Hello! This is the original version of Enigma that I started in 2012. I have explained in the Enigma Rewrite why I have chosen to discontinue this version, but I know that a lot of readers did like this story, so I have decided to keep re-post it :)

PROLOGUE

SEPTEMBER 1976

Severus Snape was the last to enter the potions classroom. While the other students unpacked their Potions books, he glanced about the room for a seat. It was then that he saw them. Peering out from behind his greasy fringe, his dark eyes bored into the back of James Potter's head. Severus balled his fists and his stomach tightened – when had he and Lily become so friendly? As if he sensed someone staring at him, Potter turned around, throwing a smug smirk in Severus' direction. He could almost hear the bully's thoughts: as if you ever stood a chance with her.

On instinct, Severus' fingers toyed with his wand, but he had more sense than to hex Potter in front of a class full of witnesses. Instead, he turned away from Potter with a bored look on his face. Severus would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd struck a raw nerve. Slipping into the closest empty seat, he silently removed several books from his bag. However, every few seconds his gaze flickered to the front desk. He picked up a quill, twirling it in agitation when he saw Potter touch Lily's cheek, his knuckles turning white.

SNAP!

Severus muttered a curse under his breath as the quill splintered in two. He quickly fished another from his bag – it was his last one, so he decided not to touch it until it was necessary.

"All right, settle down now," Professor Slughorn said, emerging from the small office annexed to the classroom. "I want you to work in pairs today to brew the Draught of Living Death. It's a complex potion, but I have no doubt that there are one or two in this class who will gain top marks."

Slughorn glanced from Lily's table to Severus', making it obvious to the rest of the class exactly who he meant.

"Off you go," he said cheerfully.

Severus opened his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before finally acknowledging his partner for the lesson. He merely nodded at her, but quietly observed as she ran a long, delicate finger down the list of ingredients. Her name was Deirdre Harper; a Ravenclaw.

"Would you like me to fetch the ingredients?" she asked in a soft Irish brogue.

"Whatever," Severus said dismissively, turning his attention back to his book.

A moment later, he heard the scraping of her stool across the stone floor. He kept his nose firmly in his book, but when he heard Lily laugh his eyes snapped toward her. When she slapped Potter's arm playfully, cold jealously spread through Severus. Oh, how he hated James Potter.

"Ready to begin?" Deirdre smiled, her arms filled with ingredients.

Severus turned his head to her, giving her a cursory glance, then said, "Is everything there?"

She pursed her lips. "I read the list, didn't I?"

Severus said nothing as he reached for a knife. "You start cutting the valerian roots, and I'll cut up the Sopohorous Bean."

"All right, but you would be better to crush…" Deidre started to say.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Severus snapped.

"Seriously, Snape, don't get your knickers in a twist. I was only trying to help."

An awkward silence settled between them, and Severus felt a stab of guilt for his childish behaviour. He shouldn't be taking out his anger on her; he barely knew her, for Merlin's sake. Sneaking a glance, he saw that the annoyance on her face had faded. His gaze then dropped to her hands and he was surprised at how swiftly, yet precisely, she cut the roots.

"How did you know to crush the Sopohorous Bean rather than cut it?" he asked in a neutral tone.

Deirdre pushed a pile of valerian roots to the opposite end of the chopping board with the flat of the knife in her hand. She started slicing another root, then said, "It's obvious, isn't it, crushing the bean will release more juice than by simply cutting it."

Severus merely nodded. As he added the bean juice to the potion, he stole another fleeting look at Lily. She was focused on her work, while Potter stabbed at the valerian roots with disinterest. Severus couldn't understand what she saw in Potter; after all, despite their different Houses didn't she have more in common with him?

"All right, I'm done with the roots," Deirdre said. She then turned her attention back to the method written in the book. "What do you say we experiment a little, Snape?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it says in the book that we have to stir the potion anti-clockwise until it turns as clear as water. It doesn't quite make sense to do that, though, as continually stirring in the one direction will lessen the potency of the valerian roots."

Severus considered her theory for a minute, then said, "You're right." He tapped his forefinger on his chin. "Valerian is an alkaline, so I suggest we try seven stirs anti-clockwise then one clockwise."

"Hold on, let me do the Arithmancy."

"Trust me, Harper, I know I'm right."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she said, "All right, let's try it."

After carefully adding the valerian roots, Severus picked up a glass stirring rod. He moved so that he was standing directly over the cauldron, and Deirdre moved to within inches of him. Normally he loathed having his personal space invaded but, for the sake of their experiment, he bit his tongue.

"Once I begin to stir, do not say a word," Severus said firmly. "I need to concentrate."

Deirdre resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Is there anything else you think I should be made aware of?" she asked dryly.

Severus' lips thinned and he pointed to her belongings on the desk. "That is a quill, and that is a book, so don't you think you would be better to take notes instead of just standing there."

"You're a complete arse, you know that, Snape," she said, her voice low, heated. "I don't know why I even bothered trying to be civil with you."

Deirdre grabbed her stool, then dragged it to the far side of their desk. She slid her book towards her, dipped the quill into an inkpot, and began to write. Severus simply stared at her, his obsidian eyes cold, hard. A fresh wave of hatred for Potter washed over him; it was because of him that his friendship with Lily had soured. After a moment, he turned away from Deirdre to focus on the potion. He didn't need her anyway; he would have reached the same conclusion about the valerian roots without her help.

By the end of the class, it was clear that Severus and Deirdre were the only two who had managed to produce a perfect Draught of Living Death. Severus silently revelled in Slughorn's high praise, and managed to curb a smug smirk when the Marauders walked past him. Black and Lupin had made a hash of their potion.

"You make quite the formidable duo," Slughorn said, drawing Severus' attention back to him.

"Thank you, sir," Severus replied, though he refused to look at Deirdre.

"Yes, it's always a thrill to see the best minds in the year finally being brought together."

Severus tried not to sigh as Slughorn geared up for one of his long winded speeches. He absently listened as the portly professor expounded on past pupils who had gone on to greater things.

"And so, I think it would be of vast benefit to both of you if you continued as partners for the foreseeable future."

"I'm already partners with Mary Glasswater, sir," Deirdre said, shifting the strap of her satchel uncomfortably. "She's sick today. Madam Pomfrey made her stay in the Ravenclaw dorm."

"Trust me, Miss Harper, you will find Potions this year much easier with a partner like Severus," Slughorn said, smiling. "Right then, off you go to your next class."

Deirdre made a beeline for the door the moment Slughorn turned away from them. Severus quickly gathered up his belongings and charged after her, his long strides quickly covering the distance between them.

"Harper!" he called.

She stopped and spun round. "What do you want, Snape, I'm late for my next class."

"I hope you will take the Professor's advice into consideration?" he said, sneering slightly.

Bristling, she said, "Did I miss something during the lesson? Because I was pretty sure you wanted to be anywhere else but with me."

Severus stepped closer so that he towered menacingly over her, "Listen, Harper, you might not have any aspirations for the future, but I do. I need good references from Slughorn, and if that means having to put up with you for two years, then so be it."

"Threatening me won't get you anywhere, Snape," she said, glaring up at him.

Clenching his fists as she walked away, Severus muttered a string of foul words. However, his conscience accused him as he strode towards the Slytherin common room. Was he going to treat everyone around him like a piece of rubbish because of what Potter did to him in Fifth year?

...

Deirdre's cheeks reddened as she arrived late at Transfigurations. Professor McGonagall stopped speaking, and Deirdre felt every eye in the class room on her. On the left side of the room, she saw Sirius Black whisper something into James Potter's ear, who then sniggered. No doubt it was one of the many Ravenclaw jokes that had been beaten to death years ago.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Professor, but Professor Slughorn wished to see me after class," she said, then swiftly sat down at an empty desk in the back.

Professor McGonagall peered over the rim of her spectacles, then said, "Turn to page four in your textbook, Miss Harper."

Deirdre could almost feel the other students' disappointment; clearly they had been anticipating a dressing down from McGonagall. But she was a top student, unlike some of the tossers in her class. As the professor continued on with the lesson, Deirdre found it hard to focus. Her mind kept turning over what had happened in Potions and then in the corridor afterwards. Despite Snape's waspish attitude, however, she had been impressed with his intellect. Slytherins were renowned for their cunning, but not always their intellect.

But his behaviour baffled her. She was usually good at reading people, but it was almost impossible to see what was going on behind Snape's black eyes. Snapping herself from her thoughts, she tuned into what McGonagall was saying. As annoyed as she was with him, she wasn't going to let it bother her. After all, Mary would be back in class tomorrow, and Snape would just have to find someone else to partner with.

"Now, if you will copy down these notes and take the time to read over them, you will have much less difficultly when we begin our practical next lesson," Professor McGonagall said, motioning towards the board.

A complex set of notes appeared on the blackboard with a single, elegant flick of McGonagall's right hand. Deirdre took a clean piece of parchment from her bag and set about copying down the notes. She would scribble them down now, but would re-write them out neatly later.

Soon, she had all the notes copied from the board. With the rest of the class still writing furiously, she decided to take the time to make a few notes in her Potions textbook. In the margin of the book, she neatly wrote the changes that she and Snape had made to the Draught of Living Death. As she noted down how many turns clockwise and anti-clockwise were needed, she was struck for the first time at how quickly he had made the calculations. Nevertheless, she silently shook her head. If only he had some manners, then she might have considered partnering with him for the rest of the year.

Lifting her gaze from the textbook, she noticed that Sirius Black was staring at her again. He was incredibly attractive, but was also just as incredibly immature and self-righteous. Deirdre met his gaze with an uninterested look, then returned her attention to the Potions book. However, for the rest of the lesson, she could feel the gazes of Black and his nitwit friends upon her.

By the end of class, Deidre simply wanted to get out of the room, as the four Gryffindors were driving her to distraction. She packed her bag as quickly as she could, but it was not quick enough. The Marauders formed a semi-circle around her, while Deirdre slid a hand into her pocket, curling her fingers round a polished walnut wand.

"What do you want? Didn't you get a good enough look at me through class?"

Peter Pettigrew piped up first. "We just wanted to warn you –"

"Give you some friendly advice," James Potter cut Peter off, pushing him to one side.

Deirdre crossed her arms over her chest: this should be good. "Oh?"

"We noticed Snape sat beside you in class today, and then you arrived late to McGonagall's class looking all flustered. It's a…How can I put it…It's one of Snape's trademarks – irritating people."

"Is there a point to all this?" she asked, affronted that they would dare to presume to tell her who she could and couldn't associate with.

Sirius Black rested his hip on the edge of the desk, then said, "You'll save yourself a lot of trouble if you stay well clear of him. Lily Evans wished she had. He was supposed to be her friend –"

"But he called her the 'M' word," Peter squeaked.

"Firstly," she said angrily. "I am not Snape's friend, and even if I was, who are you to tell me what to do?"

"Listen, Harper, we know what Snape is like, and if you're not careful you could end up hurt, or worse."

"I don't have time for this," she said, then pushed past Potter and Black.

"Don't say we didn't try to warn you," she heard Potter call after her.

What arrogant gits, she thought as she strode down the corridor to the library. It was only the first week of Sixth year and already she was wishing her classes were back to the way they used to be, just Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

The library was unusually busy when she entered; the students' enthusiasm, however, would wane over the next few weeks as it always did. Navigating her way through the rows of bookshelves, Deirdre soon found herself in the Potions section. It was, as she had hoped, empty. Professor Slughorn had handed them a recommended reading list in their first class, and she fully intended to read each book. After all, if she wished to become a Healer she needed to excel in Potions.

It didn't take Deirdre long to find the necessary books. She soon located the first one on the list: Plant Roots and their Properties. Taking it back to her seat, she settled back comfortably and began to read. Some of the terminology was new to her, but it did not deter her from devouring the first two chapters in short order.

"Is this seat taken?"

Placing her finger on the last word she'd just read, Deirdre lifted her head, surprised to see Snape standing by the table. Her body tensed a little, wondering if he had come to badger her again about Potions class. She wasn't sure how much more she could take of Gryffindors and Slytherins today, but decided not to start a confrontation by telling him to sod off.

"Sit wherever you want," she said blandly, returning her attention to the book.

Severus' brow rose ever so slightly; that had not been the response he'd been expecting. For more than ten minutes he had stood in a darkened row opposite from where Deirdre sat, warring with his pride. He had come to the library, as it was impossible to find five minutes of peace in the Slytherin common room. And he wanted to avoid studying outside, especially not after what happened during his OWLs last year. Finally, he had swallowed his pride and walked over to Deirdre.

She ignored him completely as he sought a book from the shelves, then sat down across from her. For a moment, he imagined that it was Lily sitting opposite him, and things were the way they used to be. The harsh reality, however, was that Lily was lost to him for good. It pained him, angered him even, that she had thrown herself into the arms of his tormentor.

"Are you here to read or did you want something, Snape?"

Severus glanced from the unopened book in his hand to Deirdre. She wasn't as striking as Lily, though he was drawn to her cerulean eyes. They were alive with intelligence, but also tinged with wariness. He couldn't really blame her, not after the way he had treated her earlier.

"Are all Ravenclaws this intrusive, or just you?" he said with sarcasm.

"Honestly," she said, closing her book with an audible snap. "I don't know who's worse. Between Potter and his buffoons threatening me, and –"

Severus scowled. "Potter threatened you? Why?"

For the first time, Deirdre saw a flicker of emotion in Snape's eyes. It was anger mixed with utter loathing. She had never paid attention to idle gossip, yet in a split second knew the rumours surrounding Snape and the Marauders were true.

"It doesn't matter," she finally said, wishing she hadn't mentioned her encounter with Potter.

Snape continued to stare at her, his dark gaze causing her to feel strangely vulnerable. "It was because of me, wasn't it?" he asked in a low, measured tone.

A sudden surge of compassion for Snape washed over Deirdre, followed closely by anger for his bullies. "James Potter is an arrogant toe-rag," she said. "I'd put my trust in a goblin before taking any heed of the likes of him."

Deirdre didn't miss the slight curl of Snape's lip at her comment. True, it was a sardonic curl of the lip, but it had seemingly amused him on some level. Without another word to her, he sat back in his chair and opened the book in his hand. She kept her gaze locked on him for a moment longer before returning to her own book. He was a complete enigma, but one thing she was certain of, Severus Snape was not the ogre the Marauders would have her believe he was.

...

The next day in Potions, Severus deliberately chose to sit at a desk on the opposite side of the room from Deirdre. As he removed his belongings from his bag, he surreptitiously watched Potter and Black. Deirdre had neither denied nor admitted that he was the reason she'd been cornered by the Marauders yesterday, but Severus intended to find out. True to form, Sirius Black glanced over his shoulder, and after seeing Severus looking at him, he gave Potter a meaningful nudge. A rampaging Hungarian horntail would have more subtlety than those two, he thought caustically, while controlling the urge to sneer at them. In a matter of moments, though, after Black and Potter had finished gawking at Deirdre, Severus had all the answers he needed. His gall then rose in the knowledge that Potter had changed his tactics from open attacks to trying to turn students against him.

Behind him, he heard girlish giggles, but Severus didn't raise his head as Lily swept past with her friend, Alice Fortescue. All night long, he had wrestled with questions concerning Lily's newly found closeness with Potter. The most crushing thought, however, was why she could overlook Potter's past mistakes but not his. Didn't she understand how mortified and infuriated he had been at being hung upside down? He hadn't meant to lash out at her, but then, weren't friends supposed to forgive each other?

Severus felt himself slide into a dark place, allowing hatred to consume his despair. He listened absently to Professor Slughorn as he explained their lesson for that day. The scraping of stools across the stone floor snapped Severus from his brooding, and after scanning the blackboard, he went to collect the necessary ingredients.

Several students grimaced as they fished rat spleens and caterpillars from various jars, while others carried them eagerly back to their desks. Severus waited until his tormentors had returned to their seats before gathering up what he needed. He took another quick glance at the blackboard, then reached up to remove a jar of pickled rats tails.

"They're not on the list you know."

Turning round, he saw Deirdre standing beside him. His lips thinned, but he said nothing. Strange as it was, it seemed she had become the only ally he had outside of Slytherin and he did not want to push her away.

"But you've saved me the trouble of having to reach for them. I'll take two tails, if you don't mind."

He arched an eyebrow, somewhat taken aback by her request. It was then that he recalled yesterday's lesson and her keenness to think outside of their textbooks. And it seemed that she had come to the same conclusions as he had about Shrinking Solution.

"Of course," he said, taking out two tails, placing them into a Petri dish she was holding.

"Thanks, Snape," she said, offering him a small smile.

Severus followed her with his gaze as she returned to her seat. It wasn't her intelligence that had him intrigued, as all Ravenclaws were intelligent; it was something else. Perhaps it was her willingness to take risks, though not in the same reckless manner as a Gryffindor. Or perhaps it was because she had not allowed their first frosty meeting to mar her opinion of him.

If only Lily had been so quick to forgive, he thought dejectedly.

Back at his desk, Severus carefully peeled Shrivelfigs, minced daisy roots, and sliced caterpillars. He enjoyed Potions, appreciating its complexities and preciseness. And while he held a secret passion for the Dark Arts, it was potion-making that calmed him, giving him satisfaction with every potion he successfully brewed.

On the other side of the classroom, Deirdre waved her wand, igniting a flame under a cauldron. Mary had rolled her eyes when she had returned with two rat's tails among the other ingredients, saying that one day she was going to blow them all to smithereens. Deirdre had simply laughed, reminding Mary that she had been first in Potions for the last five years.

"I heard you had to partner with Snape yesterday," Mary said quietly while adding leech juice to her cauldron. "If I'd had known that I'd have dragged myself to class, sick or not."

Deirdre glanced over Mary's head to where Snape was busy chopping and slicing. His normally stony features appeared relaxed, peaceful even. They had sat in a comfortable silence for over an hour in the library yesterday afternoon. Snape had then left without a word to her, but the mere fact that he had sat with her was perhaps the closest she would get to an apology from him.

"It wasn't that bad, Mary," she replied. "He's actually very intelligent."

"And from what I hear, a complete git."

"Just exactly who did you hear that from?"

Mary prodded a rat spleen with a knife, seemingly reluctant to touch it. "It doesn't matter who told me."

Hearing her friend's flippant tone, Deidre stopped chopping, then whispered, "You went with him, didn't you?"

"Merlin, Deirdre, you say it like it's a bad thing. He's the most popular and sexiest bloke in the school…Of course I went with him."

"Sirius Black is an egotistical pillock, Mary. You can do better than him."

Mary gave a short laugh. "You mean like Snape? I'd rather snog a troll."

"No, I don't mean Snape. But there's Frank Longbottom, he's a decent sort of bloke."

"Frank is all right, but he's the settling down type. Right now, I just want to have some fun."

Deirdre didn't really know how to respond, so she turned her attention back to her potion. As she continued with slicing the caterpillars she couldn't understand why it bothered her so much that Mary found Snape repulsive.

"Uh, Deirdre," Mary said, tapping her arm. "This doesn't look right."

Taking one look at the potion, Deidre realised that Mary had added in too much leech juice. "Quickly, go and fetch another shrivelfig," she said, hoping Professor Slughorn would not see her aiding her friend.

After Mary had brought back the shrivelfig and Deirdre was sure no one was looking in their direction, she added it to the potion. Stirring the Shrinking Solution anti-clockwise, it slowly changed from purple to bright green. Relieved, Mary quickly removed the stopper from a phial and ladled in the required amount of the potion.

"Thanks, Deirdre," she said. "I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it. Just don't tell anyone, OK."

The class ended ten minutes later, and Deirdre could tell by the varying shades of green Shrinking Solution she had that Snape had once again brewed a perfect potion. She didn't waste any time in packing up her belongings, as she did not want a repeat of her encounter with the Marauders.

...

The clock on the wall in the library struck four thirty. Severus closed the book in his hand, stiffening slightly in his chair. Lessons finished an hour ago; surely if she was coming to the library she would have been here already. Severus drummed his fingertips on the table, wondering if he should just leave now. It had been a stupid idea to begin with and he didn't know why he had talked himself into it.

For weeks he had been observing Deidre in class, and sometimes he even caught glimpses of her in the Great Hall. Some days she spoke to him while they were collecting ingredients, but he was always aware of the Marauders. He wasn't afraid of them; they had already done their worst to him. No, Severus did not want any harm to come to Deirdre on account of him. Potter might have Lily fooled, but Severus knew he was still the same bullying arse of a Gryffindor.

"Hi, mind if I join you?"

Severus turned his head in the direction of Deidre's voice. She smiled at him and his throat suddenly went dry. What in Merlin's name was wrong with him? Quickly composing himself, Severus merely shrugged.

"I had planned on being here an hour ago, but Mary broke up with her latest boyfriend," Deirdre said, sitting down with a sigh across the table from Severus. "Needless to say, it was all tears and drama."

"I see," Severus said.

"Have you finished Slughorn's essay for Friday?" she asked, pulling out a bundle of parchments from her bag.

Severus frowned slightly. "Yes."

"Don't worry, Snape, I'm not asking if I can see yours. I finished mine two days ago."

"What's all that, then?" he asked, curious.

"Oh, I've dropped Ancient Runes." Deirdre riffled through the parchments, pulling out what she was looking for. "I spoke to Professor Dumbledore about it and then he spoke to Professor Spindleweed, and he's agreed to allow me into his Defence class if I catch up on all the work I've missed."

Severus straightened in his chair a little. "Which class will you be in?" he asked coolly.

"I'll have Defence on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays."

"You're in my class, then."

"Is Potter in that class, too?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

Deirdre smirked. "Well, at least I might get a chance to wipe the smug smile off his face."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "You can duel?"

"My older brother taught me at home. He's an Auror," she said proudly.

"Do you want to be an Auror, too, when you leave school?" he asked.

"No, I want to be a Healer. If I gain all Os in my NEWTs I'll be able to applying to the Irish Ministry for funding to complete my training. My dad's a pureblood, but when he married my mum, my Granda Harper cut him off without a penny."

"Your mother is –"

"Yeah, she's Muggle-born. My Granddad was livid when he found out; accused my dad of polluting the purest bloodline in Ireland." Deirdre laughed bitterly. "I've never met any other Harpers apart from my Granddad and Grandma, and I don't think I really want to. Some of them are dark."

Severus felt somewhat uncomfortable at her last words. He knew what she meant by dark and who they associated themselves with.

"Do you need help catching up on Defence work?" he asked, not wanting the conversation to turn towards his own dysfunctional family.

Seeming to sense his discomfort, she said, "Yeah that would be great…Severus."

Severus' ebony eyes softened somewhat at her use of his first name. It sounded good coming from her. He was further surprised when she rounded the table and took a seat beside him. For the next hour, he went through several lengths of parchments with her, explaining any terminology or magical theories she was unsure of. Several times she interrupted him with challenging questions, but, being in his element, Severus enjoyed every moment of it.

"That was great, Severus. Thanks." Deirdre said as they packed up. "Maybe we could meet again tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sure," he replied.

"Well, I better go and check on Mary." She slung her satchel strap over her shoulder. "I'll probably have to coax her to come down to the Great Hall for dinner."

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Deirdre smiled at him. "Yeah, Severus, I'll see you tomorrow."

Chapter 2: Chapter 1

Firstly, wow, I can't believe the response I've gotten to this story already! Thanks so much! :) I've decided to post chapter one a bit earlier than I had intended, but I hope to have regular updates with future chapters (providing life allows me time to write!).

PART I

Chapter 1

DECEMBER 1978 – 2 YEARS LATER

Pulling his cloak tighter about him to shield himself from the biting wind, Severus Snape ploughed through the thick layer of snow that coated Diagon Alley. His black hair whipped across his face, creating a tangled mess, but he didn't seem to care. As he walked, Severus avoided the gazes of other wizards and witches who passed by, not wanting to see their fear, knowing he was part of its cause. Soon, he took a passageway that led him into Knockturn Alley. Almost immediately, he sensed a difference in the atmosphere; the magic here was darker.

At last, Severus stopped outside an apothecary. He lightly banged the side of his shoes against the doorstep to remove loose snow before entering. The familiar, pungent smell of an array of potions assaulted his nostrils, calming Severus somewhat. He removed his cloak and hung it from a hat stand beside the front door. He then removed a hair elastic from his pocket to tie his tatty, black mop back; it was impossible to brew with hair dangling about his face. As he stretched the green elastic in his fingers, a small, rueful smile touched his lips. Deirdre had presented it to him one day in class, saying that he drove her insane by constantly tucking his hair behind his ears.

Deirdre…

He hadn't seen her in months, not since they had parted ways on Platform 9 ¾. She had gone back to Ireland, while he had found himself back at Spinner's End, for a time. They had become fast friends after their shaky beginning, yet he had never been brave enough to tell her that his feelings for her had run deeper than friendship. Everything about their friendship had been so perfect, and Severus had not wanted ruin it. She was the only person who he had let his guard down with after fifth year. In fact, he had confided in Deirdre concerning things he had never shared with Lily. During his last two years at school, his feelings for Lily had dwindled to a treasured memory, and she no longer held prominence in his heart.

The last six months, though, had been the longest, and the loneliest of his life. Of course, Deirdre had kept her promise, and he had received several letters from her since they had left school, all expressing her wish to see him again. And he desperately wanted to see her, but he couldn't; not now, not after what he'd done.

"Ah, Severus, you managed to survive the elements, then."

Turning, Severus nodded at his employer, Hector Gastrell. "We faced worse at Hogwarts."

"No doubt, no doubt," Gastrell said, rubbing his long, bony hands together, a cue that he wanted to get straight down to business. "I've had several orders placed since yesterday, and with this weather I can't see us getting many customers today, so we should be able to finish the list by this evening."

Severus crossed the small shop to the counter where Gastrell had set out the various orders. Several were simply for cures for the common cold, but others were more complex, darker. On instinct, Severus placed his right hand over his left arm, where the skin had burned with white hot intensity the previous evening. He despised Lucius Malfoy for luring him in and preying on his weakness – money, or rather, his lack of it. With his deceased father's debts having been bequeathed to him, Lucius' offer to fund his ambition to study under the great Potion masters in Europe had been too tempting to turn down. If only he had known how much it would cost in return.

"If you would deal with these orders, Severus, I will see to the rest of them," Gastrell said, handing a bundle of parchments to him.

"Of course," he replied.

Making his way into to the potions laboratory attached to the back of the shop, Severus set about gathering up what he needed. Alone, he allowed his hardened features to relax a little, but kept a wary eye on the door. Hector Gastrell was not a Death Eater, but Severus did not trust him. He seemed like the type of man who would betray his own flesh and blood for personal profit. Severus was selective in what he talked about with his employer, keeping their conversations to Potions and the mundane things of life. His naivety in placing his faith in Lucius had taught Severus a hard, but important lesson.

Throughout the rest of the morning, Severus chopped, sliced, and ground ingredients. He took great pride in his work, never bottling anything he considered substandard. Gastrell paid him a fairly decent wage, though it would never compare to what he could earn if he had his own apothecary. He had a whole notebook crammed full of adjustments that could be made to existing potions, along with a dozen of his own concoctions. However, between summons from Voldemort, raids, and the countless potions his Master forced to him brew, Severus was simply left with dreams of what his life could have been.

Severus stabbed the point of his knife into the chopping board.

He hated his life; he hated what he had become. Yes, he had a passion for the Dark Arts, with its hidden mysteries and its euphoric power. But murdering Muggles and anyone else who opposed Voldemort sickened Severus. It seared his very soul each time he was forced to carry out such dark deeds.

"Severus," Gastrell called. "I need you."

Wiping his hands clean on a damp cloth, Severus left the laboratory, hardening his features as he went. Gastrell, a tall, spindly man, was writing the address on a parcel when Severus entered the main shop. He glanced at a cauldron bubbling away under a blue flame behind the older wizard. The acidic vapour rising from it told Severus that it was a deadly poison, but he said nothing. He preferred to let Gastrell think he was merely mediocre when it came to potion making. The less the man knew about him, the better.

"What do you need, sir?" he asked.

"The weather is too treacherous to send this parcel by owl, so I want you to take it to St. Mungo's."

Severus nodded and went to retrieve his cloak, welcoming the short break from his work. His employer was a shrewd businessman, accepting orders from anyone. It didn't matter who their allegiance was to, just as long as they could pay. After he had wrapped himself up, Severus tucked the parcel under his arm and opened the front door. An icy blast threatened to cleave the flesh from his cheeks, but he lowered his head and plunged out into the snow. Up ahead, several youngsters were throwing snowballs, though one menacing glare from Severus warned them not to target him.

Once he had reached the end row of shops in Diagon Alley, Severus disapparated to St. Mungo's. The wizarding hospital was hiving with people; no doubt the arctic-like weather was causing all manner of accidents. Two men sat on chairs in the waiting area, with one cradling a broken broom in his arms, while the other held a cloth to a nasty gash on his head. Severus couldn't believe that any one could be so stupid to take a broom out in a blizzard. He was actually half tempted, though, to ask if they were related to either James Potter or Sirius Black.

Shaking his head slightly as he walked past the two men, he approached the receptionist, then said, "I wish to speak with Healer Weir."

"For what purpose?" the stern looking receptionist replied.

"I have a parcel for her."

"Leave it here and I'll see she gets it."

"I'm afraid that won't do," Severus replied patronisingly, watching as her lips thinned. "I need to speak with Healer Weir myself."

She glared at with him with what Severus assumed was her most intimidating stare, but he didn't flinch. Finally, she tore her gaze away from and removed her wand. Murmuring a simple charm, she then spoke into her wand, calling for Healer Weir to come to reception.

"She'll be with you shortly," she said curtly, then waved Severus out of the way so she could speak to the man behind him.

Severus kept his cool as he stepped to one side, knowing that he couldn't afford to insult Gastrell's patrons. Voldemort certainly didn't pay his bills, and he had never seen one Knut of the money Lucius had promised him.

"Hey, you there," the receptionist called to him after a few minutes. "Healer Weir's assistant is here."

Turning his head to the receptionist, Severus said snidely, "I asked specifically to speak with Healer Weir."

"I'm sorry, but Healer Weir is busy at the moment."

At the sound of the soft Irish brogue, Severus snapped his gaze to a young woman standing by the reception desk.

"Hello, Severus."

"Deirdre," he said in barely a whisper.

She smiled at him, causing a familiar warmth to spread through him. "Come with me, Severus."

The receptionist eyed him cagily as he followed Deirdre down a corridor, but Severus paid her no heed. At the end of the corridor, she opened a door and motioned for him to go in. He glanced about the small, but neatly ordered office, quickly realising that it was hers. The door then closed with a soft click, and before he could say a word, Deirdre had thrown her arms around him.

"It's so good to see you again, Severus," she said, hugging him tightly.

Severus returned her embrace, peace filling his heart for the time in months. "What are you doing here?" he finally asked.

"I sent you a letter, didn't you get it?"

Severus was thankful her head was still tucked under his chin so she couldn't see the shame in his eyes. "I've been kept busy in London…I haven't been home in a few weeks."

At last Deirdre pulled away from him, offering him a seat. A hint of a smile played on his lips when she dragged a chair from behind her desk, placing it next to his. Shifting slightly so he could see her clearly, Severus silently took her in. Her curly, chocolate hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and he admired her delicate features. But it was her blue eyes that truly captivated him.

"You look worn out, Severus," she said, concern etched on her face. "What have you been doing with yourself?"

"I'm fine, Deirdre." he said. "Now, tell me why you're in London."

Deidre wasn't convinced by Severus' answer, but she knew better than to press him on the matter. It was a rare occasion when he completely opened himself up to her, and now, it seemed, would not be one of those times. She was already somewhat worried about him, as his replies to her letters had been short and general. Usually he would elaborate on a new spell or potion he had created, but he had been strangely silent on that over the past months.

"Someone dropped out of the Healer's training programme at St. Mungo's," she started, pushing her concerns to one side. "And they contacted the Irish Healer's Association to ask if I would like to transfer here from Dublin. I jumped at the chance. The hospital in Dublin is brilliant, but it doesn't quite compare to St. Mungo's."

"How long are you here for?" Severus asked.

Deidre smiled at him. "They've offered me a permanent position here once I graduate. So, I guess I'm here for the long haul."

A torrent of mixed emotions swept over Severus. Part of him was thrilled she was staying, while another part dreaded it. She was one of the few who had ever really understood him, but even she would turn her back on him the moment she saw the Dark Mark.

"That's great news," he said. "I'm pleased for you."

"Thanks," she replied somewhat downhearted.

She had honestly thought he would be delighted to know she was living so close to him now. Of course, she hadn't expected him to grin like a Cheshire cat, but she had hoped for a little more enthusiasm. There was something not quite right with him, she could sense it. Severus had always been quiet and withdrawn, but this was different.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked, rising from her chair, hoping she could get him to talk to her.

Severus nodded. "All right, but I can't stay long, I have to get back to the apothecary."

In a few minutes, they were both sipping on steaming cups of tea. Deirdre studied him carefully, noting how pale his skin was and how his lean frame was almost skeletal-like. He looked as if he hadn't slept properly or eaten a decent meal in months. She felt her apprehension grow tenfold. Severus was more than just a friend to her – much more. Deirdre looked down into her teacup, absently swirling the hot liquid around in it. But she knew where his heart really lay. After all, who could ever surpass Lily Evans?

Choking back her emotions, she said, "How's work going at the apothecary?"

"Tolerable, I suppose."

"I hope your boss is going to give you a good reference for your studies in Europe." she said, well aware of Severus' ambition.

"Things have changed, Deirdre. I'm not going to Europe anymore."

"What? But why –"

"Lack of funding," he said, deciding to only tell her part of the truth. "I appealed to the Ministry for funding in July, but they turned me down. They said that I would only be eligible if I studied under British potion masters."

"You mean like Cuthbert Mantle? Yes, you'll learn plenty from the likes of him," she remarked dryly.

"Try telling that to the Ministry."

"What about a private sponsor; have you looked into that?" she asked, hopeful.

A bitter taste rose in Severus' throat. "I have, but so far I've been unsuccessful."

"It's so unfair," she exclaimed, upset and angry he was being denied the chance to fulfil his ambition.

"Life is unfair, Deirdre."

"I don't understand how you can be so stoic about this."

He levelled his charcoal gaze at her. "What other way would you have me act?"

"I'm sorry, Severus," she said with a heavy sigh. "I just hate it that someone with a brilliant mind like yours is being held back by some stupid regulation."

"I'll survive, Deirdre," he reassured her, but wished he could be honest with one person who truly cared about his wellbeing.

He drank several more mouthfuls of tea then rose from his chair. "I should be heading back now. You will make sure Healer Weir gets this parcel, won't you?"

"Well, I was going to throw it in the bin after you left…" she said with a smirk.

Severus narrowed his eyes slightly. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

Laughing softly, Deirdre reached out to hug him again. She wasn't disappointed when he wrapped his arms around her, but she swallowed hard as she once more felt how painfully thin he was. Was he sick? Or was it something more sinister? She didn't know, but somehow she'd get the truth from him.

"What are you doing this evening?" she asked.

"I'm not sure yet," he answered. "Nothing, hopefully."

"I finish here at six, so do you want to get some dinner and catch up?"

He struggled a moment with what he should do, but finally he nodded. "I'll meet you here at six."

"You don't have to come all the way back here, I can walk –"

"I insist, Deidre. It's not safe to be out alone at night."

She caught the undercurrent of uneasiness in his silky timbre. The war with Voldemort was escalating and no one could predict where or when the next attack would happen. Despite the looming terror, though, it was a comfort to know he cared for her.

"All right, Severus, but I was thinking we could go to my flat to eat. All the restaurants will be packed with Christmas shoppers."

"That suits me fine," he said, relieved by her suggestion.

He hated crowds, but he also feared that they might be seen together by those connected to Voldemort. The last thing he wanted was for the Dark Lord's attention to be turned towards Deirdre. If Voldemort knew of his feelings for her, the Dark Lord wouldn't hesitate to use her to tighten his control over him.

Deirdre smiled at him. "Great, I'll see you later, then."

"I look forward to it," he said.

Severus held her gaze a moment longer then walked towards the door. He silently prayed he would not be called to a Death Eater's gathering that evening, as he needed to be with Deirdre. She was like a soothing balm, the only other person he felt wholly comfortable with.

"Oh, and Severus," she called as he turned the door handle. "Put a few more layers on, and a scarf! I know you love that cloak, but it's hardly winter friendly."

Severus frowned at her, but his lips twitched in amusement as he stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

Chapter 3: Chapter 2

I had planned on posting this yesterday, but then decided it wasn't going to cooperate, so here we are! I don't own Harry Potter, JK does!

Enjoy...

Chapter 2

~x~

"What kept you, Severus?"

Severus had barely closed the front door to the apothecary when Gastrell pounced on him. The older wizard's cold, grey eyes scrutinised him as he removed his cloak, hanging it on the hat stand. Gastrell often questioned him if he left the shop at any point during the day, which only heightened Severus' inclination not to trust the man.

"St. Mungo's was busier than Piccadilly Circus. I had to wait to see Healer Weir," he said smoothly, then added for good measure, "She was grateful, though, that you had her order ready so quickly."

Gastrell seemed satisfied with his answer. "Very well, you can return to finishing your list for the day."

As Severus walked into the potions laboratory, he made a mental note to tell Deidre never to contact him at work. He could imagine Gastrell's reaction if owls bearing messages for him suddenly began arriving at the shop. Indeed, Severus wouldn't be surprised if his employer had been bribed into spying on him by other Death Eaters. It was pathetic how they backstabbed and crawled over one another, in the hope of becoming Voldemort's favourite 'pet'. But Severus' superior knowledge and skill in potions made him quite indispensable to the Dark Lord, for now at least.

Picking up where he had left off an hour before, Severus pushed all thoughts of Gastrell, Death Eaters, and Voldemort far from his mind. Instead, he allowed his thoughts to become dominated by Deirdre. He still couldn't believe that she was living here, in London. It heartened him to know she was so close by, but terrified him at the same time. She was here alone, unprotected.

The afternoon dragged by, though Severus was cautious not to stride from the laboratory the moment the clock finally struck five-thirty. It would only pique Gastrell's interest if he showed the slightest sign that he had somewhere to be after work. So, he pottered about for another ten minutes, then snuffed out the candles before leaving.

"I've all those orders bottled and ready to be sent," Severus said coolly.

"Excellent, Severus," Gastrell replied. "Hopefully this weather will clear up soon and I can start using owls again instead of sending you out."

"We wouldn't want the owls catching a cold, now would we," Severus thought snidely, then said, "Do you need anything else done?"

"No, no, off you go. It's past five-thirty and I'm sure you have better things to do than stand around in here all evening."

Severus gave a brief nod, then crossed to where he had hung his cloak. "Good evening, sir."

Gastrell closed the ledger he had been writing in. "Yes, good evening, Severus."

The temperatures outside had dropped significantly and Severus shivered against the chilling wind. He removed a gold pocket watch from his robes, opening it to check the time. There was still twenty minutes before he had to meet Deirdre. Replacing the watch that had been left to him in his mother's will, Severus took a small pouch from another pocket in his cloak. It was a Portkey. He then reached into the pouch, and the moment his hand touched the marble-like object, he vanished.

Severus landed with both his feet firmly on the floor in the middle of the living room at Spinner's End. It was dusty with neglect, but he didn't have time to worry about such things. He hurried upstairs, and rummaging through his wardrobe, he pulled out a vest top, an old woollen jumper, and his Slytherin scarf. When he'd taken the lease out on his flat in London, he hadn't bothered removing anything from his childhood home except a few bare essentials. After he had put on the extra layers and fixed his scarf around his neck, he went back downstairs to retrieve one more thing before he left; Deirdre's letter.

He found it on the floor by the front door. The owl delivering it must have posted it through the letter-box when it had found no one at home. Quickly tearing the envelope open, he began to read. He could almost sense her excitement in the neatly penned words; she couldn't wait to see him again. Finishing the letter, he clenched his jaw. She must have thought him an ignorant arse for not replying. Stuffing the letter into his pocket, Severus then fumbled for the Portkey.

Once back in Diagon Alley, he quickly disapparated to St. Mungo's. The number of patients in the waiting area had thinned since that morning, but there was enough to keep the Healers busy throughout the night. He saw that the same stern-faced receptionist was still on duty, but was she too busy berating a young witch to take any notice of him. There were plenty of seats in the waiting area, but Severus moved to stand where several hot pipes ran up a wall and disappeared into the ceiling. All the time, though, he kept a close watch on everyone who came and went from the waiting area. Reports had leaked from the Ministry that Aurors were carrying out random searches – two Death Eaters had already been sentenced to life in Azkaban. At last, he saw Deirdre coming along the corridor. She had changed out of her white Healer's uniform and he took a moment to admire her.

"Severus," she said, smiling as she reached where he stood.

"Don't they have clocks in this place?"

"Sorry, I lost track of time." Deirdre fastened the clasp on her cloak. "I had several reports to finish."

He grunted. "It's as well I wasn't meeting you outside."

She batted his arm playfully. "I'm not that late, Severus"

"What exactly is your definition of being late, then?"

Deirdre, sighing with exasperation, side-stepped him, then walked towards the front door of the hospital. "Are you coming, Severus? I'm starving and don't want to stand here waiting on you half the night."

Narrowing his eyes at her, he waited a brief moment before following her outside. "Do you want to disapparate?" he asked.

"We can't; I live in a Muggle area, and besides, you wouldn't be able to pass through the wards around my flat," she said in a low voice. "You don't mind walking?"

"No."

As they started walking, she felt Severus tug her closer to him. She had been warned before leaving Dublin that one of her cousins had recently moved to London – a cousin embroiled with the Dark Lord. And so, she had taken her parents' advice not to lease a flat in wizarding London. Of course, having a Muggle-born mother meant she was well acquainted with the Muggle world, and so it wasn't a complete shock to her system.

"Are you enjoying your training?" Severus asked interrupting her thoughts.

"Yes, I really love it. I'm thinking of specialising in treating curses. There aren't nearly enough Healers in that area, and I find it fascinating, actually," she said, glancing up at him. "Have you given much thought to what you'll do now?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Not really."

"You'd make a great teacher, you know."

Severus snorted. "That's the very last thing I ever want to do."

"You should give it a go, even for a year."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Children – schools are infested with them."

Deirdre stepped over the remains of someone's Chinese take-away, then said, "At least consider it, because the last I heard, Professor Slughorn was thinking of retiring –"

"Deirdre," he said, firmly.

"OK, OK," she said, then added sweetly. "But you know I'm right."

Frowning, Severus chose to ignore her last comment. The very thought of having to teach children made his heard hurt. But besides that, who would ever employ a man with the Dark Mark branded on his arm. Another icy blast swept along the street and Severus put his arm around Deirdre's shoulders, pulling her close to try and shield her from the cold.

"Is it much further?"

Deirdre leaned closer to Severus. "No, it's just a few more streets away."

True to her word, in a few minutes they were both standing in the middle of the living room in her flat. Deirdre did not waste a moment in flicking her wand at the fireplace, which soon was filling the room with much desired heat. Severus stripped off his scarf and additional layers, placing them neatly over the back of a chair. He then crossed to a cream sofa and sank down into it.

"Do you need a hand?" he called to Deirdre, almost as an afterthought.

"I'm fine, but there are few Potions journals on the coffee table if you want to read them."

His lips quirked up into a ghost of a smile as he rose from the sofa to fetch the journals. It was then he saw a picture of them sitting on top of the mantelpiece. It had been taken a few weeks before the end of their Seventh year, when he still had his whole life in front of him. They were sitting on a log beside the lake. Deirdre had held the camera up and taken it; she was smiling, while he looked rather uncomfortable.

"I love that photo," she mused from the kitchen doorway. "Though not as much as the one with you covered in flobberworm slime."

Severus glared at her. "I sincerely hope that particular photograph never sees the light of day again."

Deirdre laughed. "We'll see."

Severus whipped out his wand. "Where is it and I'll destroy it myself."

"Don't worry, Severus, its back home in Dublin, in a box in the attic."

He pursed his lips. "Just as well."

Scooping up a few Potions journals, Severus returned to the sofa. It wasn't long before Deirdre had rustled up a hot meal, and he ate it slowly, savouring every bite. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a decent meal – the end of term feast at Hogwarts perhaps. Casting a glance at Deirdre, he thought to himself that he could get used to this, to them…If only.

"Tea?" she asked, brushing a few crumbs from her lap.

Severus gathered up her plate along with his, then said, "You stay there, I'll make us some."

Walking into the kitchen, he set the plates into the sink, and quickly found all he needed to set about making the tea. While he was waiting for the tea to brew he reached for that day's edition of the Daily Prophet on the breakfast bar. The headlines were still the same optimistic drivel, with not a mention of the ongoing war anywhere on the front page. He idly thumbed his way through the paper, but his eyes widened as he read a caption in bold, block letters.

HEIR TO POTTER FORTUNE MARRIES.

A strange numbness spread through him as he forced himself to read of Lily's recent marriage to Potter. In the back of his mind he knew it would have eventually happened, but the reality of it was harder to swallow. Yet, as he looked at Lily, staring up adoringly at her new husband, it was not jealously that filled him, but a deep sense of regret. Regret that he would never have a chance to put things right between them – Potter would surely interfere with any attempts he made. A small part of him was happy for her; he only wished she could have found happiness with someone else.

"Severus, what's taking so long, are you –"

Deidre's words trailed away, her gaze falling on the Daily Prophet. She hadn't had a chance to read it yet, but she soon saw what had caught Severus' attention: the newly married James and Lily Potter.

"They didn't waste any time, did they?" she said flippantly.

Her heart crawled up her throat as Severus snapped his head up sharply, his pale features inscrutable. Almost immediately, she wished she could take her words back. Lily was sacred ground and she had trampled all over it.

"I'm sorry, Severus." A lump formed in her throat as she spoke. "I didn't mean to…I know how you feel about Lily."

Heat crept up her neck and spread across her cheeks as a thick silence engulfed the kitchen. She wanted to say more, to try and explain herself, but a voice warned her to keep her mouth firmly shut. Instead, she turned on her heels to leave, but before she took one step Severus' cool hand grasped her wrist. She lifted her gaze, looking at him questioningly.

"Lily is…was my friend," Severus finally said, his tone low, hoarse. "I don't…" he swallowed thickly. "Not anymore."

As an understanding of what he was trying to say flickered in Deidre's eyes, Severus was almost overpowered by the raw, charged emotions coursing through him. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. He had so much he wanted to say to her, but was afraid he would only end up sounding like an idiot.

As if sensing his awkwardness, Deirdre eased her wrist from his hand, then entwined her fingers with his. It was the simplest of gestures, but it set his pulse hammering in his throat. She placed the palm of her other hand on his chest, then rose up onto her tiptoes. Severus closed his eyes as her smooth, soft lips met his, kissing him hesitantly, but tenderly.

It didn't last long, and when he drew back from her he felt as if needed to say something, but the words refused to form. Instead, he embraced her. Deirdre wound her arms around his waist, tucking her head beneath his chin. Severus held her tightly, but dread churned deep in his gut – this complicated everything.

A/N: If anyone hasn't read MetamorphmagusLupin's series about Severus and his daughter, Zoe, I highly recommend that you do! They are a brilliant read!

Chapter 4: Chapter 3

Ok, so this chapter has taken me a lot longer to post than I had hoped for, but life just got in the way. Thanks to every one who has been following this story; I'm happy that you are enjoying it.

Chapter 3

~x~

Every fourth step, the floorboards under Severus' feet creaked. Normally a noise as irritating and as intrusive would have quickly grated on him, but he barely registered it. With his arms locked behind him, he kept pacing back and forth, all the while silently trying to separate logic from his emotions. He could still taste Deirdre on his lips, still smell her soft, sweet scent, and it was almost driving him to distraction. Clenching his jaw as he continued to pace, hatred towards Voldemort grew, swirling and churning like raging rapids. Deirdre cared deeply for him, perhaps even loved him, but he would never have the chance to find out. It had been a lapse of reason, a lapse of everything really, that had finally forced his feelings for her to the surface. For a spilt second he had been ready to let her believe he still harboured love for Lily, but the devastation in her eyes had thoroughly smashed his resolve. He had wanted her; he still wanted her, yet knew everything would fall to pieces the moment she saw the Dark Mark.

A loud thud in the flat next to his broke into Severus' chaotic thoughts. He stopped pacing for a moment, his attention now on the angry, heated voices of his neighbours. He hated where he was forced to live, but it was best he could afford on the meagre wages Gastrell paid him. He laughed bitterly. Maybe he should consider teaching, at least then he would have enough to pay for the desperately needed repairs to his childhood home in Spinner's End. Of course, he could easily use magic to fix the leaky roof, strip the creeping ivy from the brick walls, or clean the clogged up drain pipes. But that would leave a magical trace, and while he did not envisage returning to Spinner's End indefinitely, he wished to have a sanctuary to where he could escape to. A place that any passing wizard or witch would assume was just another Muggle household.

The row next door soon settled, once more leaving Severus with his own roiling thoughts. Deirdre deserved to be with someone who could provide for her, protect her. At that thought, though, a wave of cold, possessive jealously crashed down on him. It had been difficult enough learning of Lily's marriage to Potter, but to see his Deirdre with someone else would be too much for him. Sometimes he dreamed of what it would like to be married to her, to have children with her. But that's all it would ever be, a dream. Heaving a pained sigh, Severus slumped down onto a worn sofa, burying his face in his hands, mentally and emotionally exhausted.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he heard a light rap on the front door. Drawing his wand as he rose warily from the sofa, he moved silently towards the door. He opened it slowly, poised to strike whoever it was if they posed a threat. However, his stomach coiled when he saw it was Deirdre on his doorstep, smiling warmly at him.

"Deirdre! What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too, Severus," she said. "Now let me in, it's freezing out here."

Before he could say a word in response she pushed past him into his flat. He turned, closing the door behind him, watching her face carefully for a reaction as she surveyed his dingy flat for the first time. Though, it wasn't what he had expected. She didn't screw her face up at the bare walls, stained carpet, or prod the sofa gingerly before sitting down on it. It only made him feel wretched all over again, as she was the one person who had never judged him on appearances.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Aren't you working today?"

Deirdre frowned slightly. "I only work a half-day on a Friday, and besides, you left this at mine last night," she said, removing his old Slytherin scarf from around her neck.

"You walked all the way across the city…for a scarf," he said, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, if you don't want it I'll take it home with me again."

"No, give it to me." Severus took it from her and draped it over the back of a chair.

She smirked. "Ah, so you are glad I returned your precious Slytherin scarf."

"Did you come here for a purpose, Deirdre, or just to pester me?"

"Actually…I wanted to talk to you about last night."

He stiffened. "Last night?"

"Was it that terrible?" she said, laughing nervously.

He crossed his arms again. "I wouldn't say that."

Deirdre plucked her fingernails on some loose threads on the arm of the sofa. "Well…I…It's just…"

"Yes?"

She lifted her gaze to meet his. "Is this what you want, Severus – us, I mean?"

A knot formed in Severus' stomach, quickly becoming taut. "Deirdre, I…"

Severus hissed through clenched teeth as a searing, needle-like pain tore through his arm. He grasped it with his other hand, cursing under his breath: no, not now.

Panic filled Deidre as Severus' face contorted with pain. Springing out of the chair, she grasped hold of his arm to see what was wrong, but as he pulled it away his sleeve rolled up, revealing two serpents entwined around a grotesque skull. A cold chill raked down her spine as she was haunted by the disembodied screams of a man rushed into St. Mungo's several nights before, the victim of a Death Eater attack. Horror and disbelief ripped through her as she backed away from him, drawing her wand.

"Put that away," he said, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

Pale faced, she kept her wand trained on him. "Y-You're one of them!"

He reached out to her. "Listen to me –"

"Don't come any closer!" Her lips trembled. "I trusted you, Severus, and all this time you've been serving him."

Severus' mouth twisted with bitterness as he held out his left arm. "Do you think I wanted this?"

Hot, angry tears stung her eyes. "You tell me, Severus."

"I thought you knew me better than that," he said, sneering.

"So did I."

Keeping a firm hold of her wand she backed across the living room, and without another glance at him, she walked out the front door. Severus winced as the door slammed behind her, but as he made to go after her, the pain in his arm intensified and he stumbled, almost doubling over. He had to disaperate now. With a last anguished look at the door, he steeled himself and vanished with a crack.

...

The glaring, naked light bulb hurt as Severus strained to focus on his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He placed a hand on the chipped, white tiles to steady himself, not caring that he smeared them with blood and dirt. One eye, a hideous hue of black and purple, was swollen shut, while blood still trickled from a split lip. His fingers trembled as he lifted a phial from a cabinet, his body still shaking from the after effects of the Cruciatus. Every nerve ending was on fire, but it was no worse than the last time he'd suffered Voldemort's displeasure.

Grimacing as he swallowed a mouthful of foul tasting potion, Severus then drew his wand where it was tucked safely in his sleeve. Healing wasn't exactly his strongest point, but managed to take the grisly look off his wounds. Voldemort had punished him for his delayed arrival, and having turned on him without warning, he had fallen to the ground, hard. After splashing his face with cold water, he left the bathroom.

Severus flopped down onto the sofa like a rag doll, groaning as he was made aware of other tender spots on his body. His one consolation, though, was that Voldemort had not searched his mind before cursing him. His skill at Occlumency was still in its infancy; he could never have hidden such raw thoughts and emotion from the Dark Lord. Sighing bleakly, he stared up at the cracks on the ceiling, following their vein-like path; anything to block out the revulsion on Deirdre's face.

Hours later, with the room shrouded in darkness, Severus finally stirred from his brooding. Wincing as he sat up, he slowly climbed onto his feet and walked stiffly towards the bathroom again. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it carelessly to the floor, then turned on the tap. Steam quickly filled the bathroom as held his left arm under the hot water, and reaching for a nail brush, he began to scrub. Driven by anger, self-loathing…rejection, his skin turned redder, until flecks of blood mingled with the water.

Throwing the nail brush down, he turned off the tap; the Mark was still there…it would always be there, a constant reminder of what he had he become. A monster. Unbuttoning his trousers, he pulled them off then stepped into the shower. The hot water worked into his tense muscles, but did little to relieve the heaviness weighing down on him.

Go to her; make her understand…

Severus pounded his fist against the tiles. What good would it do? The last time he had tired to make someone understand she had thrown it back in his face. Turning off the shower, he grabbed a towel to dry himself. He didn't bother combing out his hair, but simply pulled on a pair of clean trousers and a worn jumper. After selecting a journal from a shelf in his bedroom, he unlocked the door to the spare room; his make-shift potions laboratory. As he closed the door behind him he hoped that a night of brewing would help to calm and refocus him.

…

Daylight was fading as Severus snapped shut the cover of his fob watch. It was almost four o'clock. He slipped it back into his pocket, then rose from a bench and began to pace. His lips thinned, once more considering the possibility that Deirdre had not opened his letter, and even if she had read it, he wasn't wholly convinced she would agree to meet him. After five days of brewing and brooding Severus finally caved, his desperation to have Deirdre back in his life outweighing his fears. The thought of confronting her, though, was out of the question; she had to come to him willingly and be prepared to listen.

Freezing at the sound of gravel crunching underfoot, Severus peered over a hedge. He clenched his jaw in frustration; it was only a man walking his dog. Perhaps he should have chosen another place to meet, but had reasoned that an open space in a Muggle park would ease any anxieties she might have. He stood still for a few minutes, watching the path while listening for more footsteps.

Time quickly ticked on and Severus begun to lose hope that she would show. He took out his watch again, deciding if she didn't appear in the next fifteen minutes then he would have to accept she wanted nothing more to do with him. A twig snapped in the trees behind him, and spinning round on his heels, Severus' mouth went dry at the sight of Deirdre. She appeared tired, paler than usual, and guilt washed over him as he knew it was his fault.

"Deidre," he finally said, "I didn't think –"

"What do you want, Severus?" she cut him off in a tired, agitated tone.

He motioned to the wand in her hand. "You won't need that."

Deirdre tightened her hold on the wand. "Didn't you always tell me never to lower my guard around someone I didn't trust?"

Bristling, he said, "If my intention was to harm you, believe me, you would not still be holding your wand."

"I'll be the judge of that." She pulled a crumpled letter from her pocket. "You said you wanted to talk…so talk."

Deirdre fought to control the tremor in her hand as she stuffed the letter back into her pocket. The past five days had been nothing short of hell; her emotions swinging from anguish to rage and back again. The only reason she had come was because she was afraid he might turn up at her flat if she didn't, or Merlin forbid, at St. Mungo's.

"Contrary to what you might think, I did not willingly accept the Dark Mark –"

"Ah, I see, so someone used the Imperious on you, is that it?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Do you honestly think I would be unaware if someone attempted to put me under the Imperious Curse?"

Deirdre opened her mouth to say something but closed it again. She wasn't sure what to think at this point. Seeing him again was evoking emotions she didn't want to feel. He was a Death Eater, he was…she shuddered; had he ever cast the killing curse?

"I told you the truth when I said my trip to Europe was cancelled due to lack of funding," he continued in a neutral tone. "Lucius Malfoy approached me not long after we left Hogwarts…he promised to fund my trip if I helped him with an experiment he was conducting..."

He paused for a moment. "Malfoy invited me to his estate to discuss details." He turned his face away from Deirdre. "When I arrived, he was there. I couldn't think beyond what he would do if I tried to escape. So I took it, I took his damned mark."

Severus clenched his fists. He could still see the triumphant gleam in Malfoy's eyes at having won another for Voldemort's cause. It galled him, haunted him that he had not seen through Lucius' dark plan. Someday, though, he would ensure that the blond wizard fell from grace.

"I don't understand, Severus," Deirdre said, eyeing him with mistrust. "I've heard rumours about him; about his magic…how is it that he doesn't know you aren't committed to murdering Muggles."

His lip curled back in a sneer at her last words. "Occlumency."

"What?"

"Surely you don't need me to explain it to you, Deirdre."

"I know what it is," she said, then asked him point blankly, "Why don't you just run away, then, go into hiding until someone finds a way to defeat that lunatic."

A muscle jerked in Severus' jaw, then he slowly rolled up his left sleeve. "Whenever he desires mine, or any other Death Eaters' presence, the Mark burns. It keeps on burning until we answer his call. If I were to…run away, as you suggest, it would still burn and the pain would mostly likely kill me."

She stared at his arm with aversion. "Can't you remove it?"

Covering the Mark again, he shook his head. "It is dark magic, Deirdre, it's can't be removed."

Deirdre's grip on her wand slackened, but she wasn't ready to put it away, not yet. "Even if what you've said is true, Severus, it doesn't change anything –"

"I see. Our friendship meant that much to you, did it?"

"Don't you dare, Severus." She glared at him. "If it had meant anything at all, you should have told me about this months ago."

Ignoring the fact her wand was still drawn, Severus closed the distance between them. "Tell me, what difference would it have made?"

Stepping back from him, she blinked back tears stinging her eyes. "We're done here, Severus."

He stiffened, his dark eyes boring into her. A cold chill spread through him at the finality in her voice, and he reached out, grabbing her arm before she could walk away from him.

"Let go off me, Severus!"

"Don't –"

"Oi! That greasy blighter isn't causing you trouble, is he, miss?"

The pleading in Severus' eyes vanished almost instantly. His fingers bit into Deirdre's arm momentarily before he released her, turning around to face a tall, beefy Muggle man. Every other sound faded into the background as a tense silence descended between them. Glancing from the man to Severus, she saw his hand twitch, expecting him to draw his wand. But to her surprise, he straightened to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. Realising her own wand was still in her hand, she tucked it up into her sleeve, but was ready to redraw it at a moment's notice.

"Do you often make it a habit of interfering in matters that don't concern you?" Severus said with derision.

The man jibed the point of his umbrella at Severus. "I wasn't talking to you, you cheeky bugger." He looked past him to Deirdre. "You all right, love?"

Not quite trusting her voice, Deirdre simply nodded. Her gaze quickly darted back to Severus, confused by his behaviour. Conflicted thoughts assailed her, causing her to begin to doubt her own judgement about Severus.

"If you've quite finished, I would appreciate it if you went back to minding your own business."

"You better watch it, mate, if you know what's good for you."

Sensing that things could turn ugly very quickly, Deirdre stepped in front of Severus. "Thank you for your concern, but everything is fine. Honestly."

