Snape sighed. There were times when he did rather miss the excitement of the old days. Matching wits against students – even the Weasley twins – just wasn’t the same as serving as a double agent, caught between the two most powerful wizards of the age.

Then again, Snape noted, coming to a halt before a barred iron door. There were some memories of the old days that he could do without. So much for nostalgia. He gestured impatiently and the Azkaban guard reluctantly unlocked the door. “He’s dangerous, this one! Kill you as soon as look at you!” he warned.

“I know that better than you.” Snape shoved past him and entered the dank cell. Behind him, the guard grumbled resentfully but walked away. Damn – it’s actually a bit warmer than my dungeons. I really need to get some new warming spells. He crossed to the low, narrow bunk and gave the recumbent figure a vigorous kick in the side. “Wake up, you bastard.”

“Who the – “ Bleary eyes blinked, fought to focus, and finally widened. “Snivellus?”

Snape sighed. Well, there went one of his long-cherished hopes. The creep wasn’t completely insane yet. On the other hand, it did mean that he might be able to play the role that Snape had in mind.

It had taken him days to figure it out, but in the end it had made an awful kind of sense. Snape wanted to torture the Dursleys, and not merely for a few days or weeks as Lucius or Bellatrix might. Who knew how to make someone’s life a true misery for years on end? Who but the Marauders?

Unfortunately for Snape’s plan, both Potter and Pettigrew were dead and the mangy werewolf had been the most law-abiding of the bunch. On the other hand, Black wasn’t dead, just exiled to Azkaban. He might well be insane after so many years in that environment, but if he weren’t… Who knew better than Sirius Black how to make someone’s existence utterly wretched? And who knew this better than Severus Snape? So Snape had overcome his loathing and come to Azkaban to pick Black’s brain about the best ways to torment the Dursleys.

It was an inspired plan, Snape congratulated himself. No one would ever assume that he of all people would come within twenty miles of Sirius Black, let alone seek his assistance. This was one plot he was confident Dumbledore would never anticipate.

“What the b-bloody hell –“ Black was shivering and close to incoherent. Snape used a sticking hex to fasten him to the bunk – disoriented he might be, but Black was still a powerful wizard even without his wand – and forced chocolate and pepper-up potions down the man’s throat. After a surprisingly short time, he could detect the return of sanity to Black’s eyes.

“Come to gloat, Snivellus?” Black snarled, then yelped as a stinging hex caught him in the chest.

“Mind your manners, Black,” Snape drawled lazily. “You may have noticed a distinct lack of other Marauders to hide behind.”

“Bast – ow!” The second hex hurt even more than the first, and Sirius broke off with a glare.

“My, my, I am surprised,” Snape said mockingly. “Did it only take two hexes to teach you to hold your tongue? Your IQ must have risen sharply in the last ten years. Azkaban really has been good for you.”

“What do you want?” Sirius spat.

Snape twirled his wand idly. “Hmmm. So many choices. To pay you back for all your kind attention during our school days, perhaps?” He smirked as Black paled at his words. “I see you haven’t lost all your memories to the Dementors. Can you think of a few things I might like to do?”

“Fine – get your sick thrills, you bloody Death Eater!”

“Let’s not play the pot and the kettle, Black!” Snape snapped back, then grimaced at his involuntary pun. “You were the one who turned on your best friends and killed a dozen Muggles in the process. You would have made Voldemort very proud if he’d still been around to appreciate it!”

“What?” Sirius shook his head, confusion once again clouding his eyes.

Snape snarled in frustration and shoved more chocolate down the man’s throat. When Black seemed to have recovered, he started over. “Black, if you had a Muggle family to torture, how would you go about it?”

Black stared at him for a moment then spat directly in his face. Snape leaped backwards, bringing up his wand.

“Do it! Kill me! Curse me!” Black shouted, his face distorted with rage. “But don’t expect me to help you harm innocents, you Slytherin bastard!”

Snape scourgify’d the spittle from his face, but the Gryffindor’s odd words prevented the immediate retaliation he longed to launch. “Feeling remorse for all the Muggles you killed?” he taunted. “Isn’t it a bit late to reprise the role of noble hero?”

