Where Many Questions are Asked, Yet Not Answered

Harry feigned sleep on the ancient sofa in the sitting room as his thoughts swirled around the rest of the evening's events. They had ate their food in relative silence, with only the occasional question from Harry to break the monotony.

Snape's clipped answers left much to be desired, though.

All Harry had wanted for the last...well, ever since the day Hagrid had stepped into his life and changed it forever, anyway...was honest answers. Why did all the adults in his life feel the need to conceal information from him at every bloody turn? Those that were the closest to him were the ones suffering from the repercussions. The Department of Mysteries was the freshest incident in his mind. He had grown tired of the half truths and censored information he had been getting over the last five years. Because of it, his friends had repeatedly paid the price.

And Sirius had paid the ultimate price.

The distinct sound of muffled footsteps drew Harry's mind back to his present quandary. Did that man ever sleep? Snape had been pacing about the place after he had ordered Harry to rest a few hours before. As far as Harry could tell, Snape had not even sat down once since then. He just kept on going through drawers, shelves, and anything else he could get his hands on to inspect. No wonder Snape was always the first person to catch him out of bed at night. Harry suspected that Snape must do the same thing back at Hogwarts, as well. He could not imagine what it must have been like for Snape. Up until now, Harry had always assumed that Snape enjoyed catching students disobeying the rules. Granted, a small part of Harry still clung to this theory, and probably would continue to. It was just that Harry had seen Snape in a different light for once, and he had come to realise something.

Snape had been a spy for so long that he could no longer feel secure, even when he was.

In their current situation, Harry could understand and identify with Snape's paranoia. If Snape had not insisted that he go to sleep, Harry would have been right up there with him, searching for clues at to their captor's identity. However, Snape had nothing to fear at Hogwarts, yet he still displayed the exact kind of behaviour there as he was here. Harry could not imagine what it must have been like for Snape, to prowl the halls at night in search of a phantom enemy ready to expose him for what he was. Without being conscious aware of it, Harry had assumed that Snape's new found freedom would elicit a change in behaviour from the surly Potions master. Nothing earth shattering, mind you - Harry didn't envision Snape dancing and singing anytime soon. He just figured that something would be different about the man.

Yet here he was, exactly the same.

If anything, Snape seemed worse. Of course, he still had tried to take as much control as possible and made the usual comments about Harry. What Snape had neglected to notice was that Harry was no longer as disconnected from his surroundings as he had been before. The events of his fifth year at Hogwarts had leant a new wariness to the Boy Who Lived that hadn't been there in the past. Therefore, Harry caught the tiny things that Snape had not bothered to hide under his false assumption of Harry's ability to gauge his demeanor. For instance, Harry noted that the normally steady hands of his Potions professor were slightly shaky, and that his insults lacked the usual rancour. It all led Harry back to one conclusion. Snape had been forced to resort to desperate measures in order to protect him.

Just how desperate was the question that was keeping Harry wide awake.

Severus could tell from the boy's breathing that he was awake and listening to every move he made. Potter probably thought that Severus had gone mad at this point, but Severus made a point to pay him no more mind than absolutely necessary. As much as he detested Moody, the man had a point when it came to his 'constant vigilance' motto. When you are in a game as dangerous as this, you have to ensure that every avenue is covered.

Especially when you have been a participant as long as Severus had.

He made a final set of rounds around the room and reluctantly sat in an ancient armoire in a futile attempt to get some peace. He was certain by now that the leak in question was that of the worst ilk. Process of elimination lead Severus to conclude that the new Death Eater had to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Until now, the Order had a minor edge with having a spy within the enemy's ranks. Now their spy was useless and incapacitated whilst the other traitor was most likely inflicting heavy damage. The mere thought of be of no value to the Order bothered Severus in a way he could not even describe. To add insult to injury, being holed up in the middle of nowhere with, quite possibly, the best chance they had against Voldemort was weighing heavily upon his shoulders. What if the boy died under his care? Severus' gave little thought to his own life in the grand scheme of things. Not that he wished to meet his end, of course, but he would rather be dead than live under Voldemort's rule. That man was nothing short of a stark raving lunatic, and Severus wondered, as he did every night, how the hell he could have been so easily fooled by the Dark Lord to begin with.