Frowning, the man said, "All right, then." He shot Severus a scathing glare. "There's a few coppers on the beat in the park, and you can be sure I'll be telling them to keep an eye out for you."

Without another word, he walked away, and Deirdre half expected to see Severus charge after him in a flurry of black. As the seconds ticked on, though, he didn't move from behind her, and she almost wondered if something was wrong until he muttered, 'what a bloody nuisance'.

"Severus –"

He regarded her with indifference. "Save it, Deirdre, you've already made your opinion of me quite clear.

Despite his attempt to be cold with her, his granite-like mask slipped for a split second and she saw his internal torment: he did not want her to go. In the same moment, guilt riddled her conscience; was it possible he hadn't simply been making excuses for his actions.

"That Muggle…you just…" she started to say, wringing her hands in front of her.

He scoffed. "What? Did you think I would turn him into toad?"

"No, I…" Deirdre covered her face with her hands, taking a deep breath. "I'm so confused, Severus."

"I didn't expect you to welcome this with open arms."

Severus' heart started to beat faster in his chest. As irked as he had been by the Muggle's interference, it seemed it was to his advantage. He could see Deirdre was struggling to accept the truth that he wasn't Voldemort's evil minion. Remaining still, he was almost afraid to reach out to her…he couldn't cope if she shrunk back from him in revulsion again.

"I need time to think, Severus," she said, her lip quivering.

"I understand," he replied.

Pulling her Muggle coat tighter around her, she swallowed hard. "I'll contact you when I'm ready to talk again. Goodbye, Severus."

Long after she had disappeared from sight, Severus continued to stare at the path she'd taken. Things hadn't turned out exactly as he had hoped for, but then, they could have been worse – far worse. The sound of gravel underfoot snapped him from his thoughts, and seeing the helmets of two bobbies pass by the hedge, he decided it was time to leave the park.

A/N: Coppers and bobbies are common terms for police officers in the UK.

Chapter 5: Chapter 4

Firstly, I am so sorry it has taken me so long to update! Life has been so busy! Thank you everyone who has been reading and following this story!

Enjoy...

Chapter 4

…

Deirdre stared absently at rain drizzling down a window by her desk in her office. The cup of tea in her hand was steadily growing colder, while her scone remained untouched. Only three days had passed since she'd met Severus in the park, but it felt longer – much longer. Before that she had been so certain in her own mind; Severus was a Death Eater, he'd chosen his path and she wanted nothing more to do with him. Then in a moment of weakness, or perhaps it was something else, she wasn't sure, her resolve had crumbled beneath her. She found herself believing him, trusting his word that he'd been forced to join Voldemort's horde.

With a weary sigh, she sat down behind her desk, opened a drawer, and fished out a sealed envelope. Turning it over in her hands, she traced a fingertip along the flourishes and curlicues of Severus' name. Deirdre had agonised over every word of it the previous evening, but in the end she'd been too conflicted to send it. She turned her head and looked out the window again. The simple truth was that she missed him; two years of friendship were harder to shove aside than she thought. Yet, fear still loomed over her. Could she ever be completely certain of where his loyalties lay?

A light rap on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in."

A medi-witch popped her head in through the doorway. "Sorry to cut your break short, Deirdre, but Healer Weir needs you."

"Thanks, Betty," Deirdre said. "I'll be right there."

When the door clicked closed, Deirdre stood and crossed to the fireplace. The letter suddenly felt like it was made of lead, but she took a deep breath, calming herself. She didn't have time to walk to the hospital's owlery and if she didn't do this now, she might not do it at all. Setting the letter on the cold grate, she then lifted a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fire saying, "Severus Snape's residence, London."

Green flames roared to life and in a split second the letter vanished. She stared at the empty grate for moments longer, wondering if she had done the right thing. Well, there was little she could do about it now, short of flooing after it. Turning away from the fireplace, she gathered up a folder containing her notes and a Gladstone bag filled with an array of potions. With a flick of her wand she doused the candles in the office and closed the door behind her as she left.

Hours later, Deirdre was exhausted from a long day of appointments and from frantically scribbling down every instruction Healer Weir gave her. When the last patient finally left she made the short walk back to her office, all but ready to clock-off for the day. She lit a few candles then replaced her file back onto a shelf before turning to the desk. A twinge of disappointment caught her off guard; there was no letter waiting for her. Quickly brushing it aside, she thought that perhaps Severus had sent a reply to her flat instead.

…

Severus sighed with frustration, lowered the flame under a cauldron, and cast a shield charm around it, leaving it to simmer. At this current rate he would be lucky if he managed to complete half the potions on his list. Mr Gastrell had left him in charge of the apothecary, and magic or no magic, what that man expected of Severus was unrealistic.

Entering the main shop, he eyed the cloaked figure standing inside the doorway. He cleared his throat to make his presence known, hoping that whatever they wanted would not take long, and that it was within easy reach. After an apprentice had smashed dozens of jars with a summoning spell several years ago, Gastrell had warned Severus never to use one in his shop. Normally he didn't mind climbing up ladders or scaling the shelves, but after an unexpected encounter with aurors the night before, he could barely hop up onto a stool without wincing.

"Can I help you?"

The customer lowered their hood.

Severus' eyes widened slightly, but schooled his expression to show nothing of what he felt. "What are you doing here, Deidre?"

Deirdre pressed her lips together, throat tightening. "It's been three days, Severus, and I'm tired of waiting."

"For what?"

"Don't give me that, Severus."

"Perhaps," he began in a patronising tone. "If you cared to enlighten me –"

She heaved a frustrated sigh. "I should have known it would be a waste of time coming here."

She threw her hood back over her head, and turned to leave. Severus, tired and on edge, quickly removed his wand and cast a charm on the door, locking it. Briefly scanning the street outside before returning his attention to her, he came out from behind the counter and walked towards her. Deirdre stiffened causing him to stop mid-stride: it was something he would never get used to. He tucked his wand back into his sleeve, crossing his arms of his chest.

"Explain what this is all about," he said in a firm tone.

Deirdre glared at him. "I sent you a letter three days ago –"

"Well, clearly I never received it."

"I flooed it directly to your flat." Her tone was sharp, almost reproachful.

"That would explain it, then, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, moved, have you?"

He ignored her sarcasm. "My fireplace is warded to only allow me to pass through."

"I see," she said indifferently.

Severus wasn't sure what to say next. What should he say? Apologise for not reading a letter he never received. Silence hung in the air for a long moment, but he quickly stopped grappling with trying to find the right words and came to his senses. She shouldn't be here. No matter how much he wanted to talk to her, he knew it wasn't safe for her to be in Knockturn Alley. A flash of anger rushed through him at the danger she had placed herself in. The cobbled lanes were littered with shifty characters, not to mention she was fortunate Gastrell was out on business this afternoon – he wouldn't think twice about ratting her out for a few galleons.

"You need to go. Now," he said, removing his wand again to unlock the front door.

She raised her brow, somewhat taken aback. "You're throwing me out? Isn't this what you wanted: to talk with me?"

"Yes, but not here." He inched closer to her. "You can come to my flat later."

Deirdre shifted uncomfortably. "I would prefer to meet somewhere…more open."

The distrust in her voice hadn't lost it sting. He wanted to take a hold of her and shake her; what more did he have to do to prove himself to her? Calming himself, he snatched his cloak of the hat stand and carelessly flung it around his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" Deirdre asked.

"I'll walk you back to Diagon Alley."

"I'm capable of walking back myself, Severus."

He narrowed his eyes. "Don't argue with me, Deirdre."

Severus reached out, taking a rough hold of her arm, but she twisted away from him, her elbow digging into his ribs. He drew back as if she'd hit him with a stinging hex, sucking in a sharp breath through gritted his teeth. A hand hovered over his side, almost as if trying to calm the pain.

Deirdre shot him a look of frustration, mingled with concern. "What is it?"

"Merlin, Deirdre, do you have to be so damn violent."

"Excuse me?" She placed her hands on her hips. "You grabbed me first, and besides, I barely touched you."

"I beg to differ," he muttered, moving away from her.

Already he could feel blood oozing from the bandaged wound on his side. The anti-septic potion he had brewed was flawless, but he wasn't a healer, and he had more sense than to seek treatment at St. Mungo's. It was his own bloody fault anyway. He hadn't disapparated quickly enough when aurors had descended, firing curses at anything that moved. Like rats scarpering for a dark corner, Death Eaters had abandoned their attack on a Muggle home; every witch and wizard for themselves.

Without turning around, he knew Deirdre was staring at him, he could feel her blue gaze boring into his back. His pride, however, reminded him that she'd made it quite obvious she didn't want or need his help. Believing his own imperious reasoning, he squared his shoulders and returned to the simmering cauldron in the back.

Once he was alone he unbuttoned his waistcoat, groaning with irritation at the crimson stain on his shirt. He would scourgify it later, but for now he had to stem the bleeding. Stripping off his waistcoat completely, he tossed it on to the workbench, and after stirring the potion, he walked over to a wall lined with shelves. It didn't take him long to find what he needed; he wanted to be cleaned up before another customer entered the shop.

"Gods, Severus, what happened…Did I…?"

Severus slammed the jars in his hands onto the workbench with almost shattering force, snapping waspishly, "What are you still doing here?"

Taking no heed of his outburst, she walked purposefully towards him, while scanning the labels on the jars. "These won't heal your wound," she said matter of factly.

Severus clenched his jaw, hating her seeing him this way: injured, weak. "How astute of you."

Half driven by concern, half by her healers' training, Deirdre removed her wand, holding it in a determined, yet non-threatening manner. "Take off your shirt," she ordered him.

Severus' lips thinned, becoming taut. "No."

"Don't be such a prude, Severus. I've seen more than my fair share of bare chests at St. Mungo's…You're no different."

He disagreed. "I can take care of myself."

"Oh, really?" She snatched up a jar in one fluid movement. "Horse chestnut and bilberry will only cease the flow of blood temporarily…and don't get me started on what will happen when infection sets in."

Deirdre mimicked his stance, engaging him in a silent face-off. In that moment, it felt like nothing had ever come between their friendship. Severus saw a familiar, obstinate glint in her eyes, warning him that he was fighting a losing battle. It still unnerved him at times how she easily she could cripple his defences. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours, but Deirdre didn't show a single sign of relenting.

"Fine," he said finally, his fingers working to undo the top button of his cotton shirt. "If it'll make you leave."

As he undid the final button and shrugged the shirt off, Deirdre stifled a gasp. Each rib ridged out, almost threatening to pierce through his sallow skin. Swallowing the lump forming rapidly in her throat, she forced herself to see Severus as simply another patient; a stranger. She moved closer to him, her features fixed with concentration, and, after removing the bandage, she waved her wand in an intricate pattern over the wound. She furrowed her brow as coloured wisps emanated from the tip of her wand, her mind swiftly working to figure out what curse had been used.

"How did you get this?" she asked, straightening up.

His cool, silent stare was meant to intimidate her, cautioning her not to go any further with her assumptions. Deirdre, however, was not so easily shaken.

"The depth of the wound suggests that it was not an accurate aim," she pressed on. "There are also no traces of dark magic, but the curse used was a complex one. So, either you have joined a duelling club, which I highly doubt, or you were taken by surprise. Am I right?"

Severus clenched his jaw, warring with his pride…and with how much he actually wanted to reveal to her. He wasn't sure where he stood with her, but whatever their relationship was, it seemed so fragile, so uncertain, and he was afraid that even a gentle squeeze would shatter it. In the end, he simply nodded his head, and was surprised when she didn't probe any further, but flicked her wand to scourgify his soiled bandage.

"I'm going to close the wound; do you want me to numb the immediate area around it?"

"No, it'll be fine."

"Suit yourself," she said, "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "Just close the wound, Deirdre."

He stood silently while she positioned a stool in front of him and sat down. Fixing his attention on the wall ahead, he waited for her to begin. He geared himself up for the needle-like pain – his mother had taken him more than once to hospital as a boy to have wounds magically stitched. Instead, her cool, soft hands touched him, almost sending shockwaves through his body. Sucking in a sharp breath, he gripped the workbench behind him as her fingertips continued to lightly graze over his now prickling skin. At one point he dared to glance down and assumed that this torture was some sort examination before she sealed the wound.

"All right," she said, "I'm ready. It'll only take a few moments…Just don't move or you could end up scarred."

Severus arched an eyebrow. "I see they still teach 'instilling confidence in patients' at St. Mungo's."

"Shut it, Snape, or my hand just might slip accidentally."

His lip curled in the barest hint of a smile.

Ten minutes later, Severus finished doing up the last button on his waistcoat. He smoothed out any creases then tugged on the cuffs of his sleeves until they brushed the top of his knuckles. A scraping noise interrupted his thoughts, and he turned to see Deirdre tucking a stool under the workbench. She avoided making eye contact with him, and almost immediately he sensed the easiness that had existed between them only minutes before was gone. With his wound healed it seemed there was no longer anything to bridge the gap between them, though Severus wasn't sure how much more circling around the same mountain he could take. He wanted to be frank with her, but expressing his inner most thoughts was as easy for him as swimming in a pool of thick, black treacle.

"I think I should go," she said, breaking the awkward silence between them.

"Yes…And…Thank you," he replied.

His tone, he knew, had been almost clinical, and was surprised when Deirdre finally levelled her gaze with his. She parted her lips as if to say something, but at that moment, the doorbell above the front door jingled, and Severus' stomach coiled upon hearing his employer's oily voice.

"Right this way, gentlemen."

Severus' eyes snapped from the doorway back to Deirdre. In a blind panic he grabbed her wrist and half dragged her to a darkened corner of the laboratory. When she opened her mouth to protest he placed a forefinger against his lips, warning her not to make a sound.

"Crawl under that table and don't move a muscle. Do you understand me?" he said in a hiss like whisper.

The strain in Severus' voice caused a cold dread to stir in the pit of her stomach. "Can't I just disaperate?"

"No. Gastrell has this place warded against thieves – not even a concealment charm will work." Severus heard Gastrell's voice grow clearer and closer. "Get under the table. Now!"

Deirdre didn't argue, but dropped down onto her hand and knees and disappeared into the shadows with only seconds to spare. Her heart was racing like a scared rabbit's as she pressed herself tight against the wall, drawing her knees up to her chin. From under the table she saw three pairs of black, polished shoes step into the laboratory, and heard the floorboards creak beneath the weight of the three wizards.

"Ah Severus, there you are," the unctuous voice said.

She craned her neck in an attempted to see past the wizards' knees, but when she couldn't she rested her head back against the wall again. Part of her couldn't believe how ridiculous this all seemed – here she was, a grown woman hiding under a table from three wizards! Yet, she reminded herself she was in Knockturn Alley…and how very real Severus' fear had been.

"I'd like you to meet some acquaintances of mine." Gastrell began, and Deirdre saw Severus begin to rock slightly on the balls of his feet; a trait that had only ever manifested itself in the presence of James Potter and Sirius Black. She wrapped her arms tighter around her body. Something was wrong – very wrong.

"Lucius Malfoy, I believe, you already know, and this is Aodhàn Harper."

Deirdre felt her blood run cold at the mention of her cousin's name. A sickening tightness rose up in her stomach and she removed her wand, clutching it tightly in her hand.

"I've heard a lot about you, Severus, from Lucius; he tells me that he has high hopes for you," Aodhàn said, his lilting Cork accent masking the evil Deirdre knew lurked beneath the surface.

"Yes, that over-sized brain of his won't go to waste, mark my words," Lucius Malfoy added coolly.

Severus refused to meet Lucius' ice-blue gaze, but acknowledged Aodhàn's comment with a stiff nod. His fingers were itching to reach for his wand, but he forced himself to remain calm, detached.

"Now that we are all acquainted, I suggest we get down to business," Gastrell said, rubbing his long, bony hands together. "As you can see, this is where most of the brewing takes place. Severus, why don't you show Mr Malfoy and Mr Harper around in here, while I fetch some paperwork from my office."

"Of course, sir," Severus said.

The smug look on Gastrell's face as he left the laboratory told Severus he was halfway to securing a lucrative business deal with Lucius Malfoy, one of the wealthiest wizards on the British Isles. Though, one look at the bored expression on both Malfoy and Harper's faces let Severus know they were not remotely interested in a 'tour' of a dingy laboratory.

"I'm assuming, Severus, you are wondering why we are here, in this…humble establishment," Lucius said, idly twirling his silver topped cane. "It's simple really. It has come to our attention that Mr Gastrell sees little harm in dealing with Mudbloods…we intend to put a stop to it."

"Legally, of course," Aodhàn added with a short, sinister laugh. "On behalf of the Ministry, I am authorised to heavily fine any establishment that does not provide adequate paperwork on all their sales."

Slick, Severus thought, very slick. Of course Gastrell would not produce any documentation connecting him with Muggle-borns, especially not to the likes of Lucius Malfoy. It would be too late by the time his employer realised he had been backed into a corner. Gastrell would be forced to do the Dark Lord's bidding or face losing his business…perhaps even his life.

"It was all too amusing watching Gastrell take the bait," Aodhàn continued, then scoffed, "As if the Ministry would wish to invest money in an ancient rubbish tip like this."

"Indeed," Severus said.

Lucius walked over to a bookshelf and after a scanning the titles, he chose a thick, dusty book on poisonous roots. Severus watched him flick through the yellowed pages, though he could tell by the blond wizard's expression that he found it as interesting as watching mould grow. Aodhàn walked slowly around the room, stopping every few steps to look at the various jars lining the shelves. As he neared the table Deirdre was hiding under his pulse began to hammer in this throat. Aodhàn stopped by the table, and picked up several phials, filled with various potions. One of them, though, slipped from his grasp and, protected by an anti-breakage charm, rolled underneath the table.

Aodhàn pointed his wand towards the table and said, "Accio phial!"

As the phial shot out from under the table the sound of glass smashing emanated from the shadows as well. From across the room, Lucius snapped shut the book he was flicking through. Aodhàn also stared at the table, his brow furrowed. Severus kept alarm he felt from creeping onto his face as he realised that Deirdre must have had phials in her pockets. He silently berated her for not using an anti-breakage charm – she should have known better.

Aodhàn was starting to stoop down to investigate when Severus shook himself from his thoughts and hurried towards him.

"There's only a few old crates stored under there; nothing to concern yourself with," Severus said smoothly.

Deirdre's heart was thumping in her chest. Aodhàn's palm was flat against the stone floor; she could smell his overpowering cologne, see the whites of his eyes as he peered into the darkness. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours before her cousin stood up again and walked away from the table. She let out her breath; that had been close, too close. The harmless potions seeped into her clothes, but she didn't dare move.

"Aren't you going to clear it up?" Lucius said, using his wand to remove particles of dust from his hands.

"I will wait until you leave." Severus crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes. "There's no telling what might be living under there."

A few minutes later, Gastrell came back into the laboratory with a thick folder tucked under his arm. Severus saw the calculated look Lucius shared with Aodhàn and knew his employer was being led away like a lamb to the slaughter. But he had Deirdre to consider and her safety was paramount to that of a priggish, miserly wizard.

"I'm ready, gentlemen."

"Excellent." Lucius said.

"Will we finish the rest of our business at the Ministry?"

"No, no, we will go to Malfoy Manor."

Severus walked with the three older wizards to the front door and waited until they had disaperated before locking the door. He turned over the open sign to closed and pointed his wand at the blinds, shutting them with a flick of his wrist. Hurrying back to the laboratory, he crouched down in front of the table and held out his hand.

"It's safe to come out now, Deirdre. They're gone."

Her cool fingers wrapped around his hand and with little effort he helped her up onto her feet. Severus stepped back from her, running his wand down her from head to toe, making certain shards of glass had not become embedded in her skin. Satisfied she was fine, he tucked his wand back into his sleeve, but she caught his arm before he could walk away.

A lump formed in Deirdre's throat. Severus had shown his loyalty to her without faltering. She swallowed hard, but her voice still quavered. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She lowered her gaze. "For not trusting you."

Severus could see the tears forming in her eyes and the quiver of her lips as she fought to remain in control. He slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer to him, and when she returned his embrace, a warmth spread through him. Her composure didn't last much longer after that, but he simply held her, stroking her hair.

"We should go now, Deirdre, it's getting late," he finally said.

"Will you walk me home?" she asked, looking up at him, tears still glistening on her cheeks.

His lips twitched. "I'll go get my cloak."

Chapter 6: Chapter 5

Hey! I suppose I should start by saying I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to post a chapter. Again, I blame life for throwing craziness at me. There won't be such a long wait for the next chapter, I promise.

Enjoy!

Chapter 5

March 1981

Severus sat with his legs stretched out in front of a roaring fire. He held a cup of tea in one hand, while in the other he had a copy of Samuel Johnson's Insults. One reviewer had commented that it was 'a masterly compendium of malicious wit', and Severus could not agree more. He took another sip of his tea, smirking as he read how to properly insult a Frenchman. A light tap on the window interrupted his reading, but seeing a small, tawny owl on the sill outside he set his cup and book down immediately. The owl hopped inside when he unlatched the window and dropped the letter in its beak into Severus' hand. The bird hooted then set about preening its ruffled feathers.

Breaking the seal on the letter, he opened it and watched while words appeared on the parchment. It was from Dumbledore. The message contained detailed instructions of information he was to feed to Voldemort, which in turn, would enable the Order to weaken the Dark Lord's forces. After committing the instructions to memory, he crumpled up the parchment and tossed it into the fire. Crossing the living room, he took a fresh piece of parchment from a drawer in an antique secretary desk and quickly scratched out a reply. He then charmed it with the same concealment spell Dumbledore had used and placed it in the owl's beak.

"Well, get on with it," Severus said impatiently when it continued to sit and stare at him.

The owl turned its back to him and hopped up onto the windowsill before finally taking off. Severus watched it soar over the tops of the chimney pots until it disappeared from sight. When he had closed the window and secured the latch he returned to his seat by the fire. He steepled his fingers and closed his eyes. There were times he wondered if Dumbledore ever stopped to consider that he asked too much of him, though Severus doubted he did. Despite such thoughts, however, he had never regretted his decision to swear loyalty to Dumbledore.

It was because of his carelessness he was questioned by Voldemort after it was reported he'd been seen in the company of a young witch, several times no less. Severus, of course, had denied any intimate involvement with her. His skill in Occlumency bore up against an assault by Voldemort, but the fear that surrounded him had been almost tangible. For weeks after, he had kept a close watch over her, even going as far as inventing reasons for her to stay at home after work. With what little money he had Severus had also purchased a tracking stone, enabling him to monitor her safety whenever he could not be with her. But he knew Voldemort was still watching him; always seeking for a weakness to exploit. Finally, he had relented, admitting to himself he could not hide Deirdre forever on his own.

Severus' heart had pounded in his chest as he stood before Dumbledore, not knowing what would happen.

"Well, Severus? What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?"

"No – no message – I'm here on my own account." Severus' black hair whipped round him in the wind. "I come with a request – please –"

"What request could a Death Eater make of me?"

"My wife –"

Dumbledore's eyes widened with surprise. "Your wife?"

"Please – I need your help –"

"Why come to me, surely Lord Voldemort –"

"NO!" Severus said his voice ragged. "He cannot know – please – I need you help to keep her safe."

"And what will you give me in return, Severus?"

"In – in return?" Severus gaped at Dumbledore, his pulse hammering as he grasped the meaning of his words, but after a long moment he said, "Anything."

The clock chimed, pulling Severus from his thoughts. He opened his eyes and rubbed a hand across his face. Deirdre, naturally, had received the news of his defection as he had hoped, though, she had reacted badly to his new role as Dumbledore's spy. Severus had explained to her, as patiently as he could, that it was necessary if he wished to escape a life sentence in Azkaban when the war ended. It had been a half-truth – she would never forgive him if she knew he risked his life solely for her.

Rising from the wing back chair, Severus lifted his cup of unfinished tea and walked through a connecting door into the kitchen. He washed the cup, placed it on a dish rack to dry and was about to head upstairs when the living room lit up with a green light. Walking over to the doorway, he saw Deirdre dusting soot off her clothes. The house they were now living had been warded by Dumbledore himself and, unknown to Deirdre, a member of the Order was always watching over her. Though, he had made sure certain members were never allowed near her, namely the Marauders.

"I wasn't expecting you home so early," he said.

"Good evening to you, too," she replied, and noting his frown added, "I wasn't feeling well so Healer Weir sent me home."

A trace of concern flickered in eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine, Severus, nothing some rest won't cure." He nodded, but she could tell he wasn't convinced. "How was your day?" she asked, swiftly changing the subject.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Tolerable."

She suppressed a smile as she removed her cloak, noticing his copy of Samuel Johnson's Insults and a plate of biscuit crumbs on a table by his wing back chair. He was having a jolly old time of it while she was at work.

"Well, I for one am glad to be home. You wouldn't believe some of the cases we've had to deal with today," she said, flopping down onto a two seater sofa. "We had one man who had tried to curse his neighbour, for what idiotic reason, I don't know. Anyway, the curse backfired and he ended up with antlers growing out of his skull."

Severus sneered slightly as he joined her on the sofa. "His wand movements were obviously incorrect."

She moved closer to him and smirked. "My money was on his mispronounced incantations."

"I hope you discharged him with the antlers still intact," he said somewhat scathingly.

Deirdre laughed softly. "We were tempted, trust me. It took the better part of an hour just to find a counter-curse that would leave his skull intact. At one point, I suggested we simply blast them off. Needless to say, Healer Weir was not impressed."

"Your bedside manners are still as good as ever, I see."

"Merlin, Severus, I didn't suggest it in front of the patient." She glared at him half-heartedly. "I'd like to see you keep your patience with idiots like that."

Severus stared at her." Trust me, Deirdre; I will never willingly place myself in a position where I have to deal with…idiots."

...

Deirdre rubbed her eyes and sat up on the sofa: she didn't even remember falling asleep. She glanced over at a clock on the mantelpiece; it was just after seven in the evening. Removing the blanket that Severus had draped over her, she stood up and headed into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out leftovers from last night's dinner. Too tired and hungry to wait for it to heat up in the oven, she removed her wand, instantly warming the plate of shepherd's pie. A copy of that day's Daily Prophet was on the table and she flicked through it while she ate.

Having had her fill, she pushed her plate aside as Severus came into the kitchen. His sleeves were rolled up and a distinct, pungent smell clung to his clothes – he was brewing again. Sometimes she joined him in his potion making in the cellar, but usually they ended up discussing and, on occasion, arguing over various theories and techniques. Mostly, though, she left him to brew on his own – he seemed to prefer it that way.

He turned on a tap to wash his hands. "Awake at last, I see."

"I didn't realise how tired I was."

"Clearly." He crossed the kitchen and took a bottle from the wine rack. "Would you like a glass?"

"Yes – No…I better not."

Severus arched an eyebrow questioningly. "You better not?

Deirdre wrung her hands beneath the table. "Severus, there is something I need to tell you."

"Yes?"

"Perhaps you should sit down."

Severus set the wine bottle onto the counter, somewhat frustrated. "For Merlin's sake, Deirdre, just tell me."

"I'm pregnant."

"You're what?"

"Pregnant."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, of course I'm sure. I saw a medi-witch this morning. She said I'm two months along."

Severus raked a hand through his hair. "I thought we had talked about this – I thought we were going to wait longer."

"You think I planned this…on purpose?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Deirdre." He gripped the back of a chair. "I don't see how this could have happened, my potions were perfect."

"Oh, I do."

She reached into her pocket, setting a small phial onto the table and watched as Severus' eyes widened. She waited a moment longer before speaking. "I found this in the back of bathroom cabinet yesterday morning. It answered quite a few questions."

Severus said nothing, but continued to stare at the contraceptive potion – his monthly dosage. He clenched his jaw, internally berating himself. How could he have forgotten to take it; usually he was the one reminding Deirdre to take hers.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This complicates matters."

Lips taut, Deirdre's eyes brimmed with tears. "Is that how you see our child, as a complication?"

"Deirdre, listen to me – a child –"

She raised her hand, cutting him off. "Don't Severus, you've made your opinion on this clear enough already."

Severus balled his fists as Deirdre stalked from the kitchen. He heard her thump upstairs and stomp across the landing before slamming their bedroom door closed. There was little point in following her, she'd probably draw her wand, and use it with intent. No, she needed time to cool off before he attempted to speak with her again. Locking his arms behind his back, he began to pace the floor. He hadn't meant for his words to sound so callous, but he had enough resting on his shoulders without the added worry of a child.

He stopped pacing and stared out the kitchen window at the small, but well kept garden. Placing his hands palm down on the counter, he heaved a deep sigh. It was not only the child's safety that concerned him – how were they supposed to afford one? Deirdre's salary certainly didn't reflect the long hours she worked, and his pay from the apothecary wasn't much better either. He reached for the bottle of wine and poured himself an entire glassful, then retreated back into the living room. As the wine slowly eased his tension, Severus sank further into his wing back chair. Nevertheless, thoughts of impending fatherhood still dogged him, and if he was honest with himself, the idea of it scared the hell out of him.

An hour later he opened the bedroom door, a flood of light from the landing falling upon Deirdre curled up on their bed. He could tell by her breathing that she wasn't asleep, but she lay still, refusing to acknowledge his presence. He cracked the door open further and stepped inside. Deirdre stiffened slightly and he paused mid-step, clenching his jaw in annoyance.

"Deirdre."

"Go away, Severus."

"Not until you listen to what I have to say," he said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

For a moment he seriously considered using his wand if she continued to refuse to listen to him. Finally, though, she turned round and sat up.

"You mistook my meaning earlier," he began, and though her eyes flashed, he took her silence as a sign to continue. "While this is not what we had envisaged, I am…agreeable to having a child."

Deirdre's lip quivered, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "This is a huge shock for me, too, Severus – but, I'm happy…and….and…"

Her words caught in her throat and she turned her face away from him. Severus walked towards her and sat down on the edge of the bed. Holding a hand out to her, he said, "Come."

She shuffled across the mattress and allowed him to draw her into his arms. "Is this what you really want?" she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

"Yes," he replied after a beat. He loved her, after all, and he would do whatever it took to make her happy.

...

Severus cleared his throat as he approached a nurses' station to attract attention. A middle-aged Muggle nurse looked up from a pile of paperwork and set down her biro pen. She offered him a small, obligatory smile then opened a large admittance book.

"Name," she said clinically.

"Severus Snape."

She looked at him like he was a school boy who had answered a question incorrectly. "Who are you here to see?"

Narrowing his eyes slightly he spoke in an equally flat tone. "My wife, Deirdre Snape."

The nurse ran a short, stubby finger down the list of names. "Mrs Snape is on E ward." She leaned across the table and motioned with her hand past Severus. "Go straight down the corridor, enter the first bay on the right, and she is the last bed on the left, by the window."

Severus took a second to process the directions before walking away from the station. He had wanted to ask how Deirdre was faring, but had decided he would get more cooperation from a goblin. The corridors were quiet, though faint whimpers caused an unfamiliar, unnerving knot to form in his stomach.

He had arrived home earlier that evening – exhausted after having spent two days tracking down a shady character by the name Mundungus Fletcher for Dumbledore – to find a letter on the kitchen table. Deirdre had gone into labour ten days early and had checked herself into hospital. They had both agreed it would be safer if she had the baby in a Muggle hospital, and through various connections Deirdre learned of a hospital outside Shrewsbury whose senior midwife was a Squib.

Slowing his pace as he saw a sign for E ward, Severus felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Dimmed lights cast a soft glow over the first bay on the right and he noted that only three of the eight beds were occupied. He made his way silently toward Deirdre's bed, drawing the cubicle curtain to give them some privacy. Leaning in closer, he lightly brushed his knuckles across her cheek, stirring her from her sleep.

Deirdre's eyes fluttered open, a small, soft smile touching her lips. "You finally made it, then."

He straightened, then said snidely. "I must remember to thank Dumbledore later."

She reached out to take his hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm just glad you're here."

Severus lips grew taut: he should have been here with her through the whole ordeal.

Deirdre let go of his hand, shifted in the bed and pushed herself up into a sitting position. It was then Severus' gaze was drawn to an incubator like cot beside her bed. "That's her?" he asked.

"You were expecting something other than a baby?"

Ignoring her sarcasm, he inched closer to the cot. "Have you finally settled on a name?"

"Evelyn. I want to name her Evelyn," she said.

Severus repeated the name silently, sounding it out in his head. He nodded. "It's a good name."

He moved the last few steps toward the cot, until he finally stood over it. A tiny head, crowned with wisps of black hair peeked out over a pale pink blanket. Almost hesitantly, Severus reached out, his hand hovering over his daughter. He glanced at Deirdre, who nodded slightly, urging him to pick her up. Swallowing hard, he couldn't understand why his heart was suddenly racing. After a moment he slipped a hand under her fragile body and lifted her carefully into his arms. She began to whimper and panic rose inside of him, but once settled in the crook of his arm she quietened. As he stared down at her, taking in her perfectly formed features, he was confronted with new, awakening, strong emotions. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Everything else around him seemed to fade into insignificant. She was a complete stranger to him, yet he was taken aback by an overwhelming need to protect her. Severus ran a finger over her hands which were curled tightly into little fists, trying to process the disbelief, doubt, amazement bombarding him all at once.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Deirdre said, touched by the unusual display of emotion on his face.

He simply nodded in response.

For months he had worried and agonised over how a child would only complicate his life. But now, as he held his daughter, he saw her as anything but a burden. She was part of him – his own flesh and blood.

Severus remained with Deirdre and Evelyn until a nurse came into the ward to give him his marching orders. His wife needed rest. He had reluctantly placed Evelyn back in her cot, tenderly touching her smooth cheek one last time. After kissing Deirdre goodbye, he walked swiftly back down the corridor and took a lift to the ground floor. His first order of business would be to disapparate to Diagon Alley and purchase another tracking stone, for Evelyn.

At the far end of the car park he looked around him and when he was certain he was alone, he disaperated. The moment his feet touched the cobbled stones in Diagon Alley, Severus heard whoops and cheers coming from every direction. Music blared from the Leaky Cauldron; some witches and wizards were dancing silly jigs in the street, while others openly wept and hugged each other.

A young boy ran in Severus' direction, and catching his arm, he asked, "What's going on?"

"Haven't you heard – You-Know-Who is dead!"

Severus let go of the boy's arm and without another word, he disaperated to Hogwarts…to find Dumbledore.

Chapter 7: Chapter 6

As promised, I have a new chapter! This one takes a bit of a time jump. I hope you enjoy this chapter...and reviews are always welcome! They make me smile!

PART II

Chapter 6

~x~

JULY 1993 – 11 YEARS LATER

The first day of the summer holidays had not come quick enough for Evelyn Snape. Primary school was finally finished, forever. No more taunts for being a freak, or letters home for disruptive behaviour – it wasn't her fault she couldn't control outbursts of magic – most of all, though, she would never have to spend another break or lunchtime hiding behind that rickety old bicycle shed in the playground. Hogwarts would be different, she was certain of it. Excitement bubbled up inside of her every time her parents spoke of the ancient school; a place where magic was considered normal.

Flinging the duvet covers off, Evelyn stretched like Mr Bobbins, the next door neighbour's lithe and lazy cat. She swung her pale legs over the side of the bed, languidly moving her foot around until she felt the fluffy material of her slippers. Shoving her feet into them, she stood up and crossed to the window, opening a pair of dark green curtains. What rotten weather, she thought, so much for the great British summer. Though, it wasn't as if there was anything to do in Spinner's End anyway, apart from walking to the shop to buy sweets. The height of entertainment was watching the postman deliver letters to the house across the street, while trying to avoid getting his leg bitten by their demon terrier, Alfie.

Evelyn turned away from the window and shuffled across the carpet towards the door. Perhaps she could convince her mum to make bacon and French toast for breakfast. As she stepped down the last stair into the hallway, she felt her feet slide a little on the wooden floor; her mum must have polished it earlier that morning.

"Excellent," she whispered with a mischievous smirk.

Taking a short run, she stopped abruptly and glided very ungracefully into the kitchen. Her willowy frame collided with cupboards and she landed firmly on her backside, though it didn't keep her from bursting into a fit of giggles.

"Is that anyway to enter a room?"

Evelyn jumped up and spun round, her eyes wide. "Dad! What are you –"

Severus arched an eyebrow disapprovingly. "Well, is it?"

Clasping her hands in front of her, she stared down at the floor and fixed her attention on a crack in the tiles. "No, it's not," she answered.

"It is a floor, not a skating rink. Remember that in future." he said, his tone having lost some of its sharp edge.

Lifting her gaze to his, she asked, "Where's mum?"

Severus returned his attention back to that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. "She was called away; there was an emergency at hospital. She should be back around lunch time." Without looking up, he motioned a hand toward the cooker. "I've left you some porridge in the pot."

So much for bacon and French toast, Evelyn thought glumly.

"Thanks," she said, but made a disgusted face once her back was turned. She hated porridge. Suddenly a horrible feeling began to twist her insides. She knew it wasn't right, but she couldn't stop it. Maybe if he came home more often he would know she hated porridge. Despite how she felt, Evelyn obediently spooned some out into a bowl and carried it over to the table.

"Is it warm enough?" he asked as she sat down.

"It's fine, Dad."

It was a little on the cool side, but heating it up wouldn't take away the bland taste or the chipped cardboard texture. She moved a spoon around in the bowl, but her father cleared his throat – a warning for her to stop messing, and eat. After forcing a mouthful down, she broke the silence between them. "Why are you home from Hogwarts so early? Mum said you wouldn't be home for another week."

Severus kept reading as if he hadn't heard her question, but after a few moments he lifted his gaze to hers. "Eat your breakfast, Evelyn, before it gets cold."

"But –"

"Eat."

Evelyn heaved an exaggerated sigh and cradled her chin in her left hand. This had to be the worst beginning to any summer holiday. She stole a quick glance at her father. He used to be different. Well, he had always been stern and impatient with everyone, including Mum, though it didn't seem to faze her like it did other people. However, things had begun to change two years ago. He looked worn out when he came home for the holidays; he was angrier, too. Mum would tell her to go to her room sometimes, but through the thin walls of the house she could hear her parents' muffled voices as they argued. Then mum would cry; her dad's voice would lower, taking on a tone she rarely heard…it sounded almost tender.

Evelyn's spoon clanged off the side of the bowl as she dug it into the porridge like it was a spade. Her dad never spoke to her like that. As she raised the spoon to her mouth, Severus shifted in his seat and held the paper a little higher. Her attention was immediately drawn to the headlines: BLACK HAS ESCAPED!

"What is the matter?" Severus asked at her gasp.

"Dad, didn't you read the headlines? Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban!"

"Thank you for pointing it out to me," he said dryly.

Evelyn sat up ramrod straight in her chair. "How could he have escaped? No one's supposed to be able to get out of Azkaban – not with all those scary things floating around."

Severus sighed in slight exasperation. "Dementors, Evelyn. They are called Dementors."

"I know that."

"Then use the correct term in future."

Staring at the photograph of Sirius Black, screaming like a crazed animal, Evelyn found herself growing increasingly interested in how he had managed to escape. She only knew what her mum had told her about him, and it wasn't pleasant. He had been loyal to Voldemort, not like her dad, who according to her mum, had been forced to take the Dark Mark – beyond that, her dad's past as a Death Eater was a mystery to her.

"Did you know Sirius Black before he went to jail?" she asked.

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Did mum?"

"Yes."

"Did –"

Severus set the paper down onto the table with considerable force. "Evelyn, enough. Now, if you are finished eating, wash your bowl and go upstairs and get dressed."

"Yes, Dad," she said, forcing back the hurt she felt at being dismissed as little more than a nuisance.

Severus watched as Evelyn cleared away her bowl, her shoulders slumped somewhat. He had heard a familiar fervour in her voice and saw curiosity rise in her eyes. But the sordid deeds of Sirius Black were not something he wished to discuss with his eleven year old daughter. The longer she remained innocent to the evil that existed in the wizarding world, the better.

Once she had left the kitchen and returned upstairs, Severus leaned back in his chair and pressed two fingers on either side of his temples. It had been another exhausting and demanding year. The Chamber of Secrets had been reopened, a Basilisk had terrorised the school, and Harry bloody Potter in all of his Gryffindor recklessness had almost gotten himself and two other students killed. Oh, how he detested that boy. He was arrogant like his father, with no respect for the school rules.

Potter was the reason why he was forced to take up a position at Hogwarts after Voldemort's demise; the reason why he saw so little of his family. Dumbledore was convinced Voldemort would return, and that Potter was the key to defeating him. Think of your wife and daughter, Dumbledore had told him, they will be in danger when Voldemort returns. You must protect Harry Potter, it is the only way. It still galled Severus that Dumbledore had used his weakness against him. But he made damned well sure the headmaster knew that what he did was not for the greater good, for Potter, or anyone else, but for Deirdre and Evelyn alone.

He reached for the Daily Prophet and glared pitilessly at the photograph of Sirius Black – he should have received the Dementors' Kiss for what he'd done. Severus was supposed to have remained at Hogwarts for a further week after the students had left; it was generally a week of tedious staff meetings. However, in the light of Black's escape, Dumbledore had cancelled that extra, mind-numbing week. For Severus, though, his summer would not be his own. Both he and Dumbledore knew Potter was in danger from Black, and he might well attempt to finish what Voldemort failed to do eleven years ago.

That, however, was not Severus' greatest concern. Wherever Potter went, trouble was not far behind, and Evelyn was due to begin Hogwarts in September. Dumbledore was not hopeful Black would be recaptured by then, but had assured him, as well as the rest of the staff, he would do whatever was necessary to safeguard the school. Despite Dumbledore's promises, the very idea of Black coming anywhere near his daughter made him burn with raw fury.

Drinking the last of his tea, Severus rose from the table, washed his cup and set it beside Evelyn's bowl on the drying rack. He left the kitchen, headed upstairs and knocked on her bedroom door.

"Just a minute," she called.

Severus' patience had almost reached its threshold when Evelyn finally opened the door. Her straight, chocolate hair was tied up in a ponytail; she looked so much like her mother, except for her pale skin…and her eyes. They were every bit as dark as his, though hers held an exuberance his never had.

"What are you plans for today?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing."

"In that case, you can assist me in the cellar. I have some potions I need to brew."

Screwing up her face slightly, she said, "Do I have to?"

Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "Your mother mentioned to me this morning she wanted the attic cleared out, if you prefer you could do that instead."

The expression on her face changed almost immediately. "Fine, I'll help you."

He concealed a smirk as she walked back downstairs in front of him, though he couldn't deny his disappointment that she didn't seem to share his and Deirdre's enthusiasm for potions. Once in the cellar, and with the flick of his wrist, Severus lit several candles, illuminating the dingy room.

"That's pretty wicked, Dad," Evelyn said as she hopped up onto a stool. "Can you teach me to do that?"

"And have you set fire to the house? I think not."

Evelyn opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again quickly; whinging never got her anywhere with either of her parents. Besides, her dad seemed in a better mood than he was earlier, and she wished for him to remain that way. She began to trace an imaginary pattern on the workbench with her finger, thinking how boring the next couples of hours would be.

A loud clunk, followed by Severus' voice snapped her from her thoughts. "There is a jar of Bezoars on the first shelf; I want to crush one until it is a fine powder."

After removing one Bezoar from a jar, she found a pestle and mortar and began to grind it. It was more difficult than she thought, as it kept sliding around in the mortar. Finally, though, she began to make progress, and soon she had completed her task. On the workbench her dad had set out an array of jars and bottles, and she read their labels, which were all written in his spiky handwriting.

"Dad, if you're making an Antidote to Common Poisons, why are you adding in all these extra ingredients?"

Severus looked up at her, his eyebrow arched in a quizzical manner. "How do you know I am making that particular potion?"

"Well, because there's the Bezoar, and you've lifted down Standard Ingredient, Unicorn Horn, and Mistletoe Berries. It doesn't make sense to add stewed Mandrake, lavender, or any of that other stuff."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, I read in a book –"

Severus held up a hand. "Stop right there." He rounded the table and sat down directly opposite her. "Explain to me the properties of Mandrake."

"It's bad for you." Her dad frowned, clearly unimpressed with her answer. She bit her lip, and thought for a moment. "All parts of the plant are poisonous and the screams of an adult plant can kill you."

Severus nodded, indicating she was correct. "So, if I were to add a small measure to this potion, then what?"

Tapping a finger on her chin, she thought long and hard, then finally said, "It'd be like those Muggle vaccinations I had to get in school, wouldn't it?" Evelyn winced slightly as she remembered having a needled jabbed into her arm. Mum said she had to have them to avoid any untoward questions.

"Precisely," he said, though she couldn't tell if he was impressed with her or not. "Now, I want you to follow the instructions I have written down. Make sure you measure out the exact quantities, I do not want ingredients wasted on careless mistakes."

"Yes, Dad," she replied, strangely having enjoyed their short conversation.

Severus felt a swirl of pride inside him as he returned to the cauldron. It seemed his daughter had more of knowledge of potions than he thought.

...

Deirdre dusted soot from her cloak and used her wand to clear up the mess that using the floo system always left. The emergency at St. Mungo's had been brought under control quicker than she had anticipated, for which she was glad. Although she was on leave from work, as Head of the Counter-Curse department she had agreed to remain on call for certain emergencies. Thankfully Severus had returned home late last night, otherwise she would have had to bring Evelyn with her to work.

Walking into the kitchen, she saw the cellar door was ajar and guessed Severus was down there brewing. She checked the time: it was almost one in the afternoon. It was doubtful he had made himself any lunch, and by the lack of mess on the kitchen counter, she assumed Evelyn had not made anything for herself either. After quickly putting together a few sandwiches, she also made a pot of tea and carried it down all down to the cellar on a tray.

Halfway down the creaky, wooden stairs Deirdre paused. She drank in the sight of Severus leaning over their daughter at a workbench, quietly explaining something from a book open in front of them. Whether Evelyn was actually taking in anything he said, she wasn't sure, she was just glad to them spending time together. Deirdre was tempted to retreat back upstairs, but Severus raised his head and saw her before she could.

Deirdre walked down the rest of the stairs and set the tray on a table. "I wasn't sure if you'd had lunch yet, so I made you some sandwiches."

"Mum, you're home!" Evelyn said, sounding almost relieved.

Evelyn slipped off the stool and pushed past Severus. She hurried over to Deirdre and gave her a quick hug. "Mum, can I have beans on toast instead of sandwiches, and then can I go to the shop? Please!"

Stealing a glance at Severus, Deirdre saw him close the book and shove it carelessly back onto a shelf. She then returned her attention back to Evelyn. "Of course you can, just make sure you clean up after you're done. Oh, and make sure you put on your rain coat and wellies before you leave the house."

"I will, Mum." Evelyn gave her another hug. "Thanks, you're the best."

As she dashed off upstairs to the kitchen, Deirdre walked over to where Severus was bent over a cauldron. His black hair dangled in front of his face, shielding his features, but his rigid stance spoke volumes. He rarely asked anyone, even her, to assist him in brewing, but Evelyn had clearly failed to see her father's desire to spend time with her.

She placed a hand over his, lightly squeezing it. "Severus, come and have some lunch."

"I'm busy, Deirdre."

Letting go of his hand, she reached up and took hold of his chin, gently turning his face toward her. "It can wait until later," she said softly.

With a weary sigh, Severus stepped back from the cauldron. He followed Deirdre over to the table where she had set the tray and sat down on a chair beside her. She poured them both a cup of tea, but left the sandwiches alone. It could only mean one thing: she wanted to talk.

"Have you heard from Dumbledore this morning?" she asked.

Severus took a sip of his tea. Apart from Dumbledore, Deirdre was the only other living soul who was aware of his oath to protect Potter. She would never have believed he'd simply had a change of heart in regards to teaching, and besides, there was no one he trusted more than her. The past eleven years had not been easy for her, for either of them, but she had remained the one constant in his life.

"No, not yet. It's unlikely I will, unless Black attempts to go after the boy."

"Is Evelyn aware of Black's escape?" she asked, somewhat apprehensive.

"Yes, she is." Severus pursed his lips. "Though, she failed to see the gravity of it."

"She's only eleven. Severus. Right now, having her father home for the summer is probably more important to her."

Severus gave a noncommittal grunt. "I doubt that."

"Stop being so hard on yourself, Severus, of course she's happy you're home."

Forcing a small, half-hearted smile, Severus lifted a sandwich from the plate. He remembered a time when Evelyn would run to him, flinging her small arms around his legs whenever he came home for the holidays. The return trips to Hogwarts, however, were memories he would rather forget. She would cry and refuse to let go of him. It had broken his heart to have to break her hold on him and hand her back to Deirdre. Eventually, though, he had waited until she had gone to bed, and left without saying goodbye. He had missed so much of his daughter's childhood, and at times he wished he could explain to her the real reason why he had to leave. This year, though, she would be attending Hogwarts, and he would finally have an opportunity to play a greater role in her life.

...

Evelyn speared the last sausage on her plate with a fork, savouring every bite as she chewed it. Her mum and dad had gone for the boring breakfast option of Weetabix, which in her opinion was only marginally better than porridge. An owl carrying the morning post tapped on the window, drawing Evelyn from her thoughts. Deirdre rose from her chair and opened the window, giving the bird a small biscuit after it had handed over the letters in its beat. Evelyn turned round in her chair and watched with anticipation as her mum went through the post.

"Two letters for you, Severus, and one for you, Evelyn."

Evelyn squealed with excitement as Deirdre handed the letter over to her. She turned it over in her hand and read the address:

MISS E. HARPER

SECOND BEDROOM ON THE RIGHT

SPINNER'S END

ROCHDALE

MANCHESTER

The smile on her face faded immediately, replaced instead with a look of confusion. "Mum, they've made a mistake; my name is Evelyn Snape, not Harper."

She saw her mum glance towards her dad, and his face hardened like it usually did when he was angry about something. Perhaps she wasn't supposed to ask why Hogwarts had addressed the letter using Mum's maiden name.

"Sweetheart," Deirdre began gently, "There hasn't been a mistake. Your dad and I registered you at Hogwarts with the name Harper."

"But why?" Evelyn turned her head toward Severus. "Don't you want me to be called Snape?"

Severus opened his mouth, but Deirdre answered first. "It's more complicated than that. There are people who would want to hurt you if they knew whose daughter you were."

"The war ended years ago, Mum," Evelyn countered, unconvinced by Deirdre's explanation. "No one would want to hurt me, that's just silly. Can't you –"

Severus pounded his fist on the table, causing the teacups to rattle on their saucers. "This is not a matter up for discussion. You will be known as Evelyn Harper at Hogwarts, and that is final. Do I make myself clear?"

Throat tightening, Evelyn fought the tears threatening to fill her eyes. "Yes."

Without another word to either of her parents she slipped off her chair, hurried from the kitchen and ran upstairs to her bedroom. Closing the door behind her, she crawled onto the bed, curling herself up into a tight ball as hot, angry tears rolled down her cheeks.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Severus had already regretted his outburst. He had never lost his temper to such a degree with Evelyn before, but she had not been the root of his anger. On the other side of the table Deidre stood with her arms akimbo, glaring at him.

"You're a bloody arse, you know that," she said, fuming.

"Deirdre, don't," he answered, the warning in his voice clear.

"She was just trying to understand why we registered her under a different name, and you explode like dragon with a bloody toothache!"

Severus stood up abruptly, almost sending his chair clattering to the floor. "Do you think I'm happy with the fact I won't be able to acknowledge her as my own daughter?"

"That still doesn't give you the right to terrify her," Deirdre said, her tone somewhat calmer.

A muscle in his jaw jerked at her words. "It was not my intention to terrify her."

Deirdre walked across the kitchen and urged him to sit back down again. He reluctantly agreed, sitting stiffly with his arms folded over his chest.

Taking the seat next to him, she said, "You have to be patient with her, Severus. She's full of questions…in fact; I wouldn't be surprised if she was sorted into Ravenclaw."

Severus scoffed. "Have you seen pick up a book in the last two weeks, because I certainly haven't."

"Oh, she reads all right," Deirdre said. "She knows a lot more than you think."

The corner of Severus' mouth curled in the hint of a smile. "No, she'll definitely not be sorted into Ravenclaw.

...

A number of weeks later, Evelyn stood in the hallway, fighting with the zip on her coat. Eventually, she got it to go up. She stood for another few minutes, impatiently tapping her foot. Fed up with waiting, she walked to the bottom of the stairs and shouted for her parents to hurry up. They had promised to take her to Diagon Alley to buy her supplies for starting Hogwarts in September. Over breakfast she had gone through the checklist, making sure her parents knew exactly what it was she had to get. Her mum had answered any question she had, while her dad had remained hidden behind his newspaper, occasionally adding a dry remark to Mum's answers.

"Mum, Dad, come on, hurry up, or everywhere is going to be closed by the time we get there!"

Finally, she heard her parents' bedroom door open, and a moment later her mum came downstairs.

"Where's Dad, is he ready yet?" Evelyn asked, looking past Deirdre to see upstairs.

Deirdre knelt down so that she was level with her daughter. "He can't come with us, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"What! Why not? He promised!"

"I know he did, but Professor Dumbledore sent him a letter after breakfast." She placed a comforting hand on Evelyn's shoulder. "He needs him for something important."

Evelyn's lip trembled. "What does he need him for – there's no school on. Can't Professor Dumbledore do it himself?"

Deirdre shook her head, wishing it could be as simple as that. But Harry Potter had apparently used magic in front of a Muggle, and then had run away from home. Consequently, Severus had been ordered to join in the hunt for the boy and find him before Sirius Black did.

"Can he meet us there later?" Evelyn asked, hope filling her eyes.

"I don't know, sweetheart, we'll just have to wait and see."

Their plan had been for Severus to buy her books, cauldron, potion supplies, and telescope, while she took Evelyn to be fitted for a uniform and to purchase her wand. Unknown to Evelyn, they had already bought her an owl to take with her to school; Severus had assured her that it would be perfectly safe in the garden shed until they were ready to give it to her. After they were finished in Diagon Alley they were to meet at a cosy little pub a few miles outside of Manchester and have dinner together. Unless Harry was found relatively quickly, though, Deirdre doubted if he would be able to join them at all.

"Let me pop my cloak on and we'll be ready to go," Deirdre said.

Evelyn shoved her hands into her coat pockets and stared at the floor. She didn't feel like going to Diagon Alley anymore, but she couldn't tell Mum that. A lump formed in Evelyn's throat as she followed her mum into the living room. It didn't matter that her dad was overly strict and often ruined her fun before it had even began; she loved him, but just wished he wouldn't always put his work first.

"Are you ready?" Deirdre asked, lifting a handful of floo powder.

Taking hold of her mum's free hand, she forced a smile and said, "Yeah, I'm ready."

Chapter 8: Chapter 7

I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who has been following this story, and to those who have reviewed it, put it on alert, or have favourited it...Thank you! Also, I have borrowed one or two lines from JKR's brilliant work, so all credit is due to her for those parts! And now, on with the show!

Enjoy!

...

Chapter 7

Evelyn stared in awe at the huge red train, hissing and rumbling on the track of Platform 9¾. She still couldn't believe she was here, that she was finally going to Hogwarts. Families of all shapes and sizes already thronged around her and Deirdre, and still more continued to come through from the Muggle side of King's Cross Station. The atmosphere was electrifying…It was magical.

Panning her gaze across the platform, she saw what looked like an army of redheads; except for one boy, his hair was jet black. He seemed vaguely familiar, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly where she had seen him before. The mother of the redheaded clan was, in Evelyn's opinion, making an awfully big fuss over her children leaving, not that any of them seemed to be paying much attention to her. A little further along the platform she saw a tall wizard, with hair as blond as the woman and boy beside him. They stood apart, aloof from the people around them. As if sensing someone was staring at him, the wizard turned his head towards her. A chill raked down her spine as his cold, grey eyes locked with hers. She quickly snapped her gaze away from him, flinching slightly as Deirdre's hand touched her shoulder.

"Come on, sweetheart," she said quietly. "There's an emptier carriage near the front of the train."

The tension in her mum's voice was unmistakable, and Evelyn went with her without question, or without looking behind her.

"Who was that man, Mum?" she asked once they were at a safe distance.

Deirdre reached out to straighten her tie, even though it was perfectly fine. "His name is Lucius Malfoy – he works for the Ministry."

It was obvious to Evelyn she did not hold him in high regard; in fact, she was pretty certain her mum detested the man. Her curiosity was piqued and a dozen questions rose in her mind in rapid succession, but she kept them to herself. There were some things Evelyn knew better than to discuss, like her father's role in the war, and she got a feeling Mr Malfoy was also on the list of taboo topics.

"Now," Deirdre said in a brighter tone. "Have you got everything with you?"

Evelyn nodded confidently. "Yes."

"Where's the money I gave you?"

"Right here," Evelyn said, patting her trouser pocket.

Deirdre tucked stray strands of hair behind Evelyn's ear. "Make sure you don't spend it all on sweets, otherwise you'll not eat your dinner later."

"I won't, Mum," she promised.

"And remember, if you have any problems at all go straight to your father"

Evelyn was not so sure he would appreciate her coming to him with anything less than a severed limb, nonetheless she nodded her head. "I will. Can I get on the train now?"

Deirdre smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course, sweetheart, but I want one last hug before you go."

Evelyn stepped into Deirdre's embrace and thought every last drop of air was going to be squeezed from her lungs. She wondered if her mum would cry again like she had last night. Sometime after dinner Evelyn had strode into the living room and proudly announced she was finally packed. Dad had mumbled something from behind a book, but Mum had welled up and left the room in a hurry. Worried, she had asked her dad what she had said wrong. He had reassured her she had not caused offence and then returned to his book.

Finally Deirdre let go of Evelyn, though she cupped her daughter's face in her hand. "Have fun, do your homework, and don't forget to write to me," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

"I promise I will, Mum."

Evelyn waved to Deirdre one final time before disappearing inside the carriage. Lugging her trunk behind her, she soon found an empty compartment. She had just slid the trunk under one of the seats when three older students appeared in the doorway. One of them was a member of the redheaded family and another other was the dark haired boy.

"Do you mind if we –" a bushy haired girl began, but was abruptly cut off.

"Get out of the way, this is our compartment!"

"I don't see your name on it, Malfoy!" the redhead spat back.

Malfoy? Evelyn craned her neck slightly and saw Lucius Malfoy's son standing in the corridor, flanked on either side by two troll-like boys. His pale, pointed face oozed arrogance, though it lacked any real malevolence.

"Shut it, Weasley," Malfoy snapped, but his tone swiftly changed to a patronising drawl, "Move along now, you're fouling up this carriage enough as it is."

Weasley reached for his wand, but the other boy with him stayed his arm. "He's not worth it, Ron. We'll find somewhere else to sit."

Malfoy gave a short, derisive laugh. "At least one of you nitwits has a brain."

Ron Weasley's two friends pushed him along the corridor before he did something stupid. The train hadn't even left the station and already Evelyn had almost witnessed her first duel. Though, it would have served Malfoy right if he had been hit with a nasty Stinging hex…or worse. Evelyn settled back into her seat, but to her horror, Malfoy, followed by his two beastly friends, entered the compartment. She didn't think they had actually been serious about claiming the compartment for themselves.

"Who are you?" Malfoy demanded, glaring at her with the same steely grey eyes as his father.

"Evelyn Harper," she squeaked in reply, suddenly wishing her mum wasn't outside on the platform.

"Harper?" Malfoy tapped a forefinger against his lips. "That would make a Pureblood, am I right?"

She had never given much thought to her blood status, mainly because it had never mattered until this moment. Of course, she wasaware she not only had Harper blood running through her veins, but that of a Prince too. Even still, she was far from being a Pureblood, and frankly, she had no idea how to bluff her way out if he decided to probe into her family tree. She needed to think, and quickly.

Part of her was tempted to simply tell Draco she was Severus Snape's daughter; that just might send him scampering with his tail tucked firmly between his legs. She didn't like having to hide who she really was, but she had promised her parents she would never tell anyone at Hogwarts she was a Snape.

Seeing Malfoy's patience beginning to wear thin, she straightened up in the seat, and tilted her chin as if his words had offended her. "It's a Pureblood name, isn't it?" she said in a tone similar to one her dad often used when asked a stupid question.

After a tense moment Malfoy nodded curtly, seemingly satisfied by her answer. "My name is Draco Malfoy." He motioned to the two boys beside him. "This is Crabbe and Goyle."