Black stared at him. “I thought I was the insane one, Snivellus. What are you talking about?”

“Trying to pretend it was all a bad dream, Black? Pettigrew, the Muggles, the Potters – you killed them all. Deny it if you can!”

Sirius shook his head as if trying to clear it. “What? No – Voldemort killed James and Lily.”

Snape tried to hide his flinch at the Dark Lord’s name. “After you betrayed them by revealing their location. And then when that poor idiot Pettigrew tried to capture you, you killed him and blew up a city block full of Muggles in the process!”

“That – that’s not true,” Sirius argued, eyes focused inwards as he tried to dredge up the memories. Prolonged exposure to Dementors had a detrimental effect on rational thought. “Pettigrew – Peter was the traitor. I tried to capture him. He was the one who caused the explosion, killed everyone… And then I woke up here…” He looked up at Snape. “What are you these days, Snivellus? Minister of Magic? Or did Malfoy snag that for himself after Voldemort vanished? Do you gloat every day about your glorious victories?”

Snape frowned. “What victories?”

“The ones that let Voldemort’s supporters seize control even after that bastard was dead,” Sirius snarled. “Proud of yourself, you greasy bastard?” He blinked and looked at Snape again. “Hey – what happened to your hair?”

“Fudge is minister, Dumbledore still heads the Wizengamot, and the Dark Lord’s supporters were rounded up and imprisoned after He fell,” Snape informed Black, ignoring the question about his hair. “Why would you think that Malfoy and the Death Eaters won?”

Sirius’ eyes grew even more confused. “But – but if they didn’t, if Dumbledore is still alive, then what am I doing here?” His countenance grew even more stricken. “Oh Merlin – what happened to Harry? If the Death Eaters didn’t come to power and kill him…”

That did it. Snape had had enough of this doubletalk. On the one hand he suspected that Black was merely delusional, but… he had to be sure. Lifting his wand, he snapped, “Legilimens!” and an instant later he was in Black’s mind.

Emotions, images, and sounds flashed past him in a dizzying blur – he had always known Black was a chaotic, emotional mess, and Azkaban hadn’t helped in that regard – but he definitely wasn’t insane. Yet.

Snape pieced together enough scraps and tatters of memory to become appalled. Even his undiminished hatred for the man couldn’t suppress the feelings of horror and pity as he realized what had happened. He pulled out and stared at the prisoner, aghast.

Black believed it – believed that he was here on Azkaban because the Dark Lord had won, that Pettigrew had betrayed James and Lily, that in the ensuing chaos, Harry and the remaining Order of the Phoenix members had been killed and the war lost.

“Prove it,” Snape fought to keep his voice from trembling. “Prove what you’re thinking is true.”

Sirius squinted up at him, his head racked with pain from Snape’s mental assault. “Get stuffed. I don't take orders from Death Eating bastards.”

Snape ignored Black's words and unstuck him from the bed, though he kept the other man at wandpoint. “Your memories showed you all had Animagus forms. Prove that this is more than the ramblings of a broken mind.”

Sirius got painfully to his feet. “Fine. Whatever makes you happy, you Slytherin shi-“ Before he could finish the word, a large, skeletal black dog stood where the gaunt man had been.

Only Snape’s iron control permitted him to keep his feet. It was true then. Pettigrew had been the Secret Keeper and had betrayed the other Marauders. It was because of him that James and Lily had died and Sirius was framed for a crime he didn’t commit. But why hadn’t Dumbledore… Snape forced himself away from that line of thought. It would not be a question he could answer here and now, and in fact he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Either the Headmaster was a great deal more fallible than anyone had dreamed, or he was much more ruthlessly manipulating than anyone had feared. Neither option was particularly welcome, and Snape couldn’t afford to be distracted just then.

Sirius shifted back to his human form. “So? Satisfied yet, Death Eater?” he asked snidely, reseating himself on the bunk. Apparently spending time in animal form was rather restful; he seemed better, more centered, than he had before.

