been gossiping with the Dark Lord.”

“Perhaps Severus should send a note along with the imposter,” Albus suggested. “On the off chance that she would have some means of checking that her dinner guest is who he appears to be.”

“If you like,” Severus agreed. The girl was Slytherin, bound to be suspicious even if she hadn’t just been accepted into the Dark Lord’s ranks and was possibly planning to betray him. He doubted anything he could write would convince her to trust an imposter if she discovered the deception. Still, it was something, and it was possible that she would overlook it if the Dark Lord had upset her enough. “I’ll send it to you by owl post.”

“Send it to the Auror’s Office at the Ministry,” Tonks said. “I spend most of my time there anyway.”

The meeting broke up on that note, and with a last look at Severus Albus followed Minerva out. Alastor pushed himself up off the couch and sent Tonks ahead of him before stepping towards the armchair and staring down at Severus evenly for a moment. “Have you lost your mind?”

Severus gritted his teeth and met his eyes. It wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed doing; he had perfect confidence in his own Occlumency skills, but he still wasn’t entirely certain just how much that magic eye was capable of seeing. “My mind, actually is one of the few things still intact.” A minor miracle.

Alastor’s normal eye narrowed. “Then where, may I ask, did this ridiculous ‘then we’ll know it was a trap’ nonsense you spouted out earlier come from? You would just let her kill you?” He snorted. “I’d throw in a bit about deliberately baiting me in your current condition as well, but I suspect that was merely your charming personality shining through. Regardless, that level of…resignation…is not what I expected after almost twenty years of spying.”

Who gives a damn what you expect? If I hadn’t suggested I go myself, you no doubt would have. He’d have preferred to get to his feet so at least he wouldn’t have to look up at the other man, but depending how long this little staring contest went on there was a good chance he’d just end up having to sit down again, and that would be more humiliating than he could tolerate.

“Well?” Alastor barked after a moment of silence.

“Well what? Was I planning to go to the girl and reveal the existence of the entire Order to get back in the Dark Lord’s good graces? Tempting, but no. Poison all of Hogwarts’ muggleborn? Not that either, I’m afraid, since I’d have to be able to brew to make the poison. Staking myself out as a target is starting to sound like a fairly good use of my time because Merlin knows there’s nothing else I’ve been able to d—” He lurched sideways, suddenly, and his teeth clicked together.

“Hah. I thought that might shut your mouth.”

Severus stared for a moment, trying to form a rational thought. He hadn’t been clouted round the ear like that since he’d been caught nicking tomatoes from the neighbor’s garden when he’d been about eight. Equating that scenario with the grizzled Auror who now stood in front of the armchair, arms crossed and a slightly satisfied look on his face, made him considerably dizzier than the blow—not so heavy seeing as he was still upright—had. “What…?”

“You know, Albus and Minerva have both been fussing about you and your ‘depression,’ but I thought it was just the two of them being their fussy selves. You’ve been fighting for damn near twenty years—a thorn in my side for more than a bit of that—and I’d like to know what in Merlin’s name is making you want to give in and die now? And don’t give me any of this nonsense about nothing else you can do, either, it’s ridiculous and we both know it.”

“Well, what else is there?” Severus demanded, the man’s snide tone helping him throw off his shock and re-ignite his temper. He closed his hand on his replacement wand as Alastor’s jaw tightened. He might be feeling a bit fatalistic, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to get hit a second time. “These aren’t exactly temporary ailments, you know.” The bastard should know, he had his own fair share of scars, but Severus knew as well as anyone that ‘should’ and ‘did’ didn’t always share a living space. “I can’t cast a spell without worrying about where it’s going to land, I’ve got a blind spot the size of my nose—which is, incidentally, as large as my students have always joked—and my balance is worthless.” The last was due as much to weakness as anything else, but he didn’t feel like splitting that hair.

Alastor was still staring at him, though, through one true eye and one magical. “Other wizards have lost eyes.”

“Thank you, as if that wasn’t perfectly obvious. Fine, I probably could get the eye replaced, or at least come up with another alternative.” He suspected that if he looked he could probably locate a magic eye of his own, but he had no particular desire to see the kinds of things Moody did. With the possible exception of being able to see through invisibility cloaks, of course.

“Well, your looks were hardly outstanding before, so I assume it’s the arm that’s causing the majority of this little snit?”

“What else would it be?” he demanded. “I can’t manage more than the simplest potions. I tried the Draught of Peace yesterday evening—standard on the OWLs—and damn near wiped out my lab because I couldn’t get a neutralizing agent in fast enough; my Confusing Concoction turned into so much glue not six hours ago…I am supposed to be a master at this and I can’t even manage something a competent third year—bugger that, an incompetent third year since even Longbottom got it right once—can manage!” He shook his head. “I’m not even going to mention what my Veritaserum attempt turned into. Your arms are still intact, I don’t expect you to underst—” Alastor raised his fist again, and Severus cast a quick cushioning charm in the vicinity of his head. He’d rather have blasted the threat across the room, but, baiting comments aside, getting into a duel while he was in this state would not be wise.