Draco flopped down onto the seat opposite Evelyn, while Crabbe was left to put both their trunks into the overhead storage rack. She inched closer to the window when Goyle sat down next to her, wondering if there was an emergency escape button on it.

After taking a chocolate frog from Crabbe without asking, Draco said, "Can you believe they still allow riffraff like Weasley into Hogwarts, not mention that filthy Mudblood. It's pathetic, that's what it is."

Evelyn gritted her teeth at his cruel words, but continued to stare out of the window. Her grandmother Harper was Muggle-born. Underneath her sleeve she could feel the smooth, polished wood of her wand, and although she didn't know how to use it yet, she was tempted to point it in Draco Malfoy's face. But Dad once told her to choose her battles wisely and to never lash out in anger.

"What about Potter?" Goyle asked though a mouthful of cauldron cakes.

"He's worse than them all put together." Draco bit the head of his chocolate frog. "Though, he better watch his back, what with Sirius Black on the loose. Father says he'll most likely make for Hogwarts, and then…"

"And then what?" Crabbe said, clearly puzzled.

"He'll finish him off, with any luck."

Evelyn wondered if they were referring to Harry Potter, but she kept her thoughts to herself. She didn't know much about the Boy-Who-Lived, except that he had somehow defeated Voldemort. Though, the idea of a baby defeating a powerful wizard didn't make any sense to her. She rested her head back against the seat, closing her eyes as Draco changed the conversation to his summer holidays. He bragged for almost half an hour about a fancy villa his father had rented in the Alps, but at one point Evelyn almost sniggered at his dismal attempt at a French accent. Soon, though, her thoughts began to drift to other things, such as what House would she be in; would she make friends, and if she worked hard would it make her dad take more notice of her?

As the hours dragged on, the sky grew increasingly blacker, finally swallowing up the wild, rolling countryside in darkness. Evelyn had safely stashed away the selection of sweets she'd bought from the food trolley; Draco could buy his own, he wasn't pinching hers. Rain began to beat off the windows, and though Evelyn didn't want to leave the warmth of the compartment, she badly needed to use the bathroom. Slipping out before Draco could ask any questions, she turned left and hoped there were loos nearby. The narrow corridors were quiet, except for the low rumble of the train's engine and the clack, clack of the wheels on the track.

After finishing in the bathroom, the train began to slow as she retraced her steps back to the compartment. It finally stopped with a jolt and Evelyn lost her balance. Falling, she hit the side of her head off wooden panelling that lined the carriage walls. Evelyn moaned weakly, tears stinging her eyes as her head began to throb. Warm blood trickled down her skin, only adding to her ordeal, and as she pushed herself up into a sitting position the temperature in the carriage suddenly plummeted. Evelyn's eyes widened with alarm as a dark, shadowy figure that towered to the ceiling moved towards her. It was a Dementor. Despair began to seep through her, each thought more grotesque, more nightmarish than the last. The Dementor slowed and turned its cloaked head to where she was huddled on the floor. It came closer, and Evelyn felt coldness spread through her as it drew a long, rattling breath. She felt like she was being torn from her body, but she was powerless to stop it.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A blinding, silvery light suddenly filled the corridor, forcing the Dementor back down to the carriage. Evelyn, trembling with terror, squeezed her eyes shut, vaguely hearing a voice order the Dementor to leave the train. A door slammed shut and the temperature in the carriage returned to normal, but she remained in a heap on the floor, paralysed with fear.

"Are you all right?"

Evelyn felt a gentle touch on her arm and opened her eyes. "Is it gone?"

"Yes, it's gone," a man said, his voice hoarse but calm. "Give me your hand, and let's get you off this cold floor."

Once on her feet, and with her fear subsiding, the throbbing in her head returned, reminding her of her fall. The man furrowed his brow in concern, no doubt having noticed her blood smeared face. She tried to push past him to go back to the toilet to wash her face, but he caught her arm.

"There's a first aid room up near the driver. We need to see to that cut on your head." He paused, then said. "My name is Professor Lupin, by the way."

"Evelyn Harper," she mumbled.

Professor Lupin led her to the first aid room, turned on a light and then motioned for her to take a seat. Evelyn watched him open a cupboard and riffle through several boxes. He was tall, though not as tall as her dad, but like him, Professor Lupin seemed worn and haggard. She wondered if it had something to do with all the scratches on his face – he looked like he had been mauled by a wild animal.

Laying out what he needed on a small table beside her, he said, "I'm not much of a healer, so I'll just put a dressing on for now. You can go and see Madam Pomfrey after the Sorting Ceremony."

"Thank you," she replied, combing her hair back with her fingers.

"Is this your first year at Hogwarts?"

Evelyn winced slightly as he wiped the cut with an antiseptic potion. "Yes, but it hasn't been the greatest start."

Lupin gave a half-smile, then said, "I knew a Harper in my year at school – her name was Deirdre."

"That's my mum," Evelyn blurted out without thinking.

He looked at her curiously. "Your mother?"

"Yes."

"Who is your father, if you don't mind me asking?"

Evelyn realised her mistake and lowered her gaze. "It's just me and mum at home, Professor."

It was partly the truth.

"I thought – never mind," he said awkwardly, then continued to work in silence. "There, that should do it."

Evelyn let her hair fall back into place. "Thank you, Professor."

"Oh, hold on one second." He reached into his pocket and handed her a large piece of chocolate. "Take this, it will help."

Taking a piece, she popped it into her mouth – he was right, she did feel better.

"All right, let's get you back to your seat. It won't be long until we reach Hogsmeade and you'll need to get changed into your uniform."

Thankfully her hair covered the dressing Professor Lupin had put on, though it didn't stop Draco prying into what had kept her. She had barely known him a day, but he was the most stuck-up, irritating person she'd ever met.

"Aren't you going to answer me, Harper?"

She took her seat by the window and said, "The Dementors, if you must know."

Draco laughed cruelly. "Well, at least you didn't faint like Potter."

Evelyn forced a weak smile, turned her head, and stared out into the black night. There was only half an hour left of the journey…she could survive it.

…

Severus watched from the staffroom window as students clambered out of the Thestral drawn carriages, stampeding towards the main entrance like a herd of migrating wildebeest. The Sorting Ceremony had not even begun and already his head was pounding. Off in the distance he saw small lights dotted across the lake – the traditional route new first years took to the castle. Evelyn was among them, but as the small boats glided closer towards the school his anticipation was tainted with unease. She was no longer cocooned in Spinner's End under Deirdre's watchful care; she was now his sole responsibility.

He leaned back against a wall, the shadows concealing his pale features. Black's escape could not have happened at a worse time. Dumbledore was certain he would come for Potter, and if that wasn't bad enough, Dementors now guarded the school's perimeter.

"Ah, Remus, you made it safely, then?"

Severus snapped his head round at Dumbledore's overly cheerful greeting, his black eyes narrowing at the sight of Remus Lupin. His hatred for him was only marginally less than that for James Potter and Sirius Black. For Severus, Lupin's silence had always been a sign he condoned his friends' bullying ways. He had been livid when Dumbledore had informed him of Lupin's appointment as Defence Against the Dark Arts professor – a position he had coveted for eleven years, but had always been denied. Severus had reminded the headmaster of Lupin's condition and questioned his decision to let a werewolf loose amongst the students…Especially when one of them was Evelyn.

"Given the circumstances," Lupin said, raking a hand through his sandy hair.

"Oh?"

"Dementors stopped the train, and boarded it."

The twinkle in Dumbledore's blue eyes faded and his features grew serious. "Where any of the students harmed?"

"Harry Potter had a close shave with one – he was fortunate I was in his compartment. Also, a first year, Evelyn Harper, fell when the train stopped and hit her head. I did my best to patch her up, but she will need to see Madam Pomfrey after the Sorting Ceremony."

Severus clenched his fists, fighting the tightness in his stomach. He wanted to stride over to Lupin and demand to know every last detail concerning Evelyn, and then warn that wolf never to touch his daughter again. But apart from Dumbledore and the Deputy-Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, no one else at Hogwarts was aware of his relationship to Evelyn, and Severus wished to keep it that way.

"I'll see to it myself," Dumbledore said, brightening his tone once more. "Have a spot of tea, Remus, there's still time before you need to leave for the Great Hall."

"Thank you, Albus," Remus replied and walked towards a table with cups and a teapot on it.

Severus followed Lupin with his gaze, noting the scratches on his face, some of which were barely a month old. Of course, it was obvious why Dumbledore had hired him: he was Black's friend, and his knowledge of him could potentially prove useful – potentially.

Lupin scanned the room as he stirred a spoonful of sugar into his tea, though he paused when he saw Severus. Returning Lupin's surprised look with a bored expression, he swiftly turned his attention back to the swarming hordes of students outside. He had nothing to say to the man, at least, nothing constructive.

Five minutes later, Minerva clapped her hands and asked the staff to make their way to the Great Hall. Severus walked across the staffroom, only to have his path blocked by Lupin. His wand hand instinctively twitched, but Severus quickly reminded himself that Lupin had never been an aggressor, just a coward. He forced himself set aside the bitter memories of the Marauders, along with their attempt to turn Deirdre against him.

"Severus," he said. "I wasn't aware you were teaching at Hogwarts."

"Well, now you are," Severus replied in a clipped tone, though Lupin did not seem taken aback by his cold reception.

"I never thought I'd be back here," Remus said. His mouth tipped in a small, forlorn smile. "But I can't afford to turn down work when it's offered to me."

Severus regarded him with indifference. "Is there a reason why you stopped me, Lupin?"

Lupin's brow furrowed for a moment, but he shook his head, "No, no reason, Severus."

"If you will excuse me, then, I do not wish to be late." Severus stepped around him and strode from the staffroom.

…

Evelyn stood with the other first years outside the Great Hall, listening to the Professor McGonagall talk them through the Sorting Ceremony. She barely heard a word, though, as excitement tinged with apprehension swirled inside of her. Finally, the din in the hall ceased and the massive wooden doors swung open. A low mummer rippled through the group of first years, and Evelyn felt the gaze of hundreds eyes on her. Professor McGonagall spoke a final few words then turned on her heels and led them into the Great Hall.

The room was like a huge cavern, lit up with thousands of candles suspended in the air. Evelyn gaped up at the ceiling, gasping at the twinkling constellations in the clear, midnight sky. It was even more incredible than her mum said it would be. Nearing the front of the hall, Evelyn stared up at the High Table and immediately spotted her dad. His features were like stone, though his gaze flickered briefly towards her – at least he'd acknowledged her presence.

At that moment, Professor McGonagall stepped forward and unfurled a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Alford, Simon."

A skinny boy with a freckled face walked up to the stood and placed the hat on his head. Evelyn saw how nervous he was, but after a few seconds, the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The Hufflepuff table erupted in a round of claps and cheers, greeting their newest Housemate with friendly enthusiasm. Professor McGonagall did not wait long, though, before she called out another name.

"Basset, Florence."

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat boomed across the Great Hall.

Evelyn's nerves heightened as the surnames inched closer to 'H'. She watched as students placed the Sorting Hat on their heads, some taking much longer to be sorted than others. She glanced up to the High Table again, wanting a nod from her dad, anything to reassure her, but he wasn't even looking at the first years. Is he just going to ignore my sorting as well? she thought. However, she did not have time to dwell on it as Professor McGonagall called out, "Harper, Evelyn."

Ignoring the fluttering in her stomach, she walked up to the stool, lifted the hat, and placed it on her head. A few seconds past, and although she'd been told the hat could talk she almost jumped with fright when it whispered in her ear.

"Hmm,"the hat said. "A Harper and a Snape, how very interesting,"

"You're not supposed to know who my dad is," she thought accusingly. "Who told you?"

"I do not need anyone to tell me, I can see it clearly for myself – you are as suspicious as your father. Now, let me see what is inside this head of yours Evelyn Snape. Plenty of intelligence there, courage too. You have your mother's wisdom and your father's cunning. Yes, you would do well in any house."

Evelyn shifted slightly on her stool. "Please, don't place me in Hufflepuff."

"Perhaps Gryffindor, then," the hat said.

"No, I don't want to go there either."

"Ah, I see you wish to prove yourself. There can only be one place for you then. SLYTHERIN!" shouted the hat.

The Slytherin table broke into a round of applause as Evelyn slid off the stool. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she didn't dare look behind her. The hat had known she wanted to be in Slytherin; it had known who she wanted to prove herself to. As she approached her House table she took the first empty space she could find, which, thankfully, was nowhere near Draco Malfoy and his friends. She was welcomed by those sitting around her, but she quickly realised she had plonked herself down amongst sixth years. They didn't seem to mind, though, for which she was glad. The thought of being asked to sit somewhere else on her first day at school would be nothing short of humiliating.

Soon the sorting was over and Professor McGonagall took a seat at the High Table. Silence then fell over the hall when Dumbledore stood up. Evelyn listened as he welcomed everyone to another year at Hogwarts and stressed that the Forbidden Forest was out of bounds for all students. She was almost certain he had his gaze pinned on a particular student as he said it, but she couldn't see who it was. After Dumbledore sat down the tables were suddenly filled with food. Evelyn's eyes widened in wonder, but when he stomach growled she reached across and cut an enormous slice of steak and onion pie. She pondered over the mashed potato for a moment, but decided chips would go better with the pie. After adding a scoop of peas to her plate, she smothered her chips in tomato ketchup and tucked into her dinner.

All too soon the feast was over and the students began to file out of the hall. The Slytherin Head Boy called out for the first years to follow him, but before Evelyn could push through the crowds towards him someone tapped her shoulder.

"Are you Evelyn Harper?" a Slytherin prefect asked.

Gulping, she said, "Yes."

"You're to come with me. Professor Snape wants to see you in his office."

Evelyn glanced towards the High Table and saw that her dad was gone. What did he want her for – what had she done wrong? At that moment she saw Professor Lupin stand up…What if her dad knew she had accidentally told the professor Deirdre was her mum? She swallowed hard; he would not be pleased with her one bit.

"C'mon, Professor Snape doesn't like to be kept waiting," he said, turning away from her abruptly.

She followed him through the hallways, half-running to keep up with his long strides. The paintings on the walls moved and talked as they swept past, but there was little chance of them slowing down so she could look at them properly. Soon they reached a stone staircase that led down into the dungeons. Older Slytherin students passed them, acknowledging the prefect, though they did not extend the same courtesy to her. They finally reached a wooden door, and as he knocked on it Evelyn felt her pulse begin to race a little faster. She mentally scolded herself; Professor Snape was her father, not an ogre.

"Come in," Severus called from inside the office.

The prefect motioned with his head. "Well go on, it's not me he wants to see."

Evelyn turned the handle as the prefect walked away. The door creaked on its hinges, the bottom scraping along the tiles as she pushed it open. A few candles lit up the room, but it was still dingy like the cellar at home. Bookcases lined the walls; the shelves were crammed with books and neatly stacked rolls of parchment. Evelyn wondered how it was possible for him to have so many books; the attic and his study at home were practically overrun with them.

"Shut the door and wait there," he said without looking up.

Clasping her hands in front of her, Evelyn knew she was in trouble – she could hear an undercurrent of irritation in his voice. After scratching out a few more sentences, he placed his quill back into an ink pot, and stood up. With a flick of his hand he summoned a stool from a darkened corner of the room then turned to face her.

"Come here," he said.

Evelyn obeyed him, but she was caught off guard when he hooked his hands under her arms and hoisted her up onto the stool. He hadn't done that since she was a little girl.

He removed his wand from his robes . "Show me where you are hurt."

Her eyes widened as if she was surprised by his words, but after only a moment's hesitation she combed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. Severus stared at the strip of gauze on the side of her head then carefully peeled it away. The cut wasn't deep, but it was nasty enough to cause infection if it wasn't treated properly.

"So, I guess Professor Lupin told you what happened on the train?" she said.

Severus took a gentle hold of her chin and turned her head away from him slightly so he could inspect the wound better. "Yes, he did mention it."

"He saved me, you know."

His lips thinned. "It's hardly a life threatening wound, Evelyn."

"I meant from the Dementor."

Severus faltered. "What?"

"When I fell in the corridor I saw a Dementor coming towards me." Evelyn turned her head so she could look at him. "I was so scared, Dad. It came really close to me and started making this sucking noise – it made me feel so cold inside. That's when Professor Lupin came. I think he made a bright light come out his wand or something, I'm not sure, but it made the Dementor go away."

Horror twisted Severus' insides, swiftly followed by anger. Lupin had been quick to mention Potter's encounter with a Dementor, but he had said nothing about Evelyn. She had been mere moments from having her soul harvested – he could have lost his only child. Drawing in a ragged breath, Severus let go of her chin, walked to far side of his office, and began to rummage around in a box. He didn't want Evelyn see him like this.

"Dad, are you all right?

"I'm Fine," he said through gritted teeth.

Evelyn jumped down off the stool. "I can go and see Madam Pomfrey if you –"

Whirling around, he spat waspishly, "You will stay were you are!"

Clearly frightened, Evelyn scrambled back up onto the stool. She folded her hands on her lap and stared down at her feet. Severus clenched his fists, angry with himself for upsetting her. He breathed deeply, wishing Deirdre was here. But she wasn't, and for once he would have smooth things over with his daughter. Burying all thoughts of Lupin, Potter, and Evelyn's encounter with a Dementor, he took slow, tentative steps towards her.

He stopped at her side and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Evelyn, look at me."

Looking up at him, she said in a small voice, "I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to make you angry."

A muscle jerked in his jaw. "Do not apologise, you have done nothing wrong," he said sternly. He brushed her hair back, took hold of her chin again, and raised his wand to the cut on her head. "This might sting a little."

Evelyn tried to make sense of what had just happened, but it only left her feeling more confused. If she hadn't done anything wrong then why had he been so cross after she'd told him about the Dementor? Maybe he was disappointed she hadn't fended it off herself. She heard him whisper an incantation next to her ear, and she winced as her skin began to knit together. After he had tucked his wand back into his robes, he crossed to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a small phial.

Severus handed the phial to her. "Drink this, all of it."

"What is it?" she asked, staring dubiously at the olive green liquid.

"It will speed up the healing process. Now, drink."

Evelyn removed the stopper and downed the potion in one gulp. It tasted vile, but then every potion her parents had ever given her tasted as equally disgusting. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she handed the empty phial back to him. He placed it in a box and returned to the seat at his desk.

"You are free to go now, Evelyn," he said, picking up a quill.

Evelyn slipped off the stool, but paused mid-way across the room.

"What is the matter?" Severus asked.

She chewed on her lower lip. "I don't know where the Slytherin dormitory is."

"Walk to the end of the hallway and speak the password dragon's breath; the wall will open and lead you directly into the common room," he said, but saw she still looked worried. "Is there something else bothering you?"

She was silent for a long moment. "A-Are you pleased I'm in Slytherin?"

Severus felt a stab of annoyance – why did she even need to ask such a question?

Leaning forward, he placed his arms onto the table and interlocked his fingers. "I am. Now go on, it's late and you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow. I will be addressing the first years in the common room before breakfast, make sure you are on time. I will not accept tardiness, especially not from you. Is that understood?"

"Yes," she said. She walked towards the door, placed her hand on the handle, but turned round before opening it. "I won't let you down, Dad, I promise."

"You never have, Evelyn," he said softly as she left his office, closing the door behind her.

Chapter 9: Chapter 8

Well, I'm finally getting another chapter posted! This will be the last one for a few weeks, as I am off on my first ever trip to Canada and the USA! Hopefully, though, I won't keep you all waiting too long for the next chapter.

Thank you to everyone who is following this story, and for those who have reviewed! It really makes my day! Also, thanks to MetamorphmagusLupin for listening to all of my ramblings...

Enjoy!

Chapter 8

The next morning, Severus sighed in frustration as he flung open the door to his office. He strode over the fireplace, lifted a handful of floo powder, and said in clear voice, "The Snape residence, Spinner's End."

Green flames roared to life and engulfed him, instantly transporting him to his home hundreds of miles away in Manchester. He stepped out of the fireplace in Spinner's End, not bothering to dust the soot from his clothes. In the midst of all the fuss and preparation to get Evelyn packed, he had left his yearly planner in the study – he dared any professor, even Minerva, to try and teach without one.

He opened the door to his study and switched on a light. Shelves lined the walls, groaning under the weight of hundreds of books. A glass cabinet, filled with jars and other unusual objects was tucked in one corner, while a grandfather clock that had been in the Prince family for generations dominated another. Severus crossed over to his desk and found the planner where he'd left it. After flicking through it to make sure everything was in order, he used his wand to shrink it and slipped it into his pocket. He turned and walked to the door, but when he opened it his path was blocked by a living wall dressed in blue pyjamas.

"Petrificus Tot –"

Severus' wand was in his hand before the binding spell could be fully cast. "Expelliarmus!" he said.

His attacker let out a short, defeated cry as Severus caught her wand in his right hand.

"Severus!" Deirdre said, with her eyes wide and cheeks flushed. "What are you bloody doing here? You're supposed to be at Hogwarts!"

"And I would have stayed there if I had known I was going to be attacked by my wife." He tucked his wand into his sleeve before handing hers back.

"How was I supposed to know it was you creeping around the house? It's not even six am yet!"

Narrowing his eyes slightly, he said, "I do not...creep, Deirdre."

"Well, next time I would appreciate some warning before you decide to floo home." Deirdre ran a hand through her dishevelled hair. "Did you get what you needed?" she asked as her heart rate returned to normal.

"Yes."

"Now that I'm awake," she said, ignoring the slight arch of his eyebrow. "Do you want to stay for breakfast?"

Severus took a fob watch from his pocket, opened it, glanced at it briefly then snapped it shut again. "Yes, I suppose I have time to spare."

Deirdre smiled. "Let me just grab my dressing gown – go down and put the kettle on, will you, I won't be a moment."

As she retreated towards their bedroom Severus turned and headed downstairs to the kitchen. He switched on the light and turned on a tap to fill the kettle. With a swish of his wand swirls of steam immediately rose from the spout. After a few more intricate movements of his wrist, the toaster was on, while bacon sizzled in a pan and eggs boiled in a pot.

The kitchen door creaked on its hinges and Severus heard Deirdre pad softly across the tiled floor. She wound her arms around his waist, sighing contentedly as she laid her cheek on his back. "What'd you say we just call in sick to work today?"

Severus stood still for a moment, enjoying the feel of Deirdre's body against his – he would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted by her wishful suggestion. However, he unclasped her hands from around his waist and turned to face her. Still keeping a gentle hold of her wrists, he studied her delicate features, wondering what she ever saw in a man like him. As if sensing his cynicism she loosened her wrists from his hold and laced her fingers with his, smiling warmly at him. Severus drew her closer, kissing her firmly but tenderly. A low groan rumbled in his throat when she pulled away, the smell of burning bacon having stolen her attention.

"I hope you like your bacon crispy," Deirdre said with a smirk as she severed breakfast several minutes later.

"No thanks to your distraction," he mumbled into his teacup.

Biting back a chuckle, Deirdre placed the pan back onto the hob. "So, you still haven't told me."

"Told you what?"

She sat down at the table opposite him. "Where the hat placed Evelyn."

"Slytherin, of course."

Despite his matter-of-fact tone, Deirdre did not miss the smug glimmer in his eyes. It did not bother her, at least, not too much, that Evelyn hadn't been sorted into Ravenclaw. Indeed, Deirdre had secretly hoped she would be sorted into Slytherin. It broke her heart to see her husband and daughter so distant from each other, especially when it was obvious; at least, it was to her, how desperately they wanted to be close. She could only trust that they would learn to talk to each other whenever a problem arose, instead of always looking to her to bridge the gap.

Deirdre took a sip of tea then asked, "Was she happy about it?"

"I assume so."

"You didn't speak with her after the ceremony?" she said, somewhat surprised.

He hesitated. "Yes, briefly."

A sharp twinge of panic shot through her. "What are you not telling me?"

Severus had hoped this conversation would not arise, though he had already decided it would be best if she didn't know the whole truth. He was still haunted by Evelyn's encounter with a Dementor and he did not wish for Deirdre to suffer the same harrowing thoughts.

"She fell on the train and cut her head." Deirdre gasped, but Severus pressed on before she could say a word. "She is fine; there is no need to worry. Lupin found her in the corridor –"

Deirdre's eyes widened slightly. "Remus Lupin, from our year at school?"

"Unfortunately," he said with a sneer.

"What in Merlin's name was he doing on the train?"

Severus clenched a fist under the table. "Albus employed him to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Deirdre almost choked on a mouthful of tea. "What? Has Dumbledore gone mad?"

He gave a short, derisive laugh. "Quite, that is, if allowing a wolf to roam the school qualifies as madness.

"Severus," she said sharply. "You know very well lycanthropy can be controlled, and I highly doubt Dumbledore would have hired Lupin unless he agreed to take wolfsbane."

"I am aware of that, considering I am the one who will have to brew it for him," Severus said bitingly. "Though, I fail to see why you are so concerned over his employment."

"He was friends with Sirius Black, wasn't he? And don't you think it's strange that Black betrayed James Potter and murdered Peter Pettigrew, but left Lupin alone." Deirdre opened the lid of a pot of jam and scooped out a spoonful. "I just don't know if he should be trusted."

"Albus is convinced Lupin was not connected with Black's betrayal."

"Are you?"

Only time will tell. "I trust Albus' judgment."

Deirdre nodded, but she was still not wholly convinced.

They finished the rest of their breakfast in silence, Severus finally rising after polishing off his second cup of tea. He gathered up their dishes, set them in the sink, and placed a self-cleaning charm on them.

"It's time I left," he said, "I have to address the first years before lessons begin."

"I'm glad you flooed in," Deirdre said as she hugged him. "Just don't make it a habit or I'll expect you every morning."

Severus tightened his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head. He hated having to leave her, and even more so now she was completely on her own.

"Take care of yourself, Severus, and tell that daughter of ours not to forget to write to me," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"I will." He would ensure Evelyn wrote to her mother several times a week to keep her mind at rest.

After one last lingering kiss he stepped up to the fireplace took a handful of floo powder, then said, "Hogwarts, Severus Snape's office."

...

Evelyn adjusted the strap of her schoolbag as she walked along a hallway, her brain all but frazzled, and she still had two lessons left before she could return to the Slytherin dormitory and collapse onto her bed. Her schoolbag felt a least a stone heavier than it had that morning, and to top it all off the professors had given them homework, on the first day! Though, after her dad's stern induction talk that morning she had every intention of completing all her homework on time.

There was still another ten minutes of lunch left, but Evelyn had politely excused herself when the conversation had turned to family. Even if she had told her classmates what she'd told Professor Lupin, that her dad didn't live at home, she knew there would still be questions. They'd want to know what his name was, where he worked, and if he was a wizard or a Muggle. She pursed her lips. It simply wasn't fair – everyone else had a normal family, why couldn't she?

"Take that back, Malfoy!"

"Or you'll do what?"

Jolted from her thoughts, Evelyn looked up in time to see Ron Weasley stumbling backwards in her direction. She quickly jumped out of the way as he landed firmly on his backside, glaring murderously up at Draco Malfoy. Flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, Draco gave a cruel laugh. He held his wand in his right hand, twirling it idly as he stepped closer to Ron.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a wizard, Weasley, just like the rest of your family."

Evelyn could see Ron's knuckles turn white as he clenched his fists, clearly infuriated by Draco's words. Suddenly the sound of hurried footsteps echoed along the hallway, and she was almost relieved to see Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Her relief was short lived, however, as Harry drew his wand and held it inches from Draco's throat. Afraid to move, she pressed herself tight against a wall, wondering why in Merlin's name she kept getting caught up in the middle of this seemingly endless feud. For the longest moment no one spoke, but a shadow caught Evelyn's attention, and she swallowed hard.

"Potter! I might have known it was you causing trouble, yet again."

Harry immediately dropped his wand arm and spun around. "It wasn't me who –"

"Silence, Potter!"

Severus loomed over them all menacingly and Evelyn felt her palms begin to sweat when his gaze lingered on her a fraction longer than the others. She had never seen his eyes so cold, so hard, and it frightened her. Quickly lowering her gaze, she stared down at her shoes, silently hoping he did not believe she had been involved in the scuffle.

"Well," he said sternly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is someone going to explain to me the meaning of all this?"

"It was Weasley, Professor," Draco said, jibing his finger at Ron. "He just came at me with his wand for no reason."

Turning his head slightly, Severus' dark eyes bored into Ron. "Are you unfamiliar with the school rules, Mr Weasley, or do you simply believe yourself to be above them?"

Ron gritted his teeth. "Malfoy's a lair, Professor."

"That is a serious allegation, Mr Weasley," Severus said smoothly.

"If you don't believe me, then why don't you ask her – she saw what happened."

Evelyn felt the blood drain from her face as her dad's black gaze locked onto hers, his lips thinning. She wanted to run away and hide in the nearest broom cupboard, and never come out again.

"Well, Miss Harper?" Severus said impatiently.

She wasn't exactly sure who had started the fight, but she was certain of one thing: Ron's wand was nowhere in sight when he had fallen onto the floor. Biting her bottom lip, she glanced from her dad, to Draco, then to Ron. She didn't want to lie, but Draco had the potential to make her life hell if she ratted him out.

Her heart was racing when she finally opened her mouth to speak. "I didn't see anything...Professor."

"What!" Ron exploded. "Why you lying little piece of –"

"Enough!" Severus said, his dangerously low voice and withering glare immediately silencing Ron. "Detention, for both you and Potter, and you can be certain I will be reporting your insolent behaviour to Professor McGonagall."

"But, sir –" Harry started.

Severus narrowed his eyes coldly. "Do you wish to make it a week's detention, Potter?" Harry remained silent. "Go to your next class, all of you."

The two trios hurried off in opposite directions, but not before giving each other looks that suggested this little episode was far from over. Evelyn made to follow after Draco and his cronies, but Severus clamped a firm hand onto his daughter's shoulder.

"My office. Now," he said.

Severus turned abruptly and strode along the hallway towards the dungeons. He heard Evelyn's quick footsteps behind him, but he did not slow his pace. It had taken great control on his part to remain indifferent towards her, and he was more than impressed that she had done the same. However, he was aware she had blatantly lied to him to protect herself. Under normal circumstances he would not have hesitated to challenge her on the matter, but for now, it was more important she continued to remain on Draco's good side. The last thing he wanted was for Evelyn to be brought to the attention of Lucius Malfoy.

Throwing open the door to his office, he motioned for Evelyn to enter. "Sit," he said brusquely.

Shrugging off her schoolbag, she slipped into a chair by his desk. "Am I in trouble?" she asked somewhat sheepishly.

Severus peered down his hooked nose at her. "Should you be?"

"I was just walking to my next class...I didn't have anything to do with it, Dad, I promise." Her eyes were wide as she pleaded her innocence in earnest.

"You should have been in the Great Hall until the bell went," he said sternly, though he was satisfied to learn she had not become friendly Draco and his buffoons.

"I know, but..."

Severus eyed her curiously as he sat down at his desk. "But what?"

She shrugged her shoulders and toyed with a stray thread on her robes. "Everyone started to talk about their families and stuff."

Severus placed his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers, swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat. "I see," he said coolly. He knew he should address this issue, but he wasn't sure where to begin, at least, not without Deirdre here to support him. "How is your head today?"

"It's fine." Evelyn touched the side of her head and offered him a small smile. "But I guess I'm going to have to tell Mum about it."

"When you write to your mother, I suggest you leave out your encounter with the Dementor," Severus said, his tone of voice indicating that it was not up for further discussion.

"She'd probably be disappointed too anyway," she mumbled.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Evelyn froze in her seat; clearly he was not meant to have heard her.

"Answer me," he demanded roughly.

She filched, but after a long moment she finally lifted her head to meet his gaze. "Last night, when I told you about the Dementor...I-I thought you were disappointed because I didn't fight it off myself."

"What ridiculous nonsense!" he scoffed. "You are only eleven years old, Evelyn; students are not taught the Patronus Charm until sixth year."

"But you were so angry."

Severus winced internally, ashamed of his outburst the night before. "Come here," he said softly.

Evelyn slowly pushed her chair back and walked towards him. Stopping a few inches from where he sat, she kept her head bowed, while her arms hung limp by her sides. Heaving a frustrated sigh, he reached out and took a gentle hold of her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"Listen to me carefully, Evelyn," he began in a low, even tone. "No parent wishes to hear their child was in danger. Do not think for one moment I was angry with you, and I am certainly not disappointed with you."

"Really?" she asked.

The hint of uncertainty in her voice stung, but Severus pushed it to one side. "Of course, I would not have said it otherwise."

At that moment the bell rang and Severus let go of Evelyn's chin. He stood up, swiped a pile of parchments from his desk and tucked them under his arm. Although he didn't know why he had wasted part of his summer holidays marking the work he had set at the end of last term – the Giant Squid could have produced essays of a higher quality.

"Don't just stand there, Evelyn, hurry up and get your bag," he snapped, annoyed he had lost track of the time...though he missed the deflated look on his daughter's face.

"What will I tell Professor Lupin, Dad; he'll want to know why I'm late."

Severus' lip curled in a slight sneer. "You can tell him I wished to speak with you; he doesn't need to know anything more than that."

"OK." She looked up at him expectantly. "Can I come and see you later?"

"I'm busy this evening," he said, not relishing the thought of having to patrol the grounds to ensure the Dementors did not cross the boundaries Dumbledore had set.

"Yeah, OK," she said quietly, then picked up her schoolbag, slung it over her shoulder, and left for class.

...

Evelyn took a deep breath as she pushed open the door to Professor Lupin's classroom. She was almost fifteen minutes late, though it wasn't really her fault she had to take a detour because Peeves was wreaking havoc in one of the hallways. As she walked into the room she saw the other students on their feet by their desks, flicking their wands in front of them. Some managed to produce a small light, while others stared dejectedly at their wands.

"Professor, I think my wand is broken," a lanky Gryffindor whinged.

"There's nothing wrong with your wand, Mr Meynell, it's all in the wrist," Remus said and proceeded to show the boy the correct hand movement. "Now watch. Lumos!"

A bright light emanated from the tip of Lupin's wand for a few seconds before he said the counter-spell, Nox.

"Yeah, I think I've got it now, Professor. Thanks!"

Evelyn waited until he walked towards to another table before she approached him.

"Ah, Miss Harper, it's nice of you to finally join us. I was beginning to think we'd have to send a search party out to find you."

Evelyn was taken aback by his calm tone; she had not expected him to still be as pleasant as he had been on the train. "I'm sorry I'm late, sir, but Professor Snape wanted to see me in his office."

He frowned slightly, pausing before he spoke again. "I trust everything is all right?"

"Yeah, sir, it is," she said, forcing a smile.

Seemingly satisfied with her answer, he said, "Well, in that case, there is an empty seat beside Mr Lowsley; he can fill you in on what you have missed."

"Yes, sir."

As Evelyn set her schoolbag down and took out her books and wand, she forced herself to stop thinking about her dad. While she was relieved to know he wasn't angry or disappointed with her, she was hurt that he had dismissed her so abruptly. For a moment she thought he might have hugged her like Mum always did; like he used to do when she was little. She had always felt safe in his arms, but she couldn't understand what had made him push her away.

"We're learning how to do a Wand-Lighting Charm," Edmund Lowsley said beside her. "Professor Lupin said it's fairly straight-forward, but it's all right him saying that, he's the teacher."

"What page is it on?" Evelyn asked opening the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2.

"Five."

She turned to page five, and although she had read through the textbook during the summer holidays, she took a minute to refresh her memory. The hand movements didn't seem too complicated, not when compared to some of the spells she had seen her parents cast.

"Lumos," Edmund said. "Oh, did you see that? I think I saw a flicker of light."

"Actually, I think it was just sun."

"Well." He folded his arms across his chest. "Let's see you do better."

Evelyn held her wand out in front of her and concentrated on the spell. "Lumos," she said.

Nothing.

"Ha," Edmund said with a triumphant air. "Not so good as you thought, eh."

She shook her head dismissively. "Whatever."

"Aw, come on, Harper, don't be a big sulk, I was only teasing you."

"I'm not sulking, I'm trying to concentrate." Evelyn re-read through the instructions in her book again before trying the spell again. "Lumos."

This time she saw a faint light, and she felt a smug satisfaction when Edmund stared silently at her, having tried and failed for the last twenty minutes to produce any light at all.

By the end of the lesson Evelyn had managed to produce a soft glow. Even so, she was disappointed that she had not been able to master the spell quicker. She could only hope Professor Lupin didn't unwittingly mention her slow progress to her dad.

"Miss Harper," Lupin said as she was packing her books away, "Would you remain behind please."

She looked at him nervously. "Yes, sir."

"The professors really have it in for you, don't they?" Edmund whispered as he buckled his schoolbag. "Don't worry; I'll let Professor Flitwick know you'll be late."

"Thanks."

Evelyn remained seated at her desk while the rest of the class left the room. She waited quietly while Lupin sorted through a pile of papers, wondering what she had possibly done wrong.

"Don't look so worried, Miss Harper, you are not in trouble," he said, walking towards her. "I only wanted to make sure your head is all right."

"It's fine, Professor," she said, relieved, and pulled her hair back so he could see there wasn't a mark on her.

"Madam Pomfrey certainly did a good job."

"I didn't go to Madam Pomfrey, Professor Snape healed me."

Lupin's brow rose in surprise. "He did?"

"Yeah, he sent for me after the feast last night."

"Well, I'm glad to hear your head of house is taking such good care of you," he said, with a slightly odd expression on his face. "But I best not keep you any longer; off you go to your next class."

She smiled. "Thank you, Professor."

Remus watched her leave then returned to his desk. He tapped a forefinger against his lips thoughtfully – it would seem he was not the only teacher at Hogwarts with a secret.

Chapter 10: Chapter 9

So, I'm back from all my travelling. I had a wonderful time in Canada and the USA - they certainly made a good impression on this Brit! Anyway, I have finally gotten around to updating...

Enjoy...

Chapter 9

"Five more laps," Madam Hooch shouted from her broom. "Ten if you don't go around the posts."

Evelyn groaned as she adjusted a scarf to cover the lower part of her face. Flying was her least favourite lesson; she would much rather be in a warm classroom, with her feet firmly on the ground. A cold, crisp wind bit into her skin, numbing her nose and fingers as she flew around the perimeter of the Quidditch pitch. A few students zoomed past her, laughing and whooping as they streaked through the air. Others were like her: nervous and cautious.

She rounded the far goal posts, having lost count of how many laps she had done already. Although Madam Hooch was far from being the meanest professor in the school, she was, however, strict and unyielding. She never cancelled flying lessons for anything less than a hurricane and her detentions were plain awful. Her best friend, Edmund Lowsley, had been given one last week for flying too high. Madam Hooch had made him scrape off chewing gum from beneath the Quidditch stands, without the use of magic. Other students claimed she had made them clean out the Quidditch changing rooms, which apparently was worse than scrubbing cauldrons. Evelyn seriously doubted that, though.

"Stop daydreaming, Miss Harper, and pick up your speed!" Madam Hooch barked.

Resisting the urge to tell Madam Hooch what she really thought of flying, Evelyn leaned forward on her broom to gain more speed. The wind whipped across her face, but she reminded herself that this was the last week of term. In another few days, she would be boarding the Hogwarts Express and she would say goodbye to lessons for two whole weeks. She couldn't wait to see her mum again and as much as she complained about Spinner's End she had actually missed it.

The first term had been tough, but she had worked hard and managed to achieve good marks in most of her classes. She struggled with History of Magic, mainly because she found Professor Binns as interesting as watching paint dry, and as for Divination, most of what Professor Trelawney said sounded like silly nonsense to her. Potions, on the other hand, was never without a dull moment. Along with Defence Against the Dark Arts it was her favourite subject – there was something calming, almost satisfying about brewing.

Evelyn, though, still found it strange being taught by her dad; and it hadn't taken her very long to discover that he was the least popular teacher in the school. She had always known him to be rude and short tempered, but often in the classroom he was downright nasty. He seemed to prey on certain students, swooping down on them in class, almost turning them into nervous wrecks. Slytherins were a little more fortunate, though they weren't entirely immune from his caustic remarks. The more she watched him in class, the more she wondered why he ever became a teacher because he certainly seemed to hate it. Several times she had thought to write to her mum and ask her about his behaviour, but in the end she had decided against it. It was doubtful her mum would tell her anything anyway; she could be vague, evasive even when answering questions about her Dad. For weeks she had churned it all over in her mind, but she had come to the conclusion that no matter how horrible her dad might seem in school, deep down she knew he was a good man.

"Hey Evelyn, race you round," Edmund said, his eyes alive with excitement as he drew alongside her.

"No way, Ed, I'm not going any faster than this."

"Aw, come on." He pouted his lips. "Just once, and if you win I'll give you the last of my Fizzing Whizbees."

Evelyn scowled half-heartedly at him. "I don't even like Fizzing Whizbees."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. OK, so no prizes, but come on, it'll be fun."

"Fun for you maybe," she said, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead. "Why don't you ask Gregory to race you?"

"He cheats."

"So do you."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps."

"Ask me again in about five years and I'll maybe think about it then," she said.

He smirked. "So I guess that means you won't be trying out for the Quidditch team next year? Malfoy will be gutted."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're just hilarious, aren't you?"

"I know I am." He grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Well, if you're not up for a race I'll see you on the ground in about half an hour."

"Oi! I'm not that slow."

Edmund said something over his shoulder as he sped off, but she couldn't hear him above the wind; no doubt, though, it was another jibe at her dislike of flying. She saw Madam Hooch wag her finger in warning at him for going too fast, but when he made a rude face behind her back Evelyn burst into a fit of giggles.

It wasn't long before Evelyn had finished the required laps and began a slow descent to the ground. She gripped the broom shaft tightly and took a deep breath; this was the part she hated the most. It was as well her dad didn't teach this class or she'd be a complete embarrassment to him. He had refereed several Quidditch games throughout the term and she had been surprised at how skilled a flier he was. It was rather odd seeing him on a broom, with his robes flapping wildly behind him and a whistle hanging from his lips. But she suspected that if the circumstances were different he might have actually enjoyed himself.

"Watch out!"

"Get out of the way!"

Evelyn, panicked by the loud shouts, momentarily forgot how to manoeuvre her broom – it was a moment too long. She felt a rush of air behind her and her grip slackened on the wooden shaft as a body collided with hers. A scream caught in her throat as she fell through the air, gravity pulling her mercilessly to the ground. She hit the grass pitch with a sickening thud and pain exploded through her. The frantic voices around her faded as darkness filled her vision; the pain grew duller, her body felt light, almost weightless, until, finally, she slipped into oblivion.

...

"Severus, you'll wear a hole in the floor if you don't stop pacing."

Pausing for a beat, Severus glared at Minerva then continued to pace again. With his arms clasped behind his back, he glanced over at a curtained hospital bed for the hundredth time. He would never forget the gut-wrenching feeling of total terror that had overcome him the moment he'd seen Evelyn bruised and unconscious. She had been deathly pale and only the faint rise and fall of her chest had kept him from completely losing control. For all his magical ability and knowledge of potions, he had felt utterly helpless.

Poppy had not wasted a second in ordering him away from Evelyn's side; after all, as far as she was concerned he was merely her head of house, and he was in her way. He had slowly regained clarity of mind, yet despite his cool exterior his emotions were far from stable.

"Tea," Minerva said abruptly.

"What?"

"A cup of tea is what we need."

"Is that your answer to every problem?" he scoffed.

"No, but it will put an end to your incessant pacing."

Severus' lip curled back slightly, but he said nothing. As much as her comment grated on him, he respected Minerva; she was honest, fair, and he appreciated her bluntness. But before he could continue pacing again, the curtain around Evelyn's bed fluttered and Poppy emerged.

"How is she, Poppy?" Minerva asked.

"The poor girl," Poppy said, shaking her head. "She's fortunate her injuries were not worse."

"Well, what are her injuries?" Severus asked impatiently.

"Miss Harper has quite severe bruising, her right arm is broken, and she has fractured ribs," Poppy replied, then looked at Minerva. "I think it would be wise to contact her parents; she will be in considerable pain when she awakens and it will be a comfort to her to have at least one of them here when she does. In the meantime, Minerva, would it be possible to find a member of staff willing to sit with her?"

Minerva glanced at Severus questioningly – the decision as to whether he wanted another professor to sit with her was clearly his. He had already sent word to Deirdre to come to the school, but if Evelyn regained consciousness before she arrived he wasn't sure he would be able to stand back and do nothing.

"I will sit with her," he finally said.

Poppy's eyes widened. "I-I...this is not like you, Severus." Flustered, she waved her hands in the air as if it would help. "What I mean is...Do you not have classes to teach this afternoon?"

"I do, but as you said, she will need at least one parent here when she awakens."

Under different circumstances, Severus would have found the flabbergasted look on Poppy's face rather amusing.

"You...You mean, you're her..."

Minerva stretched out her hand to take Poppy's arm. "Come with me, Poppy," she said, then muttered, "I think I'll need that cup of tea after all."

As she led the shocked nurse out of the hospital wing, Minerva gave Severus a reassuring nod that said she would explain everything to her, including the need for secrecy. Once he was alone, Severus walked towards Evelyn's bed and stepped through the curtain. His heart lurched in his chest again at the sight of dark, angry bruises on his daughter's face and arms.

His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to touch her forehead, gently brushing his finger tips along her cool skin. He then took her hand in his, his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. She had lived safely in Spinner's End for eleven years, but in one term at Hogwarts she had brushed shoulders with death twice. It both angered and frightened him that he could not always be there to protect her.

Footsteps in the hospital wing pulled him from his thoughts, and assuming it was Minerva or Poppy, he let go of Evelyn's hand and stepped through the curtain.

"Lupin," he said sourly. "Isn't it a little early in the month for you to be feeling ill?"

A muscle jerked in Remus' jaw. "Where's Poppy?" he asked.

"Out."

"No matter, I'm actually here to see Evelyn." He looked towards the curtained bed.

Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "She does not need her bedside being swamped with...well-wishers."

"I hardly think one professor counts as swamping her."

Severus felt his irritation grow. "In case you are unaware, Lupin, she fell almost fifteen feet, and she is still currently unconscious."

Remus took several purposeful steps towards him. "I do see your concerns, Severus, but I'm sure Poppy will have no objections to me visiting her for a few minutes."

Grinding his teeth, Severus watched as Remus pulled the curtain back from around Evelyn's bed. He clenched his fists, his nails biting deep into his palms. The other man's face flooded with pity, and it only fuelled Severus' anger – he had endured months of listening to his daughter sing his praises, while she scarcely commented on Potion lessons with him. When Remus lifted a hand to touch her cheek, Severus snapped.

"Did you come here purposely to poke at her wounds, Lupin?" he said in scathing tone.

Remus glanced over at him before slowly drawing his hand away. He stepped back from Evelyn and slipped a hand casually into his trouser pocket. "Have her parents been contacted?"

"Yes."

"Will they both be arriving at the school?"

Severus' jaw stiffened. "I, not you am Miss Harper's head of house, and quite frankly, none of this is your concern."

"Yes, of course," he said, conceding. "Though I dare say, Severus, if you keep up this cheerful bedside manner Poppy will be begging Albus to give you a position here."

As exasperating as Remus' remark was, Severus merely regarded him with indifference. At that moment the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch. With a stiff nod of his head, Remus left the hospital wing and once he was out of sight Severus cast a charm to warn him of anymore unwanted visitors. Returning to his vigil over Evelyn, he summoned a chair from across the room and sat down.

He absently traced a finger tip around his mouth, wondering if he had been too hasty in telling Deirdre to come to the school. It had never been far from his mind that out of all the staff at Hogwarts it was Lupin who could potentially uncover the truth concerning Evelyn. He glanced towards the doorway as an uneasiness swirled inside of him: perhaps he already had his suspicions.

...

Severus closed the copy of Potions Monthly he was reading and set it onto the chair as he stood up. Another low moan escaped Evelyn's lips and he placed his hand over hers, squeezing it lightly. A few moments later, her eyes fluttered open and she blinked several times against the bright light of the hospital wing. Confusion and fear flooded her face and she sucked in a soft gasp when she attempted to move.

"Try not to move, Evelyn," he said quietly, a firm, but gentle on his daughter's trembling shoulder.

Evelyn turned her face towards the sound of his voice, tears already glistening on her cheek. "Dad," she whimpered. "It hurts."

Severus felt his stomach begin to tighten again. "I know it does, but you'll only make the pain worse."

Her lip quivered. "Where's Mum – I want Mum."

"She's on her way, Evelyn, she will be here soon."

Severus saw her wince again, followed by more tears. His lips thinned; he could not stand to see her in such a state. She needed something to control the pain. He had made several batches of pain-killing potions for Poppy throughout the term; surely she still had some phials of it left. Straightening up, he stepped back from her and turned around to go.

"Dad, don't leave me."

The fear and pleading in her voice caused his throat to tighten. "I'll be right back, I promise," he said, squeezing her hand.

Evelyn choked back a sob and nodded. "OK."

She watched him stride away from the bedside, already wishing he hadn't left. She tried to move again, but her stiff, bruised body throbbed in protest. Exhausted, she let her head sink into the pillow and stared up at the white ceiling. She wondered if anyone else had been hurt or if she was the only one stupid enough to fall off her broom.

Finally her dad returned, with Madam Pomfrey close on his heels. Not wasting a moment, she took her wand out of her apron pocket and carried out a short but thorough examination.

Seemingly satisfied, she said, "I'll be in my office if you need me, Severus."

Severus responded with a brief nod. Despite Poppy's newfound knowledge he waited until she had gone before he moved to Evelyn's side. He removed the stopper from a phial then gently slipped a hand behind her head to raise it up slightly.

"I need you to drink all of this," he said and tipped the contents into her mouth.

"It's horrible," she protested weakly.

"It was not made to taste nice. Now, swallow the rest of it."

Evelyn obeyed him, but she screwed her face up as she drank it down. He set the empty phial onto a table beside the bed and was about to sit down again when he felt her hand close around his.

"I don't want to be left alone."

"I'm not going anywhere," he reassured her. "Close your eyes and try to sleep, I'll be right here."

"Promise?"

"I promise, Evelyn."

She grasped his hand tighter and a warmth spread through him. Soon her breathing fell into a steady even pattern, but Severus continued to hold onto her hand. His daughter needed him and for once he was going to make sure he was there for her.

...

Deirdre stood at the front gates to Hogwarts, waiting for someone to come and escort her up to the school. It seemed almost surreal as she stared up at the castle, remembering her own school days. Severus' message had been vague, but it was enough to cause her alarm. He would not have called her to the school unless something serious had happened to Evelyn. Despite being a head of department at St. Mungo's, it had taken her longer than she expected to leave London for Hogwarts. And as much as she hated disapperating, it was the quickest way to travel such a long distance – the floo system at St. Mungo's was on the blink again.

A twig snapped and she saw a figure coming towards her on the other side of the gate.

"Deirdre Harper?"

"Yes."

The ancient iron gates groaned and creaked as they swung open and she felt a surge of energy as she passed safely through the wards surrounding the school. The man in front of her lifted his illuminated wand a little higher, lighting up his features. Her eyes widened slightly as recognition dawned – it was Remus Lupin.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Deirdre," he said, "It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has been...Remus," she replied, noting his premature grey hair and drawn appearance.

"I saw your Patronus gliding across the grounds. Severus, you remember Severus Snape, don't you? He was supposed to be on duty this evening, but he agreed to sit with your daughter until you arrived."

Deirdre was relieved to hear that he was with Evelyn, although she had already suspected he would be.

"I remember him, we were friends at school." Her lips thinned. "One of his few friends."

Remus cleared his throat uncomfortably. "If you'll follow me I'll take you up to the castle."

Deirdre took out her own wand and followed Remus along a well worn path to the castle. Neither of them spoke a word, but she saw him glance in her direction several times. They had never had much contact with each other in school, that is, until sixth year. Of course, by then the Marauders had mostly lost interest in tormenting Severus, except for Sirius Black; he seemed to have found some sort of enjoyment in hurling insults at him. At the thought of Black, a shiver raked down Deirdre's spine.

"We're almost at the castle," Remus said, breaking the silence between them. "It's much warmer than out here."

"I can find my way to the infirmary myself once we reach the castle," she said," I don't want to keep you from your duties."

"I would prefer to see you there myself." He responded with a small smile to her slighted look. "It's Sirius Black I'm concerned about, not you."

A dark shadow fell over her face. "The sooner they recapture him the better."

Remus merely nodded and looked away. She had seen a glimpse of hurt in his eyes, though, and she felt a wave of compassion for him; his former friend's betrayal must have still weighed heavily on him.

Soon they were walking through the corridors towards the hospital wing and Deirdre's apprehension became stronger the closer they got. As they approached the main entrance, she hurried on ahead of Remus and rushed in through the doors. Her gaze was drawn immediately to a curtained bed and within seconds of her putting foot inside the room, Severus emerged from behind the drawn curtains.

"Severus," she said, her voice breaking upon seeing him. "What happened? Is she all right?"

He stretched out a hand to her, beckoning her to come to him. "She will be fine."

Outside the hospital wing, Remus was about to follow Deirdre inside when he thought better of it. He was too weary to deal with Severus' hostility towards him. From the shadows, though, he saw her walk towards Severus. His eyes widened in shock when she took his hand and he pulled her into his embrace, kissing her briefly but tenderly. All this time he had assumed she was estranged from the father of her child, but clearly he was wrong – very wrong.

He walked back down the hallway towards his office, allowing what he had just witnessed to sink in.

Remus had only sat down at his desk when there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he said.

The door opened and he stiffened slightly as Severus strode into the room, closing the door firmly behind him. He pushed his chair back and stood hesitantly to his feet – clearly this wasn't a social call.

"Good evening, Severus," he said civilly, "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, it seems you've added snooping onto your job description, Lupin" he said coolly. The charm he had cast in the hospital wing had alerted him to Remus' prolonged presence in the hallway outside.

Remus swallowed, hard. "I'm sorry, Severus, I don't follow you."

A frown darkened Severus' face. "I want to know exactly what you saw at the hospital wing."

"I promise you, Severus, it was not intentional, I –"

"Ah, so you do know what I'm referring to."

Remus could have kicked himself; he had played right into Severus' hands.

"Well?" Severus said, his gaze boring into Remus.

"I had no idea of your...ah...involvement with Deirdre until ten minutes ago," he answered honestly.

Severus' features were unreadable but Remus could almost feel the rage emanating from him.

"And what of Evelyn?"

"I had my suspicions from the beginning of term. " He tapped his nose. "But it wasn't until after the first full moon that I was certain." Remus rounded his desk and stepped closer to Severus. "You have my word, Severus; I will not breathe a word of this to anyone."

Severus brought his face to within inches of Remus'. "A wise decision, Lupin; we all have our secrets after all, don't we?"

With a menacing glint in his eyes, Severus turned and left Remus' office without another word.

Soon he was back in the hospital wing and, crossing to Evelyn's bedside, he saw Deirdre sitting close beside her gently combing her fingers through her hair. His wife looked up, giving him a small but warm smile.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, unaware of where he had gone to.

For the moment. "Yes, it's fine."

"Will you sit with her, Severus; I want to go speak with Madam Pomfrey. We'll need to make some sort of arrangement for getting Evelyn home for Christmas; she won't be able to floo or disapparate, not with a broken arm and fractured ribs."

"The Hogwarts Express has been cancelled, has it?" There was a touch of sarcasm in his tone.

"Well, if you want to ride with her to make sure she doesn't get knocked around like a ragdoll and carry her trunk, I think that just about solves the problem."

Severus said nothing in response.

"No?" Deirdre's' eyebrows arched in feigned surprise.

He crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "Are you going to speak with Poppy or not?"

She suppressed a laugh as she stood to her feet, kissing him briefly on the lips.

Severus took Deirdre's vacant seat by their daughter and closed his hand around hers. He could faintly hear Deirdre and Poppy's voices drifting from the school nurse's office. If it came to the worst, Severus would be willing to bring Evelyn home via Muggle transportation.

"Dad," Evelyn said sleepily as she opened her eyes. "You're still here."

"I promised you I would be, didn't I?" he replied a little sharper than he had intended.

Evelyn looked down at his hand around hers – she didn't want him to ever let go. "Is Mum here yet?"

"Yes, she's speaking with Madam Pomfrey."

He waited for her to ask when she would be coming back and he was surprised when she didn't.

Evelyn chewed on her lower lip nervously. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"What for?" He looked at her curiously.

"For falling off my broom."

Severus scoffed. "It is not your fault an imbecilic boy flew into you."

She almost looked relieved by his answer and it annoyed him that she thought he would be angry or disappointed with her. He was aware she struggled with flying: Rolanda Hooch had a habit of praising her best students, as well as criticising the worst in the staff room. It had not been pleasant to hear how his daughter barely scraped through each lesson. On one occasion, though, he had cut Rolanda off mid-sentence after she commented that students like Evelyn could learn a great deal from Harry Potter.

"Was he hurt too?"

"No."

"Oh," she said. "I'm not going to get into trouble, am I?"

"Of course not."

The whole incident had been deemed an accident, but if he had his way, Thomas Middlemarch, a reckless Gryffindor, would be serving detention for the rest of the year. Nevertheless, Severus would keep a close watch on him in Potions; one slipup and he would be scrubbing cauldrons and gutting Flobberworms.

"Though you will have to take extra flying classes once you are healed, otherwise you will not pass at the end of the year."

Evelyn groaned. "Can't I just fail it...It's only flying."

Severus' brow rose in a disapproving manner. "No you may not."

It was worth a try, even though she hadn't seriously thought he would side with her. She wasn't afraid to get back onto a broom again, she just didn't see why flying had to be compulsorily subject. Besides, if she wasn't on the Quidditch team when would she ever need to use a broom?

The curtain around the bed moved and Deirdre stepped though them.

"Mum!" Evelyn said.

"Hello, sweetheart, how are you feeling?" Her smile grew a little wider upon seeing Evelyn's hand firmly in her father's.

"Better than when I first woke up...Dad gave me a potion and it took away most of the pain."

"Yes, your father is quiet the expert in potions," Deirdre said.

"I know – he knows everything about potions."

Deirdre smiled at her candid statement and she did not miss the flicker of surprise on Severus' face. She quickly sat down on the end of the bed before he felt obliged to stand up to make room for her beside Evelyn.

"So, what have you and Poppy decided upon?" he asked.

"It looks as if it's going to have to be the Hogwarts Express." Deirdre held up her hand when he opened his mouth to protest. "I will travel with Evelyn, so you needn't worry about being surrounded by dunderheads."

Evelyn giggled, earning her a scowl from Severus.

Sometime later, Severus took his watch from his pocket and opened it to check the time. It was getting late and he had lessons to prepare in the morning. Evelyn had fallen asleep again and so he decided to take the opportunity to leave – it was easier that way. He would come by and see her again in the morning; he was free first period.

"You know where I am if you need me," he said to Deidre, his arm encircled around her waist.

She placed a hand on his cheek. "You made this whole ordeal so much easier for her, you know."

He pursed his lips. "I merely sat with her."

"Don't underestimate yourself, Severus." She kissed him softly, tenderly. "Good night."

"I will see you in the morning."

Watching him walk out of the hospital wing, Deirdre wondered if he would ever understand that all Evelyn ever wanted was him, and not what he could do for her –
just him.

Perhaps it was time he did.

Chapter 11: Chapter 10

Oh my word! Firstly, I have to say I am SO sorry it has taken me seven months (that's actually ridiculous) to update! I hope you will all forgive me! The next chapters won't be that long in coming, I hope.

Anyway, I want to give a wee shout out to MetamorphmagusLupin - I hope you enjoy the show! :)

It all belongs to JK - as do the one or two references from Pottermore.

Chapter ten

~x~

Evelyn lay on her bed half dozing half listening to Muggle music on her Walkman. A copy of A History of Magic sat unopened beside her. She had given up reading about the Goblin wars after two pages; it was as interesting as watching mould grow. And besides, who really cared that some goblin had been imprisoned for peddling Leprechaun gold three hundred years ago – she certainly didn't.

The cassette tape stopped when it reached the end of side B. Evelyn removed the headphones, sat up on her bed and looked out the window. It was still snowing outside, falling silently but furiously in thick, white flakes. Muggle cars had been abandoned in the street, even the group of boys who had been throwing snowballs at windows all morning had been forced indoors. She gave a deflated sigh; there was absolutely no chance of her being allowed to walk to the sweet shop now.