“Eat this,” Snape ordered, passing him more chocolate. “You’ll need it.”

“So why are you here?” Black demanded. “If your side lost, how come you’re not in the next cell over?”

“I was Dumbledore’s spy, you idiot,” Snape snapped. “How do you think he knew the Dark Lord was after Lily and James?” Black blinked. “After the war, Dumbledore spoke on my behalf and took me back to Hogwarts. I’m the Head of Slytherin and the Potions professor.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Black breathed. “Dumbledore turned you loose on poor defenseless children?”

Snape threw him a dirty look. “Shut up, mutt.”

“What about Harry? What happened to him? Without James and Lily and with me locked up here –“

“Dumbledore placed him with Lily’s sister.”

Sirius paled. “Not Petunia! She’s –“

“Yes. And her husband is worse.” Snape glared at him. “And here I had imagined you might actually prove useful for once in your misbegotten life.”

“What are you talking about?”

Snape waved a hand in frustration. “I was hoping you might have some innovative ideas on how to repay the Dursleys for making Harry’s childhood miserable, but that was back when I imagined you were a secret Death Eater. Obviously, though, you’re as useless as ever,” he ended, feeling rather depressed. All he had managed to do was to prove the innocence of his boyhood nemesis and raise some very troubling concerns about his mentor’s behavior. What a rotten night.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Snivellus,” Black chided. “I may not be a murderer, but I’m still a Marauder. Of course I’ll have good ideas.” Then all of Snape’s words finally registered. “Wait. What do you mean, they made Harry unhappy?”

Snape shrugged, elaborately casual. “Oh, does it matter to you? Well, let’s see. They forced him to live in a cupboard, barely fed him, and used him as a house elf even as they pampered their own little horror. Oh, and they thrashed him on a regular basis. He arrived at Hogwarts too welted to sit down properly.”

The look in Black’s eye made Snape back up a step, raising his wand. It was only when he realized the other man’s rage wasn’t directed at him that he felt his heart rate start to slow.

“They did that to my godson?” Black’s voice was a low growl.

“Indeed.”

“And Albus is making them pay?”

Snape rolled his eyes. And they said Hufflepuffs were the loyal ones. “Albus, the man who has done nothing to extricate you from your unjust incarceration, has left both the Dursleys’ punishment and Harry’s guardianship in my hands.”

Black came off the bed in a leap and Snape only barely managed to get his wand up in time. He flung Black back onto the bunk and stuck him down again. “You bastard. You must be delighted – now you can revenge yourself on all of us by taking it out on Harry. Albus must be bloody insane.”

“Calm yourself, mutt!” Snape spat. “I would remind you that I wasn’t the bully during our schooldays, picking on classmates when I had a four to one advantage. The boy will come to no harm at my hands, though I can hardly say the same thing about his own relatives.”

Black panted, but he had no strength to sustain his rage and the fury that had overtaken him rapidly ebbed. “You won’t harm Harry? You swear it?” he sounded almost plaintive.

“Yes, of course,” Snape said testily, forcing down unexpected pity for the other man. “He’s a horrible, needy little brat, but he’s too scared of his own shadow – thanks to those appalling Muggles – to remind me of either you or James.” Well, not after that first night... he thought uncomfortably.

Black stared at him for another moment, as if to evaluate whether he could believe him, before dropping his gaze to the floor. There was a long silence, then: “I apologize.”

Snape hid his shock and even managed an airy wave. “What’s one more insult from you, Black? I barely even notice anymore.”

“No. I meant that I apologize for what we did to you at school.” Now Snape was truly speechless. Black kept his eyes on the floor, but he continued speaking. “We – James and Remus and I – well, mostly James and I – were prats. And it was me more than James, especially once he started seeing Lily and she insisted we leave you be. We – I – treated you like shite and I’m sorry. These last ten years, I’ve learned what it feels like to be trapped and tortured. We should never have treated you like that. I just assumed that considering how awful we’d been, you would have taken it out on Harry. I apologize for thinking that, too.”

“Wh- what do you want, Black?” Severus managed to find his voice.