Sometimes, he thinks that peace will never come to his life until he finds a satisfactory answer to that question.

Brief Interlude: My Enemy is My Friend

"Where are they?"

"We do not know, my Lord."

"How can it be that the old man does not know where his 'golden boy' is? Who else would have a stake in his life?"

"......"

"Answer me!"

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Master, but I have no answers for you."

"Then you will bring me some, or next time we meet I cannot promise I will be as lenient with you as I am being now. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Excellent. Crucio."

Never Trust the Quiet Ones

Being a werewolf gave Remus Lupin almost nothing but trouble his entire life.

Almost.

As he sat there, unusually impassive for an Order meeting given tonight's subject, he was actually doing more work than the majority of the people in the room. His curse had come with tiny blessings near the full moon - most namely, a higher set of senses than most humans possess. The greying lycanthrope studied each person in the room, listened carefully as they gave their reports. He focused on their body language and the subtle, underlining tones to their voices which gave him more information than the words that were spewing forth from their lips ever could.

When the meeting ended, Albus approached him about his obvious change in demeanour. Remus had expected it, especially since they had discussed the whereabouts of Severus and Harry and how they had ended up at their unknown location.

Albus gently inquired as to Remus' present frame of mind and seemed to feel that Remus was in a funk of sorts do to Harry's disappearance. Remus had just nodded his agreement, smiled his pleasant smile, and made a few appropriate remarks as to his concern for Harry's well being. This satisfied the headmaster, who bade Remus a sympathy filled 'good night' and had taken his leave along with the others.

Remus had never lied to the headmaster before, and loathed the fact he had to do it now. Of course he was worried about Harry; that's why he had done what he had at the meeting. He now was sure of two things...Tonks was lying through her teeth.

And Dumbledore knew it.

Back to Our Dynamic Duo

Harry awoke to an unfamiliar darkness and nearly panicked before he recalled the events of the day before. A slow, steady breathing alerted him to the fact that Snape was still nearby and in one piece. Amazing, really. Just two days before, he would not have taken any comfort from Snape's presence - it would have been more like the opposite. Now it was the only comfort he had.

This was irony in its truest form, it seemed.

He still needed a plan of some sorts, though. Who knew when, or if, someone was coming for them? Harry didn't believe this was Voldemort's work, as much as it had seemed to be at the beginning. Voldemort had a plan, and it had been to kidnap Harry from the Dursleys. Snape had foiled it, and even though Harry believed Snape's position as a spy was precarious, he sincerely doubted Voldemort would have placed Snape in his mission if he believed Snape to be a traitor. It was Voldemort's life mission to kill Harry, and one which he took with utmost seriousness. There was no way he would have jeopardized it. Harry had no idea why he was here, but he opted to make the best of it. All he wanted was honest answers, and he was going to get them. Somewhere in Snape's bitter visage and venomous words was an undercurrent of truth, and Harry had to do was start listening.

Severus shifted uncomfortably in the chair, not surprised that sleep had not come to claim him. It was better that way; Potter should not be left unguarded. If the time came, Snape was fully prepared to give his life in exchange for the boy's. Maybe then Potter would show some gratitude for once. On the other hand, Severus wouldn't been around to see it, but that was the way the world worked. Severus had long since learned to appreciate irony. He was the one who had informed Albus of the growing danger to the Potters in order to save them, and his advice had gotten them killed.

Irony in its truest form, he supposed.

Potter's breathing had changed, and Severus knew he was awake again. Torn between yelling at him and asking what the problem was - although that was rather obvious - he settled on a mix between the two.

"What is the problem now, Potter? Let me guess, you cannot sleep without your stuffed dog by your side?"

Harry cringed as soon as Snape's sharp baritone cut through the peaceful silence in the small cottage. He wasn't sure what was worse; Snape's cutting tone of voice or the implication behind them. Harry didn't want to argue, but he was sick of the snide remarks about Sirius that Snape thought he was too unobservant to pick up on.