Turning away from the window, she reached down the side of the bed and lifted her school bag off the floor, rummaging through it to find her homework diary. The professors at school were such spoilsports for setting homework over the holidays; clearly they had failed to understand the meaning of the word holiday. And her dad was the worst: ten inches on the differences between edible and poisonous mushrooms, including specific examples from each continent. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered with the homework he set; no matter how much effort she put into it he always managed to find fault with it. No one else ever seemed to have as many corrections, written in her father's spiky handwriting, as she did. She was so embarrassed by it she always stuffed her work straight into her bag; she didn't even want Edmund to know.

Finally she found the right page in the diary and checked what she still had left to do: Astronomy, Divination and History of Magic. She groaned. It would probably take her the rest of the day to complete it all. She had half hoped her broken arm would have exempted her from homework over the holidays. Of course, she should have known better than to hope for such a thing, what with a Healer and a Potions master for parents. Despite the mountains of homework, however, she was looking forward to going back to school. Spinner's End was desperately dull and, as much as she loved spending time with her parents, she missed her friends.

Dropping the homework diary back into her bag, Evelyn decided she would tackle Professor Trelawney's essay on 'the importance of choosing the right crystal ball' after lunch...or maybe after dinner.

A light tap on the window drew her attention. Quickly opening the latch on the window, a snowy faced barn owl hopped onto the inside sill. Evelyn shut the window before another icy blast of wind swept through her room. Her owl, Otis, found his balance on long, gawky legs and then unceremoniously dropped a letter in his beak onto Evelyn's bed. She reached for the letter, but Otis gave a loud, drawn out, raspy hiss, only quietening when she dropped a handful of dried owl food onto the sill.

With Otis' attention now fixed on his food, Evelyn reached for the letter again. "I can't believe Edmund sent you out in a blizzard!" she said, somewhat annoyed at her best friend.

Otis merely looked at her through dark, humourless eyes – it would seem as if he blamed her as much as Edmund.

Nevertheless, she was glad to have a letter from Edmund. Opening it, she began to read:

Hi Evelyn, how are you? How have your holidays been? I've spent most of mine trying to avoid the friends my mum has round for tea almost every day. I swear if another one of them tries to pinch my cheek and tell me how much I've grown, I'm not going to be responsible for my actions! I was supposed to go to Somerset for a few days with my dad, but he has been working loads. Apparently there's some big case going on at the Ministry –I'm not sure what, but I think it's to do with Hagrid's Hippogriff. And if you ask me, Hagrid doesn't stand a chance against the likes of Lucius Malfoy. He's got tons of money...and if you thought Draco was bad news, his father is REALLY bad news!

Did you get your splint off yet? Is your arm all right? You are coming back to school, aren't you? I heard from my cousin who's in Ravenclaw, who heard from her friend, who knows some bloke in Gryffindor, who said Thomas Middlemarch isn't even going to get a detention! What a jammy sod! Gregory saw the whole thing: he said Thomas was showing off, but Madam Hooch said it was just an accident. She's biased, you know; won't say a bad word against good fliers – not that you're not a good flier, but you know what I mean. Don't worry, though, we'll find a way to get back at Middlemarch.

See you on Sunday at the station.

Ed.

Evelyn smirked at Edmund's determination to get even with Thomas. She felt sad for Hagrid, though. It wasn't his fault Draco Malfoy felt the need to show off at every opportunity. She remembered how he had lain on a settee in the Slytherin common room after being scratched by Buckbeak, groaning as if he had gone ten rounds with a mountain troll. It was pathetic. And when his father had arrived at the school she had been surprised smoke was not billowing from his nostrils. He carried himself with such arrogance she wondered how his shoulders managed to support the weight of his swollen head. But there was also something sinister about Mr Malfoy; she had never forgotten his cold, probing gaze on Platform 9¾ or her mum's silent hatred of him.

Resting her elbow on the windowsill, she cupped her chin in her hand and watched Otis preen his feathers. He wasn't the prettiest looking owl she'd ever seen; in fact, she'd always found barn owls to be rather odd looking. Nevertheless, Otis had quickly worked his way into her heart, even with his peculiar habits and moody nature. In some ways he reminded her of her father, but she'd never tell him that.

When Otis had finished preening himself she reached over and stroked the downy feathers on his breast. He nipped lightly on her fingers and she glared at him half-heartedly. "No, I don't have any more food for you. You're a greedy-guts, you know that. Mum and Dad said this food had to last you all month, so stop scrounging for more."

Otis hooted loudly in protest.

"You can give off all you want, you're not getting anymore."

Leaving the owl to his brooding, Evelyn shoved her feet into her slippers and left the room. Her tummy was rumbling and she couldn't very well do her homework on an empty stomach, now, could she. As she padded downstairs she heard her parents' voices drifting from the kitchen. Evelyn smiled to herself. She hadn't expected her dad back from Hogwarts, not with it being so close to the end of the holidays. When an owl had arrived during dinner last night she had been furious, but she'd kept her mouth firmly shut. After all, nothing she could say would stop him leaving at the drop of Dumbledore's hat.

Evelyn crept along the hallway towards the kitchen. She had taken time over the years to memorise which floorboards creaked and was careful to avoid them now. The kitchen door was slightly ajar, just enough so she could make out her mum sitting at the table, her hands curled around a cup of tea. She couldn't see her dad, but he was in there all right...and he was definitely annoyed.

"Why would he do something so silly if he knew the broom was from Sirius Black?" Deirdre said.

At the mention of the fugitive's name, Evelyn's ears pricked up. She knew she shouldn't be earwigging, but the holidays had been so boring; she needed something to tell her friends on the Hogwarts' Express. And right now, juicy gossip concerning Sirius Black was worth its weight in sweets.

"Because Potter believes himself to be above us mere mortals," Severus said. "He was fortunate Miss Granger finally put that oversized brain of hers to some use and reported the matter to Minerva."

"How did Black get his hands on a Firebolt in the first place?"

"No doubt he had help."

"You mean from Remus?"

"Who else?"

"I don't think Remus would have had anything to do with it. I talked to him a little while I was at Hogwarts; he feels Black's betrayal more than anyone."

"And what else did you talk about?"

"Merlin, Severus, I was only being civil. I wasn't going to blank him because he and his friends played a few pranks on you at school."

Time seemed to grind to an agonising halt and a tense silence engulfed the kitchen. Evelyn held her breath, waiting for her dad to bite back. But he didn't.

"Severus, I didn't mean..."

She heard the cellar door open and then close with considerable force. Through the narrow gap in the door she saw her mum grip the table with one hand, burying her face in the other.

Evelyn swallowed hard and silently retreated back down the hallway. She climbed the stairs and sat down on the top step, confused and rattled by what she had heard. Professor Lupin wouldn't help Sirius Black, would he? She couldn't imagine him as a prankster either. He seemed so...so nice. Clearly, though, Dad didn't think the same. He had almost sounded bitter that Mum had even spoken to him.

None of it made any sense to her.

Standing up, she decided to go back to the kitchen. Mum had seemed upset; maybe she should check on her. Questions still swirled around in her mind as she walked downstairs, but she was going to have to figure out the answers on her own. She'd be grounded for life if her parents ever found out she was eavesdropping.

...

"Hey, Mum," Evelyn said, sauntering through the door kitchen door. "What's for lunch, I'm starving."

Deirdre glanced up and forced a smile. "Hello, sweetheart, it won't be too long. Would you set the table for me?"

"Sure, Mum."

Lifting the lid off a pot on the hob, Deirdre stirred the soup. The delicious aroma wafted through the kitchen, but she had completely lost her appetite. She was disgusted with herself; disgusted with her cruel, heartless words. She could still see Severus' face, the way his eyes had darkened with anger and pain. His whole body had gone rigid. If she had been holding a knife she could not have driven it in any deeper.

"Mum, the lights are on in the cellar; want me to go turn them off?"

Deirdre looked over her shoulder and saw Evelyn with her hand on the cellar door knob. "Your father is down there."

"He's home?" Evelyn beamed. "Will I go get him for lunch, then?"

"Just leave him be; he'll come up if he's hungry."

"But, Mum –"

Deirdre banged the pot lid down. "Evelyn, do as you're told."

Letting go of the door knob as if it had burned her, Evelyn scurried across to the table and sat down. She began to fidget with a friendship bracelet one of the girls in her dorm had made as a Christmas present. Deirdre felt her head begin to pound. Lifting a loaf of bread and a tub of butter, she sat down on a chair opposite Evelyn.

"Mum? Are you all right?"

Emotion balled up inside Deirdre's chest. How could she open her mouth and tell Evelyn she had wounded her father so horribly? Pranks, she thought bitterly. Luring a boy into the jaws of a werewolf was anything but a prank. "I'm fine, sweetheart. I'm just a little tired, that's all."

Evelyn, seemingly convinced, took a slice of bread from the packet. "Can I take Dad some lunch when we're done here?" Evelyn asked.

Deirdre sighed. "Yes, if you want."

Ever since her accident at the end of term she had been eager to help him with brewing at home, using any excuse to go down to the cellar. Deirdre knew she had seen a glimpse of the relationship she wanted with her father in the hospital wing, and she was determined to have it. Severus had been taken aback, when, on the first day of the holidays, she had wandered into the cellar –her arm still in a splint – and asked if she could help him. Of course, for all of her enthusiasm, Evelyn had still complained he had done nothing but boss her around and lecture her. Deirdre had simply laughed.

It would take time to build a strong relationship, but she was confident one would develop.

"How is your homework going?" she asked, steering away from Severus.

Evelyn shrugged her shoulders. "All right. Some of it's just so boring."

"We'll go into Diagon Alley tomorrow and get you anything you need for the new term."

"Brilliant," Evelyn said. "Can we go to Sugarplum's Sweet Shop? I want to spend the money Granny and Granddad Harper sent me for Christmas."

Deirdre arched a sculpted eyebrow. "You may spend some of it and you can take some with you to school. The rest can stay here."

"I suppose Dad won't be coming with us tomorrow?"

"You know he can't."

Evelyn folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not afraid of anyone from school seeing me with him. I don't care what they'd think."

Deirdre smiled properly since her spat with Severus. "They wouldn't think anything – the shock would kill them all."

Giggling, Evelyn spread a thick layer of butter over her bread. She took a bite and chewed on it thoughtfully. "But when can I tell people he's my dad?"

"We've been through this before, sweetheart. There are dark wizards and witches who hate your father for siding with Professor Dumbledore. And if they could, they would hurt you to hurt him."

"Wizards like Mr Malfoy?"

Deirdre stood up and took two bowls from the cupboard then ladled out the soup. "I hope you're hungry because I've made enough to feed the street."

She saw frustration swarm in Evelyn's eyes, but Deirdre couldn't speak of Lucius Malfoy without wrath rising up in her like hot lava. He, not the Potter's, not Sirius Black, not Remus or Dumbledore, was the reason why her husband was not hers and hers alone.

"So," Deirdre said, handing Evelyn a bowl. "What homework have you still got left to do?"

...

Severus, his lips drawn in a grim line, snapped a book closed and jammed it back into the space he'd taken it from. He pulled out another book and carried it over to the island table in the middle of the cellar. Opening it, he flicked through the pages aimlessly, finally settling on the Draught of Living Death. Somehow it seemed morbidly appropriate.

He raked a hand though his hair, a futile attempt to calm his tumultuous thoughts. He accepted his part in the souring of his conversation with Deirdre, allowing his resentment to spew out like a venomous accusation. However, he had been unprepared for her retaliation. Coldness had seeped into the pit of his stomach; her careless words had hit him on a visceral level.

Dungbombs, Hiccough Sweets and Nose-Biting Teacups were pranks – public humiliation, verbal abuse and near death experiences were not.

The cellar door opened and he heard footsteps on the stairs. "Dad, I've got some soup for you."

He wasn't hungry but since she was already half way down the stairs, he waved a hand impatiently, then said, "Leave it on the table."

The bowl and spoon rattled on the tray as she slid it carefully onto the table. Severus busied himself, preparing what he needed to brew the Draught of Living Death. He paused, though, when he noticed her lingering by the table. "Is there something else you want?"

She toyed with the strings on her hoodie. "I was wondering if I could help you."

"No, Evelyn –" He wanted to be left alone.

"Please! I won't get in your way."

"No."

"I can cut stuff up for you."

"No."

She stood her ground, her lips pursed. "But I haven't seen you all day."

Severus' fingers gripped the edge of the cauldron he was about to set onto a tripod. He wished to be alone with his thoughts, but one look into her pleading eyes caused his resolve to waver.

"I'll brush the floor or dust the shelves or –"

"Evelyn!" he said, silencing her. "Harping on at me is not helpful. If you want to make yourself useful you can start by relabeling those jars over there." He pointed to a shelf where the jars all had yellowing labels.

"I can do that," she said. The small, almost triumphant smirk playing on her lips did not escape his notice.

"Make sure your writing is legible or you will have to begin again."

Evelyn rolled her eyes behind his back. "I will."

Crossing over to where the jars were, Evelyn found a quill and some ink. Labelling jars wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, but at least she'd been allowed to stay. She stole a quick glance at her dad and could tell he was still annoyed after his spat with Mum. Usually potion making relaxed him, but his movements were stiff and the sharpness in his eyes could slice through glass.

"Dad, I can't find any glue," she said. "How am I supposed to stick the labels on?"

Severus set the knife in his hand down and took out his wand. "Flick your wrist like this," he said, demonstrating what she had to do. "Then say, Lentesco."

She looked at him incredulously. "But I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school."

"I am your professor, aren't I?" She nodded. "Well, then, get on with it."

"OK," she said, still a bit apprehensive. If Aurors suddenly appeared she would tell them her dad made her do it. Evelyn carefully wrote the words lizard guts on a fresh square of parchment and placed it over the old one. Taking out her wand, she pointed it at the jar and said, "Lentesco."

The label began to flutter, but before she could react, it shot up and stuck to her forehead. She jumped back from the counter and let out a panicked cry.

"What's happened?" Severus demanded.

She pulled at the label but it wouldn't budge.

"Evelyn," he said. "Turn around. Now."

Mortified, she did as she was told. Severus' brow furrowed. "I do not have patience for silly games, Evelyn. Take that off and finish what I asked you to do or go back upstairs."

"It's stuck, Dad. It won't come off." She tugged at it again. "See?"

He heaved a deep, irritated sigh. "Come here."

Evelyn winced when he tried to take it off, though she was glad he couldn't t remove it either. He took out his wand and said a few words she didn't understand. Pale blue wisps materialised from the tip of his wand. She felt a tingling on her forehead but that was about it – the label was still firmly stuck to her skin.

"Show me exactly what you did," Severus said.

Holding her wand out in front of her, she showed him how she had cast the spell.

"I said to flick your wrist up, not down." He turned away from her abruptly and walked over to a bookshelf. Running a finger along the spines of several books, he finally selected one and began to flip through it.

Evelyn looked over at him, slightly worried. "You can get if off, can't you, Dad?"

"That remains to be seen," he said without lifting his gaze from the book.

"Please, Dad, you have to. I can't go back to school with lizard guts on my forehead."

Severus cleared his throat to conceal a laugh and buried his nose further into the book. If this had happened at Hogwarts, if a student had done this, he would have been sorely tempted to let them spend a week or two sporting lizard guts on their foreheads.

He continued to search through the book for a few more minutes, though he failed to find anything useful. Closing it, he replaced it back onto the bookshelf. There were other books he could try, but more than not he would simply be wasting time. Only one other option remained – Deirdre. She had much more experience in this sort of thing than he did.

Hurt and pride, however, dug their claws in deeper: he didn't need her. Not when she thought so little of him and his feelings.

Did he really believe that, though?

"Dad, where are you going?" Evelyn called as he headed for the stairs.

"To get your mother," he said. "Sit down on that stool, and don't touch anything."

Evelyn hopped up onto a stool and tightly clasped her hands in front of her. She couldn't believe how stupid she was. Taking out her wand, she twirled it in her fingers. It was eleven and a half inches, made from applewood and had a dragon heartstring core; that's what Mr Ollivander had said anyway. He had also told her it would produce great power and was capable of the most flamboyant spells. Right now, though, she was finding that very hard to believe.

At the sound of her parents clattering down the stairs she tucked her wand away again – she didn't want to cause any more catastrophes.

"Evelyn, what have you –" Deirdre paused mid-step when she saw her. She bit her lip, stifling a laugh.

"Mum, it's not funny." Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. "If I can't get this off by Sunday I'm not going back to school."

"Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll sort it out." Deirdre turned to Severus. She could see he was still tense, defensive even. She didn't blame him. "What have you tried so far?"

Severus told her. "Have you seen anything like this before?"

"Not this exactly, but there a few counter-spells we could try." She took out her wand and took a gentle hold of Evelyn's chin. "Try not to move, sweetheart."

"Mum?" Evelyn said, a tinge of panic in her eyes.

"Your mother has always had terrible bedside manners – pay her no heed."

At his sarcasm Deirdre's lips twitched into the ghost of a smile.

After twenty minutes, and numerous counter-spells, Deirdre finally managed to remove the label from Evelyn's forehead. She squealed with delight as it peeled away. Jumping down off the stool, she threw her arms around Deirdre, squeezing her tightly.

"Thank you, Mum! Thank you, thank you!"

Deirdre laughed softly. "We'll get some glue when we're in Diagon Alley tomorrow, just to be on the safe side."

Letting go of Deirdre, Evelyn raced past her to go upstairs and find a mirror, to survey the damage. She paused, though, at the bottom of the stairs and hurried back towards Severus. Without warning, she flung her arms around his waist. "Thanks, Dad!"

Taken aback, Severus simply patted her on the back. She held onto him for a long moment until he said, "All right, enough of that, off you go."

When she had disappeared upstairs he stood still for a minute, still somewhat in shock. He hadn't done anything; Deirdre had been the one to remove the label.

"You two are becoming quite the pair, aren't you?" Deirdre said, laughing softly.

"Indeed." Severus walked over to where Deirdre had set the offending label. He picked it up and examined it. A moment later he felt Deirdre hand on his arm. His turned his head to look at her.

"I'm truly sorry, Severus."

He nodded. "We won't speak of it again." He pulled away from her and lifted a leather bound journal and quill from the island table, handing it to her.

"What's this for?" she asked, puzzled.

"I want you to write down the counter-spell you used; the exact incantation and hand movements."

"Why?"

He replied, pride glistening in his eyes, "Because, Deirdre, our daughter has unwittingly invented a new spell."

Chapter 12: Chapter 11

See, I kept my promise: a new chapter! :) Thanks to everyone who has been following this story, and thank you so much for all of your lovely reviews! They make me smile...

Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven

~x~

Seated at the High Table in the Great Hall, Severus observed the students with mild disinterest. He finished what was left on his plate and pushed it to one side in favour of a cup of tea. A loud shriek suddenly, rudely intruded on his thoughts and he lifted his gaze in time to see a fourth year Gryffindor frantically tousling her hair. Severus narrowed his eyes and glared straight at the Weasley twins; their faces may have looked the picture of innocence but they were more of a nuisance than Peeves. Across the table from the twins he honed in on Harry Potter. He was still slumped at the table, his head cradled in his hand, looking perfectly miserable – over a broom. It angered him that Potter had no regard for his own safety; he had even less regard for the lives of those who sought to protect him.

What good was his oath, his sacrifice if Potter continued to run headlong into danger?

"You look like you've swallowed an Acid Pop, Severus."

Severus took a sip of his tea without looking at Minerva, who was sitting to his right. "Were you never taught it's impolite to stare?"

"Of course, but even you can manage to drum up more enthusiasm for the new term."

"You will see how enthusiastic I can be, Minerva, when the Quidditch cup is in Slytherin hands." He paused, raising his eyebrow a fraction. "For the eighth year running, I believe."

Minerva pursed her lips together and poked at the remains of her sponge pudding with a spoon. Taking another sip of tea, Severus hid a smirk behind the rim of his cup. School Quidditch was a sore point for Minerva, a fact that he rather enjoyed exploiting.

His gaze soon drifted over to the Slytherin table, where he easily spotted Evelyn amongst the other students. He had watched her enter the Great Hall earlier with her friends, though she and Edmund Lowsley seemed particular joined at the hip. Severus tapped a finger thoughtfully on the side of his cup. The Lowsley family had been bitterly divided during the war and the wounds of betrayal still ran deep. Severus was almost certain Edmund's parents had not sided with Voldemort, although that did not stop his growing concern at the influence the boy had over his daughter

She had not had the easiest of years in primary school; the other children had plied her with hurtful, potentially damaging jeers. But he was proud of her for refusing to allow them to break her. Indeed, she had stood her ground on more than one occasion. He still remembered Deirdre telling him that Evelyn had caused one boy's cheese and pickle sandwich to explode in his face after he'd called her a particularly nasty name. Severus' only regret was that he had not been there to see it. Nevertheless, he worried that Evelyn's desire for friendship could cloud her judgement.

"She is very like her mother, isn't she?"

Severus threw Minerva a sharp sideways glance. She was observing the Slytherin table too. "I'm being spied upon now, am I?"

"Deirdre was always a favourite student of mine," she said, "Good-natured, polite, a real treat to teach."

Severus ignored her jibe.

"It was good to see her last term, even if it wasn't under the best of circumstances." She lifted a chocolate Hobnob and dunked it into her tea. "She's become a very fine, accomplished woman."

She always had been. "I shall be sure to pass on your comments." He raised his cup to his lips, then added, "After all, you were her favourite teacher."

Clearly chuffed, Minerva smiled.

It wasn't long before Albus finally dismissed the students. Severus rose from his seat, adjusted his robes and, as he pushed his chair beneath the table, he caught sight of Albus engaged in a quiet word with Remus Lupin. He still had reservations about Lupin: how else had Black been able to evade the Dementors for so long, enter the school undetected and purchase a Firebolt. Perhaps Deirdre had been right: it was strange that Black betrayed James Potter and murdered Peter Pettigrew, but left Lupin alone.

...

By Friday afternoon, Evelyn was looking forward to an evening of lazing about in the Slytherin common room. The first week back had been busy, and, as usual, the professors had not broken them in gently, but had ploughed on through the curriculum. Some days her hand had been cramped by the time the final bell went and almost rigid by the time she had completed all of her homework.

Walking with Edmund, Gregory and Millicent, she was glad her last two lessons were her favourite: Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions. It had taken her practically no time at all to settle back into Hogwarts, and with so much school work, as well as a stack of gossip to catch up on, she did not have time to feel homesick. Of course, she had been careful to omit her disaster with the labels – her friends would never allow her live something like that down.

As they entered Professor Lupin's classroom she noticed that all of the desks had been pushed back against the walls, leaving a large, empty space. She felt a little jolt of excitement, hoping that the professor simply hadn't forgotten to put the desks back after the last class' practical.

"Oi, watch it!"

Turning around, she saw Gregory glaring at Thomas Middlemarch and his friends.

"Sorry, Burke, we didn't see you there," Alistair Thorndike said, raising his hands in a mock apology.

Edmund grabbed Gregory's arm and held him back, not letting go until the Gryffindors were on the other side of the room. Stepping closer to Gregory, Evelyn bent down to pick up his school bag. She could almost feel anger rippling through him: it wasn't the first time those same boys had accidently bumped into him.

"Don't let them get to you, Gregory," she said. "They're just trying to provoke you –"

"Yeah, they know Lupin was a Gryffindor when he was at Hogwarts," Edmund cut in, "He wouldn't take points off his old house; I bet he wouldn't even give them a detention."

Lupin had been in Gryffindor? Evelyn suppressed her surprise at the revelation. Glancing across the room again, she found it hard to imagine Lupin being as arrogant or as infuriating as Thomas or Alistair. But, according to Mum, the professor had played pranks on Dad...

"Wonder what Lupin is at today," Millicent said, trying to ease the tension.

Gregory jammed his schoolbag strap onto his shoulder. "I dunno, but anything will be better than Binns' lesson."

Evelyn agreed. History of Magic was dry enough on its own, but coupled with Professor Binns' soporific voice it was almost unbearable.

"Everyone leave your schoolbags at the back wall then gather in the middle of the room," Professor Lupin said, coming down the steps from his study.

The students quickly left their schoolbags down and gathered in an irregular circle in the middle of the room. Lupin strode into the centre and drew out his wand. Looking around the circle, Evelyn saw that everyone seemed as curious as she was. Behind Lupin, she spotted Thomas, but he already had his eyes trained on her. He pretended to fly on a broom and then fall of it, dramatically. Evelyn's lips thinned and her gaze hardened.

What a complete git, she thought.

"Now, you may be wondering why I've pushed the desks back," Lupin began, "But I have decided it's time to put some of the defence spells we learnt last term into practice."

There was a flurry of excitement and Evelyn exchanged an enthusiastic glance with Edmund.

"However," Lupin said, wagging an index finger. "You must only use the spells we have covered in class – which are..." He looked around the circle. "Miss Harper?"

It took Evelyn a moment to realise that the question had been directed at her. "Expelliarmus and..." Drat, what was the incantation for the knock-back jinx? "And Flipendo, Professor."

"Very good, Miss Harper. Two points to Slytherin."

Evelyn couldn't help but smile smugly at Thomas, who looked like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

"All right, I want you to break off into pairs. The disarmed student will stand at the edge of the room while the winner will pair with another winner – this will continue until there are just two students left. Does everyone understand?"

"Yes, Professor," the class responded together.

"Very good, let's begin."

Naturally, Evelyn and Edmund formed a pair; Millicent paired with another Slytherin girl, saying that Gregory, who was quite happy to face anyone in a duel, was too much of a cheat.

"Don't take this personally, Evelyn," Edmund joked, giving her an exaggerated bow.

She stuck her tongue out at him. Taking her stance, she counted down from three...two...one..."Expelliarmus!"

Magical power surged throughout her body – it was exhilarating. Seconds later, and to her surprise, she was still holding onto her wand while Edmund's had clattered to the floor.

He looked at her, his eyes wide with shock. "Where...How...Merlin, you were fast!"

Twiddling her wand in her fingers, she said coyly, "I guess I just got lucky."

"That was more than luck," he said, bending down to pick up his wand. "Have you duelled before?"

"Don't be silly, Ed, I just got my wand in August. I don't think my mum can duel anyway."

She knew Dad could; Slytherins boasted that he was the best dueller at Hogwarts, after Professor Dumbledore, of course. Draco Malfoy loved to tell how he had flattened Professor Lockhart – last year's Defence teacher – in a duel. It pleased her to hear that her father was spoken of so highly amongst Slytherins.

"Stop dawdling, Mr Lowsley," Lupin said, "Off you go; over to the side of the room."

Flinching, she turned around to see Lupin looking at her somewhat pensively. Had he been standing there the whole time? Evelyn gave him a stilted smile and hurried off to find her next opponent.

Agnes Fitzsimons, a Gryffindor, was tall for a first year. Her brown hair was scrapped back into a ponytail, giving her a somewhat severe appearance. Evelyn's stomach tightened as she faced Agnes, holding her wand out in front of her. Watching the other girl closely as she began to count down into herself, she saw Agnes' wand hand flinch on two. Anticipating that she would cast the spell on one, not after, Evelyn readied herself. And she was proved right.

"Flip –"

"Expelliarmus!"

Like Edmund, Agnes' wand flew out of her hand. She gave Evelyn a dirty look then snatched her wand off the floor. Realising she had won again, she tried to calm a whole new wave of nerves churning her insides.

After battling her way through several more duels, Evelyn found herself in the final round. By now the knots in her stomach had subsided, replaced by a growing confidence. She stood alone in the middle of the room with Alistair Thorndike. He grinned at her, reminding her of a mischievous sprite.

The Sorting Hat definitely got it wrong with him, she thought.

"Well done, Miss Harper, Mr Thorndike," Lupin said, clapping his hands. "Now, let's see who will be our class champion."

As before, Evelyn took her stance, never taking her eyes of Alistair. She knew she could defeat him, and she could just imagine the look on his freckled face when she did. However, she had barely counted down to two when he drew back his wand.

"Spiculum!" he shouted.

Evelyn stumbled backwards, feeling like she had been stabbed with hundreds of needles. Pain stripped her legs of strength and she collapsed to the floor in a heap. It was agony, but she fought with every breath against the burn of tears – she didn't want to give Alistair the satisfaction of knowing he had made her cry.

"Why you nasty –"

"Mr Lowsley, lower your wand." Lupin said firmly.

"But –"

"Now, Mr Lowsley, or I will send you straight to the headmaster!"

Edmund muttered a foul word under his breath and put his wand away.

Evelyn managed to struggle up into a sitting position. Her face, hands, everywhere felt swollen. The other students were looking between her and Alistair like they were at a Muggle tennis match. Suddenly, Lupin rounded on Alistair and Evelyn had never seen his face so pale with anger.

"Thirty points from Gryffindor," Lupin said, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

"But, sir, it was just a bit of fun –"

"Fun, Mr Thorndike? Fun! I think you need to spend some time seriously rethinking your definition of fun. You will see me later – for detention! Get your bag and go straight to Professor McGonagall's office – I will inform her you are there. The rest of you, gather your bags as well, class is dismissed."

The students quickly filed out. Gryffindors chattered quietly but sullenly amongst each other; Slytherins watched them with fixed, calculated stares. Evelyn gave an almost audible groan; the whole school would know about this before dinner. She tried to stand up but her legs had gone into some kind of spasm.

"Don't move, Miss Harper," Lupin said, dropped down onto his knees beside her. He took out his wand and said, "Remedium."

Instantly the swelling began to go down and the needle-like pain faded, though an acute pricking sensation remained in her fingers and toes.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She was mortified.

"Sit here a moment and I'll fetch you a glass of water."

He was away before she could object. She gently kneaded her fingers, trying to ease the discomfort. How would she be able to brew in Potions if she couldn't use her fingers properly? She groaned again. Dad – what was he going to think? She was such an embarrassment to him: falling off brooms, sticking labels to her head, and now this.

"Here you go. Just take small sips." He handed her a glass and then brought two chairs over for them to sit on. "That was some very impressive duelling today."

"Beginners luck, I suppose," she said, sitting down.

"No, I would say it's an inherited talent." Evelyn looked at him, confused. "As I remember, your mother was an excellent dueller in school." He gave a half smile. "She even disarmed Professor Snape once or twice."

Evelyn had to swallow her water quickly before she choked. "She did? That's wicked!"

He laughed somewhat nervously. "Perhaps you had better keep that to yourself."

"Don't worry, Professor, I will."

After what she'd overheard in the kitchen during the holidays, Dad would probably erupt if she told him she had been talking about Mum with Professor Lupin.

Lupin glanced down at his watch. "Do you think you can make it to your next class all right?"

"Yes, Professor."

She set the empty glass down, gathered up her schoolbag and walked to the door.

"Miss Harper." Evelyn turned around. "If Mr Thorndike had not acted so unsportsmanlike then I'm certain you would have beaten him."

She smiled. "Thank you, sir."

...

Evelyn tagged onto the end of the line of students filing into the Potions classroom. Thankfully, her father wasn't lurking in the doorway. She was still humiliated by the whole episode, remembering how everyone had stood gawking at her. Slipping onto a stool beside Edmund, she was careful to avoid eye contact with her classmates, especially the Gryffindors.

"Are you OK?" Edmund said.

Her fingers and toes were still sore. "I'm fine."

"That git – we'll get him back, we'll –"

Evelyn took her Potions book out of her bag and set it down heavily onto the table. "No, we're not going to do anything. It's not worth it."

"Not worth it? He used a bloody stinging jinx on you!"

She sighed with exasperation. "Look, Ed, if we got caught jinxing a Gryffindor, McGonagall would tear us to pieces and then Professor Snape would shred what was left of us."

"Nah, Snape would give us a dressing down, but that's about it."

You, perhaps, she thought, he would go through me for a shortcut.

"Just forget about it, OK," she said.

"Fine." Edmund turned away in a huff.

At that moment her father came into the room and strode up to the front, his robes billowing behind him. Evelyn sat up straight at the desk and tried to look as normal as possible. She knew he would find out what had happened sooner or later; hopefully by then she would be able to look him in the eye without cringing.

"Open your textbooks to page thirty-two," her father said then pounced on a Gryffindor, who had the unfortunate luck of being in his direct line of sight. "Mr Pennywaithe, what are the uses of Knitbone?"

Jason Pennywaithe swallowed nervously. "Knitbone or Boneset is one of the most indispensable and valued herbs nature has. It grows in moist meadows, ditches and near streams. The root is dug out in spring or autumn. The fresh plant is gathered before and during the time of flowering and –"

"Mr Pennywaithe, are you deaf?"

"No, sir."

"Dim-witted perhaps?"

Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No, sir."

"Then what part of 'the uses of Knitbone' did you not understand?" Her father's unblinking stare bore into the boy. "Three points from Gryffindor for waffling."

Evelyn heard an indignant murmur ripple through the Gryffindors. One withering glare from her father, however, silenced them. She sunk a little lower in her seat, hoping he would overlook for her and swoop down someone else. She didn't want to think what would happen if he awarded for points for answering the question to his satisfaction.

"Mr Burke," her father said, "Perhaps you could enlighten Mr Pennywaithe as to the uses of Knitbone."

"Uh..." Gregory scratched his chin. "It's for healing bruises and stuff."

Her father nodded. "An adequate explanation, Mr Burke – three points to Slytherin."

Evelyn was surprised that the Gryffindors did not break out into open revolt. She glanced up at her father, but, as usual, it was impossible to gauge his thoughts. Gregory's answer had been terrible, it didn't deserve any points. Why was he always so unfair to Gryffindors? But as she glanced over at Thomas sitting by himself on the other side of the room, a thought suddenly occurred to her: if she could make Alistair pay for what he'd done to her in Defence without consequences, she would. She swallowed hard. What, then, had Lupin done to make her Dad hate an entire house?

"You will spend the rest of the lesson brewing a Knitbone poultice," her father continued, his gaze lingering on hers longer than was necessary. "Practicals this term will contribute to your overall mark at the end of the year."

Beside her, Edmund gulped loudly. He had told her that his parents had threatened to confiscate his broom over the summer holidays, literally grounding him, if he failed even one subject. She felt just as nervous. She had an advantage over every other student in the school, and, really, unless she was completely incompetent, which she knew she wasn't, she had no reason at all to fail in Potions.

Severus folded his arms. "Well, get on with it."

The whole class scrambled to gather up their cauldrons, scales, knives and ingredients. Evelyn scooped a large spoonful of a Petroleum Jelly into a beaker; it would be needed to thicken the poultice. She selected the correct amount of Knitbone roots and leaves, as well as Starthistle, Goosegrass and Haliwinkles.

"Ed," she said in a hushed tone as she sat down on her stool. "You're not angry with me, are you?"

"No." He looked at her. "But you don't want Gryffindors thinking you're a doormat, do you?"

"No –"

"Well, that's what they're going to think if you don't get back at Thorndike."

"But, Ed –"

"Don't be such a scaredy-cat ..." He clamped his mouth shut and began to slice a Knitbone root as her father approached their table.

Evelyn ran a finger through the methodology in the textbook, but she could still sense Dad's probing stare on her. Was he just going to stand there the entire lesson? She picked up a knife and tried her best not to ignore the painful tingling in her fingers.

"Thinner slices, Miss Harper," he said.

"Yes, professor," she replied. Annoyance rose inside of her: she knew the slices needed to be thinner, but her fingers were so damned sore.

Once her father was on the other side of the room, Edmund whispered, "Just think about it, Evelyn, all right?"

"OK," she said, resignedly. "I will."

Edmund smiled. "Good."

...

As he made another turn about the room, Severus kept a watchful eye on Evelyn. She seemed somewhat distracted this afternoon, and Alistair Thorndike's absence had not escaped his notice either. He had made somewhat of a name for himself during his first term. Minerva often ranted in the staff room, waving her hands in the air with frustration, at the boy's unruly behaviour. His parents had even been called to the school, but, of course, their darling son was the innocent victim – the school was to blame. Minerva had said she could only live in hope that his parents would carry out their threat, and transfer him to Durmstrang.

Whatever had happened that day, he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

"Mr Middlemarch," Severus said not hiding his loathing for the boy who had smashed into Evelyn mid-air. "I asked for a poultice, not soup. Begin again."

Thomas looked horrified. "But, Professor, there's only ten minutes of class left."

Severus' lips curled in a cold smile. "Then you will have to work fast, won't you."

Moving to another table, Severus was scrutinising the contents of a cauldron when he heard a resounding clang on the other side of the room. Whirling around, he quickly scanned the tables for the offending student. To his astonishment Evelyn was standing stock-still, her jumper and skirt covered in Knitbone poultice."

Severus strode over to her, fighting against the protective instincts coursing through him. He took out his wand and quickly cleaned away the ruined poultice, also casting a cooling spell to prevent any serious burns. Evelyn was clearly shaken, but he was careful to remain aloof to her feelings.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"She –"

"I was not addressing you, Mr Lowsley." He fixed a hard glare on Evelyn. "Well?"

Her bottom lip quivered. "The...the cauldron...I dropped it."

"That much is obvious, Miss Harper," he said. "Remain behind after class. I will not tolerate carelessness."

Severus felt a stab of guilt at the wounded look on her face. But he turned away and hovered menacingly over another student.

"Don't worry, Evelyn, Snape won't take house points off you."

"Thanks, Ed, I feel so much better. I wish this day would just hurry up and end."

Pretending not to have heard the quiet exchange, Severus swept up to the front of the classroom. He gave instructions for the students to fill their glass jars with poultice, write their names on the label and leave them on the workbench at the side of the room. When the final bell went he promptly dismissed the class.

Taking out his wand, he flicked it towards the door, shutting it. A lock clicked into place and he sound proofed the classroom for good measure.

"Come here, Evelyn," he said, beckoning her with a crooked finger.

She slunk off her stool and walked towards him. Severus crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you care to explain exactly what happened during class?"

"I already told you."

"Mind your cheek," he warned. "You were careless –"

"No! It was because..."

"Well?"

She lowered her gaze and stared at the floor. "It doesn't matter."

"Oh, I think it does." Severus arched an eyebrow. "Unless, that is, you wish to receive a fail for today's lesson."

She snapped her head up. "That's not fair."

"I beg to differ – you did not produce a jar of completed poultice of any standard, therefore, it is an automatic fail."

Evelyn pressed her lips tighter together. Severus drummed his fingertips impatiently off his arms – she was as stubborn as her mother at times. If she had been any other student he would have frightened the truth out of her by now. But memories of Deirdre likening him to a 'bloody dragon with a toothache' kept his temper from erupting. As the seconds ticked on, Severus finally decided to try and take a different line of approach.

He reached out and gently placed a hand onto her shoulder. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Her dark eyes searched his. "And you won't get mad?"

Severus did not like where this was headed. "No."

"OK." She heaved a sigh. "We had a duelling competition in Defence class and Alistair Thorndike, he...he used a stinging jinx on me."

"He...did...what?"

Tears welled down Evelyn's eyes. "It was so sore, Dad – my hands and toes still hurt."

Severus ground his teeth, struggling to keep his promise to remain calm. When he got his hands on that boy...

"And where was Professor Lupin when this happened?"

"He was in the classroom –"

Severus' chest heaved like bellows. "He allowed you to use jinxes?"

Shaking her head, she said, "The professor said we could only use Expelliarmus and Flipendo. He was really angry at Alistair – he took thirty points off Gryffindor, gave him a detention and sent his to Professor McGonagall's office."

A bitter taste rose in Severus' throat, but he refrained swearing in front of his daughter. Why had he not received word that Evelyn had been injured during class? She was not only his child but he was also her head of house. Clearly, though, he thought sourly, that meant absolutely nothing to Lupin.

"Why did you not tell me about this at the beginning of class?" he demanded.

She wrung her hands in front of her, refusing to meet his gaze. "I was embarrassed," she said so softly he almost hadn't heard her.

Severus' upper lip drew back in a sneer. Yes, he knew exactly how that felt.

"Let me see your hands," he said somewhat calmer, though his anger still simmered dangerously close to the surface. She remained still for a moment then held them out to him. Severus ran his fingertips over one of her palms. "Where these red marks here before you dropped the cauldron?"

"Yes," she said, wincing as he applied a small amount of pressure to her hand.

Releasing her hands, he said, "Come with me."

Severus entered the small study annexed to the classroom and pulled out a chair for Evelyn to sit on. He then searched through a few jars on the shelves until he found what he was looking for. If Lupin had any real knowledge of jinxes then he would have known that pain in the fingers and toes remained even after the counter-spell had been cast. Evelyn was fortunate the poultice had begun to cool before she dropped the cauldron. It could have been worse – much worse.

Finding the right jar, he opened it and scooped out a small amount of olive-green cream. Almost immediately Evelyn screwed up her face, sticking out her tongue in disgust. It wasn't the most pleasant of smells, he knew, but it would sooth the pain in her hands and toes. He had created it during his fifth year at school, after being jinxed by Potter and his band of buffoons.

"Dad," she said as he massaged the cream into her hands. "Alistair didn't beat me – he cheated."

"I had gathered that."

"I beat everyone else I duelled with and Professor Lupin said I did really well."

Severus' eyes narrowed, begrudgingly accepting Lupin's praise for his daughter's abilities. "Take off your shoes and socks," he said. He took a hold of her left foot and rested it on his thigh. "And what else did the professor say?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing much."

Refocusing his attention on applying cream to her feet, he said nothing more on the matter. The flicker of panic in her eyes had told him more than enough – Lupin had conveyed information regarding either him or Deirdre, he was certain of it. He had his reasons for keeping aspects of his past from Evelyn; if he had wanted his daughter to know he had been mercilessly bullied at school then he would have told her himself.

He would have to have a word with the good professor later.

They sat in silence until he had finished. Then, when she had put her socks and shoes back on, he motioned for her to follow him into the classroom again. Removing his robes, he laid them onto a desk and took out his wand.

"Dad, what –"

"Take out your wand," he said. She furrowed her brow, clearly confused. "I wish to see your duelling skills for myself."

Her eyes grew wide. "But...but you're a professor, the school rules say –"

"I am also your father," he cut her off. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, seemingly caught between excitement and nervousness. He watched her take her stance and was impressed at how well she balanced herself. Her lips were pursed and although her eyes were as black as his, their intensity reminded him very much of Deirdre. He still recalled the times she had disarmed him in Defence class during their sixth year. It had been, and still was, disadvantageous duelling with someone who knew him so intimately.

"Expelliarmus!"

Severus easily deflected the spell, but he had felt the accuracy and power behind it. "Good," he said. "This time, put more weight on your left foot and raise your right elbow slightly. Now, cast the spell again."

Her smile faded, quickly replaced by concentration. "Expelliarmus!"

Once again Severus deflected the spell, but the force behind it was stronger than before. His mouth quirked in a small, smug smile: his daughter had shown a level of magical mastery far beyond her years.

"Was that better?" Evelyn asked.

"Much," he replied. Her eyes lit up and a warmth spread through him. "Only, do not keep using the same spell. You must now allow your opponent to anticipate your next move."

She struck a dramatic pose, with her wand stretched out in front of her. "Can you teach me some new spells?"

"I will think about it."

"Aw, Dad, please! Everyone in Slytherin says you're the best dueller in Hogwarts."

Despite the pride swelling in his chest, he tucked his wand back into his sleeve, unwilling to make any promises he could not keep. Furthering her duelling skills could prove to be potentially dangerous; there were only so many times he could keep her after school hours without raising suspicion.

"I said, I will think about it."

She seemed a little deflated, but she smiled nonetheless. He put his robes back on and said, "Off you go, it will be dinner time soon."

To his surprise, and delight, she closed the short distance between and hugged him tightly. "Thanks, Dad, for everything."

Severus returned her embrace, lightly running a hand over her hair, like he had done when she was a little girl. Regret for lost years was like a raw, nagging sore, one he was certain would never fully heal. But, somehow, something had changed and he had been handed a chance to rebuild a relationship with his daughter.

After another few moments, he took a step back from her and said in a controlled tone, "In future, Evelyn, I want you to tell me at the beginning of class if you are unwell."

She nodded. "I will, Dad, I promise."

He waved a hand idly towards the door. "Now, go."

Not long after she had left, Severus snuffed out the candles and swept from the room. He strode through the dungeons and up the stairs, making his way to Minerva's office – Alistair Thorndike had a lot of explaining to do.

Chapter 13: Chapter 12

Just a wee thank you to everyone who has been following this story!

Enjoy...

Chapter Twelve

"Sir, how many more lines do I have to write?"

Remus Lupin looked up from where he was marking fifth year essays at his desk and levelled his gaze at Alistair Thorndike. He was slumped in his seat with a self-pitying look on his face, as if he had been dealt a great injustice. Remus was both saddened and angered that Alistair had yet to show any sign of remorse for his actions. More than once past two hours he'd had to bite his tongue, resisting the temptation to tell the boy that it was not just any student he'd jinxed – she was Professor Snape's daughter. That, perhaps, might have curbed his smug confidence.

"Until I tell you to stop," Remus said.

As soon as Evelyn had left the Defence classroom, he had sent a letter to let Minerva know that a student was on his way to her office. But she had sent a short reply back to say that she had to attend a meeting with the Board of Governors – to discuss possible changes to the Transfiguration curriculum next September. Whatever it was, she would deal with it later. Remus, keen to avoid the possible murder of a student by the Potions master, had brought the boy to his office instead. He had then promptly sent a letter to Severus' office, informing him of the incident.

The final bell, however, had rung almost forty-five minutes ago and he had heard nothing from Evelyn's father. Remus tapped a finger on the table, wondering if he should send another letter to Severus, to be on the safe side.

Flexing his fingers, Alistair said, "But my hand is killing me, sir."

"It is nothing compared to what you inflicted on Miss Harper earlier, I can assure you."

"You already took points off me and gave me a detention," Alistair said, pouting sullenly.

A steely edge of anger crept into Remus' voice. "What did you expect, Mr Thorndike; that I would congratulate you for deliberately jinxing another student? You are fortunate I did not send you straight to the Headmaster."

With his mouth firmly set, Alistair almost stabbed the nib of his quill into a sheet of parchment as he continued to scratch out lines. Remus sat back in his chair, steepled his finger and studied the boy. He reminded him of James and Sirius; they, too, had taken life in school as a joke and found amusement in the misfortunes of others – especially when they had orchestrated it. With a rueful sigh, he recalled how he used to justify their sometimes cruel actions. But the truth was, he had been frightened, frightened that his only friends would abandon him, perhaps even betray his monstrous secret if he had dared to stand up to them.

Over the years, he had come to see the folly of his immature reasoning. James, Sirius, even Peter had become unregistered Animagi for him, of course they would not have abandoned him. They may not have listened to his rebukes, but he should have confronted them, especially over their bullying of Severus.

Today, he had been confronted by the shame of his silence. Remus could not remove the image of the pain, anger and mortification that had been in Evelyn's black eyes – it had felt like he'd been transported twenty years into the past. She was so like her father, for he, too, had always refused to give his aggressors the reaction they desired. It was that, Remus believed, that had driven his friends to torment Severus all the more. They eventually did break Severus, but it cost him his friendship with Lily. By the time sixth year had rolled around, James and Sirius simply acted like Severus no longer existed...that is, until he befriended Deirdre Harper.

Remus stood up, clasped his hands behind his back and slowly paced towards the window. His friends had been relentless in their attempts to convince Deirdre that Severus was a loser she could without. He still remembered the day that Sirius had asked her to be his date to the Halloween ball; Severus' sneers had only encouraged Sirius and he had wrapped an arm around her waist. 'I'll show you a good time, Harper,' he had laughed, 'Snivellus wouldn't know a good time if it was hanging from the end of that huge nose of his'. Of course, Deirdre had shoved him away and threatened to end his hopes of fatherhood if he ever touched her again. Severus' lips had twisted in a cold smirk, although Remus had not missed his venomous glare as he and Sirius had walked away.

The clock chimed four-fifteen. Remus, drawn from his brooding, wondered when Minerva would be finished her meeting with the Board of Governors. As for Severus, he assumed he was on the rota to patrol the school grounds this afternoon. It was the only explanation as to why he hadn't already burst through the door like a baited bear. Remus would wait another twenty minutes; if Minerva did not arrive by then he would allow Alistair to return to the Gryffindor common room.

At that moment, there was a loud knock on the office door.

"Come in," Remus said.

The office door swung open, slamming against the wall. Alistair jumped in his seat, scoring a line of ink across the sheet of parchment. Remus saw the boy's eyes, now tinged with unease, widen. Rounding his desk, Remus took a few quick steps into the middle of his office.

"Ah, Severus," Remus said, "I was wondering if you got the letter I sent to your office –"

Severus' face could have been carved from stone and the deadly glitter in his eyes was almost unnerving. "Since when do I teach in my office, Lupin?"

"Well, yes...I do apologise, Severus..."

"The student who was attacked," Severus spat, "Was too embarrassed to inform me at the beginning of class as to what had happened...despite the lingering pain in her hands and feet. I only found out what happened because she dropped the contents of a cauldron around herself. If you had any real experience of a Stinging Jinx then you would fully understand its side effects.

Remus cringed inwardly. James had hit Severus with several Stinging Jinxes at school. He assumed Evelyn had not been injured in Potions, otherwise he would be dodging curses right now. Nevertheless, he was annoyed at himself for being so careless...and he wished Evelyn had told him she was still in pain.

"So do you see now, Lupin," Severus continued in a silky, patronising voice, "Why sending a letter to my office during school hours is completely and utterly senseless?"

"You are quite right, Severus," Remus said calmly, acknowledging his mistake.

Severus' lip curled back slightly, eyeing him with suspicion. "I would like a word with Mr Thorndike. Alone," he said abruptly, glaring menacingly at the boy, who shrunk further back into his seat.

"Perhaps Mr Thorndike could wait in the hallway while I explain –"

"I am not interested in what you have to say, Lupin."

Remus refused to be intimidated by Severus. After all, he knew he had the upper hand. Severus had already played his trump card – to expose what Remus really was – but they both knew that he would not act without Dumbledore's consent. And for the moment, Dumbledore wanted him at Hogwarts.

"Well, then, I shall wait over by the window while you chat to Mr Thorndike." Severus glowered at him but he said, unfazed, "After all, it is my office."

The tense silence was suddenly broken by the rapid clack-clack-clack of heels in the corridor outside the office.

"Remus," Minerva McGonagall said, bustling into his office and waving a letter around. "This had better be important – I've been kept from my afternoon tea three times this week already. Severus, what are you doing here?"

Severus crossed his arms over his chest, took a small step to one side and motioned his head towards Alistair. "I am here because of him."

Minerva's lips thinned. "Mr Thorndike – why am I not surprised?" She glanced between Remus and Severus. "What, dare I ask, has happened now?"

"He jinxed a student in my class –"

"A Slytherin student," Severus cut in sourly.

Remus saw a flicker of understanding pass across Minerva's face: she knew exactly who Severus was referring to. It did not come as a surprise that she had already been informed of Evelyn's true identity. Minerva, apart from Dumbledore, was the only other teacher in the school that Severus seemed to have any real respect for.

He knew that Severus despised him all the more for having discovered his secret, for knowing his weakness. He would never have willingly told him that Evelyn was a Snape. Remus still remembered the hype over Severus' trial at the end of the war; he had turned on his master and become a spy for the Order, for Dumbledore. There was now no doubt in his mind that Severus had risked everything for Deirdre and Evelyn. How could he blame him, then, for his hostility when he was the former friend of an escaped mass murderer, and a loyal servant of the Dark Lord?

"Get up," Minerva said to Alistair. "Take your hands out of your pockets and stand up straight." She peered sternly over the rim of her spectacles. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?"

...

A vein throbbed dangerously at Severus' temple as he clenched his fists tighter, swallowing the bitter anger in his throat. How like a Marauder to defend one of his own kind; Severus was surprised that Lupin hadn't already served the boy pumpkin juice and biscuits. The deduction of thirty points and a detention with Lupin, who would probably let him read Quidditch magazine for two hours, was far from satisfactory in his eyes. If it were up to him, the boy would be cleaning his house bathrooms for a month, with a toothbrush.

"I'm waiting, Mr Thorndike," Minerva said.

"It was just meant to be a bit of fun, Professor, honest," Alistair said.

Severus shot Lupin a brief, contemptuous look, then scoffed, "Gryffindors have always had a warped sense of fun."

Minerva held up a hand to silence Severus as her lips thinned into a tight line. "Inflicting pain on another person is never to be considered fun! Owning a wand is both a privilege and a responsibility; it is not to be taken lightly, Mr Thorndike." After taking a brief moment to adjust her spectacles, she turned to Severus. "Professor, is there anything you would like to add?"

"You will apologise to Miss Harper, publically, in your next Defence class," he said.

"What! No way!" Alistair protested. "I'm not apologising to that silly cow."

Anger balled in Severus' chest; he wanted to hurt the little snot who had jinxed and insulted his daughter. It would be so easy to reach for his wand, to make him feel the same pain and humiliation he had subjected Evelyn to...

"Mr Thorndike!" Minerva said, her voice shaking, "I am utterly disgusted with your behaviour. In all my years as head of Gryffindor I have never had to deal with such unruliness; you should be ashamed of yourself. Furthermore, until you can show proper respect for both staff and students alike, you can rest assured you will not be trying out for the Quidditch team next year."

Alistair's eyes widened. "You can't do that!"

"You will find, Mr Thorndike, I can, and I will." Minerva said, the gleam in her eyes was like that of a cat when stalking an unsuspecting mouse. "Now, gather up your belongings. And if I receive one – just one more report of disorderly behaviour, you will spend the rest of the year in detention. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor," he said grimly as he slung his schoolbag over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Mr Thorndike, you will also be serving a detention with Professor Snape for your impertinence."

Severus' lips curled into a malicious smile. "I hope you have the stomach for skinning and gutting rats, Mr Thorndike."

Colour drained from Alistair's face. The first time Severus had demonstrated how to gut a rat in class – first by pinning its limbs to a chopping board, then by breaking its rib cage to open up the chest – the boy had turned a sickly shade of green and had almost passed out. Oh yes, Mr Thorndike would lose the contents of his stomach several times before he had finished his detention.

As Alistair scurried from the room, shutting the door behind him, Minerva grabbed fistfuls of her hair and let out a frustrated cry. "That...boy!"

"If he refuses to accept there are consequences for his actions while he is at school, he will learn the hard way out in the world."

Severus turned his head towards Lupin and sneered, "It's a pity, then, you never took your own advice."

"Severus," Minerva said, half chiding him half drawing his attention. "Inform me when you intend to carry out Mr Thorndike's detention...and Remus; I want you to notify me if he so much as puts one toe out of line in your class."

"Certainly, Minerva," Remus said.

"Oh, I almost forgot, Severus...Lucius Malfoy was at the Board of Governors meeting and he asked to speak with you at a convenient time."

Severus frowned. "Where is he now?"

Minerva waved a hand idly. "I told him to wait in the staffroom, although I doubt he paid me any heed. Well, if that's all, then, I am away for my tea...Merlin knows I need it."

Severus made to follow after her, anxious to find Lucius, who, more than likely, had disregarded Minerva and gone down to speak with his son in the dungeons...where Evelyn was.

"Ah, Severus, a word before you go," Remus said.

Turning around, Severus appraised him with an indifferent look. "What is it, Lupin?"

"You can be assured that I will make Mr Thorndike apologise to Evelyn in class."

Severus hid his surprise at the intent in Lupin's voice. "See that you do," he said warningly, then swept from the room.

...

Evelyn had seen Draco and his father too late. There wasn't another corridor she could turn down into and they had already seen her, so ducking into an empty classroom was out of the question. As she drew nearer to them she looped her thumbs casually into her schoolbag straps and met Draco's gaze, nodding a silent hello. To her relief, he merely returned the gesture and continued to walk in step with his father. She had not got five feet past him, however, when he stopped, as if suddenly remembering something.

"Hey, Harper...is it true what they're saying, that you got jinxed by a Gryffindor in Defence class?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Yeah, I did."

"Who was it?" Draco asked.

"You are a Harper?" Lucius said, his brow rising in mild curiosity, before she could answer Draco.

Panic rose up inside of her as she met Lucius' steely gaze. Somehow she thought he would not be as easy to brush off as his son had been on the Hogwarts' Express. She nodded, then said as confidently as she could, "Yes, I am."

His cold grey eyes studied her face for a long moment. "Have I met your parents before?"

"I-I don't know," she said, feeling like a frightened animal caught in a trap. "Maybe."

"You do seem familiar. What are you parents' names?"

"I...uh...my mum...she's..."

"Lucius, I was told you wished to speak with me."

Evelyn snapped her head around at the sound of her father's voice. He strode up to them, his robes billowing behind him as he walked. Relief flooded her. He was here, she was safe. She quickly looked away again and stared down at the scuff marks on her shoes. Let Draco and Mr Malfoy believe she was intimidated by the Head of Slytherin.

"Ah, Severus," Lucius said coolly, "I'm here on tedious business; it is ones duty as a member of the Board of Governors to keep the school's standards from slipping. But, yes, I did want a quick word."

"Of course," her father replied then said, "Draco, I trust you are ready to face Hufflepuff on Saturday?"

Evelyn could sense her father standing directly behind her now. He was so close she could easily take a step back and hide herself inside his robes.

"Yes, sir," Draco said haughtily, "The Quidditch cup is going to remain in the Slytherin trophy cabinet for another year."

Lucius twirled his silver topped cane idly in his hand. "Run along now, Draco, Professor Snape and I have some things to discuss."

"Yes, Father," Draco said then nodded at her father. "Professor."

"Well, Miss Harper." Evelyn turned around and looked up at her father. "Do you not have somewhere else to be as well?

His eyes were narrowed like she had just ruined a cauldron filled with expensive ingredients. It was genuinely frightening, but she caught the hidden meaning behind his words: he wanted her to go to his office and wait for him.

"Yes, Professor, I am on my way to the library."

She turned to go, but Lucius Malfoy stretched out his cane, blocking her path. The silver snake's head was level with her face...its emerald eyes were as sinister looking as its owner's. Despite her father's presence, her heart began to beat faster. Why was he so desperate to find out who her parents were?

"Before you leave, Miss Harper," Lucius said smoothly, "I would like to finish our conversation."

"And what conversation was that?" her father asked, sounding almost bored.

"Miss Harper reminds me of an old friend of mine...in fact, I had lunch with him last Friday. Maybe you remember him, Severus – Aodhán Harper."

"I thought he was dead," Severus said evenly.

"That is what was reported to the Ministry at the time," Lucius said. "But he is alive and well and has been living in Romania these past years. I've managed to tie up some loose ends over the past few months and Cornelius Fudge is more than willing to allow Aodhán to return to Britain; he has even given him a position within the Ministry."

Lucius pressed the silver serpent on his cane into the soft flesh beneath Evelyn's chin, tipping it upwards so he could look at her face properly again. By now Evelyn's heart was pounding in her chest. She wanted her father to take her in his arms and to protect her from Lucius. But he remained motionless behind her.

"The resemblance between Miss Harper and Aodhán is striking, is it not?" He removed the cane from Evelyn's chin and then fixed his gaze on her father. "So you see my interest, Severus. After all, it's not good form to operate without a certain amount of...leverage."

Evelyn did not know what he meant by 'leverage', but the ominous glint in his eyes was enough to send a chill down her spine.

"W-Who's Aodhán Harper?" she asked.

Lucius frowned, seemingly irked by her question.

"I've never heard of him before."

After a long, tense moment, Lucius said, "Then I shall introduce you to him sometime."

Evelyn refrained from sighing with relief when he stepped around her. She had answered him truthfully but Lucius did not seem wholly convinced. She wondered who this Aodhán Harper was, and why, if she looked like him so much, Mum and Dad had never mentioned him before?

"We will talk on the way to the school gates, Severus" Lucius said, "I cannot stay much longer; I have other business to attend to this evening."

As Lucius turned his back on them, Evelyn met her father's gaze. His jaw set and his eyes were colder and harder than she had even seen them before. He jerked his head slightly and mouthed 'go to my office. Now.' She obeyed him without protest, but glancing over her shoulder, she saw him take out his wand as he followed after Lucius.

...