Black actually smiled, though it was only a ghost of his old cheeky grin. “Ever the Slytherin, eh? Well, I wouldn’t say no to more of that chocolate, but I wasn’t apologizing only to get on your good side, Snivel- er, Snape. It just seemed the least I could do, considering that you’re taking care of my godson after the rest of us made a bollocks of it. There’s not much else I can do for you from here.”

“No,” Snape agreed sourly, regaining his composure. “What a surprise.”

“Don’t whinge, Snape,” Black chided. “I swear you’re disappointed I wasn't a Death Eater. Just what do you have planned for Harry’s relatives anyway?”

Snape shrugged mentally and shared his plans, emphasizing the difficulty that Black’s uselessness would now create for him. Maybe I still have time to drop in on Bellatrix…

Sirius regarded him with a mixture of exasperation and tentative hope. “Snape, you bloody idiot. I may not have been one of Voldemort's little toadies, but have you forgotten who made your life a living hell all those years? Get me out of here, and I’ll drive the Dursleys insane within the year. I’ll make them pay for harming Harry.”

Severus considered the offer. There was no doubt that Black could be an implacable – and all too inventive – adversary. Once provided with a new wand, he would be able to torture the Dursleys with everything from boils to termite infestations, and while his escape would undoubtedly kick off a massive manhunt, no one would ever assume Snape had anything to do with it. Snape reluctantly acknowledged that, if handled properly, Black’s escape might also help to raise some questions about his imprisonment – such as why he had received no trial, why Veritaserum hadn’t been used, and so on. While the last thing he wanted was Sirius Black back in his life – not to mention the fact that the werewolf would not be far behind once Black was exonerated – in the coming years, Harry would need all the protectors he could get. And if Dumbledore were playing some kind of deep game, then having allies beyond Hogwarts could be more than helpful – they might be desperately needed.

“Oh, all right,” Snape growled at last. “You’re sure no one knows about your being an animagus?”

“I don’t know if Peter told anyone, but I assume Remus didn’t say a word or they would have had anti-tranfiguration wards in here all this time. Being able to spend most of my time as a dog is the only thing that's kept me sane.” Black ignored Snape’s smirk. “I know Dumbledore and McGonagall never knew or they would have insisted we register.”

“Hmf.” Snape gave Black one last threatening look. “Try anything and I’ll turn you into a rug, you flea bitten hound.” He unstuck the man, then conjured a simulacrum on the bed in his place. “It won’t last more than a few days, but I assume you don’t get much company who might spot the difference,” he said snarkily.

“Not to worry. You want me in canine form?”

“So long as you’re housebroken.”

The big black dog sat down and held up one paw politely.

“Don’t even think about it,” Snape told him coldly, then cast an invisibility spell on the animal. “Stay close to me. If you get left behind, I’m not coming back.” He felt the big animal press against his legs and rolled his eyes. He really hoped that his use of the term “flea bitten” would not prove to be literally true.

Once they were safely back on the mainland, Snape handed over the second potion to the helpfully dishonest prison guard and set off for Surrey with a still-invisible Black by his side. They apparated to the Dursley home, and Snape briefed Sirius on the family. He finished speaking, then cast a baleful eye over the now visible dog. “You’re in no shape to embark on a campaign of terror,” he announced disgustedly. “You’re emaciated and your hair is all matted. The neighbors will take one look at you and summon the dog warden. We’d better get you somewhere so you can recover a bit first. Then you might be able to pass yourself off as a family pet.”

Sirius transformed again. “I don’t exactly have a place to stay,” he argued wearily. It was obvious that he was close to collapse; the years at Azkaban had taken their toll. “And within a few hours – days at the most – they’ll figure out I’m gone and then they’ll plaster my face all over the country, Muggle and Wizard locations alike. I can’t just check into a hotel and hope no one notices that they’re rooming next to an escaped murderer.”

“I did think of that, you idiot.”

“Then what’s your brilliant plan? I don’t have the energy to maintain a glamour,” Black snapped back, though it was clear that it hurt his pride to have to admit to such weakness. “I know you’re the Potion Master, but can you really make me enough Polyjuice to maintain a disguise for weeks on end?”