Alastor seemed more amused than offended, lowering his hand slowly. “Well, at least you’re defending yourself, which is more than I expected given that little pity-party. And as for not understanding….” He stamped the floor with his peg led. “You may be a potions master, but my profession was Auror, in case you’ve forgotten. A Dark Wizard hunter. You would prefer to have lost a leg—I would much rather have lost an arm. At least then I’d be capable of pursuing the bastards rather than hoping to catch them with my curses the first time around. Not to mention that a crutch puts me at a decided disadvantage in any kind of duck-and-cover situation.”

Severus frowned, but there wasn’t a great deal that he could say to that. It was true, having an arm to hold a wand and two good legs would be more useful for an Auror than two arms and one leg. “You retired,” he pointed out.

“Not because of this,” Alastor said with a slap to the truncated limb. “Kept going for years after this happened. I retired because I got sick of dealing with the bureaucratic nonsense coming out of the Minister’s office.” He took a step back, retrieving his crutch from where he’d left it leaning against the couch. “If you want to get yourself killed, I suppose that’s your business, but I’d suggest pulling your head out of your arse and taking a look around first. The world hasn’t ended just because you took a bit of damage. If it’s the stirring you’re so worried about, attach a damn spoon to what’s left of your arm. Hell, hold the bloody thing in your teeth and use your free hand to add ingredients. If I managed to keep hunting people who wanted me dead, you should damn well be able to keep messing around with your concoctions and stop with this whining about being useless.” He shook his head sharply. “Whatever else I might have thought of you, I never took you for a coward who’d give up at the first sign of adversity.”

First sign? Where have you been these past few years? Where have you been for the past twenty years?

Alastor continued speaking before Severus could verbalize his thoughts. “This hopeless attitude doesn’t suit you at all, but whatever you decide you are, know this—if you keep talking about getting yourself killed in the Order meetings like you did today, the next time I smack you will damn well be in front of witnesses and hard enough to knock some sense through your thick skull to boot. Martyrs are well and good, but live fighters are a lot more useful.”

He turned and stomped towards the door, piece apparently having been said, pausing and looking back for a moment at the threshold. “You aren’t well-liked enough to make a good martyr anyway.”

Severus sat frozen, staring after him for a few long moments. Alastor was one of the last people he expected to talk to him like that—Minerva might get angry enough to threaten him, or Poppy if she figured out just how desperate the whole situation made him, but….

“Severus?” Minerva poked her head through the entrance, stepping through when she saw him still sitting where they’d left him.

“What is it?” he snarled. Alastor might—might—have been at least partially correct about his attitude—self-sacrificial nonsense was supposed to be the realm of the Gryffindors, after all, he knew that as well as anyone—but that didn’t mean that he liked having it pointed out. He damn well had a right to be upset after what had happened. And I certainly don’t appreciate my all-to-helpful colleagues talking about me behind my back! My ‘depression’…I wasn’t sociable before this happened, what in Merlin’s name makes them think I would be now?

“I just saw Alastor and Tonks floo out…Alastor looked entirely too satisfied with himself for my peace of mind. Did something happen after we left?”

He waved a hand. “Nothing of import. Although…tell me, did you know him before he was injured?” Not that it really mattered either way, but he was…curious…just how easily the other man had been able to go on.

She took that as in invitation to sit—it hadn’t been—but he didn’t bother to argue. “Well, our times at Hogwarts never overlapped, although whether he’s a bit older or a bit younger than me I’ve never been sure. I believe I may have met him peripherally before he lost the eye, but I can’t say I knew him.”

“And the leg?” He knew it had happened sometime around the first rise of Voldemort, but that had been before he’d even taken the Dark Mark never mind gone to Albus.

She nodded slightly. “We’d spoken a few times when he came to help respell Hogwarts and then more as Albus began to gather the Order. As I recall, the case he lost it on wasn’t supposed to be a difficult one. He’d followed a couple of the nastier muggle-baiters into Surrey one night—he shouldn’t have been the one to go, even muggles have trouble overlooking that eye, but he was stubborn. Anyway, he’d gotten them pinned down in an alley. Stunned the first one, but the second had some kind of muggle weapon…he said there was a roar, and then his leg below the knee had a giant hole in it with bone and blood coming out. If he’d had backup they might have been able to get him to St. Mungo’s, but the muggle authorities got there first, and….” She shook her head. “They am-pewtated it. Similar to what Poppy had to do to your arm, although much more painful from what I gather. By the time the other Aurors were able to retrieve him it was too late to save anything.”

“But he never had any concerns about remaining an Auror?”