A red flash from Severus' wand ripped the flower heads off an unfortunate begonia growing near the school gates. A guttural sound rumbled in his throat and another begonia, a pink one this time, felt the force of his anger too. Aodhán Harper was alive. If he had only known, he would have registered Evelyn at Hogwarts under another name entirely.

As for Lucius Malfoy, he had not changed one iota in thirteen years. He still did not trust anyone, not even his oldest ally – Aodhán. It was obvious, despite Evelyn's insistence that she didn't know who Aodhán was, that Lucius believed she was the leverage he needed in order to ensure Irishman's loyalty. But Aodhán would no sooner care for Evelyn's wellbeing than he would kiss a Dementor. Indeed, he would probably encourage Lucius to harm her. Severus, however, had taken care of that particular problem: he had Obliviated Lucius' encounter with Evelyn to ensure her safety. He would also find time tomorrow to have a quiet word with Draco in case he, too, needed certain memories altered.

Without a backward glance at the spot where Lucius had Disapparated from a few minutes before, Severus strode back up the path towards the castle. He decided he would speak with Dumbledore later, but for now, he wanted to see to Evelyn. It did not take him long to reach the dungeons, and he was glad to see his daughter sitting on a chair as he opened the door to his office.

"Dad," she said, practically vaulting out of the chair and flinging her arms around him. "You're back."

The tremor in her voice caused a fresh wave of anger to wash over him. He wrapped his arms tighter around his daughter, thankful Minerva had remembered to tell him that Lucius had been looking for him. He finally loosened his hold on her, placed his hands on her shoulders and took a step back.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Evelyn nodded. "I don't like Lucius Malfoy one bit, though. He's a horrible man."

She wasn't the only one to hold that opinion. "Did he say anything else to you before I arrived?"

"No, but who is Aodhán Harper, Dad? Do I really look like him? Everyone always tells me I look like Mum...does she look like him as well, then?"

Severus let go off her shoulders and crossed over to the fireplace. A sickening feeling began to churn in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't yet given thought to what Aodhán's unexpected return would mean for Deirdre. As head of the Anti-Curse department at St. Mungo's, she had regular contact with various Ministry officials; if she came face to face with her cousin, he would recognise her immediately. Severus gritted his teeth; if Aodhán dared to even threaten Deirdre...

"Dad, please," Evelyn said softly, "Won't you tell me who he is?"

Pursing his lips, he stood silently for a moment. He looked at her, staring at him with determined, questioning eyes. As much as he wanted to protect her from the evil that existed in the world, he knew, deep down, that it was far more dangerous for her to be ignorant of it.

"He is your mother's cousin," he finally answered.

"Her cousin?" she said, astonished. "And you thought he was dead?"

"Yes."

After Lucius' revelation Severus would not be surprised if Aodhán had faked his own death. Aurors had hunted him mercilessly after Voldemort's demise, until 'Mad-Eye' Moody eventually cornered him in an abandoned Muggle warehouse. The Daily Prophet at the time had reported that an unexplained explosion had occurred in the warehouse; Moody was later quoted to have said that 'there wasn't even enough of the Irishman left to scrape off the floor'. Severus wondered exactly how long Lucius had been in contact with Aodhán for, and just who the loose ends were that he had tied up. No doubt a copious amount of gold had exchanged hands, but it had probably barely made a dent in the vast Harper fortune.

"Won't Mum be happy to know he's alive?"

Severus sighed heavily and sat down behind his desk. "No," he said, "Aodhán Harper took – takes – great pride in his Pureblood heritage. He does not know your mother overly well, but he hates her, nonetheless, because your grandmother was Muggle-born."

"So he would hate me, too, because I'm...I'm a mongrel."

"What!"

She wrung her hands. "That's what Slytherins call students in the other houses with mixed blood – mongrels."

Severus' face darkened. "I never want to hear you repeat that word again. Ever. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

Severus understood what it was like. He remembered the suspicious glances other Slytherins had given him: Snape was not a Pureblood name. At the time, he had hated being different, hated that the Princes had disowned his mother for marrying a Muggle. But he had adapted quickly and used his love and knowledge of the dark arts to prove that he was every bit as powerful as any Pureblood. Even the most fanatical Slytherins eventually came to respect him. Severus, however, did not want his daughter to grow up believing she had to prove herself to anyone, Pureblood or not.

"Come here," he said. She slipped out of her chair and came to stand beside him. He looked at her intently. "You must never be ashamed of who you are, Evelyn; and never let anyone make you believe you are anything less than a beautiful, intelligent, gifted young witch."

She blinked at him, as if she couldn't quite believe that those words had come from his mouth. She then said in a shaky voice, "You really think so?"

Severus cupped her face in his hand. "I know so."

Smiling shyly, she said, "Even though I'm the worst flyer in my year?"

"Believe me, there are fully grown wizards and witches who would be too frightened to get onto a broom again if they had a fall like yours."

"But what if I fail the class..."

"It doesn't matter, I'm already proud of you."

"You are?"

"You have refused to give into your fear, Evelyn." He then smirked. "Besides, I heard Madam Hooch say in the staffroom that she won't need to fit your broom with stabilisers after all."

She glared at him half-heartedly. "That's not funny, Dad!"

Letting go of her chin, Severus took her hands in his. He turned them over, inspecting them. "Has the pain subsided?"

"Yeah, it's almost away."

"Good." Severus glanced over at a clock on the wall. "It's time you went to the Great Hall; dinner will be served in ten minutes."

"I'm not hungry," she said. "I think I'm just going to go back to my dorm."

Her stomach gave a loud growl at that moment and Severus eyed her with disapproval. "Your stomach, it seems, does not agree with you."

"I've a few oatcakes in my trunk, I can –"

"Evelyn..."

"Dad, please" she begged, "Don't make me go to the Great Hall..."

Severus suddenly understood. She was still embarrassed by what had happened in Defence class. He had always forced himself to face the Marauders, no matter what they had done to him, because he never had anyone who had cared enough to take a stand for him. Only Deirdre had ever stood in his corner, but she, like him, had never been in the position to punish Potter and his troop of morons. He did not want the same to be true for Evelyn; he wanted her to know that there was someone who cared enough, someone who would fight the battles she could not.

"You need to eat, Evelyn." He raised a hand to silence any further protests from her. "So you will eat here, with me."

Her eyes widened in surprise, swiftly followed by a deep look of thankfulness. She then flung her arms around him for the second time since he had entered the room. "You're the best, Dad."

Severus' lips twitched into a contented smile as he held her close.

Chapter 14: Chapter 13

I'm finally getting around to posting a new chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has left a review, added this story to their favourties or are following it.

Enjoy...

Chapter Thirteen

Two days later, Evelyn was awakened by a muffled ringing from underneath her pillow. With a sleepy groan, she reached under the pillow and pulled out a wind-up alarm clock, silencing it with a thump. Rubbing her eyes, she yawned and stretched. She finally forced herself to sit up, resisting the temptation to close her eyes again. It was still pitch black, not surprisingly, since it would be at least another hour until the first grey light of dawn. The heavy silence in the room reassured her that the other girls were still asleep and would hopefully be for another few hours.

Flinging the duvet off, she reached for her wand on a bedside table and whispered, "Lumos."

After drawing back the curtains and shoving her feet into a pair of fleece-lined slippers, she gathered up a pile of clothes and her toiletry bag she'd left out the night before. Padding quietly into the bathroom, she got washed and dressed as quickly as she could, then returned to her bedside. She rolled her pyjamas up and put them under her pillow before going to the trunk at the foot of her bed. Opening it, she took out a small parcel and tucked it safely into her cardigan pocket. Finally ready, she crept out of the dorm and down the spiral staircase to the common room. Thankfully, no one else was up yet, though there was a sixth year sound asleep on a settee with an open book draped over his chest, snoring like a dragon with a bad cold.

Once she was out in the corridor, she hurried along it towards her father's quarters. He was an early riser; even during the summer holidays he was awake with the birds, or so Mum said. It was the first time she had been to his quarters; she'd never really had a reason to go to there before now. But, being a Sunday morning, this was her only opportunity to see her father without her friends asking awkward questions. After all, who really wanted to have to talk to a professor if it could be avoided?

She soon reached a large painting that guarded the entrance to his quarters. A tall, well built knight in black armour stood on the ramparts of a castle, the colours of a long-gone dynasty flying proudly above the keep. He had his back to her and, although she knew it was only a painting, the great broadsword in his right hand was rather intimidating. She looked down and read the inscription at the bottom of the gold embossed picture frame: Edward of Woodstock, the Black Prince.

"Um, good morning," Evelyn said, "I'm here to see my...I mean, Professor Snape."

The almost life-size knight turned around slowly and lifted the visor shielding his face. His eyes were wild, fierce, as if the heat of a recently fought battle still thrummed through his veins. He scrutinised her for a long moment before finally speaking.

"What business doth thou have with Professor Snape?" he said, his voice resounding with royal authority.

"I need to see him."

"Why should I summon him? Thou dost not appear to be vexed or injured," he said.

"But –"

"Thou shalt not waste yon Professor's time. Be gone." He turned his back to her again.

Evelyn felt her annoyance rise. She had not dragged herself out of bed at six o'clock on a Sunday morning for a Ye-Olde-Knight to tell her to clear off. Nevertheless, she held her composure. If Dad had chosen this particular painting, then it was unlikely it would give in to insults or temper tantrums.

"Excuse me, Sir Knight," she said as sweetly as she could.

"Art thou still here?" he drawled, turning around.

"Yes, I am. I need to see the Professor...it's important."

Clearly rankled by her persistence, he drove the deadly point of his broadsword into the oil-painted grass. "Thou art like the buzzing of gnats; a droning, clay-brained bugbear."

Dad had definitely picked this painting.

"Can you please tell the Professor that Evelyn Harper wishes to speak with him?"

To her surprise, he instantly sheathed the broadsword and swiftly disappeared out of the picture frame. She guessed that there must be a frame somewhere in her father's quarters for the knight to enter and alert him of any visitors.

After a minute or so, the Black Prince re-entered the frame. "You may enter, Miss Harper."

Breathing a sigh of relief, she stepped through the doorway as the picture frame swung open. Why hadn't she just said her name to begin with? She walked down a short hallway and got her first glimpse of the living room. It was neat and surprisingly airy for being in the bowels of the castle. One wall was lined with a bookcase crammed full of books, old and new. A sideboard took up the opposite wall and Evelyn, curious, walked towards it. There were several photograph frames on it. She picked one up: it was of her parents in sixth year. Mum was smiling and Dad looked uncomfortable, as he always did in photographs. Evelyn traced a finger over his face; even still, he looked so different. He didn't look worn or haggard, he seemed almost...carefree. What had happened to him? Had it been the war? Or did he really hate teaching that much? She didn't know.

She set it down and looked at the other frames, a gasp of astonished delight escaping her lips. The pictures were all of her! One had been taken during her last year at primary school – Mum must have sent him a copy. In another one, she was dressed in witches' robes, ready to go Halloweening in Spinner's End – it was the only time of the year she could wear them in front of Muggles without raising any eyebrows. Plus, with Halloween being her birthday she always got new robes. Her gaze lingered on the last frame, however, and she picked it up. She could not have been more than three or four years old. She only vaguely remembered being at the zoo that day. In the photograph, she was in her father's arms by the penguin enclosure, watching them with rapt attention catch and swallow fish whole. Dad, however, wasn't watching the penguins; he was looking at her, the corners of his lips curved in the barest of smiles.

"Evelyn, what are you doing here?"

Quickly setting the photograph down, she spun around and saw father standing at the foot of a spiral staircase that must have led up to his bedroom. His brows were knitted in a frown and she remembered that she had told the knight it was important she spoke with him.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Dad," she said, wondering if she should have warned him first before appearing at his door. "I just wanted to come and see you, that's all."

His expression changed from one of concern to one of surprise almost immediately. "At a quarter past six in the morning?"

"I thought we could have breakfast together...you know, because it's your birthday."

He gave a noncommittal grunt and crossed to a small kitchenette at the far end of the living room. He lifted a kettle and filled it with water from a tap. Evelyn knew he didn't particularly like his birthday, mainly because he hated any kind of fuss being made over him. Mum once told her that during his first year teaching at Hogwarts, the house-elves somehow found out it was his birthday and had filled his quarters with cakes and cream buns and balloons and banners that played 'happy birthday' on loop. He had reached the kitchen before they'd had time to decorate the Great Hall as well. Needless to say, the house-elves had never attempted to celebrate his birthday for him again. Evelyn still laughed when she recalled the story.

Her father had just thrown a used teabag into the bin when a plate of food appeared on the table. It was a full English breakfast, fresh from the kitchen, complete with two rounds of buttery toast. It smelt delicious.

"Do you want me to have another one sent for you?" he asked, setting a mug, along with two knives and two forks onto the table.

Evelyn joined him at the table. "No, I'll just nick a sausage and piece of toast off your plate." She pulled the small parcel out from her cardigan pocket and handed it to him. "Oh, I got you this. Happy birthday."

His features softened as he took it from her. "Thank you," he said. "You did not need to get me anything."

She shrugged her shoulders. "I wanted to, though."

Evelyn watched, slightly frustrated, as she began to methodically peel away each strip of Sellotape. Mum always did exactly the same thing; what were they afraid of – ripping the wrapping paper? Finally, he opened it and placed the small, black cube onto the palm of his hand.

"It's an All-In-One weight," Evelyn said, "You just tap it with your wand and say whatever weight you want."

Still looking at the cube, he arched an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued, then took out his wand and tapped it. "Eight ounces," he said, and his arm dipped slightly as the weight of the cube increased.

"Do you like it?"

He placed the cube carefully onto the table. "I do, very much so."

Evelyn smiled, chuffed, then asked, "What did Mum get you?"

With one hand he pointed towards himself, a satisfied glint in his eyes. Evelyn leant forward in her chair, looking carefully at him. "What is it? I don't see it."

"It is called a suit, Evelyn."

"Oh...right." It looked almost exactly the same as his old one. "It's nice."

She took a slice of toast and a sausage, which she cut in half to make a butty. A dollop of tomato ketchup would have made it perfect, but she would just have to do without it this time. As she munched on her breakfast, she wondered if this could become a new Snape family tradition. She wouldn't mind giving up her Sunday morning lie-in every week to spend a few hours with Dad. Maybe some weeks he could even smuggle Mum into his quarters as well.

After polishing off her sausage butty and wiping her mouth with the back of hand, while her father wasn't looking, she said, "Dad...did you decide yet whether you're going to teach me defence?"

She crossed her fingers underneath the table while he pushed his plate away and took a mouthful of tea.

"If I do teach you..." He held up a hand at her excited yes. "If I do, Evelyn, you must promise you will pretend ignorance in Professor Lupin's class; or use any spell I teach you anywhere in the castle."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Evelyn..."

"OK, OK. I promise."

...

"Are you going to eat that?"

Severus gave her an odd look, wondering how her mind could switch from secret defence lessons to an uneaten rasher of bacon, a hash brown and a black pudding so quickly. Nevertheless, he shook his head. She dragged the plate towards her and picked up the slightly crispy rasher with her fingers.

"Knife and fork, Evelyn," he said, "You are not a savage."

"It's only a bit of bacon, Dad," she huffed.

"Good manners will never go to waste."

"You sound just like Mum."

"In that we both know what we say is right?"

He smirked as she reached for her knife and fork, muttering something under her breath. Rising from his chair, he lifted the All-In-One weight, bringing it into a moderately sized potions laboratory annexed to the living room. In Horace Slughorn's day it had been used as a dining room; the wangling professor had needed somewhere to host the members of the Slug Club. Severus quickly found a space on a shelf to store his new weight, though he doubted it would remain there for long. It was an ingenious gift, really, and he was touched by Evelyn's thoughtfulness.

Returning to the living room, he stood silently for a moment, watching his daughter finish off his leftovers. He was still overwhelmed that she had purposely got up early to spend time with him. That in itself was far more precious than any gift she could have bought him. He did not fully understand what had brought about this turnaround in their relationship, but he treasured every moment he had alone with Evelyn, when they were free to simply be father and daughter.

For many years he had lived with fear, believing that his only child resented him; or rather, she resented his frequent absences from her life. The strong bond she'd always had with her mother had grown stronger over the past few years, and sometimes he felt like an outsider, an intruder almost. Uncertain, he had kept his distance, and Evelyn, regrettably, had kept hers too. He didn't blame her, or Deirdre; how could he? She had practically raised Evelyn on her own.

Severus' right hand unconsciously covered his left arm. He wasn't the husband or the father his family deserved, he knew that. They deserved better – far better. But he was selfish. He loved them too much, needed them too much to let them go; they were his purpose in life. Without them, what would he have become?

Severus, seeing that Evelyn had almost wiped his plate clean, took out his wand to make some space to duel. He straightened the pictures frames on the sideboard as he walked past it, remembering that Evelyn had been looking at them before he had come downstairs earlier. He paused at the photograph of Deirdre and himself at school, once more reminded him of everything that could have been, before Voldemort had stolen his life. Sometimes he wondered why he tortured himself in such a way; perhaps it was because somewhere deep inside of him he still clung to hope, hope that he and Deidre and Evelyn could one day really live.

His fingers brushed the last frame. Had Evelyn even remembered their trip to the zoo? He had hated the pressing crowds, the screaming children and, most of all, the unsupervised teenagers. He had suffered through it, but only for Evelyn's sake. It had been worth it, however. Once his daughter had realised that his tall frame made a perfect perch from which she could see all the animals clearly, she had refused to allow him to put her down. It was a demand he had been more than willing to give in to. Deirdre had taken dozens of pictures that day, but this one, at the penguin enclosure, was his favourite. He could still hear her small, sweet voice: Daddy, it eated the fishes all up!

After he had rearranged some of the furniture Evelyn joined him in the middle of the living room. He was pleased to see her eyes aglow with enthusiasm; he was even more pleased that she wanted him to hone her defence skills. Her unwelcomed encounter with Lucius Malfoy, along with his news of Deirdre's cousin, had caused him to rethink his decision to privately tutor Evelyn. It had forced him to realise how vulnerable she was, even within the walls of Hogwarts.

"What are we going to do this morning?" A mischievous smile played on her lips. "Can you teach me the Stunning Spell?"

Severus frowned at her impetuousness. She had a lot to learn. "No, not today," he said. "We will practice deflection."

"Deflection?" she said. "But we haven't done that in class yet."

Refraining from releasing an exasperated sigh, he said, "That is precisely why I am going to teach it to you today."

"Why can't we practice the same way we did on Friday afternoon? I want to be even faster at casting spells, then I'll be able to beat Thorndike for sure next time."

Pursing his lips together, Severus flicked his wrist. A second later, Evelyn's legs locked together and she toppled backwards onto her backside. She landed with an oof, then glared up at him angrily.

"What was that for?" she said, "That wasn't fair!"

"I was faster at casting a spell than you." He tilted his head slightly to one side. "Tell me, how was I being unfair?"

Once he had removed the Leg-Lock, Evelyn stood up, gently rubbing her backside, looking decidedly put-out. "Yeah, well, you could have at least warned me."

"In a real duel, Evelyn, your opponent will rely on the element of surprise," he said in a low, measured voice. "That is why the ability to deflect a spell is paramount."

"Now," he said, motioning casually with his hand, "Stand further back. Stop, that's far enough. I will cast a spell and I want you to deflect it."

Evelyn stood with her weight on one foot, idly twirling her wand between her thumb and forefinger. "I thought you said it was all about the element of surprise."

Severus scowled, peering down his hooked nose at her. "Any more of your cheek and this will be your last and only lesson."

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Still frowning, he raised his wand and said, "Expelliarmus,"

A few seconds later Evelyn's wand clattered to the floor. He had been mindful to control the force of the spell, as the last thing he wanted was to send her hurtling across the living room. Nevertheless, he saw the sullen, dejected look on her face as she stared at her empty hand, then watched her pick up her wand with pursed lips. For a brief moment he saw himself in his daughter. How many times had he seen that same expression in the mirror? An odd feeling overcame him; he wasn't sure whether to be pleased or dismayed.

...

Evelyn gripped her wand tightly as she faced her father again. This lesson was not turning out how she had envisaged it. He had pounced on her twice, and both times she had failed miserably to defend herself. But, she didn't really want to admit that perhaps he had been right about deflection all along: that it was paramount.

"We will try that again," her father said with an edge to his voice, "This time – focus."

Sensing that she was trying his patience, she straightened up and readied herself for another attack. As she expected, he didn't cast a spell immediately. There was little point in watching his expression for a sign: it was as impassive as always. Instead, she focused her attention on his wand hand. When he did finally attack, he struck with the speed and accuracy of a serpent. This time, however, Evelyn felt magic course through her hand, she felt her wand's resistance against the spell, but, still, it flew out of her hand.

She quickly scooped up her wand and retook her stance. "Cast another spell, Dad, I almost had it that time."

He nodded and she imagined she saw his lips quirk in the hint of a smile.

Half an hour later, Evelyn finally blocked a spell. She punched the air with her fist and let out a triumphant whoop. Moments later, though, her father cast another spell, but she reacted quickly and successfully blocked it, too.

"Did you see that, Dad?" she said, grinning. "You were like swish and I was like whoosh..."

"Indeed," he said, clearly finding little amusement in her dramatic re-enactment.

Evelyn looked up at him somewhat anxiously. "I'm getting better, though, right?"

"Yes, you are progressing well."

She smiled, pleased that he was pleased with her. "Can we practice some more?"

"No, not today." He pocketed his wand. "I intend to speak to the headmaster this afternoon; I am sure he will be agreeable to me tutoring you, under the guise of remedial Potions lessons, of course."

She screwed up her face, confused. "What?"

He crossed his arms over his chest. "After Friday's disaster, you will require extra lessons –"

"But that wasn't my fault," she began to protest, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"I am not disputing that, Evelyn," he said, "But, you will need a reason to see me after school hours without raising suspicion."

Evelyn, heaving an irritated sigh, raised her arms then let them flop back down by her side. "Why can't I just tell people you're my dad?"

"You know why," he said.

Ignoring the finality in his tone, she pressed, "But if you teach me how to defend myself then you won't need to worry about anyone hurting me."

"We are not going to discuss this any further."

Frustration began to swell in her chest. "But everyone is Slytherin respects you; they're hardly going to hurt me or let anyone else –"

"That's enough, Evelyn," he said sternly.

"Why do you and Mum always do this? You act like I'm a baby and don't have a clue what's going on?" She glared at him defiantly. "I know there's stuff you're not telling me."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You are acting like an infant now."

"I am not!" she said, her temper beginning to rise.

"I beg to differ."

"Well, if you or Mum won't talk to me, then I'm going to talk to someone who will," she said, striding past him.

Her father's hand clamped down on her shoulder, roughly forcing her to turn around. "Do not even think speaking with Professor Lupin. Do you understand me?"

Jerking away from his, she said, "Afraid he'll tell me all about the pranks he used to play on you?"

The moment the words had tumbled from her lips Evelyn knew she had ratted herself out.

Shock filled his eyes, but a split second later, however, they were ablaze with fury. "How do you know about that?"

Frightened, she frantically tried to think of something but couldn't."

"Answer me!" her father ground out the words.

"I...I heard you and Mum talking about it in the kitchen..."

His face darkened even more. "You are an eavesdropping little sneak! How dare you."

Evelyn's throat tightened and burned. "I'm...I'm sorry."

"It's too late for that now, isn't it?" Biting derision laced every word. "Get back to your dorm. Now."

Tears blurred her vision as she scrambled to get her cardigan. She fumbled with the buttons, putting them through the wrong buttonholes, but she didn't notice. Without a backward glance, she hurried down the short hallway and out through the door into the corridor. She wiped the tears from her eyes and walked back to the Slytherin common room, hoping no one was awake yet.

...

By lunch time on Tuesday, Severus was glad he had the rest of the afternoon free – an annual careers fair meant that all of his fifth and sixth year classes had been cancelled. Leaning back on his chair, sipping on a much needed cup of tea, his thoughts once more drifted to the debacle with Evelyn on Sunday. He regretted losing his temper with her, especially after he had accused her of behaving like a child. But, she should have known better than to lurk in doorways, listening in to other peoples' conversations.

He set down his cup and picked up a quill to mark third year essays; anything to take his mind of Evelyn. As usual, most of them were woeful and grammar, it seemed, was a foreign concept. Glancing at the name scrawled at the top of the first essay in the pile – Ron Weasley – Severus rolled his eyes. Potter's, no doubt, would be next, but it was perhaps best to get the worst out of the way quickly. Knuckling down, he dipped the quill into an ink pot and began to read.

He was halfway through marking Draco Malfoy's essay, having survived Weasley and Potter's incoherent nonsense and Miss Granger's seemingly endless ramblings, when a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in," he said.

He heard the door open and close gently, and without lifting his head he said intolerantly, "What do you want?"

"Is that anyway to speak to you wife, Professor?"

Severus' head snapped up. "Deirdre! What are you doing here?"

"Healer Reynolds was supposed to be manning the St. Mungo's stall at the careers fair but he's sick today," she said, "So, they sent me instead."

"I see."

Deirdre reached inside her pocket and took out a letter. "I also got this from Evelyn this morning; she claims you threw her out of your quarters on Sunday."

"It is nothing but the histrionics of a twelve year old," he said somewhat dismissively.

She opened the letter. "Then maybe you could explain this," she said, clearing her throat. "He was so angry with me, I was really scared. He made me cry."

A stab of guilt pierced him; he had been too enraged, his pride too wounded to take any notice of her feelings on Sunday. Clearly, though, she was still upset, upset enough to write to her mother. Why couldn't she have come to him instead? Perhaps it's because you have the sensitivity of an ogre.

Folding the letter again, she stared at him accusingly. "Well?"

Despite his compunction, he was not prepared to accept all of the blame. Standing abruptly to his feet, Severus rounded his desk. "Did Evelyn elaborate on why I was upset with her?"

"So you did lose the rag with her?"

Severus crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "She eavesdropped on a conversation of ours and then had the impertinence to ridicule me with what she overhead."

"Which was what?"

"It concerned Lupin and his...pranks."

He saw Deirdre blanch a little. "I see," she said, running a finger and thumb absently along the fold of the letter. "Even still, Severus, you should have controlled your temper."

Narrowing his eyes, he said, "What would you have had me do: sit her down and tell her stories over tea and biscuits what Potter and Black put me through?"

"No, of course not," she said, "I don't expect you to tell her anything...but..."

"Yes?"

"Well," she began softly, "You told me she was embarrassed by what happened on Friday in Defence class. Perhaps if you told her you had similar experiences in school, without going into any details, she might understand better why you were angry with her."

"You are forgetting one thing, Deirdre: our daughter is not content with simple answers, she has to probe into everything."

"I'm sure you will be able to handle her; you are the head of Slytherin, after all," she said, then smirked, "Or do you need a Ravenclaw to teach you something about shrewdness?"

His lips thinned. "Don't you have a stall to attend to?"

"I do," she said, sitting down on a chair, crossing one leg over the other. "But not for another twenty minutes."

"I suppose you'll be wanting a cup of tea."

"Yes, since you offered so nicely."

He snorted and summoned a house-elf.

After a house-elf had brought a fresh pot of tea and an extra cup for Deirdre, Severus settled back down into his chair. He glanced over this rim of his cup at her, hating having to admit that perhaps she was right: Evelyn did need to understand why he had lashed out at her like he did. Where would he begin, though? With his own dysfunctional family; or with the boys who had hated him simply because he existed? He could barely bring himself to discuss these things with Deirdre, never mind their daughter. One thing he did know, however, was that he could not allow their relationship to sour, not again.

Chapter 15: Chapter 14

Finally, I've gotten around to getting a new chapter posted! Thank you to everyone who is following this story - and for all of the lovely reviews :) A wee shout out to my chums - you know who you are - for your help, and for persisting with my endless questions.

Now, on with the show.

Enjoy...

Chapter 14

Evelyn closed the book with a frustrated sigh. She had a test tomorrow on the Flyway Code, but she could barely concentrate on anything. Madam Hooch would throw a wobbler if she failed the test – the professor had already practically labelled her as the worst flyer in the year. She pushed the book to one side and lifted her revision notes instead. A lot of the code was common sense: wear goggles at all times; do not fly in Muggle areas; steer clear of the Muggle metal birds –Evelyn always laughed at that one. However, much of the Flyway Code made very little sense to her. There were no lanes or sign posts or signals in the skies; flying, it seemed, was a free-for-all. But if she wrote that in her test the professor would give her a big fat nought.

Learning back in her chair, Evelyn looked up at the clock on the wall. It was half past seven; curfew was in half an hour. She had come to the library for peace and quiet to study, but, left to her own thoughts, her concentration had actually been worse. She couldn't shake the argument she'd had with her father on Sunday. He had never reacted in that way before, not even when she had fed pigeons in the street with a bag of saffron seeds from his laboratory. He had been livid, said he would stop her pocket money until every last sickle had been paid to replace the seeds – he never did carry out his threat, though. But he had not spat so viciously at her then, or called her a name either. Eavesdropping little sneak, that's what he'd said. It still stung.

The argument hadn't been her fault anyway, not really. Her parents were the ones keeping secrets from her. Nevertheless, she kept churning everything over in her mid, trying to make sense of it all, to connect the dots. Dad had been madder at her for eavesdropping than for pestering him with questions about why she couldn't tell anyone her was her father. What was it about Professor Lupin that made him so angry? She remembered how much she had wanted to hurt Alistair Thorndike after he had jinxed her in class. But Lupin had made him apologise to her in front of the whole class on Monday. Edmund had all but stuffed his fist into his mouth to keep himself from exploding with laughter. Of course, it was obvious that Alistair was not sorry in the least, yet, for her, it was a vindication. Perhaps if Lupin simply said he was sorry for whatever he had done then it might set things aright.

Sighing, she decided to spend another twenty minutes or so cramming as much of the Flyway Code into her brain as she could. It would probably not amount to much, though. She had only been reading for about five minutes when someone cleared their throat beside her. She looked up and saw an older student, a library assistant, by her desk. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Are you Evelyn Harper?"

"Yes."

She held out a folded piece of parchment. "This is for you."

"Who's it from?" Evelyn said.

The girl, a Slytherin prefect, simply shrugged her shoulders. "It came to the common room; someone said you were here, that's all I know."

With that she walked off. Evelyn quickly unfolded the parchment and read the single sentence written on it: Miss Harper, see me in my office at half past eight – we need to have a little talk. Professor Lupin.

She chewed on her bottom lip, knowing fine well what he wanted to talk to her about. They had been learning about curses and counter-curses in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and while everyone else in the class had read through pages and pages in their textbooks for their essay, she had written to her mother. Of course, she hadn't mentioned exactly what it was she wanted the information for. And true to her Ravenclaw nature, Mum had given her detailed answers to all of her questions, which Evelyn had then put into her essay. Clearly, though, Lupin had not been fooled into thinking it was her own work.

Evelyn glanced at the clock on the wall again. She could stay in the library until a quarter past eight; she had a letter from a professor so she would not get into trouble for being out after curfew.

As she left the library twenty minutes later, Evelyn felt Madam Pince's cavilling gaze on her, but she avoided all eye contact with the pinched-face witch. The hallways were quiet, although a few older students still roamed about; their curfew was not until nine. Edmund and Gregory would probably wonder where she had got to, unless they got sucked into the ongoing Gobstones competition between the first and second years again. The world around them ceased to exist when that happened. Earlier, they had gone down to the Quidditch pitch to watch the team practice before the big match against Hufflepuff on Saturday. She had wanted to go too, but the test tomorrow loomed over her like a dark cloud. Of course, it was a certified fact that the badgers would be slaughtered and Slytherin would cruise into the final. The Quidditch cup would rest safely in the Slytherin trophy cabinet for another year, or so Draco Malfoy boasted. It was probably the only thing she would ever agree with him on. Most Slytherins, though, tended to agree with everything he said; after her unpleasant encounter with his father she could understand why. Indeed, she hoped that she never met Mr Malfoy again.

Turning down the corridor that led to Lupin's office, she slowed her steps as she approached his classroom. The door was slightly ajar and she could hear scuffling inside. Quietly, she crept towards the door and peeked through the narrow opening. At the far end of the room she saw lights – wands. What were they doing in Lupin's classroom? Slipping silently inside the room, she edged closer to whoever it was.

"Hurry up!" someone hissed.

"I can't find it."

"Check all the drawers."

"They won't open."

Maybe she should get the professor. But as she took a step backwards she knocked over a bin. The two boys in the room spun around, training their wands on her. Threads of silvery moonlight filtered in through the windows, silhouetting her. However, she managed to deflect the first spell cast at her; it hit an old wardrobe instead, breaking open the lock. The second one was easily fended off as well, then she ducked behind a desk. She smirked to herself, having just held off two older students.

"Who was that?"

"I don't know. Let's just get out of here."

The door slammed behind them as they left. Evelyn remained where she was for a moment, to ensure they would be long gone before she left the classroom. Lupin must have confiscated something of theirs during class, and they wanted it back. Did they really think the professor was naive enough to leave whatever it was lying in full view?

A stool toppled over somewhere in the classroom, and Evelyn froze. Was there someone still in the room? She peeked around the desk but she couldn't see anyone. "Hello?" she said. "Who's there?"

She was met with only silence.

Two more stools clattered to the floor. Her heart began to beat a little faster in her chest and she gripped her wand tighter. "Lumos," she whispered.

A horrified scream caught in Evelyn's throat. Pinned on her were two yellow eyes, glistening with a predatory hunger. A hideous grin stretched across an almost human face, revealing row after row of razor sharp teeth. Her blood turned to ice in her veins – it was a manticore.

Evelyn fell backwards, entangling herself in her robes. "Help!" she screamed. "Please, someone help me!"

The manticore crept closer, its huge head looming over her. Above it, its scorpion-like tail swished to and fro. Sobbing hysterically now, Evelyn half crawled half slithered under a desk and curled into a quivering ball on the floor.

Suddenly, the door burst open, three glowing wands giving light to the room.

"Riddikulus!" a voice shouted, forcing the boggart back into the wardrobe.

"Bloody hell, what was that?" another voice said.

"It was a manticore."

"A what?"

"Honestly, Ron, have you ever read a single book in your entire life?"

"Hermione, do you see anyone in here? I don't."

"But Harry, we heard screaming..."

"Maybe it was the manticore."

"Manticores do not scream, Ron; they croon, some can even speak. They're fascinating, really, very dangerous, though, which is why the Ministry –"

"If I ever didn't want a lecture on manticores, it's now."

"Check the you-know-what, Harry; what does it say?"

There was a rustling of parchment. "Says here Evelyn Harper is in the room."

Evelyn, still huddled under the table, barely registered the voices. But then a light illuminated where she was hiding. She tried to scramble away from it, but calmed down when she saw a wholly human face behind the light. The older girl reached out a hand, Evelyn took it and she gently pulled her to her feet. It was then she finally got a proper look at her and, to her surprise, it was Hermione Granger.

"Are you all right?"

"Is...is it gone?" Evelyn squeaked.

"Yes, it was only a boggart. It won't scare you again."

Evelyn's eyes widened. "A...a boggart?" she said and Hermione nodded.

She couldn't believe it. Heat quickly began to creep up her neck, and she wanted to crawl back under the table again. She felt ridiculously stupid. She should have known it was only a boggart - there were no manticores in Britain.

"What are you doing in here?" Ron Weasley said accusingly. "What are you up to?"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Don't be so rude."

"She's a bloody Slytherin, Hermione; they're always up to something." Then Ron's eyes widened with recognition. "You're that wee rat who lied to Snape for Malfoy!"

Evelyn defences shot up, hard as iron. Crossing her arms, she shot Ron a withering glare, one her father would be proud of. "You Gryffindors think you're so far above everyone else, but you're not – you're pathetic."

Hermione raised her brow slightly, eyeing her peculiarly, but she said nothing. Ron's face, however, quickly turned into an oversized beetroot. Before he could do or say anything, though, the candles in the room flickered to life.

"Harry, Ron...Hermione?" Professor Lupin said, somewhat surprised. "What are you three doing here? It is after curfew."

"We...we..." Hermione stuttered.

"We were studying late, professor," Harry said.

Lupin folded his arms. "With what books, Harry?"

Spots of pink appeared on Harry's cheeks. He was a terrible liar.

Ron quickly pointed at Evelyn. "What about her?"

"Miss Harper has permission to be out." He looked and Evelyn, frowning. "She was supposed to come and see me."

"I was on my way, professor," Evelyn said in earnest, "But I saw two boys in here, and then...then a boggart got out of the wardrobe."

Ron snorted, muttering, "A likely story."

Evelyn clenched her jaw tightly. She really did not like Ron Weasley.

"We'll talk about this more in my office," Lupin said, "As for you three; I never want to see you out past curfew again. Is that understood?"

"Aw, come on, sir; I bet you and Harry's dad –"

Lupin cut him off, his voice firm. "Is it understood, Mr Weasley?"

"Yes, sir."

The trio left without any further protest, clearly knowing they had got off lightly for being out after curfew. Any other professor would have put them all straight into detention. But, apparently, Lupin had been friends with Harry's father in school. Evelyn had seen a picture of him in a book that Edmund had – Hogwarts: A history of school Quidditch. Harry looked a lot like him. Then it struck her: when she had been eavesdropping, Mum had said that Lupin and his friends had played pranks on Dad. Had James Potter been a prankster as well?

"Come with me, Evelyn," Lupin said, rousing her from her thoughts.

Once they were in his office and Lupin had closed the door, Evelyn said, "Professor, I really did see two boys in the classroom, and..." Her face paled a little. "And...there really was a boggart."

"I believe you," he said, steepling his fingers. "But we still have to have a talk about your essay. Where did you get all of that information from?"

Evelyn fidgeted in her seat. "My mum," she said quietly, not looking at him.

"Allowing someone else to do your work for you is called cheating, Evelyn." Lupin pursed his lips. "I am disappointed in you."

Her throat tightened with emotion. "I'm sorry, sir."

"But...I'm going to give you another chance. You can rewrite the essay – in your own words this time."

Evelyn looked up at him, taken aback, relieved. "You...You aren't going to tell Professor Snape, then?"

He gave her a half smile. "No, it'll remain between the two of us. Only, do not let it happen again."

"It won't, professor, I promise."

A small smile crept across her mouth. She would have hated for her father to have found out. He would have been furious at her. She already hated the tension between them because of the argument, and that would have only made things worse.

Lupin stood up. "Come, I'll walk you to the dungeons."

...

The next morning, Evelyn was the last of the girls in her dorm to be up and dressed. Her head hurt and she was more exhausted than when she went to bed last night. But after the nightmare she had lain awake, too afraid to close her eyes again. She had awakened with a start, sweat beaded on her forehead, her heart racing. Yet no matter how many times she had told herself that the manticore had not been real, sleep had not overtaken her again.

In the Great Hall she forced herself to eat breakfast; her friends would ask awkward questions if she didn't. She did not want anyone to know that an encounter with a boggart had terrified her so much, not even Edmund and Gregory. It was humiliating. As she took a mouthful of cereal she peeked through a gap between two students sitting opposite her, spying Harry and his friends at the Gryffindor table. Apart from Professor Lupin, they were the only ones in the whole school who knew what had happened, and what her worst fear was. Maybe they would simply forget what had happened.

"You all ready for the test?" Edmund asked, spreading damson jam over a slice of toast.

The test!

Evelyn had completely forgotten about it. "Err...Yeah, I think so."

"I asked my cousin in Ravenclaw what it is like – she did it two years ago. She told me it's deadly."

She made a frustrated noise in her throat. "Thanks, Ed; that makes me feel a whole lot better."

Looking up at the High Table, Evelyn hoped that Madam Hooch wasn't there – maybe she had come down with a sudden case of Bulgarian Boils and would be out sick for weeks. No such luck. She was eating her breaking, chatting with Professor Vector, the perfect picture of health.

While watching Madam Hooch, she became acutely aware someone was watching her in turn. She turned her head slightly and locked gazes with her father. He took a sip of tea, then looked away again. Was he still mad at her? They hadn't spoken to each other since Sunday, except in class; even then it had only been a few obligatory words. The letter to Mum hadn't done much good; in her reply she had said she needed to work things out with her father herself. How was she supposed to that of he didn't keep her behind after class or send for her in the evenings – no one willingly spoke to Professor Snape, after all.

She turned back to her breakfast and took another few mouthfuls of cereal. But when she looked to the High Table again her father was gone.

...

"Severus!"

Severus halted at the top of the stairwell that led down to the dungeons Turning around, his lips flattened into a thin line. "What is it, Lupin?"

"A quick word with you, that's all."

He crossed his arms over his chest, regarding Lupin with an impatient look. "Well?"

"Has Evelyn ever encountered a boggart before?" Lupin said one hand tucked casually into his trouser pocket, clearly unintimidated by him.

"No."

"Yes...well, she came across one last night," Lupin said, "Har...A few students came to her aid. She never mentioned what form the boggart took, but –"

"Why I am only hearing about this now?" Severus demanded.

His brow rose slightly in surprise. "I thought Evelyn would have mentioned it to you by now."

"Meaning what, Lupin?"

Lupin shook his head. "I was not implying anything, Severus. I was just concerned –"

"As touching as that is," Severus said sneered, "She is not yours to be concerned about."

Before Lupin could respond he swept down the dungeon stairwell, annoyance mingled with resentment seeping through him as he walked. Evelyn should have come to him; he should not have heard it second hand, and from Lupin of all people. He clenched his jaw. Was she still upset with him?

Despite Deirdre's counsel and his own intentions to make amends with his daughter, the week had not been his own. Dementors had strayed too far into the Forbidden Forest, enraging the centaurs; added to that, Sirius Black was reportedly spotted in Hogsmeade, and Dumbledore had sent him to investigate.

Severus strode into his office, closing the door somewhat forcefully behind him. On his desk was a copy of that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. The headlines that had greeted him had set his teeth on edge. A large picture of Cornelius Fudge shaking hands with Aodhán Harper took up half of the page. Lucius Malfoy lurked in the background, a self-congratulatory smile on his pointed face. Severus picked up the paper, his eyes hardening.

Yesterday evening, the Minister for Magic officially welcomed Aodhán Harper back to Britain. Mr Fudge then made a public apology to the Irish wizard, saying that his predecessor, Millicent Bagnold, had been mistaken in her judgement in exiling him. 'After a careful inspection of records from before the war, it has been deemed that Mr Harper was punished on an unfounded basis', Mr Fudge said. Mr Harper's account at Gringotts has also been unlocked, giving him access once more to his family's vast fortune. Lucius Malfoy added that it was a miscarriage of justice, and both he and Mr Harper would fight to ensure witches and wizards were spared such treatment in the future.

The newly appointed Minister for Anglo-Irish relations is due to take up his position next week. And, in a gesture of goodwill, Mr Harper has pledged a sum of two thousand galleons to the children's ward at St. Mungo's. Since the announcement of this pledge, the Prophet has learned that Mr Harper's cousin is a departmental head at the hospital, as well as a popular medical journalist. Lucius Malfoy commented on behalf of his friend saying, 'She is a member of one of the purest bloodlines in the British Isles, and Mr Harper is proud of her achievements.'

Enraged, disgusted, he balled up the newspaper and threw it into the nearest bin. A child could see through Lucius' charade; his child had. He was playing Fudge like a fiddle at a folk dance.

Severus sat down heavily into the chair behind his desk, and traced a fingertip pensively around his mouth. It must have been of great personal embarrassment to Aodhán for the Prophet to have discovered Deirdre's relationship to him. But he had done what so many pure-blood families did, including the Malfoys: he had lied about there being a Muggle-born in his family tree, namely Deirdre's mother.

Behind him, the fire place suddenly glowed red-hot and a face appeared in it.

"Severus? Severus are you there?"

Snapped from his thoughts, he rose from his chair walked towards the fireplace, crouching down in front of the glowing coals. Frowning, he said, "Deirdre? What's wrong?"

"Have you seen the Prophet this morning?" she said, her voice wavering. "Oh Severus, it's awful...and..."

Even though it was only a magical projection of his wife's face he studied her carefully. "Tell me what's happened," he said as calmly as he could.

"Rita Skeeter came to St. Mungo's."

"What?"

"She was in my office before I could stop her; she started raving about how the family resemblance was uncanny." Deirdre gave a bitter laugh. "She wanted an interview."

A dark shadow fell over Severus' face. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing; I called for security." She drew in a shaky breath. "I'm frightened, Severus. Aodhán is bound to be furious."

He balled his fists, fighting the black cumulonimbus of emotion.

"Oh gods, what about Evelyn; what if Aodhán –"

"Listen to me, Deirdre," he said, evenly but firmly. "She won't come to any harm, I promise you that."

By now Lucius would be aware of Aodhán's disdain for Deirdre. If he could not control Harper through Deirdre then he had no interest in her, or Evelyn if he ever rediscovered her existence. And as for Aodhán, he would want to attract as little attention to Deirdre as possible; at least, that is what he hoped.

Her fiery head nodded then she took a calming breath. "How is she?"

Emotion swelled in Severus' chest at the depth of her trust in him. However, the disquiet in his heart refused to settle: he could not watch over her like he could Evelyn.

"Well," he said.

"Have you sorted things with her?"

"I will."

She sighed. "Do it today, Severus, don't leave it any longer. I need to go now; I'm due in theatre soon."

Severus' brow knitted in a fierce frown. "I want to know at once if anyone else bothers you."

"I don't want to be a bother. Besides, I've put extra wards around my office, and -"

"Deirdre, do as I say."

She was silent for a long moment. "All right. Goodbye, Severus. I love you."

Deirdre's face disappeared from the fire, but he remained crouched by it. "And I you, Deirdre," he whispered.

...

The test on the Flyway Code passed by in a blur. Evelyn could not even remember what answers she had written. All she could hope for was that they were intelligible, and that she had done enough to pass. Even if she only scraped by she would be happy; she never intended to fly on a broom beyond first year anyway. Besides, she didn't think her parents really considered Flying as a real subject, though they would never admit to it.

By the end of Defence class later that same day, Evelyn was knackered and wanted nothing more than to collapse onto her bed. But she still had one more lesson before the final bell went – Potions.

Soon she and her friends were lined up outside the potions classroom, waiting for the previous class to file out. Some of the third years seemed as if they could not get away quick enough, mostly the Gryffindors she noted. Then she spotted Draco Malfoy and his two brutish friends, Crabbe and Goyle. He sauntered along like a smug cat, completely contemptuous of other life-forms. His steely grey eyes slid almost lazily towards her, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in a shrewd smile.

"Harper," he said in his polished drawl, loudly enough for her whole class to hear. "Tell me again what it's like to have a Gryffindor apologise to you."

A few of first year Slytherins sniggered beside her, including Edmund and Gregory. She smirked too, she couldn't help it, but a pang of something, she didn't know what, kept her from saying anything.

"Malfoy, you're a bloody git."

Draco turned around slowly. "I don't believe I was addressing you, Weasley."

Ron looked from Draco to Evelyn, a cold, reproachful glint in his eyes. "That's right, I almost forgot; the Harpers and Malfoys have their own little club now."

Evelyn screwed up her face slightly. What was he talking about?

"Jealous, Weasley?" Draco scoffed. "Maybe your father should befriend Aodhán Harper; he's all for helping charity cases, after all."

Aodhán Harper? Was he talking about Mum's cousin?

"Just keep your mouth shut, all right," Harry said.

"Or you'll do what, Potter?"

"I'll shut it for you," Ron growled viciously.

"Potter, Weasley, I might have known."

Everyone in the corridor seemed to turn as one. There, in the doorway, stood Professor Snape. Evelyn shrunk back, trying to hide behind Edmund as much as she could. She did not want her father to think she had anything to do with this.

"It was Malfoy, sir." Harry said.

Her father's eyes were hard as granite. "Yes, it's always Mr Malfoy's fault, isn't it. It couldn't possibly be anyone else."

"It was his fault."

"Do-not-try-me-Potter." Her father stalked closer to the boy. "Get to your next class."

There was not a ripple of sound as the third years disappeared down the corridor. As Evelyn filed into the potions classroom, she stole a glance at her father. She had never seen him so uptight.

By the end of the lesson no one was in any doubt that the professor was in a particularly bad mood that day. He stormed about the classroom criticising every little mistake. The Gryffindors, as usual, bore the brunt of his anger, but a few Slytherins received a severe tongue lashing from him as well. Evelyn did not dare look at her father for fear that he might turn on her too. Her hands had trembled as she had prepared the ingredients for a Cure for Boils potion. And, thankfully, Edmund was as competent at potion making as he was on a broom.

She was clearing up when Edmund tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around. "Whaaa –" her words morphed into a cry of terror.

Edmund quickly took away the yellow fish eyes from over his own and pulled the dandelion roots from his teeth. "It was just a joke, Evelyn. Calm down..."

"Why you..." Evelyn slapped his arm. "That wasn't funny, Ed!"

Edmund began to giggle. "You should have seen your face."

Evelyn's throat tightened as her nightmare came flooding back to her.

"What is going on here?"

"I-I..." Evelyn voice cracked, tears filling her eyes.

...

Severus tensed but schooled his features into a bland mask. "Mr Lowsley, do you care to explain?"

Edmund began to fidget. "We...I...Evelyn was freaked out by the fish eyes."

It was on the tip of Severus' tongue to tell the boy that his daughter had dissected more than her fair share of fish eyes for him over the years. She was anything but freaked out by them. He fixed his gaze on Evelyn again. She looked wretched.

"Get the rest of this mess cleared up, Mr Lowsley," he said, a slight undercurrent of threat in his voice. "Miss Harper, go to the storeroom. I will not have you snivelling out here."

She choked back a sob and Severus felt the pained look in her eyes to the very marrow of his bones. She scurried up the class and disappeared through the storeroom door. The strain of the day was coiling tighter and tighter around him. The final bell could not come quick enough.

"The rest of you," he said, sweeping up the classroom, "You have five minutes to bottle your potions."

From the front of the room he watched Edmund's guilty gaze flicker towards the storeroom. It was obvious that what the boy had done had not been out of malicious intent. But, it seemed, it had been enough to cause Evelyn to snap. It was then he remembered what Lupin had told him that morning. Evelyn had encountered her first boggart last night.

His first encounter with a boggart had been in third year at school – the standard introduction for students brought up in the Muggle world. For a few years it had remained the same: his father, his mother...Lily, all rejecting him; until, that is, fifth year. Then it had become a snarling, clawing beast. But not even a werewolf could compare to what his greatest fear had eventually become. Nothing could have prepared him for seeing his wife's motionless body, her eyes staring, vacant. Severus had vomited. His pathetic attempt to repel the boggart had only caused it to change its form. He had screamed like a wounded animal; Evelyn's small body had lain broken at his feet, her skin pallid and cold.

Left haunted and hollow, he had not slept for days afterwards.

Yes, he understood the depth of fear a boggart could instil in a person's soul.

The final bell went. Severus dismissed the class, barred the door to the room and cast a silencing spell. He paced across the room a few times, gathering his thoughts before he went in to speak with Evelyn.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the storeroom. "Evelyn," he said.

"Go away," she sniffed, hugging her knees closer to her chest.

Severus frowned but did not oblige her tearful demand. Instead, he took a chair, placed it in front of her and sat down. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what has upset you."

"Nothing's upset me."

"I see, so these are tears of joy?"

"Just leave me alone," she said angrily. "I don't want to talk to you."

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to keep his temper under control.

"Evelyn, listen to me –"

"I don't want to listen to anything you have to say!" She stood up abruptly. "You always do this! You say means things to me then you just expect everything to be OK. Why...Why can't you be more like Professor Lupin? He's never horrible to me.

Severus felt as if he had been hit on the chest by a bludger. When Evelyn stormed passed him he was too numb to stop her. He sat staring at her empty chair, a torrent of emotions raging through him. He clenched his fists resting on the arms of the chair. Lupin. He wished Dumbledore had never allowed that mangy wolf to set one foot inside of Hogwarts.

A loud thump tore him from his brooding. He rose from his chair and left the storeroom. At the far end of the classroom, Evelyn pointed her wand at the door, but the spell merely collided with the one he had placed on it. With a frustrated cry, she kicked the door hard with her foot.

"Kindly refrain from damaging school property."

She glared at him. "Let me out!"

Severus was rapidly reaching the end of his tether with her as he walked towards her. "Evelyn, sit down," he said in a dangerously low voice.

For a long moment she stood her ground, her dark eyes mirroring the defiance within. Eventually, though, she stomped over to a chair and sat down with a sour expression. Severus paced back and forth in front of her a few times, his hands clasped behind his back. He had absolutely no idea how he was to progress, or where he was even to begin. He drew in a deep breath. Perhaps, he should start with the boggart.

"What form did the boggart take last night, Evelyn?"

She stiffened. Clearly his question had taken her completely off guard. "What? How do you know about that?"

"What was it?" he pressed.

She pursed her lips tightly together, seeming to debate with herself whether to tell him or not. Finally, she said, "It...It was a manticore."

"I see."

She swallowed hard, her voice cracking slightly. "It was hideous...and...and..."

Severus edged a little closer to her. "And what?" he coaxed.

"I had a nightmare last night. I couldn't sleep."

Ah, that explained quite a lot. His daughter was never in good form whenever she was deprived of sleep. But it did not lessen the sting of her barb concerning Lupin.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"No."

She looked so small, so vulnerable sitting on the chair. He wanted to comfort he, but he would not force her to remain with him if she did not want to. Taking out his wand, he removed the lock spell on the door.

Grimly, he said, "You may go if you wish."

He turned and walked back up the classroom.

"Dad..." she called out weakly.

Surprised, he looked over his shoulder, but then turned around fully. Evelyn's face crumpled. A sob wracked her body and she drew in short, stilted breaths. "I'm sorry, Dad...I'm sorry."

His throat constricted with emotion. "Come here," he said, opening his arms to her.

She ran straight to him, her small hands clutching at the front of his robes. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. Her sobs grew louder, her shoulders shook, and she held onto him as if she was afraid he would let go of her if she didn't. He gently stroked her hair, not knowing what else to do.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she choked, her voice somewhat muffled. "Please don't hate me."

At her last words, Severus removed her arms from around his waist, placed his hand on her shoulders and took a step back from her. "I do not and will never hate you, Evelyn."

Evelyn wiped her tear stained cheeks with her sleeve. "I didn't mean what I said either, I promise."

He smile bleakly. "And you must understand, Evelyn, I do not mean the nasty things I may say. Can you forgive me?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I do."

He encircled his arms around her again, holding her tightly. The tension in his stomach eased as she relaxed against him, her arms firmly around his waist.

"Dad," she said after a moment, "The boggart – it was so scary."

"Yes, they are frightening creatures."

She looked up him. "What does a boggart become when you see one?"

He tensed, wanting to recoil from her question. However, he cleared his throat, and said, "Seeing you and your mother hurt."

It was a half truth.

Her eyes widened slightly. "That's your greatest fear?"

Reaching out, he gently took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Seeing those you love most hurt is always frightening."

After a beat a brilliant smile spread across Evelyn's face. She hugged him again, "I love you lots too, Dad."

Chapter 16: Chapter 15

I know it's been a while since I have updated, but life, as usual, got in the way. Thanks once again to everyone who has reviewed, and I am blown away by how many are following this story! Thank you for your support.

Well, MetamorphmagusLupin - I guess I won this race ;)

Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 15

Severus sank deeper into the shadows, cradling the same Firewhiskey he had ordered an hour before. He had no palate for the spirit, but he would not insult fine wine by ordering the Hog's Head's sorry excuse for it. The pub itself stank worse than a troll cave; rough wooden tables were crammed into the small, dingy room; its floor was so dirty it looked like slabs of compacted dirt rather than stone. It was perhaps the seediest pub in Britain. But his other options to wait out at least some of the grim hours of supervision in Hogsmeade were, in his opinion, not acceptable. Sixth years crowded into The Three Broomsticks, seeing it as a rite of passage or some other nonsense. As for Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop, the haunt of happy couples, Severus would rather eat his wizard's hat.

From the grubby window next to his table he watched the students for any sign of misbehaviour. At least the last of the snow had melted, putting an end to countless snowball fights, some of which had prompted angry letters from the residents of Hogsmeade to the headmaster. Dumbledore, though, and true to form, had written back, saying they simply needed to put more practice into their overarm.

Almost all of the students had traipsed into Zonko's Joke Shop, wasting their money on a load of irritating tosh, while the queue outside of Honeydukes never seemed to diminish. He, however, would wait until the students had gone back up to the castle before he visited the sweetshop. He was partial to a bag liquorice laces, and he had a very precise order from Evelyn: a quarter pound of Ice Mice and a box of Chocolate Wands.

Normally only two staff members were needed for a Hogsmeade visit, but with Sirius Black still on the loose, the presence of four professors was required in the village. It was beyond ridiculous that Black had evaded capture for so many months. Dementors guarded every entrance to the castle, and yet he had managed to slip right past them. Severus had toyed with several notions, each as unlikely as the last. Several members of staff were adamant that it was the dark arts, but Severus had quickly dismissed the idea. No matter how powerful the dark arts were, no matter how far they could forcefully bend a person's will, they could not suppress emotions. And Black, despite the vile depths of his soul, was no exception. His macabre eagerness to destroy Potter should waft out to the Dementors like a tantalising meal.

The pub door swung open, thudding against the wall. Drawn from his thoughts, Severus glanced up at the newest costumer. He pulled the hood of his shabby cloak down, and deposited a rickety broom into a rack along with several others. It was an old Cleansweep model, at least thirty years old. It was a broom for the more humble folk. Severus looked out the window again, his top lip curling in the barest hint of a sneer. Earlier that morning Potter had swaggered into the Great Hall with his Firebolt slung over his shoulder, oozing the same arrogance as his father had. It was an arrogance that had pitted itself against Dumbledore's advice twelve years ago. The Headmaster himself had urged the Potter's to allow him to be their Secret Keeper, but James always thought he knew better.

"Oi! You!"

Severus swivelled his head around and arched an eyebrow. Aberforth Dumbledore, the uninviting landlord, stood behind the bar, jibing a meaty finger at the newest customer.

"Me?"

"Yes, you – get your great, bloody mutt out of here. Can't you read?" Aberforth pointed to a crude wooden plaque by the door. "No Reporters. No Snakes. No Dogs."

Severus' gaze flickered to the man by the door, noting that Aberforth had not been exaggerating about the size of the black dog. Its nose was almost to the floor, sniffing frantically, much like the dogs used by Muggle police. The black fur was matted and dirty, and, despite its great size, it looked half starved.

"Eh, what?" the man said somewhat confused. "That's not my dog."

"It came in with you, well."

The man gave the dog a swift kick to its midriff. "Go on, get out of here, you stupid mangy fleabag."

It yelped then quickly retreated out the door. Severus was tempted to tell Aberforth that he should have kept the dog for himself, for pest control. A large rat had scurried across the floor not too long ago, and Merlin only knew how many more swarmed in the rafters. But then again, cleanliness was not a priority in this particular establishment.

Severus stayed in the pub for a while longer then decided it was time to begin shepherding the students out of Hogsmeade. After taking in a lungful of fresh air, he headed in the opposite direction of Minerva's voice; he was happy to let her clear out Zonko's. Further along the street he sent a group of fifth years scurrying like slaters from under an overturned stone, after threatening them with a week's detention.

By the time he had walked as far as The Three Broomsticks and back, the village was completely clear of students. Entering the Post Office, he collected a parcel, shrunk it down and pocketed it. He had ordered several Defence Against the Dark Arts books that were not on the curriculum for Evelyn; they contained a depth that was sorely lacking in the set texts decided upon by Lupin this year. In fact, in all the years he had taught at Hogwarts he had never been overly impressed by the choice of books.

Of course, he had no intention of leading Evelyn into the murky depths of the dark arts, but he had his own methods and priorities when it came to defending against them.

Besides, his daughter had already read through her current textbook, twice – she needed something a little more challenging. He would find an excuse to call her to his office this evening, and have her start on the first book right away.

It was difficult to explain the last number of weeks, but something significant had shifted in his relationship with his daughter. Evelyn seemed more relaxed around him...more contented. They had enjoyed breakfast together three Sunday mornings in a row; he read the Daily Prophet, while she worked her way through a Muggle book, The Twits, in the safety of his quarters. He had smirked the first time he had seen the title – it aptly described the majority of his students.