“No.” Snape gloomily regarded the other man. Why him? Why was it always up to him? “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Predictably, the idiot Gryffindor held back.

Snape pointed his wand threateningly. “You’re going wherever I say, though I’ll be happy to stun and drag you there.”

“I can see your disposition hasn’t improved with age,” Black muttered rebelliously, even as he took Snape’s arm for the apparition.

“Here.” Snape shook off the Gryffindor’s hand as soon as he could. “This is one of my mother’s family homes. It’s unplottable and I’m the Secret Keeper, so unless you irritate me, you should be safe.” Ignoring the other’s mutter of “I’m doomed!”, Snape continued. “There are two house elves who will look after you. Don’t leave the property – there are books to occupy your time and even some old brooms out back. If you fall off and kill yourself, be good enough to do it somewhere your corpse won’t ruin the landscaping. A few rooms are warded. If you go in them, I’ll kill you if the wards don’t.” Snape glared at his very unwelcome house guest. This next was going to be very hard to say, but the only alternative was even worse. “Since I have better things to do than nurse you back to health so that you can keep your end of the bargain about the Dursleys, I can.." he forced himself to say the words, "...go ahead and contact the werewolf if you want.”

Black’s eyes widened. “You’d contact Remus for me?”

“No, I was planning on sending Fenrir Greyback. Of course I’m talking about Lupin, you half-wit! Do you think he’ll believe your story, or will he try to ingratiate himself with the Ministry by turning you in?”

Black bit back his initial angry retort and actually thought for a moment. “I think he’ll want to see me, especially if you tell him that you believe me. You can risk it.”

Snape shrugged. “You’re the one who’s at risk. If they capture you before your name is cleared, you’re sure to be Kissed. Still trust the werewolf?”

Black glared at him. “Yes. Unlike you, I have friends that I trust.”

“Mmm. Like Peter Pettigrew.” Snape was quite surprised when Black didn’t attempt to punch him for that remark. Obviously the man was even weaker than he was letting on.

“Come along.” He introduced Black to the house elves, made sure he was reasonably well settled, and departed for Hogwarts. While he had no doubts as to Black’s ability to wreak vengeance on the Dursleys, he was more than a little annoyed with himself for actually helping the man. First the Potter brat, then Black, and now he was going to contact the werewolf! What was happening to him? Any minute now, he’d be patting Longbottom on the head and helping Hagrid spoon feed orphaned kneazles! This was clearly all that brat’s fault. Even tucked away safely at the Burrow, Potter was still causing him no end of trouble.

Snape returned to his quarters and checked the time. Half past three. He smirked to himself. At least he’d have the pleasure of waking up the werewolf. After confirming that they were indeed two weeks away from the full moon, Snape once again entered the floo.

He had made a point of keeping track of the werewolf’s location ever since Dumbledore had first floated the idea of hiring him for the DADA position, yet further proof of the Headmaster’s increasing dottiness. Having a werewolf prowling around the student body – oh, there was a brilliant idea. Sometimes Snape was amazed that Dumbledore hadn’t yet been strung up by a mob of parents, irate over his faculty appointments. Ignoring Snape's own checkered past, there was the disgraced giant, the incompetent seer, the twitching current DADA instructor… Actually, a werewolf probably would fit right in.

Still, he had so far managed to dissuade Dumbledore whenever the idea of employing Lupin came up, though he wondered how much longer his screaming tantrums and threats to resign would work. The old man could be annoyingly persistent when he chose to be.

It was handy that Lupin had given him his floo password after Snape had grudgingly, after much pressure from Dumbledore, agreed to provide him with his monthly dose of wolfsbane potion. Knowing that the werewolf wouldn’t accidentally bite him wasn’t that much comfort to Snape, and he had repeatedly told Albus so. As usual, the Headmaster merely smiled and nodded. On the other hand, it did make striding into Lupin’s bedroom in the wee hours of the morning rather easy.