She shook her head. “Not that I ever saw. Oh, he was furious for quite awhile—as much because the man had gotten away as anything else—but there was never any question that he was going to get him someday, whatever it took.” Her eyes darkened. “It was one of the few times that he didn’t bring his target in alive. Before that, though, right after it happened, he stamped around the Ministry complaining constantly that ‘that damn peg’ was nothing like his own leg. And he hated having to use a crutch, not that it stopped him from driving Frank—Longbottom—half-mad running the Auror’s obstacle course over and over until they were forced to clear him for duty.” She smiled slightly. “Actually he drove everyone half-mad at that point; he started harping on ‘constant vigilance’ and used to pop up during the other Aurors’ patrols and scare them silly. They had to suspend him at least twice before he stopped.”

“So that’s where that came from.” He didn’t give up; he just became a paranoid lunatic. Now I feel so much better.

“I imagine so. Probably because his magic eye didn’t register the muggle weapon as ‘evil’ so he dismissed it offhand. Oh, he’d always been more wary than most, but that’s the point where I think it started to get a bit out of hand.” She gave him a quick smile. “So you two discussed…injuries?”

Severus snorted. “You, Minerva, you are living proof that Gryffindors couldn’t manage subtlety if their lives depended on it.” Her gaze didn’t waver, and he flicked his fingers. “He merely pointed out that martyrdom is not a Slytherin trait.” And cuffed me about like a disobedient child. That part he was never going to admit to anyone. He’d have much preferred that the man had hexed him to get his attention, now that he thought about it; at least there was some dignity in that. Alastor, Minerva, Albus, Flitwick, Poppy…there were days when he wished more of his colleagues both in the Order and at Hogwarts were closer to his own age. Less likely to see shades of the child he’d been. Of course, of those that were closer to his age the mutt and the werewolf didn’t bear thinking on, Kingsley generally bored him to tears, the Weasleys—all of the Weasleys, despite the fact that the older ones were generally decent to him—gave him headaches after too much exposure, Trelawny gave him the urge to beat his skull against the nearest wall after any exposure…he wasn’t sure which group was worse. And they wonder why I prefer to be left alone. “Was there anything else you needed this evening?”

“I wanted to talk to you about Harry, actually.”

“What about him?” Severus was pleased that he was able to keep his voice even.

“I was wondering if you planned to continue to tutor him in Occlumency. He told me about the Pensieve incident….”

Since an apology had been made, a sincere one surprisingly enough although upon reflection apologizing for his father and godfather had been a bit much, and as he had deliberately violated the boy’s memories in return, he rather considered the subject closed. “Your point?”

“The choice of punishment is, of course, yours, but it would be to the benefit of us all if he was able to Occlude his mind. Albus doesn’t have the time, and you are the only other person in the school accomplished in both Legilimency and Occlumency.”

It did need to be done, but it wasn’t something Severus particularly cared to go about right now. Not until he’d sorted out his own injuries, at least. Yet another person seeing him like this wasn’t something he looked forward to, despite the fact that Harry already knew about the eye and arm. However, she wasn’t likely to go away. He might be able to turn this to his advantage…. And it is something I can still do, despite what happened. What an excellent career choice for my future, teaching a bunch of little dunderheads how to hide thoughts that, in the vast majority of cases, no one particularly cares about anyway. “I will agree to continue tutoring him, with a few conditions.”

She held up a hand. “I can’t do anything about Poppy.”

“I didn’t expect you could.” The day I meet the person that could keep her from harassing her patients I’ll send them up against the Dark Lord one-on-one and have no worries about the outcome. “However, I would ask you to do something about the rest of the staff who somehow keep making their way down here.” She looked vaguely guilty, and he strongly suspected that she’d been one of the ones encouraging them to come down and ‘show their support.’ Typical. “I also want the boy’s promise that he’ll stay out of the rest of my things.”

“I’m sure you’ll have it.”

“And I’d like the Gryffindor common rooms redone in green and silver.” Long fingers tapped the arm of the chair she’d taken as she considered him levelly, and he was the first to break eye contact. Bloody calming drought Poppy keeps forcing on me, keeps making me too tired to keep my eyes open. The colors weren’t the important thing, though, and she knew it perfectly well. “I don’t mind a visitor or two, Minerva, but as I’m sure you know I prefer solitude, and the constant parade of well-wishers is grating on my last nerve.”

“With you that doesn’t require a great deal of effort.” She sighed. “They’re worried about you, Severus. Everyone knows you’ve been injured—it’s not the kind of thing we can keep secret although most don’t know just how bad it was—and since you don’t come to the Great Hall for meals or even leave the dungeons at all, coming here is the only thing they can do to reassure themselves. However, I will do my best to…limit…the intrusions. Perhaps to a certain hour or two a day?”

He’d prefer a certain hour or two a week, but he’d take what he could get. He nodded slightly. “Then tell the brat that he has detention with me tomorrow evening and we’ll sort things out from there.” He could amuse himself tormenting Harry for a bit, at least.