Their time together on a Sunday morning had also provided the perfect opportunity to continue with Evelyn's duelling lessons. Her skill was improving; she could deflect spells third year level spells. But, no matter how much she pleaded with him, he refused to teach her how to return those spells. For now, Expelliarmus and Flipendo would be sufficient. Even so, her mastery of those spells was more than impressive.

In those few short hours together, Severus could forget the drudgery of teaching, and his oath to protect Potter. He could aspire to be the father he wanted to be, the father Evelyn needed him to be.

Severus stepped out of the Post Office and immediately sensed someone or something watching him. Turning his head, he saw the same black dog that had come into the pub earlier sitting across the street. It watched him with an unblinking stare. Somewhat unnerved by the almost humanness of its assessing gaze, he walked on. After putting a considerable distance between himself and the dog he glanced over his shoulder, but it was gone.

By the time he had reached Zonko's he had shaken the bizarre encounter from his mind. He had more pressing matters to worry about, such as Evelyn's wrath if he forgot her sweets.

...

The school was practically empty. It was perfect. Evelyn hurried along the corridors, thankful that Edmund and Gregory had left their Transfiguration homework to the weekend. They were both too panicked to even notice her slipping out of the Slytherin common room. Professor McGonagall was fair, nice to a point, but she had no tolerance for forgotten or sloppy homework.

Evelyn pushed open the door to the library, keeping a wary eye out for Madam Pince. But the librarian was too busy berating a second year for returning a book that looked like it had gone ten rounds with a Hungarian Horntail. Making her way down the central aisle, she headed straight for the east wing of the library. Up a flight of stone stairs, she found the door she was looking for: Records. She had learnt of its existence completely by accident. Several sixth years, who had dared to take History of Magic at N.E.W.T. level, had left a stack of old Daily Prophet newspapers in the common room one evening, and when she asked where they had come from a sixth year told her about the records room. 'Madam Pince wasn't going to make copies of them for us,' the sixth year had said, 'but when we said we'd send Professor Binns to speak with her, she got on the job right away.'

Entering the records room, she stared about her in awe at the sheer number of shelves crammed with books of all sizes and thickness. It was a cavernous room, almost as large as the main library itself. Rolling ladders stretched to the highest shelves; light streamed in from beautiful stained glass windows, depicting epic scenes from Wizarding history.

She stepped further into the room and began to read the various sign postings, until, finally, she spotted the Daily Prophet records: they were on the third floor.

Evelyn slung her schoolbag down onto a nearby table and unbuckled it. She pulled out an old copy of the Daily Prophet and spread it out over the table. The face of her mother's cousin stared out at her; the family resemblance was unmistakable. Edmund had found the newspaper discarded in a bin a few weeks ago; he had plucked it out to read the latest on the Quidditch world cup qualifier matches. She had read it after him and then hidden it in her trunk. The heated exchange between Potter, Weasley and Malfoy outside the Potions classroom had made perfect sense. Ron had unjustly lumped her together with Aodhán, who was in league with the Malfoy's.

His distain towards her still upset her. Indeed, she wanted nothing more than to march right up to Ronald Weasley and knock him off his self-righteous perch. If he could only hear himself; he spouted as much hatred towards Slytherins as Slytherins slung at Gryffindors.

Rereading through the article, she found the sentence that had initially piqued her interest: the unfounded charges that had been laid against Aodhán Harper. What had he been accused of? If her parents had been more accommodating she could have simply asked them, but it would be easier to pry open a clam with her bare hands than to get any real answers out of them. She had circled the date of his attempted arrest: November 1981, less than one month after she had been born. The article cited that Aodhán had been assumed dead after being cornered by Mad Eye Moody in an abandoned Muggle warehouse. So, Evelyn selected the volume for that month and year from the shelf. It hit the table with a dull thud, sending several puffs of dust into the air. Each daily edition had been magically bound into the volume, but she simply thumbed through them until she found the right one. The headlines immediately caused her eyes to widen: DEATH EATER DESTROYED.

He had been a Death Eater. She couldn't believe it.

But, before she turned to read the full story on page four, a sub headline caught her attention: Severus Snape to face trial tomorrow for his war crimes.

Her heart stopped. War crimes? Her father had been accused of war crimes? It didn't make any sense. Mum always said he had been a hero, that he had been a spy for the Order. Why had he been arrested? Frantically, she flipped over the pages to the next day's edition. Evelyn stared numbly at the picture of her father on the front page. She almost didn't recognise him. His face was drawn and gaunt; there were dark rings around his eyes from a lack of sleep.

Swallowing hard, she began to read.

Severus Snape was moved from Azkaban today, where he has been held for the past two weeks, to the Ministry. His trial has sparked a flurry of interest, not least because Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, is to testify in his defence. Snape, along with his fellow Death Eaters, is charged with murder, torture and destruction of property, and, if he convicted, will serve a life sentence in Azkaban.

Little is known about Snape's background, other than he has no family to speak of. Several sources have also confirmed that he was not particularly close to the headmaster during his school years, which makes Dumbledore's involvement in this trial all the more intriguing...

Evelyn stopped reading and squeezed her eyes shut. Torture...Murder. It was lies, all lies. He father was a good man, he would never hurt anyone.

Taking a deep breath, she leafed through more pages until she was confronted with the headlines: SNAPE VERDICT MET WITH MIXED EMOTION.

Her throat tightened and burned.

In a dramatic court case that saw Albus Dumbledore in the witness stand, the Daily Prophet can now confirm that Severus Snape has been declared innocent. It is believed, however, that the Wizengamot was deeply divided over this trial; in the end, Mr Snape was spared life imprisonment in Azkaban by a very slim majority...

The Prophet has since taken a poll of opinion on the controversial verdict, and most believe that Mr Snape should not have been freed. One witch commented, 'I'll never understand why Albus Dumbledore, of all people, defended the likes of Severus Snape! He is, and always will be a Death Eater. They should have locked him up and thrown away the key'...

Alongside these views, the Prophet has also learnt from a source that as Mr Snape was being led from his cell in Azkaban he was verbally attacked by his fellow Death Eaters. It was reported that the Lestranges were the most vocal; their threats were so vile that the Prophet was unable to print them...

Free he might be, but there is little doubt that Severus Snape will spend the rest of his days looking over his shoulder...

Heart racing, Evelyn shut the book with an audible snap. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hurt everyone who had said horrible things about her father. Why didn't they believe Professor Dumbledore? Without Dad, the Order would have been clueless.

The dots connected, though, and she finally understood why her parents did not want her to be known as a Snape; why no one knew he even had a family. But why could they not have simply told her the truth?

From somewhere in the records room she heard voices. Wiping her eyes, she hurriedly shoved the thick volume back into its place on the shelf. She then slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and made to leave. Halfway down the staircase she stopped dead. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were walking along the main aisle; she looked determined, he looked puzzled.

They turned down a row with the sign School Annuals above it. Curious, Evelyn followed silently after them.

"What are we doing here, Hermione?"

"I told you, I want you to show something."

"Why didn't you ask Ron to come too?"

"Because Ron is incapable of keeping a secret, that's why." Hermione climbed up a ladder and retrieved a book. "Remember what we talked about a few weeks ago...about Snape?"

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "You're still not serious about that, are you?

Hermione flicked through the pages of the book until she found what she was looking for, and then she handed it to Harry. "I came across this – look at the photo on the bottom left."

"Wow...Is that Snape?" Harry brought the book closer to his face. "Who's that beside him?"

"Look closely, tell me what you see."

Harry screwed his face up a little, but after a few moments he lifted his head and stared straight at Hermione. He slowly began to shake his head. "No, you're having a laugh."

"The evidence is right there, Harry."

"But Snape! Eew...that's so gross." Harry put the book down like it had suddenly become contagious. "Wait until I tell Ron about this!"

"You can't, Harry! Promise me you won't. You know what Ron's like; he'll make a huge deal out of this."

Harry's eyes widened incredulously. "It is a huge deal, Hermione."

She glared at him with a very Professor McGonagall-like look. Harry almost seemed to shrink back from her.

He pressed his lips together. "OK, I won't say a word. I promise. So, what are you going to do about it?"

"There's nothing to do, Harry."

"But then –"

"It's obvious he doesn't know, and I'm not going to be the one to tell him – unless you want to."

"No way!"

"I didn't think so."

Evelyn crept away before they walked back up the row, hiding in another row until they had left the records room. What on earth had they been talking about? She hadn't seen clearly enough what book Hermione had lifted, but whoever had been in the picture with her father had caused quite a bit of stir between those two.

Great, she thought, just what I need – more secrets.

...

Evelyn's head felt like a bowl of jelly. She barely heard a word of what Professor Lupin had said throughout the lesson. In fact, she hadn't taken much on board the entire day. Her mind was still whirring with everything she had discovered in the records room, not to mention that Harry Potter kept staring at her during meals in the Great Hall. He was beginning to freak her out.

She point blankly refused to believe anything of what she had read concerning her father. But still, she could not stop thinking about what would have happened if Dumbledore had not defended him at his trial. Azkaban was the place of nightmares; she could not even begin to imagine what it would be like to be surrounded by Dementors all of the time.

The most harrowing thought of all, though, was she would never have known him. She would have been left with voiceless pictures, her mother's memories and wishful dreams.

The bell rang.

Evelyn, shaking herself back to reality, began to pack up her schoolbag.

"Miss Harper, could I see you for a moment," Professor Lupin said from the front of the classroom.

"Yes, Professor," she said and sat back down at her desk.

Edmund shoved his books into his bag, and whispered. "I'll wait for you outside."

She shook her head. "You'll be late for Trelawney's class."

"She won't notice; she thinks Edgar Farnham from Hufflepuff and I are the same person, for Merlin's sake."

Evelyn giggled.

"Mr Lowsley, do you not have another class to go to?" Lupin said, raising his brow slightly.

"Yes, sir."

Once Edmund had left and closed the door behind him, Lupin walked down the classroom, resting his back against the desk in front of Evelyn.

"Is there something bothering you, Evelyn?" he asked.

Evelyn wrung her hands under the desk. "No, Professor, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You seemed very distracted in class."

She bit her bottom lip. "Can I ask you something, Professor?"

"Of course."

"If you found out something about someone you weren't supposed to know about, would you tell them you knew?"

Lupin seemed to tense a little. "Well, I suppose it depended on what it is you found out."

"What if they were accused of doing something really bad a long time ago, but you knew it was all lies?"

He appeared almost relieved at her question, though it was a long moment before he answered. "I would ask myself why they chose to keep it to themselves in the first place."

She folded her arms with a huff. "If they trusted you they would have told you."

Lupin pursed his lips then clasped his hands in front of him. "Evelyn, some people keep their past a secret for a reason. Sometimes they find it too shameful or humiliating to talk about, even to those closest to them. I don't believe it would be because they did not trust you."

"So you wouldn't tell them, then?"

"No, I don't think I would. It would be better to wait until they felt ready to tell me."

"But what if they never feel ready?"

"Then that's their decision. You can't force a person to talk about their past when they don't want to." Lupin looked down at his watch and sighed. "I think it's time you went on to your next class."

Evelyn slung her schoolbag over her shoulder, but halfway up the classroom she stopped and turned. "Professor, you knew my mum, right? She would never want to marry someone evil, would she?"

"Your mother was a great judge of character; she wouldn't have settled for anything less than a good man."

She gave a half smile. "Thank you, Professor."

...

Slightly breathless when they reached the North Tower, Evelyn and Edmund were surprised to see their class standing about in the corridor, and were even more surprised to see Hagrid standing with them.

"You two the last ones?" he asked.

"Yes, Professor," Evelyn said, "Professor Lupin wanted to speak with both of us." It was only a little lie.

"All righ' then, follow me."

Evelyn tapped Gregory on the shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Trelawney's sick or something," Gregory said, shrugging his shoulders. "Hagrid's taking us down to the lake for a lesson."

Edmund grinned. "Wicked."

"Yeah, anything is better than having to listen to Professor Nutcase for an hour," Gregory added.

Down at the Black Lake, Hagrid stopped less than ten feet from the edge. Its surface was like glass, concealing the world of activity beneath. Sometimes Evelyn would sit in the Slytherin common room, look up and watch fish swim past. If she was lucky she would catch a glimpse of the Giant Squid, and one time she had even seen Merpeople. But they weren't like the ones in Muggle cartoons, and she certainly would not like to go swimming with them.

"I know ya are all only firs' years, so I only want yer to take a look at what lives round the lake. And, I don't want none of you putting a single toe near the water either."

The class dispersed around the lake shore. Some boys began to turn over big stones, poking and prodding at the creatures under them with sticks. A few Slytherin girls looked rather disgusted and merely stood in a huddle – they were the ones who would rather die than step out of their dorm with even a single strand of hair out of place.

A ripple in the water caught Evelyn's attention. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Hagrid was talking with a few Gryffindors – a quick peek wouldn't hurt. She took a step forward and peered down into the water. Something was moving just beneath the surface. It was too big to be a fish; it was the wrong shape, too. Stooping down, she inched a little closer. Her toes were right at the water's edge now, but her shadow had not caused the creature to dart away.

The next few seconds happened in a blur. Suddenly, something whip-like shot out of the water, latching onto her robes. Evelyn screamed as she dug her heels in, her hands grabbing for something to hold onto as she was pulled closer to the water. The next moment she was weightless, being lifted into the air with incredible speed and strength.

"I told yer not to go near the water," Hagrid said, his voice booming as he set Evelyn back down onto her feet. "Yer could 'ave been drowned – Grindylows are dangerous."

Her lip quivered. "I-I'm sorry, Professor."

"Aye, but yer still do a detention after class down at my hut. I've got plenty of cages needin' cleaned out. Yer need to learn yer can't go around ignoring instructions."

Embarrassed beyond belief, Evelyn tried to ignore the fact that everyone was staring at her. She caught a glimpse of Alistair Thorndike and his friends, whispering and laughing to each other. For once, she wished she was in Divination class.

...

By the time Evelyn had finished cleaning four cages the sun had already sunk beneath the tree line and, like inky fingers, darkness crept across the sky. Setting aside the bucket and a scrubbing brush, Evelyn looked about her for Hagrid. When she couldn't see him she walked towards his hut.

"Professor," she said, knocked on the door. "Professor Hagrid, are you in there?"

Meet only with silence, she went to the nearest window, stood on her tiptoes and looked in, but the hut was empty. She turned around and looked out towards the Forbidden Forest. "Professor!" she called out loudly. "Where are you?"

After another few tense moments she began to worry her bottom lip. Maybe he had something to do and would be back when he was finished. She decided to clean out a few more cages; hopefully by then he would have returned to walk her back up to the castle. Her tummy was rumbling and the damp cold was seeping through her clothes and into her bones.

By the time twilight began to concede to the night Evelyn was convinced that Hagrid had left her. She couldn't stay out here on her own; Merlin only knew when Hagrid would come back. From the hut she could see the castle, its bright lights like a beacon in the darkness.

She swallowed hard. It was only a ten minute walk up the hill, less since she didn't have Edmund and Gregory nattering in her ear. She knew it was against the school rules to be out walking on her own but what else was she supposed to do? Besides, she would rather face a month's worth of detentions than something from the Forbidden Forest.

Taking out her wand, she held it tightly in her hand. "Lumos," she said.

Her heart drummed in her chest; everything seemed scarier in the dark. The wind moaned through the trees, blood-curdling shrieks spilt the air; howls conjured up images of claws and fangs. On the verge of terror, Evelyn, nevertheless, knew she could not turn back. She could not even see Hagrid's hut anymore; all she could do now was focus on the castle.

...

Severus was half way through eating his dinner when he noticed Edmund Lowsley was on his feet, craning his neck to see down to the far end of the Slytherin table. When he turned to sit down he had a puzzled look on his face, and when he nudged Gregory Burke beside him Severus, having honed his skill in reading lips over the years, distinctly saw him form the words, 'where is Evelyn?'

His attention piqued, Severus whispered an incantation, and almost immediately he was tuned into the boys' conversation.

"I didn't see her in the common room, did you?" Edmund said.

"No. Maybe she's still doing detention for Hagrid." Gregory said.

"Don't be stupid; Hagrid's sitting up there. He would have hardly left her on her own."

Severus had heard enough. He reversed the spell and then pushed his chair back; he needed to have a word with Professor Hagrid.

"Hagrid," he said, not caring he had interrupted his conversation with Minerva. "I have reason to believe you placed one of my students in detention earlier."

"Aye, that's righ'; Miss Harper. For not listenin' to instructions."

Severus tilted his head slightly to one side. "And where is she now?"

"She's –" What could be seen of his face behind that unruly, black mane went pale.

"What's wrong, Hagrid?" Minerva said, somewhat alarmed.

Severus placed a hand on the table, his tone careful, controlled. "Where is Miss Harper?"

"I-I...left her down at me hut."

"You did what?" Minerva exclaimed.

"He left a first year outside, on her own, with no care that a mass murder is on the loose or that the grounds are crawling with Dementors," Severus said through clenched teeth.

Minerva's face was now as pale as Hagrid's. "You must go find her, Severus."

"I'll come with yeh," Hagrid said, starting to rise from his seat.

"There will be no need; you have done enough already," Severus said.

With that he swept out of the Great Hall to find his daughter.

...

Evelyn fought against the tears as she walked. She just wanted to be back in the castle, warm and safe. Why had she not listened to Hagrid's instructions? Then again, teachers weren't supposed to simply abandon students, especially outside.

A twig snapped close by.

The knuckles on Evelyn's wand hand turned white. Turning around slowly, she raised her wand, and froze. On the edge of the forest was the largest dog she had ever seen, and it was staring right at her. It took a few slow, almost tentative steps towards her, but then it turned its great head sharply, as if it heard something she hadn't. The next moment its ears were pinned back, it bore its razor sharp teeth and a low growl rumbling threateningly in its throat.

Suddenly, it bounded towards Evelyn, barking as it came at her. Her body reacted and she turned on her heels and fled. Her lungs were on fire before long, her legs like lead, but fear kept her moving. She didn't know if she was more frightened of the dog or of whatever it was that had upset it.

The ground was uneven beneath her and in her haste she tripped over an exposed tree root. She went down heavily, sprawling onto the grass with undignified grace. Unhurt, she scrambled to her feet again, but the temperature around her suddenly plummeted. Terror exploded inside of her, coiling around her heart, constricting every beat.

No, not again, she thought.

She tried to run away, but the despair that filled her was almost overwhelming. She fell to her knees, clutching her head in her hands as she was forced to relive every horrible memory.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A silvery raven silently soared towards the Dementors, driving them away. And a moment later Evelyn was gathered into a pair of strong arms. Pressed against the warm body she breathed in the familiar scent of her father's aftershave, mixed with the pungent scent of brewing. A lump formed in her throat, and she clung on to him.

"Dad," she sobbed, shaking. "I'm so scared."

He responded by pulling her closer to him. "They won't come near you again, I promise," he said.

"I waited for Professor Hagrid for ages and ages..."

He drew in a stiff breath. "I know."

"Take me back to the castle, Dad. Please."

He gently peeled her arms from around him and took out his wand. "Lumos," he said.

She watched his dark eyes search her face then flicker across the rest of her. Seemingly satisfied that she wasn't hurt, he pocketed his wand again and held out his hand to her. Evelyn grasped it without question and hugged herself as closely to his side as she could without hindering his walk.

How could anyone believe he was evil? He had come searching for her; he had saved her. Along with Mum, there was no one else in the world she felt safer with.

She did her best to keep up with his long stride, and all the while she kept glancing over her shoulder. The dog, it had sensed the Dementors' presence before she had. It hadn't charged at her to attack, but to warn her...to make her run. What had happened to it? Had the Dementors got it? She hoped they hadn't.

Once they reached the castle she let go of his hand, conscious that she had to avoid raising any awkward questions. She hated the pretence, the indifference she had to maintain with him when they were not alone. Understanding why she had to do it didn't make it any easier, but she didn't want anyone to hurt him because of her.

"I guess I missed dinner," she said, following him up the stone steps to the main door.

"You'll not starve, Evelyn." He did not break his stride.

"But –"

"You can eat something in my quarters."

She smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

...

After Evelyn had eaten, Severus found a blanket while she kicked off her shoes and curled up on the sofa in his quarters. He shook it out then draped it around her; she quickly snuggled down into it, the last shreds of worry on her face melting away. He sat beside her, sipping his tea, his anger towards Hagrid still silently simmering. But Severus would not seek a reprisal. Evelyn was safe, unharmed, and if word of what happened spread beyond the walls of Hogwarts then the likes of Lucius Malfoy would take great delight in serving Hagrid's head on a silver platter. And, despite his oafish ways, Severus did not dislike Hagrid.

"Dad," she said, "Can a Dementor kill an animal?"

The tension that still lingered in his stomach knotted a little tighter at the word kill. "Possibly, but they hold little interest for Dementors. Why do you ask?"

She pulled the blanket tighter around her chin. "I saw a big dog; it barked and warned me that the Dementors were coming –"

"A black dog?" he asked, frowning.

"You've seen it too? You're sure the Dementors wouldn't hurt it?"

The same unnerving feeling he'd had in Hogsmeade earlier that day returned. Where had this dog come from?

"No, a dog's thoughts and emotions are much less defined than a human's; they would not be strong enough to attract a Dementor's attention."

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Then she said, "Dad, do you think you could teach me the Patronus Charm?"

Severus took a sip of tea. "It is very advanced magic, Evelyn, and you are only twelve."

"But what if you hadn't come looking for me tonight? Please, Dad, I want to learn how to do it."

It was a thought he did not wish to entertain, but she did have a valid point.

"I will consider it."

She grinned. "Brilliant! What will my Patronus be?"

"You won't know until you cast it."

"Yours is a raven, I saw it. What's Mum's?"

"A swan."

"Hers is a bird too? That's wicked. I love swans, they're so beautiful. But one time Mum took me to the park, and the warden told me not to get too close to the swans because they could break my arm." Evelyn giggled. "That's like Mum, isn't it? She's really pretty but I wouldn't like to be in her bad books."

Severus smirked. He had to agree with his daughter's assessment of Deirdre. Indeed, their Patronuses had been the same since lower sixth, and it had never escaped his notice that both species of birds mated for life.

"I really wish I could have some hot chocolate right now," she said, stretching out a bit.

Rolling his eyes at her lack of subtly, he said, "You can ask me if you want one.

"Can I have it with whipped cream?"

Severus sighed as he stood up and walked to the kitchenette. He did not want to risk a house elf seeing Evelyn in his quarters. Although they had proved their loyalty to Hogwarts' staff over the years, the less knowledge there was of their relationship to each other the safer his daughter would be.

"Oh, and don't forget to ask for marshmallows, and tell them to use milk, not water to make it."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Anything else?"

"No, that's fine."

With a deep breath and a shake of his head Severus summoned the house elf.

The clock struck half past eight and Severus sat up straight, rolling his shoulders. He had been marking essays for the better part of two hours, several of which made him wonder if the students had actually been awake when they had written them. One essay had even opened with the line 'to fully understand the Girding Potion we must go back to the dawn of time'. Severus had written beside it, 'perhaps you will discover an ounce of wit there, too'.

He glanced over to the sofa. Evelyn had started into one of the Defence Against the Dark Arts books he had bought her, along with a bag of Ice Mice. But time was marching on and she needed to get back to her dorm.

"Evelyn," he said.

When she did not respond he rose from his seat and crossed over to the sofa. The book was open in her hands, but she was fast asleep. He stood for a moment, silently watching her. She was completely at peace, her lips pouted, her breathing deep and regular, her muscles slack.

Carefully removing the book from her hands, he slipped one arm around her shoulders and the other he hooked under the knees. Her head lolled to one side, coming to rest on his shoulder. He waited for a moment but when she didn't stir he walked towards the staircase.

The spare bedroom in his quarters was sparsely furnished, but it was warm and the bed was comfortable. With care, he laid her down onto the bed, pulled the duvet out from beneath her and then tucked her in. He brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face, his fingertips lingering for a moment on her cheek. Sometimes he wondered what he had ever done to deserve such a beautiful child; to have something that would always be truly his.

"Dad?" she said drowsily. "Do I have to go now?"

"It's all right, Evelyn, go back to sleep. I will wake you up when it's time to go."

She let out a long, lazy sigh. "OK."

A small smile crept across Severus' lips at her lack of protest. She was soon in a deep sleep again and he gently adjusted the blanket around her. Leaning down, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Good night, Evelyn."

Chapter 17: Chapter 16

Surprise! Another chapter! Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed, favourited or is following this story!

Thanks to MetamorphmagusLupin for her insight! I appreciate it :)

Anyway, on with the show - enjoy!

Chapter 16

The final exam was over. Evelyn breathed a deep sigh of relief as she planted her feet firmly onto solid ground again. It hadn't been the worst flight, but it hadn't been the best either. Fear from her fall still haunted her, becoming even more profound whenever she was in the air. But, her parents had always taught her to fight, to conquer her fears, to never simply accept them.

Evelyn returned the school broom to the large bucket she'd taken it from, while Madam Hooch made a string of funny noises as she scribbled on her notes

"Decent enough, Miss Harper," she said, "Considering..."

Madam Hooch didn't need to finish the rest of the sentence for Evelyn to know what she meant: 'Considering you've been bloody awful the rest of the year'.

"Right – move out of the way." Madam Hooch waved a hand dismissively. "Mr Lowsley, you're next."

Evelyn watched her best friend shoot up into the air like a bludger high on sugar. It wasn't even really an exam for Edmund, it was fun. He made flying seem so easy, so effortless...so enjoyable.

For a brief moment she felt a twinge of jealously. He often spoke of the flying trips he and his father took during the holidays. Last summer, they spent a week on the Cornish coast, travelling along the recommended broom route. Maybe if she was a better flyer then she could try to coax her father to go on a trip like that with her. While he had never openly said it, she knew he loved to fly, even though his sour expression when referring Quidditch matches often belied that fact.

She wandered over to a big beech tree and waited for Edmund to complete his laps around the Quidditch pitch. He was determined to get picked for the Slytherin team next year, and to help win back the coveted Quidditch cup.

A few weeks ago, her entire house had watched in horror as Harry Potter had soared into the sky, the Snitch clutched firmly in his hand. The others houses had gone wild; there had only been stunned silence in the Slytherin stand. They had all been so sure, so confident that the cup was as good as theirs, even before the match had started.

From high up in the stands, Evelyn had looked down to where her father sat in the front row, rigid, motionless. Harry Potter had barely lifted the cup above his head when he had stood up, his robes billowing even more dramatically than usual as he had descended the stand's wooden steps. The rest of the house had soon followed suit, a dark cloud of defeat following them back to the Slytherin common room. Green and silver bunting had been torn down, the victory celebration abandoned. As for the team...Well, they had cocooned themselves in the Quidditch changing rooms for most of the evening.

Mum had sent a letter to her the next day, saying she'd heard from a colleague in work, whose son was in fifth year, that Slytherin had lost. 'He takes his Quidditch much too seriously,' she'd written. 'So don't take anything he says to heart over the next few days, OK Sweetheart.'

Apparently, too, there was some sort of ongoing rivalry between him and Professor McGonagall, and he would be very sore about having lost out to her.

Her mother had not been wrong in her prediction; Dad had been in a foul mood for several days. He had even lost his temper with her during a duelling lesson and, despite Mum's words, she had thrown a cushion at him in retaliation; he'd snapped and told her to get out.

Why was it all right for adults to have a bad attitude, but not for children? It was an unfair system, in her opinion.

To be on the safe side, however, she had avoided her father for a few days. He had eventually cooled off, though to everyone was else he was still the same cantankerous Potions professor he had always been. Even in the Slytherin common room she sometimes heard students ranting and venting; he might not take points from them, but he did not spare them harsh, caustic comments, either

It was easy to question why he had ever become a teacher when it was obvious he didn't even like children.

But, then, teaching had never been his choice of career.

Over the past weeks, she had begun to piece together a little more of her father's past. The Daily Prophet archive had proved to be a gold mine, albeit, one that yielded distasteful secrets regarding her father. The Prophet seemed to have taken great delight in painting him in such repugnant colours, unlike other wizards.

It had not really come as a surprise to her to learn that Lucius Malfoy had been a Death Eater. The account of his trial, though, had shocked her, as well as angering her. She might be twelve years old, but she knew injustice when she saw it. His barrister, a silver-tongued wizard, had claimed Mr Malfoy had been placed under the Imperious Curse by Voldemort, and so he could not be held responsible for his actions during the war.

Evelyn, however, had read books from her father's collection at home that, if she had been caught reading, would have landed her in serious trouble. According to one particular book, the Imperious Curse would have to be recast on a victim multiple times if it was being kept on them for an extended period of time. Not because it would wear off, but because the victim would become increasingly aware that they were doing things not of their own volition and would, therefore be fighting it more and, perhaps in turn, get better at throwing it off.

Obviously, though, this had never crossed the minds of the wizards and witches in the Wizengamot. They had lapped up the barrister's defence, and more than two-thirds had voted in favour of Mr Malfoy's innocence. The other members, it was reported, had been unpersuaded either way, and so had abstained from voting.

Mr Malfoy had waltzed out his trial, his wife by his side, gushing about how thankful he was to have his life returned to him – the very next day the Minister for Magic had offered him a post within the Ministry. Mr Malfoy had then gone on to pledge money to this cause and that. From the articles she had read, he practically had the reporters eating out his hand.

As for her father, he had slunk off into the shadows, his head hung low. In the end, the only person willing to employ him was Professor Dumbledore. She had left the records room infuriated after reading the Prophet's article on the headmaster's decision – St Malfoy's halo had been almost blinding as he spoke of his concern about her father's appointment.

But, in a strange way, it had soothed her heart to know Dad had not taken a position at Hogwarts to distance himself from his family...from her. He'd had to do it. And he had proved every lie-monger wrong – he might be scarily strict, but he was a brilliant teacher.

Once Edmund had finished his laps he came bounding over to her, and by the grin on his face she knew he had probably achieved top marks.

He punched his fists into the air. "Yes! Freedom!"

Evelyn laughed. "So, what do you want to do this afternoon to celebrate no more exams?"

"How about we lob wet loo roll at Gryffindors."

"Or not."

Edmund's eyes danced with mischief. "You've no idea how much fun you're missing."

"Oh, I'm sure I could take a wild guess," she said dryly.

"You're getting awfully cheeky in your old age," he said, feigning offence.

Evelyn opened her mouth then closed it again. It would make for a very awkward conversation if she said it was because she was spending too much time around her father. As far as Edmund was aware, she didn't have one. His whereabouts had never come up in conversation, so she had left her friend, and anyone else, for that matter, to believe whatever they wanted. It was easier that way.

By the time dinner rolled around, Evelyn was ready for a good feed. She and Edmund had not spent the afternoon attacking unsuspecting Gryffindors; instead, they had joined in on an Exploding Snap competition. Edmund had made it to the final two, but Demetrius Hooklander, a pompous second year, and had narrowly beaten him. Edmund had been gutted, but she reminded him that at least he had walked away with his eyebrows still in intact; Demetrius had not been so lucky.

As she stabbed another chip with her fork she caught sight of Harry Potter staring at her...again.

She huffed with frustration. "Why does he keep looking at me?"

"Who?" Edmund said.

"Harry Potter – no, don't look. He'll see you."

Edmund smiled impishly. "Maybe he fancies you."

"You're not funny, Ed."

"Want me to ask him what his problem is?"

"No!" She turned her fork on him. "Don't you dare."

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "OK, OK."

Harry didn't look her way again the rest of dinner; at least, she didn't see him looking. His expression baffled her. It was almost like he was observing a newly discovered yet highly bizarre animal at the zoo. And it had all started after Hermione had shown him that picture of her father with someone. She tried to find the book again, but after several fruitless searches she had given up. Maybe Edmund was right, maybe she should ask him what his problem was.

After Professor Dumbledore had dismissed everyone, Gregory joined them as they walked back to the Slytherin common room.

"So, guess what I heard at dinner?" he said, "You know that big bloke in sixth year, Augustus Walsingham? Well, he got a hold of a radio, and he also got permission for us to listen to the Brazil-Czech Republic match tonight."

"Wicked!" Edmund exclaimed. "It's the quarter-final, too. It's a good job Walsingham's a genius at potions."

"I know – I think he's the only student Snape's actually sort of civil with." Gregory said. "So, whoever wins tonight will be playing Ireland for a place in the final."

Edmund rubbed his hands together excitedly. "I can't wait."

"You'll have to let me know what the score is," Evelyn said, attempting to sound disappointed.

"What?"

"Why?"

"I've got my last remedial lesson with Professor Snape."

"Tonight? Aww, that's rubbish."

Evelyn shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, it is."

"I don't think you needed those lessons in the first place," Edmund stated, "But I'm not about to argue with Snape."

Evelyn suppressed a smirk, and said coolly, "No, I wouldn't either."

...

Catching her breath as she reached her father's office, Evelyn knocked on the door. She had got caught up in the pre-match commentary more than she thought she would have, and had completely lost track of time.

"Come in."

Evelyn pulled down the handle and entered.

Her father glanced over his shoulder. "You are late."

He was filling a jar with a revolting specimen of some sort, no doubt to join the rest of his collection. The shelves behind his desk reminded her of something out of Frankenstein's laboratory. But, she suspected he put them there on purpose, to intimidate students. He didn't have a single jar of pickled anything in his quarters, and there certainly weren't any in Spinner's End.

As she ran her gaze along the shelves, she could just imagine students squirming in their seats, unnerved by the black acromantula eyeballs peering down at them menacingly.

"I know...I got distracted."

He snorted. "By Mr Walsingham's radio, no doubt."

Evelyn poked the toe of her shoe at a crack in the stone floor. "Something like that," she mumbled.

Her father twisted on the lid of the large jar and set it on a middling shelf, beside a baby dragon. Its front feet were curled in towards its tiny body, its tail dangled freely in the amber tinged liquid preserving it, and its scales were supple, translucent, never having had a chance to harden into an impenetrable armour. Evelyn could see the network of veins and arteries, and its heart was no bigger than a cherry. It was grotesque and yet it was also morbidly fascinating.

"Well, don't just stand there, take out your wand," he said, washing his hands at the sink.

"I thought we were doing theory tonight?"

"That can be arranged if you –"

"No, it's fine." Evelyn quickly fumbled for her wand.

His hands dried, he took out his own wand. "I thought we would try something a little different tonight."

"What are we going –"

A loud thump cut her sentence short.

"What was that?" she said, glancing about warily.

"A boggart."

She swallowed thickly. "I-In here?"

He nodded. "In that trunk over there. I found it lurking in a cupboard a few days ago. It..." He paused for a moment then cleared his throat. "I will teach you how to neutralise one. This is not normally taught until third year, but it is a fairly simple spell. Flick your wrist like this and say, Riddikulus.

Evelyn did as he said.

"Good." He walked over to the trunk. "Remember, it is only a projection of your fear."

Taking a deep breath, she held out her wand in front of her as her father opened the trunk. But it was not a manticore that rose out of it – it was a Dementor. An icy chill encompassed the room, and at its rasping, rattling breath she began to tremble violently. Horrible memories were plucked from the depths of her mind, almost consuming her with anguish.

Crying out, she shielded her face with her arms.

The next moment she felt her father's hands grasp her shoulders.

"Evelyn," he said, "Look at me."

"Are you all right?" he pressed.

Her pulse was still racing. "Why...I don't understand...It was a Dementor."

"Our greatest fear can change without us even realising it. You have encountered more Dementors in less than a year than most witches and wizards will experience in a lifetime." He then let go of her and straightened up. "Perhaps we will do something else this evening instead."

"No – Please, I want to try it again."

He frowned, scrutinising her. "Maybe another time."

Please, Dad, let me try. I know I can do it."

The slight tick in his jaw told her that he was wrestling with the idea.

"Very well," he finally said. "But any further attempts after this will be at my discretion. Understood?

She nodded she did and he walked back over to the trunk.

It's only pretend, she told herself, it can't hurt me.

"Ready?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes."

The Dementor rose out of the trunk like a plume of smoke. A chill swept over her, lifting the hairs on the nape of her neck. A scaly, grey hand, with long bony fingers reached out as if to grab her as the awful memories surfaced again. Her hands shook, her voice lost its strength and she recoiled away from it once more.

Anger and humiliation washed over her as her mind settled again. She kept her back to her father, too afraid to look at him, afraid she would only see disappointment on his face. She was useless. He probably wished he had a braver, more powerful witch for a daughter.

A thick silence descended on the room and settled there for what seemed like an eternity.

"Evelyn," her father eventually said, "Come here."

She turned around and walked over to him, but kept her gaze down, twiddling her wand in her hands. He caught her chin in the crook of his finger and gently forced her to look up at him. His brow was furrowed, his dark eyes unreadable.

"Do not be concerned –"

"But I couldn't even cast the spell – I'm useless."

His features hardened, his voice growing stern. "I never want to hear those words leave your mouth again. You are not useless, far from it."

An unwarranted anger rose up within her. "Why couldn't I do it, then?"

"Dementors are one of the darkest, foulest creatures in this world; it takes an incredible amount of power to repel them."

"Will I ever be able to fend one off?"

"I am sure you will be, in time."

She gave him a watery smile then hugged him, finding comfort and reassurance in his returned embrace.

"What are we going to do instead?" she asked finally pulling away from.

He didn't answer, but instead he took out his pocket watch. His lips flattened into a thin line, and her heart sank. Was he going to cut their lesson short?

"Wait here," he said, reaching for his robes.

"Why?"

"I need to go and speak with Professor Lupin."

"What for?"

"He is overdue his medicine."

"What will I do while you're gone?"

He drew in a somewhat irritated breath. "I won't be more than ten minutes." He waved a hand idly. "There is a book on my desk you may read."

Once he had left, Evelyn plonked herself down onto the large armchair behind his desk with the book he had said she could read. There were other, more interesting books in his office, but she had better sense than to take one off the shelf – she only read 'forbidden books' at home when she knew her parents were unlikely to disturb her. The one in her lap was drier than a desert. It was a collection of essays on pondweed. Nevertheless, she opened it – at least there were pictures to look at.

The clock struck seven forty five. Evelyn closed the book and looked anxiously towards the door. Half an hour had past and her father had still not returned. Maybe he had got caught up in something else. She bit her bottom lip, wondering if she should go to Professor Lupin's office; he might know where her father had gone to. There was not much point in her sitting here for the rest of the evening if he wasn't going to come back until late.

After another ten minutes of waiting, she made her decision to go to Lupin.

By the time she reached his office she was cutting curfew very finely. To her surprise, his door was slightly ajar. She knocked, but there no answer. Feeling somewhat emboldened by her quest to find her father, she poked her head inside, however the room was empty. But before she turned to go she noticed a goblet on the desk; it was the same one she had seen her father carrying before. Wisps of smoke rose out of it – it hadn't been touched yet.

Something didn't feel right.

Going into to the room, she walked up to Lupin's desk for a closer inspection of the goblet. Her attention, however, was immediately drawn to a map that was spread out on the desk. It was a map of Hogwarts. Wide eyed, she pored over it. She saw Professor Dumbledore pacing in his office; Professor McGonagall was in the staffroom with Professor Vector; she saw herself in Lupin's office.

Where had Lupin got this from?

Moving dots beyond the castle walls soon drew her interest, too, but her heart lurched into her throat as two names screamed out of the parchment at her: Severus Snape...and Sirius Black. As she watched them, she realised her father's dot wasn't moving at all. It remained perfectly still. Black's was going frantic – he was chasing after Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.

Panic exploded inside of her.

Dad!

What had Black done to him!

Without a second thought she raced out of Lupin's office and through the corridors. She had to help him, she had to make sure he was safe...alive.

...

Severus was almost blinded by pain as he cracked open his eyes. Warm blood trickled down his neck, his hair was matted and sticky; it felt like someone had bored a hole into his head. Slowly he gained his bearings, only to discover he was hanging in mid-air. Imagines of what had happened flashed across his mind: the last thing he remembered was three wands pointed directly at him.

Those...children, he seethed inwardly. He had been so close; he'd had Black and Lupin within his grasp. But Potter, that stupid, reckless boy and his friends had let them get away.

After reversing the Suspension spell that had been placed on him he retrieved his wand, which, surprisingly, had been left on the ground beside him. He took a moment to steady himself then looked around. Above the tree line that surrounded the lake he saw at least a hundred Dementors dispersing, all returning to their posts at the castle entrances. Perplexed by the sight, he started towards the lake. A lone figure lying on the grass, however, caught his attention. After rushing to it, he quickly discovered that, apart from a broken leg, Ron Weasley's unconscious state was nothing to be overly concerned about.

He then cast the Patronus Charm, his silvery raven gliding silently towards the castle. Despite the throbbing pain from the gash on head, he knew the treatment of it would have to wait. Potter and Granger were still out there somewhere and, no matter how much he may detest them, he would not leave them to the mercy of Sirius Black.

But, as he turned towards the trees a baleful howl split the night air. Severus' gaze shot skyward to where the moon was a perfect luminous disc.

"Lupin," he muttered darkly.

He had forgotten about him.

The need to find Potter and Granger suddenly increased tenfold. As he hurried forward, though, an old fear snaked into his mind, but he forced it to one side. The fate of more than two children rested on his shoulders, he did not have the luxury of cowering back in dread.

He was almost to the tree line when a distressed voice carried through the air. Pausing to listen, he heard it again, and this time it sounded strangely familiar...too familiar. He quickly retraced his steps back to the Whomping Willow, anger erupting inside of him at the sight of his daughter.

"EVELYN!" he roared when he was still a distance from her. "YOU STUPID GIRL! WHAT-DO-YOU-THINK-YOU-ARE-DOING?"

"Dad!" Relief filled in her voice. "You're all right!"

She started to run to him, but something huge burst out of the forest. Evelyn screamed and Severus' heart froze like it had turned into a solid mass of ice. Snarling and snapping its long, razor sharp jaw, the werewolf came between Severus and his child. Terror seized him on a scale that he had never thought possible. His throat closed over, he couldn't breathe.

The beast had its back to him as began to circle Evelyn with slow, predatory steps. There was nothing he could do; no spell could harm a werewolf during the full moon. His pulse was hammering; his legs, his stomach, his whole body grew weaker. But, he took a step forward. He had to draw the creature away from her...to himself.

He raised his wand. "Expelliarmus!"

The spell bounced harmlessly off the werewolf, but it was enough to get its attention. It growled viciously at him, drool dripping from its jaw. Severus hit it with another spell. It started towards him, roaring and clawing at the air with every spell he sent towards it.

"Evelyn – RUN!" he shouted.

To his horror she remained rooted to the spot, paralysed with fear.

Suddenly, though, another howl sounded through the trees. The werewolf's ears twitched, momentarily distracted. The howl came again, and with a grunt the beast took off in the direction of it.

Severus' legs were like water under him, but the moment he saw Evelyn collapse onto the ground they gained a renewed strength. He ran to her, falling to his knees by her side. Grasping her cool cheeks in his hands, he rubbed them as gently but as firmly as he could.

"Evelyn," he said hoarsely. "Wake up."

She moaned weakly, and he let out a long, relieved breath when her eyes flickered opened. He grasped her into his arms, pulling her tightly against him. The dread of the last few minutes still played havoc with his mind and his emotions, but the wild thumps of Evelyn's heart next to his anchored him in reality. His daughter was safe, unharmed.

"Dad," she said, eventually pulling back from him. "That was a...that was a werewolf!" Then her gaze landed on the gash to his head, her eyes widening. "You're hurt!"

That did it. In an instant, Severus' relief switched to a roiling anger.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" he roared.

"But...The map..."

He took a firm grip of her shoulders. "Are you stupid? You could have been killed!"

Her lip quivered, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm sorry..."

Severus brought his face so close to her that their noses were almost touching. "Don't you ever do something so reckless again. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said, her voice shaking.

"And if you ever breathe a word of this to your mother I will make you the sorriest girl alive."

An encounter with a werewolf would be a tea party compared to Deirdre's fury. She would go through him for a shortcut if she ever found out what had almost happened tonight.

Severus stood up and grasped a rough hold of Evelyn's hand. He was not letting her out of his sight for a single moment. Striding towards the lake, he did not slow his pace to accommodate his daughter. His anger towards her was only barely surpassed by the fact she was unharmed – barely.

Once they reached the lake Severus saw three bodies lying by the shore: Black, Potter and Granger.

Letting go of Evelyn's hand, he pointed to where she was standing. "Do not move one inch from this spot," he said, warningly.

After an initial examination and, after finding that all three had a pulse, he made sure Black was secured – there would be no escaping for him this time. He then transfigured driftwood into stretchers and set about bringing them back to the castle.

He made Evelyn take his hand again, although he was still too infuriated with her to speak with her. She had never done something so mindless before in her life. Who did she think she was, a bloody Gryffindor? One glance at Black's name on that infernal map should have warned to remain in the castle.

She was afraid something terrible had happened to you. If the roles had been reversed, you would have done exactly the same; you wouldn't have given a second thought to the danger.

A muscle jerked in his jaw. It still did not excuse her actions – he was a fully grown wizard, she was a child. How could he have ever lived with himself if something had happened to her; how could he have ever faced Deirdre again? He glanced at her walking silently and sullenly beside him. What was he going to do with her? Should he punish her? Or was coming face to face with a werewolf consequence enough for her rashness?

By the time they reached the castle, Dumbledore and Minerva, still in nightcaps and dressing gowns, were hurrying towards them.

"Severus!" Minerva exclaimed. "What in Merlin's name is going on?"

He proceeded to tell them everything that had happened in the Shrieking Shack, including the ridiculous lie that Peter Pettigrew was still alive. He also made certain to explain that it was Potter and his friends who had let Black escape, and that they had attacked him.

"And where is Professor Lupin?" Dumbledore asked, still casting his gaze over the unconscious bodies.

Severus' lips curled back in a sneer. "He forgot to take his medicine tonight."

Minerva covered her mouth with her hand. "You don't mean..."

"I did warn the headmaster of this."

Dumbledore, seemingly unfazed by the comment, turned his gaze to Evelyn, peering over his half-moon spectacles. "What are you doing out of bed, Miss Snape?"

The headmaster's use of her real name as much as the question itself seemed to take her off guard. She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I went looking for my father...to help him..." she said in a small voice.

"Ah, such loyalty," Dumbledore said, then looked at Severus. "It's rare in a Slytherin, is it not?"

Severus glared at Dumbledore, his dark eyes glittering. "Running headlong into danger is not what I would call loyalty, Headmaster. It is foolishness."

"Then love itself must be foolishness, Severus."

His anger flared up again, but he said nothing in response to Dumbledore's accurately aimed remarks. Severus let go of Evelyn's hand, placed his own on her back and gave her a gentle push towards Minerva. "Would you be so kind as to see my daughter back to the Slytherin common room?"

"Of course, Severus."

Evelyn looked up at him once then followed Minerva up the main steps to the castle entrance. Under other circumstances, there had been enough pleading in that one glance to have pulled tightly on the strings of his heart. But Severus was not willing to relent of his anger – not yet, at least.

He quickly returned his attention to the task on hand: seeing Potter and his friends to the hospital wing, and Black to a suitable makeshift cell.

"Where is Lupin now?" Dumbledore asked when Evelyn and Minerva would out of earshot.

"Running mindless somewhere in the Black Forest, I dare say." Severus jerked Black's stretcher forward somewhat harder than necessary.

"Did you see him?"

Hostility swelled inside Severus. "If you count his attempt to rip my daughter to pieces, then, yes, I did."

Dumbledore fixed him with a firm, steady gaze. "What turned him away?"

"Another creature of some sort; it wasn't another wolf, I know that much." A remnant chill raked down his spine. "Whatever it was, it was enough to convince Lupin to pursue it."

The headmaster merely stroked his beard. "Perhaps time will reveal to us what it was."

...

Alone in his quarters, Severus sat staring at a small, glowing phial Dumbledore had given. He gritted his teeth again, seething that Black had not only escaped, but that Potter was somehow involved in it. Dumbledore insisted it was a complete impossibility, considering the boy had been locked in the hospital wing the entire time. Then later, adding insult to injury, all of his protests against Potter's ludicrous story had been silenced when Dumbledore had informed he had used Legilimency on Black. And, that he had willingly, almost eagerly submitted to it – the phial in front of Severus was proof of that.

The headmaster claimed he had irrefutable evidence that Black was, in fact, innocent.

Dumbledore had required something from Black, though: that he part with one particular memory. The headmaster had given then it to Severus in his study, not long after Black had escaped. He had wanted to crush the phial in his hand there and then, but Dumbledore had advised him not to be so hasty to disregard it.

That had been almost two hours ago.

Severus was still undecided whether he wanted to take the risk of plunging into one of Black's memories or not. The man's relentless campaign to destroy his friendship with Deirdre still festered like an old wound. Even after school, when they forced to cooperate with each other in the Order, Sirius had not given up tormenting him. In fact, it had only grown worse as his continuing relationship with Deirdre remained a secret to everyone but Dumbledore. After one Order meeting, however, Sirius went too far: 'Harper finally saw sense, then, Snivellus? Or was she too much of an ice-maiden, even for you.'

Severus never regretted breaking Black's nose that night. Of course, Sirius' story for his bruised and still slightly swollen nose at the following Order meeting was that he had walked into a door. Severus had let the truth slide, but vowed he would not hesitate to clobber Black again for such an insult.

Picking up the phial, Severus rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. Whatever the memory was, Dumbledore would not have given it to him lightly. With a resigned sigh he rose from his chair, unlocked a cabinet and lifted out a Pensive, setting it onto the table. He then poured the contents of the phial into the Pensive, watching the silvery liquid swirl around like it had been caught in a maelstrom. Severus placed his hands on the sides of the Pensive, lowering his face closer to the swirling surface until he was sucked down into it.

Severus landed on the edge of the Black Forest. Twilight was rapidly fleeing and stars were beginning to appear in the sky like pinpricks of light. Looking around him, Severus frowned as he was unable to see any sign of Black. Was Dumbledore certain he had given him the correct memory?

A twig snapped close by.

No more than ten feet in front of him Severus saw a massive, black dog – the same one he had seen in Hogsmeade several weeks before. The dog was staring intently at something and, moving closer to it, he saw a small figure carrying an illuminated wand just beyond the tree line. Suddenly the pieces fell into place and he realised this was the night Hagrid had left Evelyn at his hut. But what did Black have to do with it?

Over the next few minutes Severus watched the drama unfold. After the dog had warned Evelyn to run it had followed after her, and Severus had followed after it. Next came the Dementors' attack, then his Patronus and his comforting of his daughter. He could feel his frustration growing as the dog trotted past him and back into the forest. He already knew all of this – what was Dumbledore playing at?

He was about to disengage himself from the memory when he heard a gravelly cackle of laughter. His attention immediately piqued, he strode in the direction of it. The moment he saw Sirius Black propped against a tree, laughing witlessly to himself, Severus felt an awful sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach.

A cat came to rest on Black's lap, and he stroked it, tickling it behind its ears. "Harper didn't see sense after all," he said, still laughing. He tapped a finger against his head. "She must have lost her mind completely."

When the cat hissed and arched its back a few moments later, Sirius pushed it off his lap, transforming into a huge, black dog. Severus watched in disbelief and horror as the dog retreated deeper into the forest, padding harmlessly past several Dementors.

He came up out of the Pensive with an angry shout, and only for its great weight he would have thrown it at the nearest wall. Black was an animagus! Everything suddenly made perfect sense. But, worst of all, his daughter's life had been saved by the one person he wished never to owe anything to. It was a cruel twist of fate.

He removed the memory from the Pensive and replaced it back into the phial. It almost seemed to mock him now, nevertheless, he dropped it into his pocket. Severus took some comfort in the knowledge that Black himself was no longer aware of his intervention, or that Evelyn even existed. He could only hope to Merlin that neither of them ever crossed paths again.

The portrait hole to his quarters closed with a light thud.

Turning around abruptly, Severus' eyes narrowed when he saw Evelyn standing in the living room. Her hair was a tangled mess, her cheeks blotchy and red, almost as red as her eyes. She wrung her hands furiously in front of her and wiggled her slippered toes.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped. "Go back to your dorm."

"Dad, I'm so sorry." Her chin trembled. "Please don't hate me."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, "I do not hate you, Evelyn; I am angry with you. There is a difference."

Her shoulders drooped. "I only wanted to help you..."

"And so you thought you would take on a mass murderer by yourself?"

"No...But your dot on the map, it –"

He cut her off with an irritated slash of his hand through the air. "Do you not understand you could have been killed tonight? Lupin would have torn you –"

Evelyn gasped. "Lupin – Professor Lupin! He's a werewolf?"

Severus released an exasperated breath through gritted teeth.

"So that's what all the medicine was for – it was wolfsbane."

"Evelyn..."

"And that's why you covered his class all those times."

"Evelyn!" he shouted. "Enough!"

"But, Dad...he's a werewolf!

Severus let out a frustrated groan, sat down on the sofa, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll.

He cracked open one eye at a light touch on his arm. "What?"

"Dad, I promise I won't do something stupid ever again."

He highly doubted the ever part, but he heard the sincerity in her voice.

Before he could respond she had climbed onto the sofa beside him, laying her head on his chest. "Can I stay here with you for a while? I had a bad dream..."

Severus opened his mouth but closed it again. He rolled his eyes – when had he become such a mug? He looked down at his daughter, who was already drifting off to sleep, and brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face. She snuggled in closer to him and he wrapped a protective arm around her. Fatigue lulled own eyes closed, his body relaxing as he slipped into the nothingness of sleep.

...

Remus tossed a book into his trunk. He didn't want to leave Hogwarts, but it was better this way – it was safer for everyone this way. The shame and disgrace of the night before still pressed down on him, reminding him of the monster he really was. He had awakened in the forest, remembering everything he had done...and almost done. Evelyn Snape's petrified face would be forever ingrained in his mind, as would be her father's desperate attempt to save her.

Severus had not needed to say a word to him at breakfast; the loathing in his cold, narrowed eyes had conveyed enough. He had made the decision swiftly to resign his position. What if he forgot to take his wolfsbane again? What if next time he transformed inside the castle?

He threw another book into the trunk. No doubt Severus would be thrilled to hear he was leaving, and after last night he would probably rest easier as well.

"Professor Lupin? What are you doing?"

Looking down the room, he saw Evelyn and gave her a weak smile. There were times when he forgot she was the daughter of Severus Snape, until she fixed those dark eyes of hers on him, like she was doing now.

"I'm leaving."

"But the end of term is not for another few weeks."

"No, Evelyn, I'm leaving for good. I've resigned my post."

"But why?"

"It's...complicated."

"Is it because you're a werewolf?"

"Your father told you, did he?"

"He didn't mean to. It was an accident, he –" Her eyes suddenly widened. "You know who my father is?"

"I had my suspicion from the first time we met on the Hogwarts' Express. But, yes, I have known for quite some time who your father is."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I had my reasons," he said. There was no need to go into the details surrounding Severus' threats.

She traced an imaginary circle on a desk in front of her. "He told me not to tell anyone that you're a werewolf and stuff."

Remus was taken aback by her words. He thought Severus would have jumped at the chance to let the world what he really was. "Well, then, you should understand all the more reason why I need to leave. I could have bitten you last night – or worse. And how do you think your parents would have felt then?"

"You just forgot to take your wolfsbane once – you can make sure it won't happen again."

He sighed. "Evelyn, not everyone is so accepting of werewolves. I can't keep hiding what I am forever, and when I am finally found out I will be forced from the school. Parents will not want a werewolf teaching their children."

"But my mum said werewolves are not monsters," she stated matter of factly. "She said they make the choice to be good or bad, just like everyone else."

"Your mother is a good woman," he said.

"So, you'll stay, then?"

"I've made my decision, Evelyn. I have to go."

He saw her lips thin and her fists clench. He suppressed a smirk at how much she reminded him of Severus. She had his directness too, although it was coated with much more tact.

At school, James and Sirius would make cruel jokes about Severus, and what his children would be like if he ever had any. Sirius said it would be a crime for him to breed, while James merely laughed that any child of his would need a wheelbarrow to cart their enormous nose around in.

Looking at Evelyn, though, Remus realised that Severus had been the fortunate one. James had never lived to see Harry grow up, Sirius' best years were wasted languishing in Azkaban and he was now on the run, a fugitive; as for himself, he would never have a family.

As churlish as he seemed Severus was a good father. He had seen the protective glances he gave in her direction at meal times, how he would subtly aim derisive comments at Rolanda Hooch when she ridiculed Evelyn's flying in the staffroom. It had also not escaped his notice that Evelyn's duelling skills had risen to a level far beyond her age, but she had the cunning to hide it well – for the most part. And then, last night, even in his mindless state, Remus remembered the sacrifice Severus had been willing to pay to save his daughter.

"Will I ever see you again?" she asked.

"Perhaps."

She bit her bottom lip. "Professor, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why does my dad not like you?"

Remus had been hoping to avoid this particular question all year, and he thought he had. But now that he was confronted with it, he decided to be as truthful as he could without crossing the line. He did want to demean Severus in her eyes.

"Because, Evelyn, I had friends who played some very nasty pranks on your father, and I never did anything to stop them."

"Was Harry Potter's dad one of them?"

"Yes."

"What did they do?"

"It's not my place to tell you, Evelyn."

She crossed her arms. "Did they play pranks on my mum, too?"

Remus stiffened. This was territory he did not want to enter into. It had been obvious to almost everyone in school, except, it seemed, to Severus and Deirdre, that they were very much in love with each other. This had only spurred Sirius and James on to make Severus' life hell. And after Severus had flattened Sirius in a duel in Defence class in upper sixth – a reprisal for a comment he had made about Deirdre – with Sirius smacking his chin off a desk, his friends had become relentless.

They had wanted anything but to see Severus happy.

"It's almost lunchtime, shouldn't you be going to the Great Hall."

She gave him a very Snape-like glare. "Why won't you tell me?"

"It's something you will have to ask your parents."

She heaved a deep sigh. "I'll never find out then."

He smiled. "Off you go, or you'll be late."

She turned to leave then paused. "Thank you, Professor. You were a good teacher; I'll miss you next year."

Remus watched her leave then continued to pack away his books. He shook his head, giving a short laugh. If James and Sirius only knew how fond he had become of Severus Snape's daughter – the two of them would laugh themselves silly.

...

The Hogwarts' Express puffed into Kings Cross Station. Evelyn watched out the window as the train's wheels screeched to a halt, searching through the sea of parents on the platform for her mum. She spotted her waiting beside a pillar.

Edmund helped lug her trunk down from the rack above their seats, and then they joined the queue of students, anxious for doors to open. She couldn't believe her first year was over already. It had gone so fast and so much had happened. Part of her had not wanted to leave Hogwarts, but then she reminded herself she would have her parents to herself for two whole months. And, she had a feeling this summer was going to be one of the best ever.

"See you in September, Evelyn," Edmund said as he waved to her on the platform. "Don't forget to write."

"I won't! See you, Ed!" she said.

Navigating her way through the crowds, she broke into a half run when she saw her mother.

"Evelyn!" she said, catching her in a fierce embrace. "I'm so happy to see you, Sweetheart."

"You too, Mum," Evelyn said.

Deirdre drew back from her, but kept her hands on her shoulders. "You're going to be as tall as your father soon, then you'll both me looking down on me."

Evelyn giggled.

"How about we go and get some lunch?" her mother said, "I know a great little place not too far from here."

Evelyn screwed up her face slightly. "What about my trunk?"

Taking out her wand, Deirdre shrank it down to the size of a pocket book. "There you go, problem solved."

"Wow! Can you teach me how to do that?" Evelyn said.

"Maybe one day." Her mother put an arm around her shoulders. "Now, come on, we're supposed to be meeting someone at the cafe."

"Who?" Evelyn said, looking up at her mother, puzzled.

"Oh, just some man I met..."

Evelyn's eyes lit up. "Dad! We're meeting Dad? But I thought he was still at Hogwarts?"

Her mother laughed. "Dumbledore decided to let all the staff go home earlier than normal – he said they've had a very trying year and they deserved it."

Grasping her mother's hand, she pulled her through the station. "Hurry up, Mum...Dad hates being kept waiting."

...