“Get up!” Snape snarled, kicking the bed. To his disappointment – though not his surprise – Lupin was alone.

“Huh? Whuzzat? Who’s there?” Lupin thrashed about, tangled in the covers.

“Aguamenti!” Lupin fought free of his duvet just in time for Snape’s jet of cold water to catch him in the face.

As the werewolf coughed and spluttered, Snape smirked. “Oh, dear. Do forgive me, Lupin. I thought you might need some assistance rousing yourself.”

“Severus? What are you doing here?” Remus wiped the water from his eyes and frowned at Snape worriedly. “Did Albus send you? Is something wrong?”

Snape glowered. The werewolf was no fun. Black would have foamed and cursed him, but Remus simply ignored the pranks and insults. “It depends on whether you think incorrectly imprisoning someone on Azkaban for ten years constitutes ‘something wrong’.”

Remus stiffened. “Sirius. You’re talking about Sirius.”

“No, Lupin. I’m talking about Bellatrix LeStrange. Of course I’m talking about Black, you cretin. Why didn’t you tell the authorities he was an animagus?”

Lupin swallowed hard. “How did you find that out?”

Snape just smirked at him.

“Is – is he hurt? Did he try to escape and get recaptured? What happened? Is he…” Lupin’s voice trailed off.

“Dead?” Snape offered helpfully.

Lupin’s amber eyes widened in horror, and for a moment, Snape was certain he saw a yellow glow appear in them. Suddenly, teasing a werewolf didn’t seem like such a good idea.

“No, no, he’s not dead,” he said hastily. “Calm down, wolf! He’s perfectly all right, last time I checked. What difference does it make to you, anyway? Didn’t he kill your best friends?”

Lupin buried his head in his hands, oblivious to the soggy sheets that were still draped around him. “I know, I know. I keep telling myself that, but I can’t stop worrying about him. It’s just so hard to believe…”

“Yet you did.”

Lupin looked up. “What do you mean, Severus? I did what?”

“You did believe the story – that he betrayed the Potters, killed Pettigrew and all those Muggles?”

“Well, the evidence was so overwhelming… “ Again Lupin trailed off.

“What evidence?” Snape asked.

“What?”

“Well, I hardly need evidence to believe the worst of Black, but what did it take to convince you of your best friend’s treachery?”

The werewolf sat up straighter. “Severus, what are you talking about? It was all over the paper – the Ministry and the Aurors explained what had happened. Dumbledore and the rest of the Order didn’t lift a hand to help him. What else was I to believe? And why dredge up ancient history now anyway?”

“Because it appears the mutt didn’t do it,” Snape said irritably.

Lupin stared at him, incredulous hope dawning on his face. “Really? Are you sure? Did Dumbledore find evidence that cleared him?”

Snape gritted his teeth. All of this blind devotion to the Headmaster was getting annoying. “Is Dumbledore here?” he demanded crossly. “No. I’m here. I’m the one who’s helping prove his innocence. Are you interested, or would you rather call the Aurors?”

“If Sirius didn’t do it, then… “ Lupin broke off. “I’m interested. Tell me how I can help.”

Snape eyed him. Did he trust the werewolf? It was true that if they were caught, Black would be Kissed, but Snape would likely end up in Azkaban himself. He too had a lot to lose if the werewolf betrayed them… But it was hard to imagine a werewolf, even one as nauseatingly law-abiding as Lupin, betraying a pack member, whether current or past.

“I’ll take you to him and the two of you can sort things out. He’ll need clothes, a new wand, and probably some assistance to recover from that much time in Azkaban. Once they figure out he’s escaped, they’ll probably come looking for you.”

Remus gave a rueful glance around his small bed-sit. “There’s nothing here I’ll miss. Take me to Sirius – two can survive on the run as easily as one.”

“Not when one is a werewolf who needs a steady supply of wolfsbane,” Snape snarled. Idiot Gryffindor! “I’ll give you three days to come up with a plausible excuse that takes you out of the country. By that time they’ll have figured out Black’s escaped and interviewed you. After that, go ahead with your trip. Go to the Continent and buy an extra wand. Owl me your whereabouts and I’ll meet you there, then take you to Black. Do you have all that, or shall I repeat myself until your under-evolved brain can take it in?”