The Gryffindor threw his worn blanket back and sat up, not bothering to meet the glare he could feel was trained on him at the moment. Slipping as much distaste in his voice as he could muster, he responded:

"I'm not sure, Professor. Why is it that you are still up? Let me guess, you can't sleep a wink without kissing Voldemort's--"

Snape's hands were nearly around Harry's throat before he could even finish his sentence. For a split second, Harry thought that Snape was going to throttle him with those slender, but surprising strong hands. He never imagined that the seemingly emaciated Snape would have such a tight grip. The hands hesitated, and dropped down to Harry's collar instead, yanking him violently upright. Harry, with a show of force that momentarily stunned the Slytherin, pulled himself free of Snape's hold and stood in front of him. He was not about to back down now; he had been waiting for this for five years. Snape beat him to the punch, and was literally shaking with fury as he spoke.

"I am awake to ensure your sorry hide survives...whatever the hell this is! And you, as usual, do not appreciate it! You are just like your bloody--"

"Father," said Harry, cutting Snape off in mid tirade. "You are so predictable, Snape. You live in the past, and I'm starting to think you always will. I. am. not. James. Potter." Harry said, annunciating each word slowly. He paused for a moment, and then finished what he needed to say:

"I'm me! What's so hard for you to get about that? And other thing, leave my godfather out of this. He's dead. You won. End of story!"

For the first time that Harry could recall, Snape's face had colour to it. The Potions master's normally pale countenance was currently sporting a fierce shade of red that was getting more scarlet with each passing second. Just when Harry believe the conversation to be over, Snape took a step closer, making them nearly face to face. His mouth was pressed into such a thin line that it was nearly invisible, and Harry stayed silent under Snape decided to end the staring contest between them.

"You are immature, insufferable, and one of the most arrogant students that I have ever had the displeasure to teach."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but to his shock Snape slapped him hard across the face. Stunned, he glared at the Potions master with a look of pure loathing clear in his bright green eyes.

"You have said your piece, and I will not tolerate anymore disobedience from you. You feel I should disregard the past, don't you? That I should just let everything fade into oblivion, only concentrate on the more pleasant memories, hmmm?"

Harry did not dignify Snape with an answer, but the man was nonplused by it.

"That is one of the most idiotic notions that I have heard in my life. When we neglect the bad parts of our past, we are doomed to commit the same mistakes that caused our unhappiness to begin with. That's something you should have learned by now. Had you recalled how Voldemort tricked you in the past, you may have not been so easily caught in his traps later on."

Snape paused, acting almost as if he was completely detached from the conversation.

Harry, for his part, was trying not to respond to Snape's bait. It was exactly what Snape wanted, and he didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Snape, taking Harry's silence as a sign of acceptance of his previous statements, opted to finish what he was saying.

"I, myself, have learned not to be...bitten by the same dog twice, is it? Had you heeded the warning signs from your past dealings with Voldemort, you would have known that the Department of Mysteries was a setup, with your dear dogfather as bait. Quit blaming Albus and everyone else you can think of; it is mainly your fault that he is dead."

It is mainly your fault that he's dead.

The words raced through Harry's brain, and ignited his entire being. He was shaking so badly he could barely speak, and he pointed a single finger at Snape as if it was his wand before responding.

"It is not my fault. I didn't kill him! I DIDN'T KILL HIM! IT WAS VOLDEMORT! WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND..."

Harry felt what seemed like a jolt of electricity surge through his body, and watched, unbelievingly, as a blinding beam of light seemed emanate from his finger tip and hit Snape squarely in the chest. Harry watched with horror as Snape was hurtled backwards and slammed into a bookcase. It was like seeing something in slow motion as Snape's lifeless body unceremoniously landed on the floor.

Harry rushed over and knelt down at Snape's side.

No magic! We're supposed to be in an 'anti magic' ward or something! I don't even have my wand...

"Professor? Professor, can you hear me?"

Harry waited anxiously for a response, studying Snape's black clad form for any obvious sign of injury. It only took him a moment to realise what was immediately preventing Snape from replying.

Oh Merlin, he's not breathing!

The Puppet Master

"We've had our first success, I see."

"Yes, sir, but at what cost?"

"No price is too high to pay for victory."