A/N: NO! This is NOT the end! There is still SO much more to come! :)

Chapter 18: Chapter 17

Hello! Well, I have finally got another chapter finished. I am so sorry it has taken me so long to get this one finished, but I have only recently moved countires - not too far, just from Ireland to England. But, still, life has been hectic.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Part III

Chapter 17

Evelyn clunked down the cellar stairs. "It worked, Dad, we caught loads of them"

Severus held up a hand motioning for her to be silent while he counted six clockwise stirs. He then added an ounce of crushed scarab beetle wings to the bubbling potion and lowered the heat beneath the cauldron.

Turning around, he glanced into the bucket Evelyn was holding. "Good," he said.

The supply of slugs in his home stock had run low, but rather than spend money at the apothecary in Diagon Alley, Deirdre had suggested he pour a can of beer into a bucket. She said that Gardener's World – a Muggle magazine – claimed slugs were drawn to beer like a moth to a flame. And by the amount of slugs in the bucket, it seemed his one pound and seventy nine pence had been well spent in the local Muggle off licence.

Severus pointed to a side bench. "I've left you what you will need to wash and preserve them."

She screwed up her face. "You want me to touch them?"

"They are slugs, Evelyn, not hornets."

"But they're so icky."

He rolled his eyes. "You sliced up rat spleens yesterday, how will this be any different?"

"Rat spleens aren't slimy – and they don't have beady eyes, either."

"If you are going to whinge, then go. I do not have time for such Gryffindor dramatics."

She scowled at him with eyes every bit as dark as his own. "I am nothing like a Gryffindor," she stated pointedly.

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Then stop acting like one."

With a huff she snatched up the bucket and stomped across to the side bench. He watched her pick up a slug gingerly, holding it out at arm's length, wash it under a tap and then drop it into a large jar of preserving solution. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her there was tongs in the cupboard under the sink, but he decided it would do her no harm to handle a few slugs.

He went back to the island workbench in the middle of the room and sat down on a stool. The burn-healing paste was thickening nicely, looking less like a potion, and would be ready in another half an hour. Opening a leather-bound journal, he checked to see what else he still had left to make for Poppy. It wasn't an overly large order from the school nurse, but enough to keep him busy most days.

"Dad, why are you making so much of that paste?"

Severus kept reading. "It is what Madam Pomfrey wanted."

"Why?"

Placing his finger on the last word he read, he lifted his gaze and said, "Because she is paranoid students are going to be horribly burned by dragons."

She looked at him with undiluted scepticism. "Dad, I'm almost thirteen; do you honestly expect me to believe there will be dragons at Hogwarts this year?

With a shake of her head she turned back to her task. Severus returned to reading, smirking to himself as he did. He would look forward to seeing his daughter's reaction when she realised he had been serious. Although, with the amount safety regulations that had been put in place by the Ministry, Severus was certain that any injuries in the Tri Wizard Tournament would be kept to a minimum.

This coming year had been playing on his mind all summer. It was not so much the tournament itself that bothered him, it was the wizards that it would bring with it. Severus had not seen Igor Karkaroff since the end of the war; indeed, he'd had no intention of ever seeing him again. He trusted Igor as much as he would trust Neville Longbottom to be left alone in a potions laboratory. But, unfortunately, he was the headmaster of Durmstrang.

Dumbledore had also hired Alastor Moody as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. It was not a decision Severus had been happy about, to the point that he would have almost preferred Lupin to be rehired again – almost.

The tough but paranoid Auror had interrogated him mercilessly after his arrest, but Severus refused to speak a word until he had seen Dumbledore. In the end, Moody had capitulated to his request – it had been a small but bitter victory for Severus. Yet, even with Dumbledore's testimony, Moody had been so vehemently opposed to any measure of clemency that, if he had gotten his way, Severus would never have seen his wife and newborn daughter again.

A gentle thud sounded on the floorboards in the living room.

"Mum's home," Evelyn said, wiping her hands on a cloth beside her.

"And where do you think you are going?" Severus put his hand out to stop her as she rushed towards the stairs. "You haven't finished yet."

"But Dad..."

"You may see your mother once you have finished." She opened her mouth to protest again but he levelled a stern stare at her. "Do not argue with me."

"Fine," she mumbled and went back to the work station.

Less than ten minutes later, though, the cellar door opened and Deirdre came down the stairs, cradling a cup of tea in her hands. She sat down on an old worn armchair he kept by a fireplace he had magically added to the room years ago. Evelyn managed to sneak past him and squeezed herself into the chair beside her mother. Smugness crept across her features as Deirdre wrapped an arm around her shoulders, but he merely glared down his hooked nose at her. He would deal with her attitude later.

"Hello, Sweetheart," Deirdre said, "Did you have a good day?"

It was good until Dad made me pick up slugs and wash them."

Severus crossed his arms. "I did not make you; you offered to help, there is a difference."

"You called me a Gryffindor," Evelyn said indignantly.

"And with good reason."

...

Deirdre suppressed a smile as Severus went to check on his potion. With a sullen pout Evelyn then wriggled out from beside her and crossed over to a work bench on the far side of the cellar. From where she was sitting, Deirdre could see the corners of Severus' mouth curve in slight amusement and triumph.

The atmosphere in the house this summer had been incredibly different, and, bizarrely, Severus and Evelyn's bickering had been a large factor in changing it. Before, they had been so wary of each other, hurt by years of misunderstanding, that they had all but tiptoed around each other. Deirdre blamed herself for that. If only she had stood back sooner and let them sort out problems on their own, then maybe years of misery would have been avoided.

She took a sip of her tea. "Severus, I'll have to take Evelyn to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get her uniform altered. I swear she's grown a full inch since the start of the holidays."

"I've only grown three quarters of an inch, actually," Evelyn said.

Deirdre rolled her eyes. She was as pedantic as her father at times.

"We have the money to buy her a new uniform," he said, tidying up the work station.

"Yes, I know. But, she's clearly inherited your height and I reckon she'll have shot up again by Christmas. We can't keep buying her a new uniform every few months."

"I will buy what books and equipment she'll need for this year, then, while you are sorting that out."

Deirdre hid a smile behind her teacup, knowing Severus deliberately changed the direction of a conversation when he knew she was right.

"And then can we go and get lunch somewhere together?" Evelyn chipped in.

"How about the London Apprentice?" Deirdre said.

Evelyn grinned. "Brilliant!"

Severus nodded his approval.

The three hundred year old Muggle pub was a favourite amongst the family.

Suddenly, all their attentions were drawn by a light tap on the cellar window. A spotted owl peered in through the glass, holding a letter in its beak.

"I'll get it," Evelyn said, hurrying to open the latch on the window. She took the letter from the owl and gave it a biscuit from a bowl Severus kept on the sill.

"Who's it for, Sweetheart?" Deirdre asked.

Evelyn looked at the writing on the envelope. "Me – I entered a competition at the beginning of the summer holidays..."

She quickly broke the wax seal, took out the letter, read it and then gasped.

"What is it?" Severus said.

She gave a half hysterical laugh. "I won, I actually won!"

He drummed his fingers impatiently on the workbench. "Won what?"

"Tickets to the Quidditch World Cup!"

Deirdre exchanged a glance with Severus, who frowned. "How many tickets did you win?" he asked.

A broad grin spread across Evelyn's face. "I entered for three tickets, so you could go as well."

Severus' jaw tightened. "You know that won't be possible, Evelyn."

Deirdre could see the determination etched on her daughter's face. She wasn't ready to back down just yet. "I thought maybe...maybe we could pretend like we do at school."

That seemed to catch Severus off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I was at Hogwarts all year and no one guessed you were my dad."

His lip drew back in the barest hint of a sneer, and Deirdre could almost hear what he was thinking: 'except for Lupin'. Initially, it had alarmed her when Severus had told her Remus had inadvertently discovered Evelyn's relationship to him. Remus' allegiance was still so murky, but after speaking with him for a short while she had soon realised that he could not have had anything to do with the Potters' murders – and, apparently, neither had Sirius Black.

"We could all go, and me and Mum can call you Professor Snape, and –"

"Evelyn, listen to me..."

"Please, Dad," she said, her eyes pleading with him. She then turned to Deirdre. "Mum, make him say yes."

Deirdre sat silently for a moment. "I suggest a compromise..."

"What?"

She held up a hand. "Before you say anything, Severus, hear me out. If we shared different tents – you could pitch yours somewhere else in the campsite if you want – and if we showed up at different times to the match and exchanged a few civilised words...then I think it will work."

"Deirdre –"

"Oh, don't be so stubborn, Severus," she said, waving her hand in an irritated manner. "I know you want to watch the match as much as any other green-blooded Slytherin."

The glare he shot her could have withered the leaves on the herbs he grew in pots in the cellar. She had him backed into a corner and he knew it.

"All right," he finally said, "I will agree to go on one condition."

"Anything, Dad," Evelyn said.

He looked at Deirdre. "If there is even the slightest snag with this plan I want you and Evelyn to Disapparate back home immediately."

She nodded. "Agreed."

Screaming with excitement, Evelyn flung herself at Severus, wrapping her arms around his waist.

...

"There, I think that should do it."

Evelyn's mother stood with her hands on her hips, proudly admiring their handy work. Their tent was not the most aesthetically pleasing, especially with all the horrible puce coloured patches sewn onto it. But it was all the camping shop had left in its hiring section, and her mother wasn't going to part with twenty galleons for a new one, which, she said, would only be used once and then packed away into the attic

"Uh, Mum...what about this pole?"

She looked at it for a moment then shrugged. "It won't matter. There are no storms forecast for this evening, so we should be all right."

Should be – Evelyn didn't find that very comforting. She didn't fancy having the tent fall in around her while she was sleeping. Nevertheless, she put the pole back into the tent bag, picked up her belongings and went into the tent. It didn't look too bad on the inside, except there was strong smell of cooking, the kind that takes away appetite rather than whetting it. At least she was only going to have to stay in it for one night.

"What are we going to do for the rest of the day?" she asked.

"Well, firstly, we need to go and get some water. I need a cup of tea."

Her mother was always drinking tea.

"I can go and get us some water."

After rummaging through her rucksack, her mother pulled out two empty jugs. "There's a tap not too far from here – I think it's signposted anyway."

Evelyn took the jugs from her. "I won't be too long."

Leaving the tent, she headed straight down through a row of tents that made hers look rather pathetic. Some had chimney stacks on them; one had a garden with white peacocks in it. Ministry officials seemed almost ready to tear their hair out, though. She even saw one official wagging a finger in the face of a wizard: 'Muggle tents do not have turrets, Angus'.

It didn't really surprise Evelyn that very few were sticking to the anti-Muggle security regulations, considering most wizarding folk never paid any attention to the Muggle world. Sometimes, in school, she had to bite her lip to keep herself from blurting something out that would make it glaringly obvious she lived in the Muggle world. And one time in the library she had seen a book written by a wizard named Barb Dwyer; she had giggled, but Edmund had merely looked at her strangely and asked what was so funny.

There were times when she wondered how Edmund would react if he ever discovered she lived in the Muggle world. It wasn't that her friend was openly contemptuous of Muggles like Draco Malfoy was, but he didn't condemn Draco's attitude either. Would he stop being her friend if he knew one of her grandparents had been a Muggle and another was Muggle-born?

She didn't know.

As she walked she kept a careful watch out for her father. He was wearing black, as usual. That morning, when she had questioned why he wasn't wearing Muggle clothes, he had said it would make little difference whether he did or not. At first it had not made much sense to her, but after being greeted by a wizard dressed in a kilt and a poncho at the Portkey she had understood what he meant. Why bother wearing proper Muggle clothes when almost everyone else looked like they were going to a costume party?

Eventually she reached the water tap. There was a queue at it, but it wasn't as long as she thought it would be. As she approached it she recognised the three teenagers at the end of the line. Even without seeing their faces, the combination of busy hair, red hair and messy black hair was a giveaway. She didn't know what to do. Should she go away and come back later? But then Mum would worry if she took too long in getting back.

Steeling herself, she decided she was not going to let them unnerve her.

Harry looked over his shoulder as she stepped up behind them, and then very unsubtly nudged Hermione.

"Oh, hello," Hermione said, while Harry simply kept staring at her like she was a freak of nature.

Not to be left out, Ron turned around as well, although his face turned a shade darker when he saw her.

"What are you doing here?" Ron said.

Evelyn barely spared him a glance. "I'm queuing up for fairy dust."

"Ron, seriously," Hermione scolded him, "Do you have to be so rude."

"She's a bloody Slytherin, Hermione."

"And do you have a problem with Slytherins, Mr Weasley?"

Evelyn jumped at the sound of her father's low, menacing voice. So did the trio. She turned around slowly and looked up at him. He had Ron pinned with a glacial stare. Her lip quirked.

It looked like a vein was ready to pop out at Ron's temple. "No, Professor."

"It's just as well, then, otherwise you might have found yourself in detention on the first week back at school." Her father's eyes were hard, unyielding as he snapped them onto Harry. "What are you gawking at, Potter?"

Harry shook his head like he had just been dragged from a stupor. "Uh...nothing, Professor."

"I suggest you watch your manners in future, Mr Weasley," her father warned. He then inclined his head towards her. "Miss Harper."

With that he strode away.

"He's an evil git," Ron spat.

Anger flared in Evelyn's eyes. She rounded on him, standing almost toe to toe with him. "Don't you dare say that!"

"What's it to you?" he scoffed. "He's an ugly big nosed, greasy haired –"

Enraged, Evelyn kicked his shin as hard as she could. Ron cried out in agony and began hopping around on one foot. Realising what she had done, Evelyn looked at Harry and Hermione and saw that their eyes were almost bulging out of their sockets.

"She's bloody mad," Ron hissed through gritted teeth.

Evelyn struggled for words. "I...I..."

How could she have been so stupid? No one reacted like that over a professor – no one. But Ron's words had been so horrible; she hadn't been able to stop indignation from taking over. Her father wasn't evil. He wasn't ugly.

To her complete surprise, though, Hermione, who had seemingly recovered from her shock, said, "You deserved that, Ron. You shouldn't speak like that way about anyone. Isn't that right, Harry?"

Harry still looked he had been smacked across the face with a Beater's bat. "Err..."

"You're defending a Slytherin?" Ron said angrily while rubbing a hand across his shin.

Crossing her arms, Hermione said, "She has respect for our professors, which is more than I can say about you."

"But it's Snape!"

Evelyn could feel her blood beginning to boil again.

"So?" Hermione said, "You insulted someone in his house. Isn't he allowed to defend her?"

Ron shook his head. "You're as barmy as she is."

He bent down and snatched up the saucepan he'd dropped when Evelyn had kicked him. An even greater dislike for her rolled off him in waves. But, it seemed, he knew when he was beaten, and Hermione had taken the wind right out of his sails. Evelyn looked at the older girl with a new sense of respect. She had no idea why Hermione had chosen to stand up for her, but she had. And, quite unknowingly, she had managed to deflect any suspicions her actions may have given rise to.

"Don't let him upset you," Hermione said quietly, "He can be a real idiot at times."

Evelyn offered her a faint smile. "I won't."

...

Snuggling closer to her mother around the campfire, Evelyn watched another firework shoot up into the sky. It exploded, filling the sky with a dancing green leprechaun. As tired as she was, she was determined to stay awake. She didn't want to miss a moment of the celebrations. The Irish had been letting off fireworks for hours, ever since their team had been crowned the Quidditch world champions.

The match had been everything Evelyn dreamed it would be. The golden lights, the electric atmosphere, tens of thousands of screaming fans...it had been magical. All through the match Evelyn had barely been able to keep her bum on her seat as she'd craned her neck to watch the green and red clad players whizz through the air. At times, Viktor Krum had been just a red blur – it had made her feel dizzy.

Her stomach had been in knots as Krum and Lynch had both dove for the Snitch. Poor Lynch, he would be spitting out grass for months. Ten points – that was all that had been in it. But the stadium had erupted with wild shouts and cheers. Evelyn's mother had pulled her into a hug and almost squeezed the life out of her. Her father, on the other hand, had merely offered a reserved applause. Evelyn guessed, though, that if he was at home, listening to it on the radio in the cellar, he would have been more animated. He might even have cracked a smile.

Another firework exploded.

"Do you think Dad has his tent sound proofed?" Evelyn asked as somewhere near their tent a few wizards began to sing off key.

Her mother laughed. "Knowing your father, it's probably warded too."

They fell into another comfortable silence. The confrontation with Ron earlier that day swam into the forefront of her mind again. His words about her father still stung. Why did he have to be so mean?

She sighed.

Her mother's arm tightened around her. "Are you all right, Sweetheart?"

"Mum, why did you want to marry Dad?"

Giving a bemused smile, her mother said, "Where did this come from?"

Evelyn shrugged. "I'm just curious."

"Well, I didn't always want to marry him, I can tell you that," her mother said, then gave a short laugh. "You know, the first time we ever met we had an argument."

"That really doesn't surprise me."

"Hey!" She gave Evelyn a playful swat on her arm, causing her to giggle. "Watch it."

"So why did you marry him?"

"The same reason why most people get married, Sweetheart, because I loved him." She cradled her chin in her hand, her smile tender. "Sometimes when he looks at me I still get butterflies in my stomach."

"Mum..."

She laughed softly. "Well, you did ask."

Screams somewhere in the campsite cut her laughter short. The singing faded and everywhere people were turning towards the shrieks. Like a rippling effect, panic seemed to be spreading through the campsite and it getting closer to them. Evelyn's mother stood up and stared through the rows of tents.

Unease started to grow inside of Evelyn. "Mum, what's going on?"

"I don't know..."

Suddenly, like a herd of frightened deer, people came stampeding through the campsite. Terror was etched on every one of their faces. Children were screaming in their parent's arms, others were being dragged along, their pale cheeks stained with tears.

"Run!" a wizard shouted. "Get out of here!"

Petrified, Evelyn clung onto her mother. What was going on? The next moment a huge fireball lit up the sky followed by another and another. Then, through the flames, greedily devouring the tents, she saw a large group moving towards them. Those in the middle of the advancing crowd wore pointed hats and masks, and above them, suspended in mid-air, were four flailing figures.

"Mum..." her voice shook. "Who are they?"

Without answering, her mother grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction of the fleeing masses.

They had not gotten far when a bright red flash struck the ground in front of them. Evelyn was thrown back by the force of it, her hand slipping out of her mother's. She hit ground with a thud, but after a few seconds she scrambled back onto her feet.

"MUM!" she shouted. "MUM! WHERE ARE YOU?"

Evelyn looked frantically around, until, finally, she saw her mother lying on the ground. She wasn't moving. Panic exploded inside of her. Clambering towards her, she tripped over a tent peg and tumbled to the ground again. Almost instantly a hand clamped around her arm, hauling her to her feet.

"It's OK, I've got you," a wizard said as he dragged her along with him.

"NO! MUM! MUM!" she screamed. She hit the man as hard as she could. "LET ME GO!"

He released her arm, but the oncoming tide of people was too strong for Evelyn to fight against, and she was swept along with it. The throng thinned as it reached tree line, and the glowing lights of wands made it seem as if fairies were dancing through the forest. Evelyn lit up her own wand. Her throat burned, tears stung her eyes; she was alone and terrified. She had no idea where she was, she couldn't even think straight; all she could see in her mind was her mother lying motionless on the ground.

Should she go back and look for her?

More spells cracked through the air. Evelyn bolted straight into the trees, following whatever wand lights she could see. As she ran she could hear frightened voices, some calling out for loved ones, others were wailing like wounded animals.

Panting heavily, Evelyn's lungs felt as if they were on fire. She had to stop. A spell whizzed over her head and she dropped to the ground like a stone. Twigs snapped close by her; she could hear the jeering, drunken slurs of two wizards. They were firing spells in every direction.

All of a sudden, they stopped.

There were two dull thuds, one quickly after the other. Evelyn dared to climb back onto her feet again. The wizards were nowhere to be seen. From behind her a hand clamped onto her shoulder and she screamed.

"Calm down. I won't hurt you. What is your name?"

At the sound of her father's voice her strength crumbled. "Dad..."

...

Severus' heart thumped as Evelyn flung herself into his arms, holding onto him tightly. She was trembling all over. What in Merlin's name was she doing in the woods alone? His jaw tightened and unease stirred deep in the pit of his stomach. Where was Deirdre? She would never leave their daughter alone.

He took a gentle hold her shoulders and pushed her back from him. "Evelyn, where is your mother?"

Her cheeks were stained with tears as she choked out, "There was a red flash...We fell down...I got back up...but Mum...she wasn't moving."

Severus felt like he had been hit by a Bludger on his chest. The worst thoughts imaginable raged through his mind, but he could not dwell on them. He had to focus; he had to get Evelyn to safety.

"Are you injured?" he said, shining the light of his wand on her.

Her lip quivered. "No...but what about Mum? She's hurt, Dad."

"Put your arms around me, and don't let go." Severus engulfed her in own arms and held her close. "I'm going to take you home."

They Apparated in living room at Spinner's End and Severus held onto Evelyn until she was steady on her feet. She started to shiver so he took a blanket from the sofa, wrapped it around her then pointed his wand at the fire, bringing it to life.

"Evelyn, can you remember where you were when your...when it happened?"

She swallowed hard. "Not far from our tent."

Severus nodded. He had made certain he knew exactly where his wife and daughter had pitched their tent.

"I want you to wait here," he said as calmly as he could. "I will be back soon."

In a few seconds, Severus was back in the forest. Throwing up the hood of his cloak, he raced towards the campsite. He took out his wand as he ran. Death Eaters were battling it out with Ministry officials all around him. But he had barely cleared the tree line when the sky was illuminated with a bright green light. Severus almost tripped over his own feet as he stared in horror at the Dark Mark. The skull's hollow sockets appeared to mock him and dread settled on him like a shadowy shroud.

Spells suddenly ceased and faint cracks of wizards Disapparating could be heard throughout the camp. Drawn back into reality, Severus picked up his pace again, careful to avoid being seen. As he finally reached the right part of the campsite he slowed down. Everywhere there was destruction and the air was thick with dark, oppressive magic.

Severus came to a dead halt at the sight of a prone body. He rushed towards Deirdre and carefully rolled her onto her back. Pressing two fingers against her throat, he felt for a pulse, releasing a relieved breath when he found one. It was weak, but she was alive. There were several cuts to her face, her clothes were singed and as he ran his gaze down her body he saw a large crimson stain on her blouse.

He swore then took out his wand. He waved it over the wound and quickly discovered that the curse Evelyn had spoken of had glanced off her. She would not still be breathing if it had been aimed more accurately. Even so, it had caused more than enough damage.

Pointing his wand at her again, to bring her out of unconsciousness, he said, "Vigilo."

Time ground to an agonising halt, but finally she began to moan softly.

He cupped her face in his hand. "Deirdre, can you hear me?"

Slowly she blinked open her eyes. Confusion and fear reigned in them, and when she tried to sit up Severus placed a gently but firm hand on her chest.

"No, Deirdre, don't try to move."

"Evelyn!" she rasped, her eyes growing wild with panic. "We have to find her."

"She's safe," he reassured her. "I need you to put your arms around me. I'm going to Disapparate."

She shook her head. "It's too dangerous."

"Deirdre, you're going to bleed to death if I don't."

His words had the desired impact, and she wrapped her arms around his middle. Her hold was weak, but Severus held her close and as tightly as he dared without hurting her further. "Are you ready?" he breathed beside her ear.

"Yes."

Severus almost lost his balance as he Apparated into the living room, but he steadied himself, keeping a firm hold on Deirdre. Her breathing was erratic, but it let him know she had not slipped back into unconsciousness. Thankfully, he had also managed not to Splinch her.

"Dad!" Evelyn jumped off an armchair. "You found her! Is she OK?"

He didn't answer her as he lowered Deirdre onto the sofa as carefully as he could. Even so, she groaned with pain. His fingers trembled slightly as he undone the buttons of her blouse and peeled back the bloodied material.

The wound was deeper than he thought.

"Bollocks!"

"Language...Severus..." she said faintly.

His lips quirked in the ghost of a smile. Even incapacitated she could be exasperating.

"Evelyn, get me a clean towel from the kitchen. Hurry!"

She was gone and back again within a matter of moments. He took the towel and pressed it against the bleeding wound.

"Hold this here," he said, "And keep talking to your mother – make sure she stays awake."

Severus thundered down the stairs to the cellar. Bottles rattled as frantically searched for what he needed. Dittany. Pain-relief potion. Anti-septic cream. Gathering them all up, he hurried back upstairs. As he strode into the living room he heard Evelyn talking softly to her mother.

"You're going to be fine, Mum. Dad will make you better, you'll see."

Kneeling down by the sofa, Severus pulled the stopper out of the pain-relief potion. He slipped a hand underneath Deirdre's head and carefully raised it up a little. "I need you to drink this, Deirdre," he said.

She parted her lips in response and he poured it into her mouth. She gagged a bit as she swallowed, but soon she had drunk all of it. The potion would numb her senses somewhat, though it was no potent enough to cause her to lose awareness.

"Take the towel away, Evelyn," he said. "Go and put it in the bin and then bring me your mother's Gladstone bag."

She disappeared out of the living room. Severus inspected the wound again. Opening the phial of dittany, he poured it directly onto her injury. Deirdre's body jerked in reaction, but almost instantly the blood flow was stemmed.

Severus felt her fingers curl feebly around his. "I'm sorry..." she said weakly.

He tightened his grip on her hand. "You've nothing to be sorry for."

"Evelyn...she could have..."

Taking a firm but gentle hold of her chin, he said, "This was not your fault, Deirdre. Don't start blaming yourself for something you couldn't control. Evelyn is safe, you are safe; it's all that matters."

Evelyn came back into the room with Deirdre's work bag. Rummaging through it, Severus found bandages and medi-tape. He unscrewed the lid off the jar of anti-septic cream and gently spread it over the wound then bound it up.

...

Deirdre finally fell into a natural sleep. Taking the same blanket he had wrapped around Evelyn earlier, he draped it over her. Lightly brushing his knuckles along her cheek, he realised how close he had come to losing her. And he would have if she and Evelyn had not talked him into going to the world cup with them.

He drew in a deep breath. Between this and encounters with werewolves, the women in his life certainly knew how strike terror into his soul.

Quietly retreating from the living room, he went through an adjoining door into the kitchen, closing it with a soft click. Evelyn was sitting at the table, the cup of hot chocolate he had made for her barely touched. He sat down heavily on a chair opposite her. She looked as exhausted as he felt.

"How's Mum?" she asked.

"Sleeping," he said. He stood up again. "Do you want something to eat?"

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

Something in her voice unnerved him but he couldn't pinpoint what. He went and put two slices of bread into the toaster. Placing his hands palm down on the kitchen counter, he stood with his shoulders slumped, staring at the wall. The adrenaline that had pumped through him earlier was waning fast, though, as drained as he was, he knew he would not be able to sleep. Seeing the Dark Mark again had disturbed him. Who had cast it? The Death Eaters had all scattered like rats the moment it had lit up the sky. It seems it had alarmed them as much it as it had alarmed him.

The toast popped. He scraped on a layer of butter and then sat down at the table. He took a bite but it tasted like ash in his mouth. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he decided he would let Deirdre sleep for another hour or so and then help her upstairs to bed.

"Is Mum going to be OK?"

"Yes.

She pressed her lips together. He knew that look all too well. "Evelyn, what's wrong?"

Looking down at the table, she traced a pattern on the tablecloth with her finger. She almost seemed hesitant to answer him. Finally, though, she lifted her gaze to him. "Who were those wizards in the masks and pointed hoods?"

Every muscle in Severus' body went rigid. In the midst of the all the tumult it had not occurred to him that Evelyn had never seen Death Eaters in that capacity before. Up until this evening, a Death Eater had simply been an abstract idea to her, but reality had rammed at her with frightened force.

Severus, however, knew what he had to do. This was not something he could allow her to hear from someone or somewhere else. Clasping his hands together, he rested them on the table. "They were Death Eaters," he said flatly.

Her eyes slowly widened as the truth sunk in. "Like...like..."

"Yes, Evelyn, like I was."

She pressed her lips together again, only this time her chin wavered as well. Severus reached out for her hand, but she pulled it away. He recoiled his own hand, stung, but not surprised by her reaction.

"Evelyn..." he started, but she slid off her chair and hurried for the door.

Severus caught up to her in the hallway. He grabbed a hold of her arm before she reached the stairs.

"Let me go," she said, trying to wrench herself free.

Panic and desperation filled him as he grasped her other forearm and lowered himself to her eye level. His heart thumped in time with every frantic breath. "Evelyn, listen to me –"

"Mum could have died tonight," she cried.

The accusation in her voice pierced him to his core. "I love your mother, Evelyn. I wouldn't...I could never..."

Tears began to stream freely down her face. "You're supposed to be a good man – you're not supposed to hurt people."

Something inside of him lurched. "Evelyn, you're not making any sense."

"Tell me it's all lies, Dad. Promise me none of it's true."

"I will if you tell me what you're talking about."

"I know...I read about your trial in the records room – they were lying, weren't they? You didn't hurt anyone."

Severus' grip on her slackened. He felt sick. How he wished to Merlin it wasn't true. But it was. Sometimes he wished he could Obliviate every image, every broken sob, every plea for mercy from his mind.

Suddenly Evelyn's hands were on his face, forcing him to look at her. "Dad, please..."

Severus placed a hand over hers. He stared into her soulful dark eyes, knowing that whatever he said now had the power to destroy all that he had strived to build with her. He swallowed hard. "I never wanted to be a Death Eater; it was forced upon me, you have to understand that."

"Did...Did you ever..."

His throat tightened of its own accord. "I swear to you I have never killed anyone."

"But you hurt people?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Anguish filled him, twisting his insides. "In the beginning, I mostly brewed potions for the Dark – for You-Know-Who. But then, when I became a spy for the Order, I had to do things, to allow things to happen..."

"I don't understand..."

"Wars are complicated, Evelyn. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made."

"That's horrible."

"War is horrible."

He shouldn't be having this conversation with her; she shouldn't have to be exposed to this. She was still just a child. But in the thick silence that followed Severus continued to hold onto her hand like it was a lifeline.

"Have you hurt anyone since the war?"

Hope lit up like a beacon.

"No."

She looked at him, the carefree glow in her eyes now tinged with darkness. "Do you promise you won't hurt anyone again?"

It would be a hollow promise, for when Voldemort finally crawled back from his quasi-existence another war would follow in his wake. A war, Dumbledore had said that would be even costlier than the last. But, for now, for her sake, he would promise her anything.

He clasped her to him. "I swear to you I won't."

Chapter 19: Chapter 18

Hello! Well, five months later (give or take a day) and I have finally managed to update my story. I apologise it has taken me so long to update, but life has been hectic. Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing, following and favourting this story - it spurs me on. I hope that it won't take so long for the next update.

That said, on with the show!

~x~

Chapter 18

"Wake up, Evelyn. It's seven o'clock."

Cracking open her eyes, Evelyn stared at the bedroom door with mild contempt. Did her mother have to thump the door as if there was some dire emergency? After another grating knock, she mustered some strength and called out croakily, "All right, I'm up."

A moment later she heard her mother's footsteps as she retreated down the landing, seemingly satisfied that Evelyn was awake. But, Evelyn merely groaned and pulled the covers up over her head. Five more minutes, that's all she wanted.

Closing her eyes again, she soon slipped into another blissful, dreamless sleep.

It felt like she had only been asleep for a few seconds, when a rush of cold air suddenly invaded the warm cocoon of her duvet. Her eyes snapped open and she let out an indignant cry. She sat bolt upright, instinctively searching for her wand, but she quickly realised that there was no immediate danger. Her duvet, though, had been pulled right back and now lay in a heap at the end of her bed.

Looking over at doorway, she saw her father stood with his arms folded across his chest, his lips quirked up in an amused smile.

"Hey!" Evelyn said. She leapt out of bed and mimicked his stance. "What did you do that for? I was about to get up."

"Really?" He raised his brow in mock surprise. "According to my watch, your mother asked you to get up half an hour ago."

"Yeah, well...I don't know why I have to get up so early anyway," she said sulkily.

"In case you have forgotten, it is the first of September today. And I do not need to remind you that the Hogwarts Express does not wait for anyone." He uncrossed his arms. "Your breakfast is ready downstairs."

With that he was gone.

Her gaze flickered to where her trunk sat in the middle of her bedroom. A twinge of excitement shouldered its way in, pushing her grumpiness to one side. A faint smile then spread across her lips. As much as she had enjoyed being home over the summer, she had missed Hogwarts. Her parents were the best, but sometimes she wished her friends were with her. That had been especially true when, one afternoon, her father had come home with a new potions book, written by a wizard named Barb Dwire. Evelyn had burst into a fit of giggles, while her parents had merely looked at her like she had lost the plot.

Grownups could be so boring at times.

When Evelyn finally made an appearance in the kitchen she was greeted by the tantalising smell of sausages and bacon. A fresh loaf of bread was on the table, along with everything else she needed to make the perfect breakfast butty. She spread a thick layer of butter over two slices of bread then topped it with crispy bacon and sliced sausages. To finish it off, she coated the meat in a blanket of tomato ketchup.

The house-elves at Hogwarts were a whizz in the kitchen, but they couldn't quite match up to her mother's cooking.

"This is great, Mum, thanks." She picked up the butty and bit into it. It was beyond delicious.

Her mother, who was washing a pan in the kitchen sink, looked over her shoulder and smiled. "I'm glad you finally decided to join us."

Evelyn merely made a face as her mouth was too full to speak.

Halfway through eating her breakfast, a gentle tap on the window interrupted the comfortable silence in the kitchen. A small tawny owl with a letter in its beak hopped about impatiently on windowsill. Evelyn did not recognise it as a Hogwarts' owl; at least, it was not one of the ones Professor Dumbledore usually used. She always hated the sight of those owls, and the headmaster had the worst timing. Only a few days ago, the traditional end-of-summer family dinner at a local Muggle pub was postponed because her father had to leave.

Frustration had twisted Evelyn's insides. What could have possibly been so important that it could not have waited another week until her father returned to school?

"Who is it from?" her father asked from behind that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet.

"From Healer Foxton at St. Mungo's," her mother replied, while continuing to read. She then let out a frustrated groan. "I don't believe it."

Her father lowered the newspaper and looked over at her. "What is it?"

"The Ministry is carrying out an inspection of the hospital – today." She crushed the letter slightly in her hand. "I knew that Fudge had given the go-ahead for inspections to be carried out with minimal warning, but I expected it to be a bit more than a few hours."

"Once again, Fudge has proved why he is the greatest Minister for Magic Britain has ever had," her father said mordantly, returning his attention back to the newspaper.

"Do you not like Mr Fudge?" Evelyn asked him, curious.

He snorted derisively from behind the Daily Prophet. "The Minster for Magic has so many faces; it is hard to know which one to like."

Evelyn gasped. "Fudge is a Metamorphmagus?"

"No, Evelyn, he is not. It was meant as a metaphor."

"What's a metaphor?"

He let out an almost exasperated sigh. "What are Muggle primary schools teaching these days?"

"We did lots of stuff, just not..."

Her words trailed away as another owl arrived at the window. Her mother rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she opened the letter it had brought. As she read it, though, her lips flattened into a thin line.

"Mum, what is it?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

"The head healer at St. Mungo's wants me in my department by nine o'clock."

Evelyn's eyes widened. "Mum, you can't go! Who's going to take me to the station?"

Rubbing her forehead, her mother muttered, "Such a bloody nuisance." She swiftly shifted her gaze to Evelyn. "Not you, Sweetheart: this stupid inspection."

"What I am going to do?" Evelyn said, beginning to feel frantic. "There's not enough to time to take a Muggle train to London."

The thought of arriving a day late at school was unthinkable. She did not want to be the only student in the entire school to miss out on the Sorting Ceremony and the start-of-term feast.

"I will take her to the station."

Evelyn's head almost snapped off her neck she turned it so quickly towards her father. "What?"

"Are you sure, Severus?"

At that, Evelyn's jaw dropped open.

"Yes, I am certain."

Finding her voice again, Evelyn said, "But how are we going to get there? We will have to go through Diagon Alley to get to the station, and –"

"We won't be going anywhere near Diagon Alley," he said.

"I don't understand. How's that even possible?" A light suddenly came on in her head. "A Side-Along – you're going to take me to Hogwarts with you, aren't you?"

"No," he said, then added somewhat cryptically, "Professor Dumbledore wishes for me to carry out a few errands for him; it may take some time. You will have to get the train."

"But –"

He raised his hand to silence her. "No more questions. Finish your breakfast."

The uncompromising stare he levelled at her told Evelyn that arguing with him would be futile. She would have more luck in convincing a Hippogriff to give in to her request. With an exaggerated sigh, she poured herself a glass of orange juice.

...

Checking through her schoolbag one last time, Evelyn made certain that she had packed all of her books and homework. She really thought that the professors needed to take a few lessons on the meaning of the summer holidays. True, with her mother working and her father always brewing, she had more than enough time on her hands to do homework, but it was the principle of it that mattered. Why should shehave to give up her free time to write essays and complete worksheets?

She closed the clasps on her bag, slung it over her shoulder and headed downstairs. Thankfully her father had already seen to her trunk; he had used a levitation spell to bring it downstairs to the living room. A lot of the time, she looked on in jealously when her parents used magic at home. She was forbidden to do so. Although, sometimes, her father allowed her to cast simple spells, under his supervision of course. He said it was perfectly legal as the rules on underage misuse of magic only applied to outside of school. And, as far as he was concerned, a classroom was wherever learning took place, whether it was in a cellar or in the middle of a muddy field.

"Dad," Evelyn said, bustling into the kitchen. "It's after ten o'clock. How are we going to get to the station on time?"

"We will floo there."

For the second time that morning Evelyn's eyes almost popped out of her head. "You can floo to Kings Cross?"

He shook his head. "Not directly into the station. However, there is a fireplace connected to the Floo Network close by."

"Why don't we use it more often, then? Wouldn't it be easier than having to go to Diagon Alley and then getting a taxi all the way across London to the station?"

"No –"

"Why not?"

"It is too complicated to explain now," he said. He picked up his own suitcase and walked into the living room. "Come along, or you will miss the train."

After shrinking down Evelyn's trunk to the size of a lunchbox, he took a handful of floo power from a small sack on the mantelpiece.

Evelyn then took a handful of floo powder, too. "What's the name of the place we're flooing to, Dad?"

"Caledonia Street."

She sounded the name out in her head, making sure she could pronounce it properly. The last she wanted was to end up in some strange fireplace in another part of the country. That would not only be frightening, but also highly embarrassing. As she repeated the road name again, her father was engulfed in green flames, and then he was gone.

Quickly realising that it was her turn next, she stepped into the fireplace. "Caledonia Street," she said, throwing the floo powder onto hearth.

Evelyn coughed as she emerged out of a very old fireplace. She dusted herself off and looked around the dim, dingy room. Snatches of light filtered in through cracks in wooden boards that had been crudely nailed over a window in the door. The tiles, which she assumed had once been white, looked like they had been stained with tea, and mildew covered every inch of grout. A large, imposing desk covered in a thick layer dust sat in the middle of the room. Empty shelves lined the walls and an abandoned portrait hung precariously at an odd angle.

"Dad, what is this place?" she asked, whispering. Somehow it felt wrong to talk at a normal level.

"It's an obsolete floo port," he said.

"Why isn't it used anymore?"

Her father seemed not to have heard her question. He pointed his wand at the door and spoke a word under his breath, the lock then clicked out of place. Cracking the door open a fraction, he peered through the gap and then closed it again.

"Bollocks!"

"Mum said you're not supposed to use language like that."

He slid his gaze in her direction. Annoyance brewed in his obsidian eyes. "Sit down. It may take a while for the Muggles out there to move on."

Complying silently, she pulled the chair out from beneath the desk and sat down. "So, are you going to tell me why this place isn't used anymore?"

Resting his back against a wall, he said, "It was used during the last Muggle world war, and it has not been used since."

"I don't understand – what does a Muggle war have to do with the wizarding world?"

"A lot, actually." He waved his hand and a few candles in the chandelier hanging from the ceiling flickered to life, giving a soft glow to the room. "Wizards and witches have always taken advantage of wars and shifts in power in the Muggle world. During the war, the Ministry set up floo systems like these all over the country. Disapparation was suspended, as was flying; indeed, all magical travel had to be done through checkpoints like this one."

"Why?"

"It made it easier to track unauthorised movement across the country."

"In case anyone tried to help the enemy?"

"Indeed. It was decommissioned after the war, and I suppose it was forgotten about as the years went by."

It suddenly made sense to Evelyn why the room had an eerie feel about it. She had read a few books about the Muggle world war before, and in primary school her teacher had shown the class a video about the Blitz. It had frightened her: the wail of the air-raid siren, the drone of the bombers flying high in the night sky, the thunderous, devastating power of the bombs.

She hoped she would never have to live through a war like that.

"How did you know about it?" she asked, almost as an afterthought.

He waved a hand idly. "Professor Dumbledore was one of the few wizards who did not forget about the wartime floo ports. It was he who informed me of their existence."

"Oh," she said. She had been expecting something a little more exciting.

Evelyn swept her gaze around the room again before doodling in the dust on the desk.

"Dad," she said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "You said that Wizards have always taken advantage of wars in the Muggle world. What other wars were they involved in?"

He traced a circle around his mouth with his index finger. "Are you aware of the Battle of Hastings?"

"Is that the one where some bloke got an arrow in his eye?"

"That bloke, Evelyn, was Harold Godwinson, the last Saxon king of England."

"Oh," she said. "Was he a wizard?"

Her father shook his head. "No, but William the Conqueror had a wizard in his ranks. He was called Armand Malfoy."

Evelyn's mind felt like it was going into over-drive. "Malfoy – as in Draco Malfoy? His ancestor was in league with Muggles?"

"From one perspective, yes, you could say that. But, there are some who are more inclined to believe that Armand Malfoy used magic to manipulate the Normans - for his own ends."

"You mean...he used the Imperious Curse?"

"Perhaps."

"Isn't that illegal, though?"

He nodded. "It is now. However, the Ministry did not exist in the eleventh century. Magic was regulated by individual families and clans."

"Did no one even try to stop him?"

"Some may have."

A loud bang outside in the street drew her father's attention to the door. He slowly drew his wand and peered out through the slats.

Evelyn looked down at the pattern she had drawn in the dust. There was something about the Malfoys – they always seemed to get away with misuses of magic. She remembered what she had read about Lucius Malfoy in the Daily Prophet archive. His deeds were blacker than her father's, and yet, the Wizengamot was content to believe his pathetic excuse over the testimony of Albus Dumbledore.

It would not have surprised Evelyn if Lucius Malfoy had been one of the Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup. If Draco's hate-fuelled ravings in the Slytherin common room were anything to go by, then Mr Malfoy would not have passed up an opportunity to torment Muggles.

Thinking about the world cup caused a chill to rake down her spine. She had tried to forget what had happened that night, but she couldn't. Sometimes she had nightmares about it, horrifyingly real nightmares. She had not told her parents, though. Telling them would mean having to talk about what dark shapes took form in her dreams; it was easier to pretend she was fine, that the mindless attack at the world cup had not affected her.

"The Muggles are moving away," he said, "Bring your trunk over here."

Drawn from her thoughts, Evelyn got up from her seat and set the lunch-box sized trunk in front of him. "Can't you just leave it like that? It's so much easier to manage."

"And do you know how to reverse a Shrinkage spell?" He tilted his head to one side when she shrugged. "I thought not."

In a matter of moments her father had reversed the effect of the spell. He then turned his wand on himself and transfigured his travelling cloak into a rather fashionable Muggle trench coat.

"I will walk with you to the traffic lights at the end of the street –"

Disappointment stabbed at her. "Aren't you going to come right into the station with me?"

He shook his head. "No, but I will wait until you have gone into the station. There will be plenty of other students inside waiting to go through to Platform 9¾."

Evelyn swallowed her discontent, reminding herself not to take his refusal to go with her personally.

"All right," she said, then, without warning, she flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Just in case I don't get a chance later."

As he returned her embrace, Evelyn was wrapped up in a sense of warmth and protection. The familiar scent on his clothes, sandalwood aftershave mingled with pungent potions, comforted her. His long, callous tipped fingers lightly glided over her hair, soothing her. In these moments, more than any other, she knew she was loved by her father, fiercely and completely.

...

The Hogwarts Express picked up speed as it left London, steaming its way into the wildness of the English countryside. Rain splattered on the windows, the thick droplets quickly becoming miniature rivulets as the wind whipped across the panes of glass. On-board, Evelyn and her friends gave little thought to the sorry excuse for a late summer's day.

Evelyn was chewing on a sour lace she'd bought from the trolley lady when the compartment door slid open. Gregory stepped in with a smirk on his face, the kind of one that said: I have some gossip for you. She nudged Edmund, who stopped polishing a Gobstone and looked expectantly at Gregory.

"Well..." Edmund said.

Gregory took his time sitting down. He seemed to enjoy prolonging the suspension. "I just overheard Malfoy talking with Pansy Parkinson. Apparently he's feeling pretty peachy about something – I think it's something big."

Seemingly unimpressed, Edmund returned to polishing the Gobstone. "It was probably about the world cup."

"I listened in for a good five minutes and he never mentioned it once."

"He didn't? I thought he would have bragged on about having prime seats," Evelyn said, remembering how he had reminded everyone of that fact at almost every opportunity before the summer holidays. Apparently, so Draco had said, his father had gotten tickets months before they officially went on sale.

Gregory tapped a finger on his chin. "Come to think of it, Malfoy is probably too chicken to talk about the world cup."

"Why?" Evelyn asked, confused. Her friends stared at her strangely, then Edmund said, "You were at the world cup, weren't you? Didn't you see it?"

Evelyn had no idea what he was talking about, but she knew she would have to think of an answer, and quickly. "No...I –I was hiding in the forest, because of the attack..."

A somewhat sympathetic look swept across her friends' faces. "You saw it in the Prophet, though, right?"

"Yeah, I did," she said.

It was a lie, of course.

After sobbing in her father's arm for what seemed like hours, he had carried her up to bed and given her a sleeping potion to drink. It had caused her to sleep right through until lunchtime the following day. When she had awakened she had left her room, went to her parents' room, climbed into their bed and curled up next to her mother. Mum had kept drifting in and out of consciousness, but Evelyn had needed to be close to her, she needed constant reassurance that she was going to be all right.

Reading the Daily Prophet had been the furthest thing from her mind.

"Well, it scared the pants off the Death Eaters, that's for sure," Edmund said, matter-of-factly, "The moment they saw it in the sky they all Disapparated."

Gregory bit the head of a chocolate frog, then added, "And the likes of Malfoy are never going to say that, so it's better for them not to mention it at all."

Evelyn desperately wanted to know what they were talking about. What had been so monstrous that it had frightened off the Death Eaters? Asking too many questions, though, would only rouse her friends' suspicions. She would have to figure out another way of finding out, and she knew exactly where she would start – the archives in the school library.

"So, what did you get up to over the holidays?" she asked, steering the conversation on to firmer ground.

Edmund made a sour face. "I had to spend two weeks visiting my vile cousins in Leamington Spa. It was a nightmare. I had to hide in the attic just so I could listen to the world cup on the WWN in peace."

Biting her lip, Evelyn tried not to giggle. She could imagine Edmund wedged in between dusty boxes, trying to keep his voice down throughout the match.

"I know it all went belly up at the end, but, still, it was an epic match." He had a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. It only last a few seconds and then he was back to reality. "I bet your mum loved it, being Irish and all."

Evelyn fought to ignore the horrifying images that flared up in her mind. She wasn't sure she would ever forget the sheer terror of that night, or of seeing her mother lying motionless on the ground. Against her will, her throat began to tighten, but she swallowed hard, attempting to dislodge the lump rapidly forming in it.

"Yeah," she managed, "She loved it. We both screamed ourselves hoarse."

Edmund smiled. "Brilliant. I wish I could have been there."

"What about you, Gregory?" Evelyn asked before Edmund could say anymore about the world cup.

"Oh, you know, I went here and there." He then gave a cheeky grin. "The best part was going to stay with my Uncle Hadrian –"

"Does he like building walls?" Edmund gibed.

"Yes, he does," Gregory retorted, "Big ones, to keep idiots like you out."

Edmund sank back into his seat in a sulk, snatched up a Cauldron Cake and took a large bite out of it. Unable to contain herself, Evelyn let out a burst of laughter. Her best friend could give insults, but he was not very good at receiving them. Edmund shot a dirty look in her direction, while Gregory smiled smugly to himself.

"So," she said, after composing herself, "What did you get up to at your uncle's house?"

"Well, he and my aunt Hetty moved to Los Angeles last year, and they invited me to stay with them over the holidays. I'm telling you, it's wicked out there. The sun shines like almost every day. But, man, one day it rained and everyone was in such bad moods. And it wasn't even real rain, it was a drizzle. My uncle nearly got taken out by some idiot with road rage."

"Americans..." Evelyn said, shaking her head.

"No," Gregory said, correcting her, "LA-ians..."

They both giggled at his silly terminology; even Edmund cracked a smile.

...

Severus locked the door of the potions classroom, satisfied that everything was in order. The house-elves had kept it dust free over the holidays and Mrs Norris, it seemed, had kept any would-be vandals of the fury kind at bay. As much as Filch's cat irritated him, it did have its uses.

The next item on his list was to pay a visit to Hagrid. The groundskeeper often picked up rare and interesting items on his forays into the Black Forest. Last year, he had come across a few strands of unicorn hair entangled on a low hanging branch, which Severus was able to store away for future use. If he had more time, Severus would venture into the forest himself; there was foliage growing amongst those ancient trees that could not be found anywhere else in the British Isles.

Leaving the dungeons, he made his way through the empty corridors to the main doors of the castle. It was exactly the way he thought a school should be: free of children. He passed a few other members of staff, nodding to them as swept by. There had been an impromptu staff meeting earlier that day; Minerva had wanted to remind them all to refrain from mentioning the Tri Wizard Tournament until Dumbledore did so at the start-of-term feast.

All the teaching staff had been there, except one.

Severus was surprised that Alastor Moody had not been at Hogwarts for weeks already, putting up unnecessary wards to soothe his paranoia, and stomping through the castle like an oversized guard dog. Perhaps Moody had changed his mind about becoming a Hogwarts professor – Severus could only live in hope.

Of course, he knew the headmaster had not hired the ex-Auror for his teaching skills, but, rather, to keep a close watch on the tournament. Severus might understand Dumbledore's reasoning, but it did not mean he had to like it.

As he approached the main doors there was a pop and a house-elf appeared before him. He bowed low before Severus, his long nose almost scraping the floor.

"Yes, what it is?" Severus said.

"Please, Professor Snape, sir, I is delivering a message from Professor Dumbledore."

"Well, give it here."

Pulling a letter from the folds of his ill-fitted clothing, the house-elf handed it over to Severus. He then disappeared with a pop, his duty done.

Recognising Dumbledore's handwriting, Severus opened the letter to read it.

Severus,

Come to my office, there is a matter I wish to discuss with you.

Albus.

With an impatient sigh, Severus made his way back through the castle. His short excursion to Hagrid's hut would have to wait for another time. Striding through the hallways, he soon reached the headmaster's office. He spoke the password and the gargoyles guarding the entrance jumped to one side, the stone wall groaning as it opened, revealing a spiral staircase.

"Dumbledore?" Severus called out as he entered the headmaster's office.

The large room appeared empty, but then a flicker of movement caught Severus' eye. From the shadows a tall, almost emaciated figure emerged. He was dressed in what could only be described as rags; his hair was a matted mess, his sallow skin smudged with grim.

"You?" Severus seethed. "What are you doing here?"

Scoffing, Sirius Black said, "I see you're still sticking your abnormally large nose in where it isn't wanted...Snivellus."

Loathing for Black rolled off Severus in huge waves. "And I see you still can't follow instructions. What part of Dumbledore's orders to remain away from Britain did you not understand?"

Black's eyes glittered with rancour. "I wouldn't have had to leave in the first place if you had not let Pettigrew get away. But Snivellus had to get even for a silly prank, didn't he?"

His anger raging like rapid waters, Severus whipped out his wand and pointed it at Black. "You and I have very different views on what a prank is."

A gruff laugh rumbled in Black's throat as he held out his hands, palms outstretched, empty. "If you're going to strike down an unarmed man, then do it, Snape? We both know you have it in you."

Before either of them could say or do another thing the door to the office swung open. Severus lowered his wand and slipped it back into the folds of his robes. He didn't so much as glance in Black's direction; he didn't need to, he could feel his conceited smirk burning into the back of his head.

"Ah, Severus, I see you got my message," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I apologise I wasn't here sooner but I had to pop into Hogsmeade to meet an old friend – Perfidious Snatch. I shall have to tell you about him some time; a very interesting man."

"Does he have to be included in this, Professor?" Black said, derisively. "Isn't there some pointless potion for him to brew?"

Severus gritted his teeth.

Dumbledore peered over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, his periwinkle eyes tinged with disapproval. "Remus did not find Severus' potions so pointless last year, Sirius. He would not have been able to teach at Hogwarts otherwise."

Black merely snorted and then flopped down on one of the wingback chairs in the headmaster's office. It was far from a concession on Black's part, rather, it was self-preservation. He owed his freedom – as fragile as it was – to Dumbledore. It suited Severus' pride, though. Black was unfamiliar with the headmaster's enduring, tolerant nature; it would take much more than a few spiteful comments for him to turn his back on anyone – much more.

Dumbledore retreated to his desk and Severus followed.

"I take it Black was the matter you wished to discuss." Severus asked Dumbledore quietly. "Why is he here?"

"Sirius will be remaining on the grounds of Hogwarts for the foreseeable future."

"Is that really a wise idea, Dumbledore?"

"Do I need to remind you that Sirius has already proven himself to you?"

A bitter taste rose in Severus' mouth. He hated the very notion that he owed the man anything, and it was made all the worse because Black had saved the life of his daughter.

"No," he said through gritted teeth, "You do not."

"Good." Dumbledore leaned further back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "That will be all, Severus."

Ignoring Black as he left the headmaster's office, Severus returned to his quarters in the dungeons. The term was barely a few hours old and already his teeth had been set on edge – could it get any worse?

...

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement – Hogwarts was going to host the Tri Wizard Tournament. The fact that Quidditch had been cancelled for the year no longer seemed to bother anyone, except Edmund. He was still somewhat miffed, as he would have to wait another year to try out for their house's team.

Having had her fill of food, Evelyn pushed her plate to one side. She picked up a glass of pumpkin juice, sipping on it while she cast surreptitious glances at the staff table. Her father was engaged in a conversation with Professor McGonagall, but it wasn't him she was interested in. She was interested in school's new Defence against the Dark Arts professor – Mad Eye Moody.

She had read quite a bit about him in the Daily Prophet archive in the library. He was eccentric, to say the least; as unpredictable as a drunken Bludger, if such a thing existed. His dramatic entrance into the Great Hall had caused an eerie silence to settle over it; even the teachers had appeared taken aback. And, although he was only one man, his presence seemed to fill the entire room.

Moody's appearance was altogether alarming; his skin was as craggy as a cliff face, the numerous scars that criss-crossed it a testament to his life as an Auror. Indeed, he looked like he had been gobbled up by a dragon, chewed on for a while and then spat back out. But, what unnerved Evelyn the most was his magical eye; it never stopped spinning. Even when his face was almost level with his plate he was still able to watch everyone in the room. She wondered how he had lost his real eye. Had he lost it at the same time he had lost a large chunk of his nose?

She took another sip of her pumpkin juice and looked away from him.

"What do you think Moody will be like as a teacher?" she asked Edmund.

"The bloke's nuts," he said, "Who knows what we're going to learn this year, if anything at all."

"Why did Dumbledore hire him, then?"

Edmund shrugged his shoulders. "He's a bit crackers himself, though, isn't he. You can't really tell what Dumbledore will do next. I bet Snape isn't too pleased, though..."

Something in Evelyn's stomach tightened. "Why would he not be pleased?"

Lowering his voice, he said, "Moody was the one who arrested Snape after the war. My dad told me he was furious when Snape was cleared of all charges. He wanted Snape locked up in Azkaban."

Fear crawled up Evelyn's throat. She didn't remember reading that in the Daily Prophet archive. But, then, she had only managed to read a small portion of her father's trial before she had broken down in tears. She hadn't been able to read anymore – she had not wanted to. Now, though, she reasoned, she needed to go back and attempt to read it again.

"Do you think Moody still wants Professor Snape locked up?" she asked as innocently as she could.

Edmund stabbed a sausage with his fork. "I don't know, but Snape better not give him a reason to go all Auror on him."

Evelyn merely nodded, worried that her voice would betray her inner fears.

She stole another glance at the staff table. Her first period tomorrow was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and suddenly she was not looking forward to it very much anymore.

Chapter 20: Chapter 19

Surprise! I have another chapter ready to rock and roll. Although I can't say for certain when the next one will be ready for - so don't hold your breath ;)

I want to give a shout out to MetamorphmagusLupin for all your help and bearing with all of my questions. Thanks! :)

Enjoy!

~x~

Chapter 19

Evelyn finally plucked up the courage to knock on the door. There was a brief moment of silence, but before the dismay that she was too late could take root, she heard her father's voice telling her to come in. She quickly ran a hand over her face, almost in a last ditch effort to make sure her features were suitably stricken-like. Then, taking a deep breath, she opened the door and entered the office.

Her father sat behind his desk reading a letter; she had noted an owl had arrived for him during breakfast, but he had not opened the letter it had delivered. She wondered if it had been from Mum, because she couldn't think of anyone else who would be writing to him; a potions supplier, maybe, though that was about it.

She had got a letter from her mother too, wanting to make certain she had settled in all right. There was also the usual list of 'motherly things', such as making sure she left her dirty laundry out for the house-elves and that she brushed her teeth before she went to bed at night. It had only been one day, but she already missed her mum and the Christmas holidays seemed such a long way off.

"Shouldn't you be on your way to class?" her father said without lifting his gaze to her.

"So should you," she blurted out before her brain had time to engage with her mouth.

The cutting glare he levelled at her could have caused the Whomping Willow to shrink back in fear.

"Why are you here?"

Placing a hand on her forehead, while allowing a self-pitying tone to creep into her voice, she said, "I don't feel very well. My head is really sore and my throat hurts."

He folded up the letter he had been reading. "You seemed fine at breakfast."

"It just happened all of a sudden."

"I see."

"I don't think I will be able to go to my first class. Can I have a note to go to the hospital wing?"

He pushed his chair back and stood up. "There will be no need to go to the hospital wing; I will give you something to ease the pain in your head and throat."

"But, Dad –"

"Who do you think brews all of the medicinal potions for Madam Pomfrey? Hmm..."

There was something strangely unnerving about the calmness in his voice, but Evelyn did not dwell on it. If he had suspected her ruse then he would have already exposed it. Lying was wrong, she knew it was, but she really did not want to have to attend her first class. She didn't want to be taught by someone who desired to see her father locked up in Azkaban.

Bottles clinked as he searched through a crate of potions he kept in his office. Finally he selected the one he was looking for – it was a vivid green potion. There was a sucking noise followed by a pop as he pulled the stopper out of the bottle.

"Drink this," he said, handing it her.

Evelyn brought it up to her lips, but she suddenly grimaced, holding the bottle as far away from her body as she could.

"Ugh! I can't drink this; it smells worse than rotten eggs."

He arched an eyebrow. "I would think for being so ill you would want to take anything to rid yourself of the pain."

Realising that she had to drink it or else risk being found out, Evelyn gingerly brought the bottle to her mouth again and parted her lips. The odour was almost noxious, but she tipped the green liquid into her mouth. It tasted as vile as it smelt. She all but gagged as she forced herself to swallow the gloopy liquid; it felt like a slug sliding down her throat.

"Feel better?" her father asked. Evelyn was certain she detected a trace of sarcasm in his tone.

Setting the empty bottle on his desk, Evelyn backed away from it as if it was a poisonous viper. "What was in that?"

He counted off the ingredients on his fingers. "Pondweed, fermented bat spleens, minced leeches, frogs' brains and a few other delicacies."

Pressing her lips tightly together, Evelyn thought she really was going to be sick.

Then a thought occurred to her. "But, Dad, those ingredients don't have healing properties..."

He crossed his arms, her knowledge of potions clearly having failed to impress him at that particular moment. "Do you think I was born yesterday? Or perhaps you think you are the first student to fake an illness to avoid going to a lesson. There are many students whom I would expect this kind of behaviour from, but you are not one of them."