Remus smiled, as usual ignoring the insults. “Thank you, Severus. You are very kind.”

Snape snorted in disgust and spun on his heel. Stupid werewolf.

Safely back in his quarters with almost an hour before sunrise, Snape glumly reviewed his night as he climbed into bed. He leaned back against his pillow and mentally ticked off each task. Met up with Muggle criminals? Check. Arranged initial retribution for Dursleys? Check. Saw rest of evening descend into madness? Check.

Yes, he had gotten an astonishingly coherent apology from Black of all people – they must be ice skating in Hell tonight – but that didn’t erase the fact that he had not only smuggled that great berk out of the most feared Wizarding prison in the world, but he had also ensconced him in his own family home! What was next? Would he take another page from Molly Weasley’s book and knit Black a jumper for Christmas?

And then to do something nice for Lupin as well? He should have just let the stupid Gryffindor go straight to Black like he had wanted to. Then the two would doubtless have decided they needed to check on Harry, and they would have run right into the arms of the Aurors. Black would have been Kissed, the werewolf would have been beheaded… And even better, if they claimed Snape had helped, no one would have believed them. They’d believe in a Polyjuiced Malfoy rather than a genuine Snape – it would have been such a perfect, Slytherin plan, he mourned. But no, just because Black and Lupin could be strong allies for Harry in the upcoming years, he had to help them.

The things he did for that little monster – and was it likely that the boy’d be grateful? Ha! Once Sirius’ name was cleared and he got to meet Harry, he’d be nothing but an overgrown playmate. Harry would adore him, and Black doubtless prove an utterly useless guardian. Discipline? He couldn’t even spell the word, let alone instill some in the boy. Snape rolled his eyes. Oh, yes, he’d like to see Black trying to get Harry to eat his vegetables. The man wouldn’t know a brussel sprout if he tripped over it.

Well, if that idiot mutt – or his tame werewolf – thought that they were going to waltz in and take custody of Harry, they’d learn a thing or two! He had spent too much time and effort on that appalling brat just to let those two swoop in and take all the credit. He huffed to himself. Typical Gryffindors – rushing around without a thought in their heads and expecting someone else to pick up the pieces! Well, he would instill some Slytherin traits in Harry if it killed him. Snape wasn’t about to let the Dark Lord rise again and enslave the world just because Black wouldn’t think to make sure the boy was sufficiently rested for his DADA lesson!

No, indeed. Snape would not permit the Savior of the Wizarding World to be looked after by an idiot who, even in their Seventh Year, routinely forgot to tie his shoes. Black might have been a heartthrob, but he was also an unthinking git whose sense of responsibility probably went no farther that remembering not to drop baby Harry on his head. What were Lily and James thinking of to entrust their defenseless infant son to such an immature numbskull? Just look what he had done when they were killed. Did he immediately take custody of their orphaned child? No, he left the baby to Hagrid (!!) and Dumbledore and ran off to look for Pettigrew - without, mind you, bothering to tell anyone else that Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper and a rat animagus. Really, it made it hard to feel sympathy for his incarceration. Maybe idiocy should be a criminal offense.

Anyway, regardless of the elder Potters’ wishes ten years ago, Snape had absolutely no intention of relinquishing Harry to a reckless nitwit whose minimally adequate brain had been further addled by years in Azkaban. He grumbled to himself. It was just like a Gryffindor to assume that raising a child was all fun and games. A fragile child like Harry, with a history of abuse, would last about thirty seconds under Black’s boisterous supervision.

Snape grumbled again and rolled over on his side. That rotten brat. Demanding ever more of his time and attention. As if he didn’t have better things to do. As if he wanted to look after such an annoying little fiend. As if he might actually care for the creature. As if it mattered to him if he were happy, or had enough to eat, or liked his new room… Snape drifted off to sleep, his last thought the memory of Harry’s expression as he lovingly touched his new broom.