"I can explain –"

"Let this be a warning to you," he said, cutting her off with an annoyed slash of his hand. He then motioned to the empty potions bottle. "I will not be so lenient if I ever catch you acting so imprudently again."

"Dad, I –"

He held up a hand to silence her. "I have nothing more to say to you, Evelyn. Go to your class."

Picking up an armful of scrolls, he turned his back to her and began to place them in the relevant spots on the shelves behind his desk. Evelyn slunk from his office like a scolded puppy with its tail tucked between its legs.

Why had she ever thought that would work? It had only made things worse. Not only was her father mad at her, but she still had to go to Moody's lesson; not to mention her stomach felt incredibly dodgy after drinking that ghastly potion. Did he keep a stash of it in office for students who tried to bunk off class? It would not surprise her if he did.

Outside in the dungeon corridor, Evelyn silently slipped into the stream of Slytherins making their way to the first lesson of the day.

...

A low murmur rippled through the classroom. It seemed no one really knew what to expect from their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Evelyn sat quietly at her desk, twirling a quill agitatedly between her fingers. What would she do if Professor Moody talked about his time as an Auror, and about all of the arrests he made? Would he mention her father, even though he was an established teacher in the school, and the head of Slytherin? She didn't know what she would do if he did. How could she sit silently while Moody dragged Dad's name through the mud?

She wished Professor Lupin had never left. It didn't matter to her that he was a werewolf. Besides, it had not been his fault that he had forgotten to take his Wolfsbane potion – it had been Sirius Black's fault. The professor had gone out to rescue Harry Potter and his friends; if he hadn't, then they might have been killed by Black.

She wondered where he was now and what he was doing. Would she ever see him again? Next to her father, he had been her favourite teacher. Not only were his lessons never boring, but he had taken a genuine interest in the students. Her only qualm with him was that he had not told her he knew she was a Snape. It would have been refreshing to have talked with someone whom she didn't have to hide her true identity from.

She also might have been able to wangle more stories about her parents from him.

During the holidays she had mulled over what he had said about Harry's dad bullying her father. What had James Potter done to him and why had he done it? She had thought about asking her parents, but something held her back. Perhaps it had been Professor Lupin's reluctance to talk about it, or the fact that he had blankly refused to discuss where her mother fitted into it all. On top of that, she had also remembered the argument they'd had months and months ago in the kitchen, when Dad had stormed off after her mother made light of the pranks that had been played on him.

BANG!

The door to the defence classroom ricocheted off the wall as Professor Moody burst into the classroom. His rolling gait was pronounced as he made his way up to the front of the room, his walking stick thudding of the stone floor in time with each step. He wasn't wearing robes like the other professors; rather, he wore a long, worn-out trench coat. Indeed, his whole attire made him look like some wild-man who had emerged out of the darkness of the Forbidden Forest.

"He certainly likes to make a dramatic entrance, doesn't he?" Edmund whispered to her.

Evelyn smirked and nodded, but Moody reached the front of the room, his magical eye roving over it, before she could answer Edmund.

"You can all put your books away," Moody said gruffly, "You won't be needing those."

Everyone in the class exchanged puzzled looks, but they did as the professor had said.

"Let's see who we've got here," Moody said, picking up a quill to take the register.

As he called out the names of the students his magical eye pinpointed them when they answered 'here, sir'.

"Evelyn Harper" he said.

"Here, sir," she replied.

There was a brief pause, and then, along with his magical eye, Moody fixed his good eye on her too. Evelyn suddenly felt like she was a specimen being studied under a Muggle microscope. She tried not to squirm under his probing stare, and when he finally looked back down at the register, she let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding.

"What was all that about?" Edmund asked quietly.

"I've no idea."

And, truly, she didn't.

"Right," Moody began, "From what I've in read in a letter from Professor Lupin you were introduced to duelling last year. But it's not enough, not even close to being enough. There's plenty of dark wizards out there, and they're not going to go easy on you because all you know is..." At that moment Moody whipped out his wand and pointed it at Alexander Domville in the third row. "Expelliarmus!"

Alexander's wand flew across the room, clattering to the floor.

"No fiddling with your wand under the table," Moody said, warningly.

A few sniggers were heard around the class, but they were quickly silenced by a stony stare from Moody.

Ruby Farquhar, a Gryffindor, put up her hand. "Professor, why can't we learn about Cornish Pixies and Tickling Charms like it says on the curriculum?"

Moody pointed his wand at Ruby. "Rictusempra!"Almost immediately she buckled over with laughter. "If You-Know-Who could have been killed with a Tickling Charm," he said over Ruby's hysterical cackles. "Do you not think the war could have been ended before it even began?"

Finally he lowered his wand, severing the charm's power over her. Ruby stopped laughing, although her chest still heaved with the exertion of being tickled for a prolonged period.

"I've got one year to get you all up to scratch, so there'll be no wasting time reading books. According to the Ministry, I'm only supposed to teach you defence spells and a handful of disarming spells. But, what's the point in that? How are you supposed to defend yourself against spells you've never even heard of? You've got to be ready, because a dark wizard isn't going to warn you he's coming; he'll just strike.

Moody pounded a fist into the palm of his hand. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he bellowed, startling everyone. "That's what you all need – constant vigilance."

He's a complete nutcase,Evelyn thought, thank Merlin he's only staying for a year.

She wondered if Dumbledore knew what Moody intended to teach them. Spells like that weren't supposed to be taught until sixth year, and even then there was a limit on what could be taught. And almost all of the books on dangerous spells and hexes were in the restricted section in the library; only professors were allowed to go in there.

"The first thing I'm going to teach you is how to stop a dark wizard before they even have time draw their wands," Moody said. He walked back to the desk and ran and thick, calloused-tipped finger down the register. "Miss Harper, come up to the front. You will be my first volunteer."

Evelyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes; clearly, he had no concept of the meaning of 'volunteer'. Nevertheless, she slid off her chair and walked to the front of the room. Moody stood several feet away from her; his good eye was fixed solidly on her, while his magical one scoured the classroom. There was no warmth in his eye, but there was a glint of something in it, and it suddenly made her insides feel as if they were being wrung out like a wet cloth.

"Take out your wand, Miss Harper," he said, "Try to disarm me."

Before Evelyn could reach for her wand, though, Moody cast a spell.

"Frigidus Levitas!"

All of sudden Evelyn could not move; it was as if every muscle had been frozen solid. A cold smile twisted Moody's lips, and somehow she knew this would not be the full extent of his demonstration. As a tingling sensation moved down her arms and legs, signalling that the freeze spell was wearing off, she felt herself becoming weightless. Very quickly she was hovering above the rest of the class, unable to move, like she was trapped on a giant, invisible spider's web.

"I now have complete control over Miss Harper's movements," Moody said, "And this spell is particularly effective because I could send her soaring out that window – she'll hit the ground long before she can reach for her wand."

Evelyn's heart thumped in her chest, the intense beat of it drumming in her ears. Her gaze darted across the classroom, seeking for someone, anyone, to put an end to this madness. No one said a word, no one even flinched; they all just sat there, looking up at her like she was a kite floating in the breeze.

Moody flicked his wrist and Evelyn zipped from one side of the classroom to the other, coming to an abrupt halt just before she slammed into a wall. At that, a chorus of laugher rang out from a clump of Gryffindor boys. Hot tears of fury and mortification pooled in her eyes, but she fought hard to blink them back.

"You see now," Moody continued as if what he was doing was perfectly acceptable, "How important it is to stop a dark wizard reaching for their wand."

Then, as if a hand of mercy had finally intervened, Moody began to lower Evelyn towards solid ground. To her horror, though, he halted when she was still several feet from the floor.

"And depending on what height you have levitated them to," he said, "You can simply remove the spell and let gravity do its worst."

Evelyn dropped like a stone to the floor, hitting it with a bone-jarring thud. A searing pain spread across her mouth as her teeth sunk into her bottom lip; her knees and arms, which had taken the brunt of the fall, were throbbing.

As she struggled to her feet, the whole class silently watching her, she clamped a hand over her mouth to hide the warm blood trickling down her chin. By the time she sat down at her desk she wanted to crawl under it and never come out again.

She started at a gentle touch on her arm. It was Edmund. Recoiling back from him, she glowered at him accusingly as if to say 'why didn't you try to stop him?' He stared back at her, his gaze full of remorse. When he tried to touch her again she shuffled her chair further away from his. He was supposed to be her best friend, but he had just sat there and allowed her to be humiliated and injured in front of the whole class.

By the end of the lesson Evelyn wanted to escape from the classroom as fast as she could. No one else had suffered so cruelly at Moody's hand – only her. It was as if he had purposely picked her out, but why?

Gathering up her schoolbag, she headed straight for the door.

"Evelyn, wait – I'm sorry!" Edmund called behind her, but she kept on walking.

She quickly lost herself in the slip-stream of students going to their next class. Her next lesson was supposed to be potions. But she could not face her father, not like this. She never wanted him to know what had happened in Defence class; he would only confront Moody and give the ex-Auror an excuse to arrest him again.

Instead, she headed for the hospital wing.

...

Severus was writing on the blackboard when he heard the door to his classroom open. The last few stragglers to his lesson did their best to creep towards their seats, but Severus' ears were attuned to latecomers.

After finishing the last sentence, he set the chalk down and dusted off his hands. He then turned around to face the class.

"Mr Whittle and Mr Clayworth," Severus began dryly, "If I had failed my exams last year as miserably as you two did, I would at least make an effort to come to class on time. Instead, you continue to show nothing but contempt for your education. Perhaps a week of detention will help you to appreciate it better."

The two Gryffindor boys said nothing, although by their huffs and puffs as they fished their quills and books out of their bags, it was obvious they thought, as usual, he was badgering them over nothing. There was only so much he could do for students; he could teach them the knowledge and skill they required, but he could not force them to take it in, or to show even an ounce of enthusiasm.

As the class quietly made notes from the pages in their books he had cited on the board, he was highly aware that Evelyn had not yet arrived in the room. He walked along the central aisle between the desks, glancing intermittingly at the students' work. When he reached Edmund Lowsley he paused. He was friends with Evelyn – her best friend, or so she said.

"Will Miss Harper be gracing us with her presence any time soon?" he asked.

Edmund shrugged. "I don't know, sir."

Severus peered down his hooked nose at him. "Well, have you any idea where she might be?"

"She probably went to the hospital wing."

Severus' lips thinned into a flat line.

"In our last class she –" Edmund started but Severus cut him off.

"I do not remember asking for a detailed report, Mr Lowsley. Carry on with your work."

Sweeping back up to the front of the room, Severus sat down at his desk. He could feel his annoyance towards his daughter growing by the second. Had his warning to her gone in one ear and straight out of the other? And of all of the classes to skip, she had the audacity to play truant during his.

...

When the bell for break time went, Severus did not head for the staffroom like he normally did. After dismissing the class, he made his way to the hospital wing, intent on fulfilling his promise to revoke all leniencies, and to punish Evelyn for deliberately disobeying him.

"Oh, Severus," Poppy Pomfrey said, almost colliding with him as he reached the entrance to the hospital wing. "I was just about to send someone to fetch you."

He crossed his arms. "Let me guess: Evelyn came to see you, distraught with pain."

Poppy's brow rose in surprise. "Why yes, she did. I would have sent for you sooner, but I did not want to disturb your lesson..." Then she frowned as if suddenly realising something. "If you knew about this then why did you not come here straight away? The poor girl has been crying her eyes out for the better part of an hour."

"Crocodile tears, no doubt."

"Severus Snape, have you no shame?" Poppy scolded him as if he was a student and not a professor. "The poor dear; I had to stitch her mouth and see to nasty bruising, and you are standing here mocking her. Disgraceful, simply –"

Severus' eyes narrowed to slits. "What are you talking about?"

Confusion cut across Poppy's outrage. "What do you mean 'what am I talking about'? You told me a moment ago you knew what had happened to her."

"Evidently I didn't," he said more to himself than to Poppy.

He then followed the school nurse into the hospital wing, where he saw Evelyn sitting on a bed with her knees tucked up against her chest. He saw the stitches on her bottom lip and a tin of comfrey ointment on the table next to the bed – for the bruising.

"Evelyn..." he said.

She looked up at him and for the barest second he saw fear in her eyes before she tore her gaze away from his. Severus walked towards the bed and took hold of the curtain, pulling it around the bed to give them a measure of privacy.

Slowly Severus sat down on the chair beside the bed. A thick silence hung between them and he knew he would have to be the one to break it. It was at times like these that he saw himself perfectly mirrored in his daughter. He hated opening himself up, making himself vulnerable. Even with Deirdre he sometimes struggled, but she excelled in forthrightness and she always seemed to know the rights words to say to him. Their daughter, though, was not like her; she needed someone to draw her out from herself, and that was the one area he frequently floundered in.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, still refusing to look at him.

"Someone has hurt you, Evelyn," he said, restraining his emotions. "I need to know who it was."

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters." His words came out more sharply than he had intended. "But if you refuse to tell me then you will force me to make you tell me."

She snapped her gaze to his and dark eyes filled with wounded pride and stubbornness stared steadily back at him. "You can't do that."

"I can, and I will. One drop of Veritaserum and you will tell me everything I need to know. The choice is yours."

He could see her resolve to remain silent begin to crumble to in face of his threat.

Finally she drew in a deep breath. "It happened in Defence class. Professor Moody...he...he asked me to help him demonstrate a spell, but he ended up humiliating me."

Severus gritted his teeth. "What did he do?"

"I don't even know what spell he used, but it froze me solid and then Professor Moody lifted me into the air." She paused and he could see tears brimming in her eyes. "I was just hanging there and Professor Moody said he could send me flying out of the window if he wanted to. But he didn't, he made me fly across the room really fast and then he took the spell off me and I fell."

Severus clenched his hand by his side into a tight fist. He felt her every word on a visceral level. He knew exactly what it was like to be humiliated in such a way. "Did Moody treat any other students in this way?"

"No, just me." She unwrapped one of her arms from around her legs and reached out for his other hand resting on the bed, squeezing it tightly. "It was weird, but he..."

"Yes?" he urged her to continue.

"When Professor Moody called out the register he paused at my name and stared at me for ages. He didn't do it to anyone else. He doesn't know I'm really a Snape, does he?"

"No, he doesn't."

But you are a Harper, he thought.

Once again Deirdre's insidious cousin was causing indirect trouble for Severus and his family. It must have come as a nasty shock to Moody that a Death Eater managed to outwit him. Aodhán Harper had faked his own death and then fled Britain, without ever having to face the Wizengamot or the threat of life imprisonment in Azkaban. The news of Harper's return must have galled the ex-Auror, whose impeccable record was tarnished by 'the one who got away', or so Severus had read in the Prophet.

What Moody had done to Evelyn in Defence class was nothing short of a punishment. Evelyn, who had never even met Harper, was hurt and shamed all because she shared the same surname and bore a resemblance to her mother's cousin.

"I still don't understand why he picked on me."

"Even the greatest minds would struggle to understand what goes on inside the head of that man."

Severus decided it was better if she didn't know the real reason why Moody had targeted her. He saw little point in adding to her distress.

"So, can I stay here for the rest of the day?"

"Why were you not honest with me this morning?" he asked. "If you had reservations about attending Defence classes then should have told me instead of making up ridiculous stories."

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just...I didn't want...I was frightened by him, that was all."

"Well, in future I would rather you told me the truth; otherwise you may end up sampling more of my special potions."

She grimaced at the mention of the potion she drank earlier that morning. "That was totally disgusting, Dad. I can't believe you let me drink it."

He gave a short, amused laugh. It was always rather entraining to see how far students would go to keep up their charade. Some never made it past the foul smell of the potion; others admitted their guilt after one taste. Evelyn had surprised him, though; she had drunk every last drop and still managed to keep up the pretence. In a strange way he had been proud of her. It took real strength of character to endure, even in the face of unexpected hurdles.

After checking his watch, he gently pried Evelyn's hand from his. Break time was almost over.

"I will have your friend, Mr Lowsley, come and sit with you until you are well enough to leave," he said.

"No," she replied sharply. "Don't bring him here."

Severus was surprised by her reaction. "Why not?"

"I don't want to talk to him."

"Has something happened?"

"He just sat there, Dad; he didn't even try to stop Professor Moody."

"I see."

"He supposed to be my best friend. I would have tried to help him."

"Did he apologise?"

"Who cares if he did? I don't."

All of sudden the face of a red-haired teenager swam before him, her green eyes hard, unrelenting as she told him he was not forgiven. Severus rarely thought of Lily Evans, but when he did, it was always with regret. For years she had been his only friend, and he had loved her once, or he thought he had. Even so, the painful loss of that friendship still occupied a small part of his heart.

He would never know if Lily ever regretted cutting him out of her life, but it was a regret he wanted to spare Evelyn from.

Summoning courage from the depths of his soul, he prepared to open up a small window of his heart to her.

"I once had a friend, Evelyn," he began steadily, "Who refused to forgive me. I lashed out at her in anger one day and called her a terrible name. Later that evening, I went to find her to apologise, but she refused to accept it. She said she did not want anything more to do with me."

Horror spread across her face. "That's awful."

"It was."

"Did you ever make up with her again?"

"No, we never did. She's dead now, so I will never have that opportunity."

"What was her name?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "It no longer matters, but what does matter is that you must forgive Mr Lowsley. You do not want to look back and regret a lost friendship."

"But what if he does something like that again?"

Severus sighed as he was forced to stray deeper into the less travelled paths of his heart. "I never understood what true friendship was until I met your mother. She taught me what it was to forgive, to realise that friendship is not based upon performance. You see, Evelyn, we all make mistakes, but when someone reaches down to help us up out of the dust, without judging us, it makes us stronger."

"Mum did that for you?" she said almost in awe.

"At first, yes, but now we do it for each other."

Evelyn looked away and he watched her toy with a loose thread on the blanket. "So, you think I should forgive Edmund?"

"It's not whether you should; it's whether you really want to lose his friendship?"

She pursed her lips. "What if I'm too late already?"

Severus placed a comforting hand over hers. "I don't believe you are."

He recalled how unusually morose Edmund had looked in Potions, and also how he had tried to explain what had happened to Evelyn.

At that moment the bell signalling the end of break rang. Severus would have to leave her to teach his fourth year class – a joy not to be missed. No doubt Potter and Weasley would be as apathetic as ever; Granger seemed to have made it her mission in life to annoy him, while Longbottom was a disaster waiting to happen.

He stood up and adjusted his robes.

"You can come to my classroom after the school day ends. I will have all of your professors send down whatever work you missed to the dungeons, so you won't fall behind."

"Thanks, Dad. See you later," she said, "Oh, and when you talk to Edmund tell him to bring some good books with him. We're going to be here all day."

He smiled at her, relieved. "I will."

...

Evelyn hummed contentedly to herself as she copied up the notes she had missed that day. Her father was in the storeroom annexed to the classroom, carrying out an inventory or something or other. She was glad she had taken his advice and forgiven Edmund. He must have said he was sorry about a hundred times during the course of the afternoon. He had even brought her the last of his chocolate fudge, which he had offered to her as an apology, but then ended up eating most of it himself.

She had also thought about the friend her father had spoken to her about. Who was she? The breakdown of their friendship must have been a very long time ago, because her parents had become friends in sixth year at school. Had she been his girlfriend? Evelyn didn't like that thought very much – she didn't want to think about Dad with anyone else but Mum.

BANG!

Evelyn almost fell off her seat as the door to the Potions classroom walloped against the wall. Professor Moody barged in, holding Draco Malfoy by the scruff of his collar. Instinctively, she shrank back from him, terrified that he was going to fling her about the room like a ragdoll again.

Moody let go of Draco and shoved him further into the room. His magical eye spun around crazily, finally coming to rest on the wall separating the main classroom from the storeroom.

"Snape," Moody growled, "Come out here, I have a snivelling little ferret for you to deal with."

Malfoy's pointed face was pale with fury. "When I tell my father –"

Scoffing, the ex-Auror said, "Beneath all them 'em fancy clothes he wears, your father is nothing but a miserable coward. A bit like yourself."

"Is there a reason why you have burst into my classroom unannounced, Moody?"

Evelyn swallowed hard as her father walked towards the other man.

He stopped a few feet short from the older wizard and folded his arms.

"It seems you've passed your perfidious ways on to your students, Snape," Moody said.

Her father merely looked at Moody as if he was already bored with the conversation. "Mr Malfoy, you may return to the Slytherin common room – I will deal with you later."

Straightening out his ruffled robes, Malfoy squared his shoulders, tilted his chin loftily and walked out of the Potions classroom.

"You've got quite the little club here, haven't you, Snape – Malfoys and Harpers, all under the same roof."

"Are you insinuating something, Moody?"

"Dumbledore asked me to keep a close watch on things this year." Moody still had his wand drawn, held in a threatening manner. "I intend to do just that, so you'd be wise to remember that, Snape."

Evelyn had never seen her father stand so rigidly. "Then should also take note it is my duty to ensure the welfare of students in this school. So you would be wise to remember that, Moody. If you ever injure a student again I will personally see to it that Dumbledore has you removed from your post – immediately."

Moody merely laughed scornfully. "Have him convinced you're a reformed wizard, have you? We both know what you really are; there's no denying it." He pointed his wand directly at her father. "I'll be watching you, Snape."

Evelyn flinched as Moody slammed the door closed.

"Bloody nuisance," she heard her father mutter.

"Dad, you shouldn't talk to Professor Moody like that."

He shot her a venomous look. "How I talk to other professor does not concern you."

"But what if he had tried to arrest you again?"

He narrowed his eyes. "So you know about that, too, do you?" he said, then walked back into the potions storeroom.

Evelyn followed after him.

"It was Edmund who told me – he didn't mean, too, though, it just sort of came up in conversation."

"I see."

"Please don't give him a detention."

He snorted. "I will think about it."

"Promise me you won't pick a fight with Moody. Please, Dad..."

"Reminding him of the school's rules is hardly picking a fight, Evelyn."

Evelyn climbed to the top of a step ladder so that she was standing level with him. "He was trying to provoke you. He wanted you to draw your wand."

"I was well aware of that, Evelyn." He stopped sorting through a pile of parchments and turned to face her. "Go and finish your work and leave me to finish mine."

"OK, but can we practice some duelling when we're both done?"

A frown creased his brow. "Do you feel up to it?"

"Absolutely."

"All right, then."

She leaned forward and hugged him tightly, then pulled back and kissed his cheek.

"Right, enough of that, off you go."

Evelyn giggled, but held onto him for a moment longer. "You're the best, Dad, you know that."

He touched her cheek tenderly. "And I could not have asked for a more beautiful or a more intelligent daughter."

Chapter 21: Chapter 20

Hello! So, I finally have another chapter ready to post. Once again, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favourited or is following this story. And for those reviewers to whom I cannot send a thank you to via a PM - thank you.

Now, on with the show!

Chapter 20

~x~

Drumming her fingers on the arms of a wingback chair in her father's quarters, Evelyn heaved a bored sigh. There was nothing to do. She thought about going back to the Slytherin common room to get her schoolbag, but she was supposed to be in the hospital wing with a sore tummy – that's what she had told her friends. She couldn't very well waltz into her dorm and back out again without looking like a complete liar.

She thought about Edmund and how worried he had been. He had offered to walk with her to the hospital wing but she had managed to fob him off. 'It's almost curfew,' she had told him, 'You'd never make it back before eight. I don't want you to get into trouble because of me.'

She hated lying to friends, hated all of the pretence and having to hide who she really was. But, unlike last year, when she had thought her parents were overacting, she now knew that a very real threat towards her and her family existed. It wasn't only the Quidditch World Cup that had convinced her of that, but she had seen the sheer loathing in Professor Moody's face that evening he'd confronted her father in his classroom. The professor had wanted her father to lose his temper, to draw his wand. It had frightened her. If Moody ever discovered she was Severus Snape's daughter then he may well use her against him. And she didn't want to be the reason why he ended up in Azkaban again.

The clock struck nine fifteen.

Evelyn fished out her wand from her robes, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. She was tempted to light the fire as it was beginning to get cold. A small voice warned her, however, that it might not be such a good idea. The last time she had practiced magic in her father's quarters a cushion had exploded, sending feathers in every direction. Her 'oops' had done little to quell the exasperated look on his face. Despite that, though, she had been unable to keep a straight face, not when he had been covered in feathers, making him appear as some kind of giant chicken. After that incident, she was forbidden to practice any magic, unless it was under his strict supervision.

Somehow she imagined he would not be too thrilled if the spell to light the fire went horribly wrong.

She would probably find herself in detention for the rest of her school career.

"Oh, come on, Dad," she groaned out loud, "Hurry up..."

It had been over an hour since the students had been dismissed from the Great Hall, except for the three Champions...and Harry Potter. Her father, along with the Hogwarts' staff, the visiting head teachers and the officials from the Ministry had also remained behind.

Cedric Digory must he raging, she thought, I would have been.

A murmur of bitter disappointment had rumbled along the Slytherin table when Cedric's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, but they had applauded him all the same. After all, it wasn't an inter-house tournament; it was Hogwarts against Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. 'I don't care who the Champion is, as long as Hogwarts wins', one Slytherin prefect had said. Evelyn had agreed with him, although not everyone had. Some thought that Hufflepuffs were weak, soft, and would be completely useless against the Durmstrang Champion. Evelyn had even heard it whispered at the table that Professor Karakoff openly permitted and encouraged the teaching of the Dark Arts. A shiver had raked down Evelyn's spine at that.

When Harry's name had come out of the Goble of Fire, Evelyn had thought it was just another case of Professor Dumbledore's bizarre sense of humour. But, the headmaster had not been laughing. Indeed, she had never seen his features so thunderously menacing. The entire hall had watched in silence as Harry had walked up to the staff table, only to be ushered out of sight by Professor McGonagall. For a brief moment Evelyn had met her father's gaze – she had seen a drenched cat look more amused than he had been at that moment.

The clock struck nine thirty.

Cupping her chin in her hand, she stared at the books neatly ordered on the shelves in front of her. She could read one to pass the time, but she was only allowed to read the boring ones, and leafing through a book on the lifecycle of a lacewing fly was not her idea of fun – especially not on her birthday.

That was the whole reason she had come to her father's quarters. The previous day he had informed her that they would celebrate her thirteen birthday with a late evening supper. He had promised her there would be toasted pancakes, crumpets with jam and even golden syrup cake – her favourite.

"Stupid Harry Potter," she said.

"I could not agree more."

Evelyn jumped, startled by her father's stealthy entrance into his quarters. She frowned at him. "Don't do that."

"I will enter my quarters in whatever way I please," he said coolly.

She opened her mouth to argue back, but then decided it would be pointless. He would probably just tell her not to visit him anymore if she had a problem with how he went in and out of his quarters.

Instead, she asked, "So, is Harry Potter going to be expelled?"

With an indignant snort, he removed his robes and draped them carefully over the back of a chair. "On the contrary, Mr Potter will be taking part in the Triwizard Tournament."

"He will be?" Evelyn's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's against the rules. You have to be seventeen to enter – Mr Crouch said so."

"Thank you, Evelyn, for pointing that out. I was wholly unaware of that fact."

She frowned at his sarcasm.

As usual, though, curiosity got the better of her and she decided not to huff with him. "But why is Professor Dumbledore allowing him to be a Champion?"

Her father sat down in a chair opposite her, and then said, "Because, putting your name into the Goblet of Fire is like signing a magically binding agreement. The only way out of the agreement is to participate in the tournament."

"What would happen if he decided not to take part?"

"There is no way to be certain, but death is one possibility."

Evelyn swallowed hard. "Oh."

She sat quietly digesting what he had said, while he undid his shoelaces then used his wand to summon his slippers.

"Didn't Professor Dumbledore put an age line around the Goblet of Fire," she asked almost as soon as the thought formed in her mind.

"He did."

"How did Harry cross it then?"

"More than likely he bribed an older student to put his name in the Goblet of Fire for him."

"But why?"

"One word: arrogance."

"That still doesn't –"

Her father held up a hand, cutting her off. "I have no desire to spend the rest of the evening discussing Mr Potter or his moronic actions."

The sharp edge in his tone was not lost on Evelyn. His dislike of Harry was plainly obvious and Evelyn sometimes wondered if he saw his father, James Potter, when he looked at him. She had seen pictures of the elder Potter in Quidditch trophy cabinet, and Harry greatly resembled him. Of course, that was not something she could ask him about, as she wasn't even supposed to know that James Potter had bullied him at school.

"So," she said, looking at him expectantly, "Can we have supper now you're back?"

He sighed. "I suppose."

"Dad..." she said, "It's my birthday; at least pretend to be excited."

"Excuse me, then, while I do a jig around the room."

She giggled at that.

He placed his hands onto the arms of the chair and pushed himself up onto his feet. "Well, aren't you going to sit at the table?"

Evelyn did not need to be asked twice. She sat in the same place she always did, watching while her father removed a parcel from a cupboard in the kitchenette. It was still wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string, but when he set it onto the table she saw that the return address was a bakery in Diagon Alley.

"Did you receive the present from your mother and me this morning?" he asked, untying the string.

Smiling, Evelyn nodded. "Yeah, I did. Thanks you so much. I loved it. I'm going to start reading my book tomorrow, and I can't wait to listen to the record."

Arching an eyebrow, he said, "Yes, your mother mentioned to me that you like these modern wizarding bands. I can assure you, though; you won't be listening to the Twisted Aunts on my gramophone."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "They're called the Weird Sister's, Dad."

He waved a hand dismissively. "It's still a deafening racket, no matter what you call them."

Soon he had set out a small feast on the table. Along with crumpets, pancake and cake, he had also bought cherry scones and sausage rolls. It all smelt delicious. The Dough Knot was possibly the best bakery in the wizarding world. It also possessed a spell that kept food warm and fresh inside the box for several days after it had been delivered. Apparently other bakeries had tried to copy it, but without much success. According to her father, the spell was an old family secret and it would more than likely remain that way.

When they were finished, her father cleared away their plates and put the leftovers back into the box.

Evelyn stifled a yawn as the clock struck ten. She didn't want to be sent back to the Slytherin common room just yet.

"Could I have a hot chocolate?" she asked, fishing to see if he would let her stay longer.

"I have one more present to give you."

"You do?"

"Yes, but not in the conventional sense..."

Evelyn wrinkled her nose in confusion. "I don't understand."

Her father took out his wand. "Perhaps it's best if I show you. Do you see that book on the coffee table? Pick it up."

Still unsure as to what he was about to do, Evelyn nevertheless picked up the book. "OK, now what?"

"Put it back down." He flicked his wrist up and said, "Lentesco." There was a short sucking noise after he said the incantation. "Now, try to pick up the book again."

Evelyn tried to lift it but it was firmly stuck to the table. "It won't budge." She looked at him, her shoulders slumped in disappointment. "Is that it...the other present?"

If her father was offended by her question, he didn't show it. In fact, he smirked at her. "Do you recall a rather unfortunate event in the cellar at home, when you got a label stuck to your head with the words lizard guts written on it?"

Cringing, she nodded. How could she forget that?

"Well, it would seem you inadvertently created a new spell."

Her jaw almost fell open. "I did?"

"Yes, you did." She thought she saw a glint of pride in his eyes. "It has taken me quite some time to perfect it, but I do believe it is the most powerful sticking spell I have ever come across." He pointed his wand at the book again. "And thanks to your mother, there is a counter-spell to go with it."

It took a moment for Evelyn to fully process what had just happened. She had created a new spell?

Evelyn took out her own wand and looked at, astounded. Then she lifted her gaze to her father. "But how did I do it?"

"All the spells we use were invented by someone at some point in time. Some were created with intent while others were the result of an accident, much like this spell."

"Can it be used for anything else?" she asked, intrigued.

In response, he pointed his wand at her this time. "Lentesco."

For a split second nothing happened, but then feet began to slide across the floor, dragging her backwards towards the wall. "Dad, what's going on?" she said, a hint of panic in her voice.

"I am answering your question."

Evelyn's back hit the wall and almost instantly her whole body, limbs included, were stuck firmly to it. But instead of panicking, her eyes lit up with delight. "You can move and stick people? That's wicked!"

"Indeed," he said, swiftly undoing the spell. "It is not to be recommended, though."

She caught the undercurrent of warning in his tone. "No, I'd never do that to anyone."

"See that you don't." He then motioned for her to come closer to him. "Take out your wand and follow my wrist movements carefully."

He made her practice flicking her wrist up several times before he allowed her to say the incantation. On any other occasion she might have complained, but this was a spell she had created and she wanted to make sure she got it perfect.

"All right," her father said after five minutes or so. "Try sticking the book to the table, like I did before."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. If she got this wrong then she could end up being smashed in the face by a book. It wasn't a particularly pleasant thought. At least, though, there was a counter-charm if she made a complete hash of things.

Taking a deep breath, Evelyn pointed her wand at the book. "Lentesco."

The book jiggled on the table for a few seconds and Evelyn dropped to the floor like a stone. However, it didn't come sailing over her head; instead, she heard the same sucking noise when her father had used the spell earlier.

"You can get up off the floor, Evelyn," her father said.

As she stood up she saw him trying to move the book, but it was stuck firmly to the table. A satisfied grin spread across her face. She had done it.

"That was a very good start," he said and Evelyn continued to smile at his high praise. "We can practice it again another time."

"So, what's the spell called?" she asked.

Her father sat back down on the wingback chair by the fire, crossing one leg over the other. "I have named it the Sticking Spell."

Evelyn snorted. "That's rubbish."

His eyes narrowed. "I do not remember asking for your opinion on it."

"It should be called the Cling-On Spell." She folded her arms at his unresponsive expression. "I invented it, after all."

"And who perfected it?" he said reaching for the evening edition of the Daily Prophet on the table beside his chair.

Evelyn pressed her lips tightly together as he opened up the newspaper, hiding himself behind it. She could almost sense that there was a triumphant smirk on his lips at that moment. He was her father and she loved him, but sometimes he could be the most annoying person on the planet.

...

Uncorking a bottle of red wine as quietly as he could, Severus poured himself a glass and then settled down in his chair by the fire. Evelyn had fallen asleep on the sofa, having lost the battle with the invisible weights attached to her eyelids. He didn't have the heart to awaken her, so he had simply draped a blanket over her instead. She might be a teenager now, but she still could not handle late nights.

A teenager.

Severus loathed the word.

Somehow it felt as if he was losing her all over again. For so long he had strived to be a good father to her, and now, when he seemed to have just found his footing, she could decide she no longer needed him. Maybe she would feel she was too old to have her father wipe away her tears or hold her when she was frightened. What if she did not want him to continue to teach her to hone and control her magic?

He sighed resignedly. Perhaps he should talk to Deirdre about it. She always seemed to have the right answers when it came to their daughter. He needed to write to her anyway, to inform her about the situation with Potter.

Severus had managed to conceal his alarm when Potter's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. Potter was a mediocre student at best; the possibility that he could have gotten past Dumbledore's age line was practically nonexistent. And, even if the boy had managed to bribe an older student to put his name forward as a Champion, the goblet was a powerful magical object; it knew there were only three schools in the tournament and, therefore, only three Champions were to be chosen.

There could only be one other possibility: a powerful witch or wizard had tampered with the goblet and placed Potter's name in it. Dumbledore had agreed with this theory, and that they should simply do nothing for the time being. Whoever it was would probably try to interfere with the tournament again, and Severus intended to stop them before any real harm could to either Potter or the other Champions.

The events of the past few months had unnerved him. An elderly Muggle man had been found dead in an abandoned house, slain by the Killing Curse, and then the Dark Mark had appeared in the sky at the Quidditch World Cup. On top of that, a Ministry worker had gone missing in Romania; vanished without a trace. It was possible all three incidents were wholly unrelated, but Severus could not shift the gnawing worry in the pit of his stomach.

He took another sip of wine, but it suddenly tasted bitter in his mouth.

A contented sigh escaped from Evelyn, drawing Severus from his brooding. He turned his attention to her, almost envying her dreamless sleep. She had always been a good sleeper, sometimes too good. He remembered one night, when she was only a few months old, Deirdre had left him alone with her for a few hours. He must have checked her cot every five minutes; babies were supposed to whimper, cry, screech like banshees, but Evelyn hadn't made a peep. In the end, he had picked her up and carried her into the living room, laying on her his chest. Feeling her tiny but rapid heartbeat next to his own had calmed him almost instantly. And that is the state Deirdre had found him in when she returned. He had half expected her to give off for lifting her, but she hadn't. Instead, she had rushed off to their bedroom to get a camera.

The corners of his mouth twitched at the memory of it.

After finishing the rest of his wine, he used his wand to clean the glass and replaced it back into a cabinet, along with the bottle of wine. He then crossed to the sofa and adjusted the blanket around Evelyn. She seemed comfortable enough, so he decided to leave her where she was. He would probably be awake before her in the morning anyway; she would more than likely snore until midday, that is, if he let her.

He brushed a few strands of hair away from her face and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Good night, Evelyn," he said softly.

...

The next afternoon, Evelyn wandered down towards the lake, looking for a sunny spot to sit and read her new book. She had swiped a few ham sandwiches from the table in the Great Hall at lunchtime, wrapped them in a napkin and put them in her pocket. They would make a nice snack later on.

She hadn't bothered to ask Edmund or Gregory if they wanted to join her. Neither of them read for pleasure, except for when it came to Quidditch magazines. Besides, they had said over lunch that they wanted to find out who was selling the 'Potter Stinks' badges. Asked if she wanted one too, Evelyn had merely shaken her head and walked away. While she thought what Harry had done was pretty rotten, she didn't think it was right to throw horrid things back in his face. Wouldn't that make her just as bad as him?

He would probably end up making an idiot of himself in the tournament, anyway. That in itself would be punishment enough as far as she was concerned.

Finally settling on a grassy patch, she lay down on her front and opened up the book. It was the one she had received for her birthday. Muggle novels were her favourite, and this one looked particularly good. Mum had said in an accompanying letter, that, although the story had been written over a century ago, it was still a brilliant read. She had said she first read Sherlock Holmes when she was about Evelyn's age, and loved it. Mum had also written that if she liked this book – The Hound of the Baskervilles – then she would buy her more.

Evelyn had only read a few pages, already enjoying Doctor John Watson's narration, when a twig snapped somewhere nearby. Thinking one of her friends had followed her, she looked up from the book. For a moment a scream threatened to leap out from her throat, but then she realised she had seen that big, black dog before.

It was the same one that had saved her from the Dementors last year.

"Hello, boy," she said, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

The dog seemed to study her for a moment before it padded across the grass towards her. Almost immediately it began to sniff around her and Evelyn giggled as it poked its nose into the pocket of her robes, which she had laid down on the grass as a makeshift blanket.

"All right," she said, "You can have one of my sandwiches – but just one."

The dog gobbled the sandwich down then looked at her, almost pleading with her to give him more food.

"Oh, I suppose you can have them all." She laid the napkin down on the grass.

As it devoured the other sandwiches, Evelyn wondered where it had been all these months. Originally she thought it might have been one of Hagrid's pets, but looking at its undernourished frame she guessed it must be a stray.

Once the dog was finished he flopped down beside her. Evelyn reached out to scratch behind its ear.

"You mustn't be much of a hunter," she said, despite knowing it couldn't answer her back. "You're a right bag of bones."

It let out a huff of air from its nostrils, almost as if it did not appreciate her comment.

"It was my birthday yesterday," she said. "I got this book from my parents – well, not just this; I got other stuff too. I also had a late evening supper with my dad, although Harry Potter almost ruined it…"

Her voice trailed off. Why was she talking to a dog?

Sighing, she opened the book up at the page she had left off it and began to read: It came with the wind through the silence of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then the sad moan in which it died away. Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident, wild and menacing...

The dog nudged its nose against her arm, startling Evelyn a little. She frowned at it. "What? I've already given you all of my food."

It twitched its ears, and she knew it wanted her to scratch it again. Then it made a pathetic little whimpering sound and she caved. "Oh, all right, but after this I want to read my book. I can't get moment's peace in the common room. Everyone is talking about what Harry Potter did. He's like the most hated person in the school at the moment. Ed – he's my best friend – said that Harry did it because he couldn't stand anyone else taking all the glory…"

Evelyn stopped scratching the dog's ears. There she went again, talking to an animal. Maybe she was losing her mind. It was possible; after all, she was thirteen now and that was pretty old.

The dog butted its head gently against her arm and Evelyn fixed her gaze on it, looking into its pale eyes. She hadn't really noticed them before, but there was something odd about them – they were almost human-like. Glancing from the dog to her book and then back again, she decided she had read quite enough about mysterious hell hounds for one day. It was beginning to mess with her head.

She closed the book and then stood up. "I'm sorry, boy," she said, "But I have to go now. I'm supposed to be meeting my dad, and if you know anything about Professor Snape, then you'll know he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Picking up her robe, she slipped her arms into it and gathered up her book and the napkin she'd brought the sandwiches in.

"I'll maybe see you again," she said, "I'll try to bring some food with me."

With that she turned around and began to walk up the hill towards the castle. After a couple of steps, though, she stopped. Had she really just lied to a dog about why she had to leave so suddenly? What was wrong with her?

On instinct she looked over her shoulder, only to see that the dog had vanished.

...

Severus hadn't really been paying attention to Evelyn as she talked to him in his office. It was late, and his mind was drained from marking sixth form essays. He had picked up on some of the threads of her mostly one-sided conversation: 'Potter Stinks' badges had become a craze overnight; everyone was desperate to know what the challenges in the tournament would be; Viktor Krum had a gaggle of girls chasing after him.

"And this afternoon," she said, gearing up to change subject, again, "I was reading my book down near the lake and I saw that big, black dog; the one that saved me from the Dementors."

Suddenly Severus was alert. He sat up straight in his chair. "What? Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's just a dog, Dad..."

It was anything but just a dog.

"Did it come near you?" he pressed.

"Yeah, it did. I give it a sandwich."

"You did what?" he said, grinding out the words.

She crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "It was starving, Dad. I was just trying to help."

Anger flared up inside of Severus at Sirius Black's utter defiance of Dumbledore's instructions. He was supposed to remain in the Forbidden Forest, and out of sight. How dare he approach a student – and hisdaughter, no less.

"Did you say anything to it?" he asked, more sharply than he had intended.

"I-I..."

Her hesitation was too long for his already paper-thin patience. He banged a fist on the desk. "Answer me, Evelyn."

Shaking her head, she said, "No, I didn't say anything to it. Why would I talk to a dog; that's just stupid."

"Do not use that tone with me," he said, threateningly. "Gather up your belongings and go to the common room."

"Gladly," she muttered under her breath.

Severus realised too late that he had taken his fury out on her. She was out through the door of his office before he could stop her. Balling his hands into tight fists, tension coiled inside of him. The very thought of Sirius Black being anywhere near his daughter made his blood boil. He was the most arrogant, conceited man Severus had ever known.

The fact that he owed his daughter's life to Black didn't matter in that moment. He wanted to lash out at the brute that had made his life hell for so many years.

Taking a deep breath, Severus leaned back in his chair. Perhaps he should take a walk into the Forbidden Forest and confront Black, to remind him of the very real danger against his life, not to mention that Dumbledore could face imprisonment in Azkaban for harbouring a fugitive criminal. He would also point out that it would not be his fault if Mad-Eye Moody was warned of a suspicious creature wandering the grounds of Hogwarts. The ex-Auror was infamously known to cast spells first and never ask questions later.

Until then, he needed to apologise to his daughter before she decided to write to her mother again.

Chapter 22: Chapter 21

Hello! OK, firstly I need to apologise for taking more than four months to post a new chapter. I have no excuse other than I have been bogged down with work. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story - and thank you for all your lovely reviews. Keep them coming :)

Now, on with the show...

Chapter 21

~x~

"Come in."

Severus heard the door scrape along the stone tiles and he glanced up to see a prefect framed in the doorway. He had hoped to see Evelyn standing there instead. Annoyance blended with disappointment surged within him but his outward manner remained cool, impassive.

"What is it, Walsingham?" he said.

"Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office."

Severus set the quill he was writing with aside. "Did he say for what reason?"

"No, sir," Walsingham replied, "only that he wants you to go there right away."

"Very well." He waved a hand dismissively, "You may go."

After putting on his robes, Severus left his office and made his way to Dumbledore's office. As he walked, he once more mulled over his disastrous attempt to apologise to Evelyn earlier that afternoon. At first it had seemed like he had actually succeeded in smoothing things over with her. But then he had forbidden her to go near that mangy mutt again. Evelyn's brow had furrowed and suspicion had flashed in her dark eyes; the words 'why not' had been thrown at him in a brazen challenge. Severus had refused to rise to it. She was his daughter after all; he did not have to explain himself to her. And he had told her so.

He clenched his jaw, remembering how she had stomped from the Potions classroom, slamming the door behind her. He would have gone after her but she was too like her mother when she was upset: completely impossible to reason with.

Perhaps he should have told her the truth. What did it matter if she knew Black was an animagus? Potter was aware of it, so too were Granger and Weasley; and they were three of the most defiant, reckless and careless students he had ever taught. Yet Severus' pride had stood against him like a slab of granite, hard, unmoveable. Letting her know the truth would only lead to more questions and, inevitably, old wounds would rupture.

When he reached the gargoyles guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office, Severus faced them and said, "Fizz Whizz." Immediately they jumped to one side; the stone wall groaned as it opened and Severus stepped forward onto the moving spiral staircase.

Entering Dumbledore's office, he was met with soft snores coming from the portraits hung on the walls; a few frames though, he noted, were empty. The paintings were the headmaster's eyes and ears around the school...and even beyond the walls of the castle. No one but the current head knew where those particular frames were, but there were rumours that some were to be found in the Ministry of Magic.

Going further into the office, he saw Dumbledore standing by a window, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"You sent for me, Albus?"

"Ah, Severus..." Dumbledore moved away from the window and walked down several stairs to the lower level of his office. "I hope I did not pull you away from anything important."

Severus shook his head. "No. What is it you wished to speak with me about?"

Dumbledore paused by Fawkes and ran an affectionate finger across the Phoenix's fiery feathers. "Did you know that the first time Harry came to my office Fawkes burst into flames? It gave the poor boy quite a fright."

Severus' impatience was steadily rising. "As fascinating as that is, Albus...Why did you call me here?"

"There is a letter on my desk," Dumbledore said, continuing to stoke Fawkes.

Crossing over to the large, ornately carved wooden desk, Severus picked up a letter that had been addressed to Dumbledore. He turned it over in his hands and saw that it had the embossed crest of St. Mungo's on it. Curious, he opened it and began to read:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Prior to Madam Pomfrey losing the ability to speak, she asked me to send a letter to you, informing you of her current condition. What she initially believed to be a high fever was actually the first symptom of a rather nasty case of spattergroit. Your wisdom in sending her to St. Mungo's, despite her many years as a school nurse, quite possibly adverted a school-wide epidemic.

It is unclear how long Madam Pomfrey will be bedridden for, but I estimate that she will not be fit to return to Hogwarts until the beginning of the next academic year. I will continue to keep you updated with her progress. If you wish to visit her, she is on the second floor – Magical Bugs and Diseases. Please let us know of your coming prior to a visit so that we can arrange for the correct protective clothing to be available.

Yours sincerely

Healer Crawford

As he finished reading, Severus let his gaze linger on the letter, compassion for Poppy Pomfrey rising up inside of him. It seemed deeply unfair that she should be struck down with such an invasive, debilitating disease. She was one of the more tolerable members of staff in the school.

Severus lifted his gaze to Dumbledore. "Are you certain she was the only one to have contracted spattergroit?"

"I was the last one to have contact with Poppy and since I am not covered in purple pustules, then I believe it is safe to say, yes."

"I see." Severus set the letter onto the table again.

Dumbledore moved away from Fawkes. ""Do you care for tea? I always find a cup of tea helps one to think with more clarity."

"Indeed," Severus said flatly.

The headmaster turned and walked to the small sitting room tucked away at the back of his office. Severus followed him. There was already a teapot, wisps of steam rising from its spout, and two teacups waiting there for them. Clearly Dumbledore had not called him to his office to just read a letter from St. Mungo's. He suddenly got the uneasy sense that the older wizard had plotted something behind his back...And he did not like it.

"Do you know what is missing?" Dumbledore said as he stirred a sugar lump into his tea.

"I couldn't possibly guess..."

"A splash of Worcestershire Sauce."

Severus lip twitched in mild disgust. "Delightful."

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, smacking his lips slightly as he did so. "As you have probably already presumed, we will need to find a suitable replacement for Poppy."

"Naturally."

Dumbledore looked at Severus over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "Poppy has run the hospital wing in Hogwarts singlehandedly for almost three decades; there is no one I trust more with the welfare of the staff and students."

Severus nodded in agreement. "Of course."

"I know of only one other healer in whom I would place an equal amount of trust." Dumbledore's periwinkle eyes glinted conspiratorially. "And I think you would agree with me, Severus."

Severus absently swirled the tea in his cup, the miniature maelstrom almost reflecting the gathering storm inside of him. "No, Albus, absolutely not –Deirdre is not coming anywhere near this castle!"

"Evelyn is already here, Severus..."

"Do not bring my daughter into this."

"Very well," Dumbledore conceded, "But consider, Severus: apart from you and me, Deirdre is the only one who knows of Harry's true significance. It may prove useful to have her here, especially in the light of what happened regarding the Goblet of Fire."

Severus glared hotly at the headmaster. "I took an oath to protect Potter, not my wife."

"So you did, Severus," Dumbledore replied and then steepled his fingers. "And I also made a promise to keep her safe. I would not ask this of you if I truly believed she would be in any danger."

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. His grip on controlling his family's safety had been slipping ever since Evelyn received her letter from Hogwarts. Now it seemed as if he was holding on with his fingertips.

"The Board of Governors will have to be informed by tomorrow of Poppy's current condition," Dumbledore said almost resignedly. "If I cannot present them with a suitable candidate by then, they will most likely select a Ministry-approved healer."

Despite the seriousness of the situation Severus grunted contemptuously. Anything that was Ministry-approved reeked of incompetence and inefficiency. And what was worse, he would have to communicate with whatever bumbling nightmare they sent.

Severus opened his eyes and gazed steadily at Dumbledore. There was no sign of triumph or smugness in them, but there was a wisdom that Severus had learnt to trust, even when he did not like the direction the headmaster was leading him in.

"I will hold you to your promise, Albus," Severus finally said.

Dumbledore inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You have my word. Shall I write to St. Mungo's in the morning?"

"No, I will go and speak with Deirdre myself."

"As you wish, Severus."

Severus had barely touched his tea but he set it down onto the small table and stood up. There was nothing more to be said between them – anything he did say he would probably regret later.

His head began to pound as he wound his way down the spiral staircase and out into the corridor. He needed a drink – a strong one.

...

Deirdre paid for a cup of tea and a Danish pastry in the little Muggle cafe across the street from St. Mungo's. It was more of a hassle than simply going to the canteen in the hospital, but she had long abandoned the hope that it would ever offer anything better than tepid tea and stale scones.

Carrying her take-away tea in one hand and clutching the brown paper bag containing her well-earned morning snack in the other, she made her way back to the hospital. It had been another busy morning, with patients coming through the Anti-Curse unit like they were on a conveyer belt. And Saturday mornings were generally the worst for cases of accidental magic. The weekend brought with it the coveted lie-in, that rare moment when alarms could be ignored. Unfortunately, so were the children who awoke with the dawn. Already that morning Deirdre's department had dealt with a six year old who had managed to stick every item of cutlery in the kitchen drawer to his body; an eight year old had taken his mother's wand and hexed his little sister – Deirdre had never seen so much snot run from one nose before in her life.

Entering the hospital from the rear entrance, Deirdre navigated her way through the corridors to her office. She soon reached it and awkwardly fumbled for her keys while trying not to spill her tea.

"Oh, Healer Harper," a young medi-witch called to her. She was one of the new employees from America – one of four, to be exact. "There was a wizard looking for you while you were on your break. I told him to wait in reception; that you'd be back soon."

Deirdre rolled her eyes. "You can go and tell him to make an appointment if he wants to see me."

"I said that to him but he just glowered at me like I was dumb or something."

"Did you get his name?"

"Professor Snips or something, but he's a tall and unpleasant; black hair, big nose, sort of ugly, really –"

"That's quite enough," Deirdre cut her off sharply, itching to give the wee witch a slap. "I never want to hear you speak about patients in such an impertinent way again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Healer Harper," she replied, clearly embarrassed. She then added sheepishly, "Do you want me to go get him for you?"

Deirdre waved a hand dismissively at her. "I will see to him myself."

The young witch nodded and quickly scurried down the corridor. Deirdre finally managed to wangle her keys out of her out of her pocket and open the door to her office. After she had set her tea and Danish onto the desk, she flicked the switch on the tannoy.

"This is Healer Harper calling Severus Snape for his appointment in room forty-six."

Turning off the tannoy, she sank down into the chair behind her desk. What in Merlin's name was Severus doing here? Had something happened to Evelyn? No, that couldn't be it, she thought. He would have told her to come straight to Hogwarts if their daughter had been injured in any way.

Then what else could it be?

She tore off a piece of the Danish and popped it into her mouth. Her mind began to wander, her imagination growing wilder and wilder as the seconds ticked past. Was her cousin causing trouble again? He hadn't featured much in the Daily Prophet over the last few months, but that didn't mean he wasn't up to his old and dark tricks again. Then there was Sirius Black. When Severus had told her that Dumbledore was allowing him to remain on the grounds of Hogwarts, she had been furious...And terrified. If the Ministry was to discover he was harbouring Black, then Dumbledore, along with Severus, would be hauled before the Wizengamot and thrown into Azkaban...

A knock finally sounded on the door.

"Come in," she said.

Severus stepped into her office and Deirdre was on her feet before he had even closed the door. When he turned around to face her she searched his face, looking for a sign, anything, that would give her a clue as to what could be wrong. But he merely met her concerned gaze with an incurious stare.

"Well, are you just going to stand there and gawk at me?" he said.

She let out a disgruntled huff. "What are you doing here? Haven't you ever heard of sending an Owl?"

He made an idle gesture with his hand. "There was no time and you did not respond to my floo call last night."

"I was taking a long bath..."

Severus arched an eyebrow.

"I have about thirty minutes until my next appointment, less if an emergency comes through." She motioned for him to come and sit on a settee sandwiched between two filing cabinets. "What's so important that you had to come and see me in person?"

"Poppy Pomfrey is here at St. Mungo's – she has contracted spattergroit," he said, settling on the settee beside her.

"That's awful."

"Indeed."

She frowned at him. "Is that why you're here – to tell me about Madam Pomfrey?"

"Partly." His cryptic answer only deepened her frown. "Hogwarts will be without a school nurse for the rest of the year. If Albus does not choose a replacement for Poppy quickly, the Board of Governors may well intervene and end up hiring a bloody nightmare."

Titling her head slightly to one side, she said, "Severus, are you saying Dumbledore wants me to be Madam Pomfrey's replacement?"

"Yes."

She sank further back into the settee. It was a tempting offer – very tempting. She would only have to concern herself with one ward at Hogwarts; there would be no other healers, no medi-witches or auxiliary staff to have to deal with. The hospital wing would be her own little domain. Then there was her family. She imagined Evelyn coming to have afternoon tea with her in the little office in the hospital wing; she could exploit the floo system within the school and pay nightly visits to Severus...

"Well, what is your decision?" he asked.

"I think I will take Dumbledore up on his offer, but I need to make a few arrangements first. There shouldn't be any problem with Healer Boulstridge taking charge of the department for a few months – she's more than capable of doing so." She then reached out and playfully poked Severus' chest. "But, I don't want you to tell Evelyn – I want it to be a surprise and..."

Deirdre's voice trailed off as she recognised an all too familiar flicker in Severus' eyes.

She frowned. "Has something happened between you two?"

He tensed at her question.

"Well...?" she pressed.

"We had an altercation over Sirius Black," he said, a sneering undercurrent in his voice.

Her eyes widened. "Why in Merlin's name were you arguing about him?"

"Black approached her in his animagus form." He then snorted scornfully. "Our daughter felt sorry for the mutt and fed it sandwiches. She informed me of this and I...questioned her about it. I warned her to stay away from the dog, but she refused to do so without an explanation."

"And did you give her one?"

"She is a child, Deirdre. She does not require an explanation."

Her lips flattened into a thin line. "You're wrong, Severus. She deserves to be told, no matter how you might feel about it. I'm not asking you to tell her about the hell Sirius Black put you through in school, but I am telling you that we'll lose her if we keep making demands of her without explaining why."

The muscle in his jaw tensed, almost as if he was waging a private war with himself. As blindingly stubborn as he could be at times, she knew he only wanted to protect Evelyn from his past – and what it would mean for their future. She was, as he said, still a child and even Deirdre often struggled with where to draw the line in how much was revealed to her. Should they tell their daughter that Voldemort would return one day; that her father was bound by oath to protect Harry Potter at all costs? Even Deirdre had trouble reconciling herself to that. She understood that Severus owed Dumbledore his freedom...But what would it cost him in the end?

That is what frightened her the most.

"Perhaps you are right," Severus said, drawing her from her grim reverie.

Deirdre reached out and gently caressed his cheek. "We can talk to her together, if you want?"

He turned his head, pressing deeper into her touch. "No, it's something I need to do myself," he said, resignedly.

Slowly ghosting her fingers across his cheek to his neck, she teased the pale skin at his nape before entwining them in his hair. Tugging his face closer to hers, she lightly brushed her lips across his. "And don't worry," she said softly, "I've a feeling she'll be too stunned that she shared her sandwiches with the infamous Sirius Black to ask questions."

The corner of Severus' mouth twitched. "I'll hold you to that."

He reached out to lightly touch her hair then glided his hand down her body, bringing it to rest on the small of her back. Deirdre closed her eyes as he kissed her, savouring his lips on hers and his breath against her cheek. He leaned closer, gently forcing her to lie further back on the settee. The delicious weight of him on top of her and the warmth of his touch coursed through her...And she smiled through his kisses. "Lock...the...door, Severus. Someone might walk in."

He carelessly flicked his wrist, snapping the lock on the door into place, as he dragged his lips down to kiss the warm curve of her throat. Deirdre gasped softly, burying her fingers deeper into his hair...

BING BONG!

Healer Harper to ward four immediately.

Deirdre felt a rumble of frustration in Severus' throat as the tannoy pierced through her office. Almost reluctantly he let her go and she stood up, smoothing out her robes. He continued to sit on the settee, watching her, his obsidian gaze causing her stomach to hitch...Again.

She cleared her throat. "I need to go, Severus, and I can't keep a Hogwarts professor locked up in my office. It just wouldn't be professional."

Severus' mouth slowly curved. "Quite."

"You can tell Dumbledore it shouldn't take too long to get through all the red tape; I'm aiming to be at Hogwarts by Monday."

He nodded. "I will make sure everything is in order in the hospital wing."

"Thank you," she said, gathering some things she would need from her desk. "We'll also need to have a chat about the Triwizard Tournament."

"Indeed. We will."

She raised a shapely eyebrow, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Drinks, then, on Saturday?"

He stared at her coolly for a long moment. "My quarters. Ten-Thirty...And bring a bottle of Pinot Noir."

...

Evelyn sat with her nose buried in a book in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. She had been there for almost twenty minutes but hadn't moved beyond the first page of the book. In fact, she'd read one sentence about five times and she still hadn't really taken in what it said. All she could think about was the second argument she'd had with her father in the space of one day...And both were over a dog.

What was so dangerous about it? If it had wanted to attack and maul her then it had had plenty of chances to do so already. The whole thing made no sense to her at all.

"Oi, Harper," someone called across the common room. "Snape wants to see you in his office."

Evelyn lifted her head and saw a prefect standing by the entrance to the common room. A few other students were shaking their heads in mock disapproval; one even grabbed his throat in his hands and pretended to strangle himself. The message was clear: you're dead. Part of her wanted to ignore her father and continue brooding by the fire, but she quickly decided against it. He wouldn't hesitate to barge into the common room and completely mortify her in front of everyone. She was far from being popular...But that would grind whatever splinter of acceptance she had into the dust.

Snapping the book shut, she set it onto a table and walked towards the door.

She soon reached his office and rapped on the door with unnecessary force.

"Enter."

Turning the handle, she pushed the door open and went into the office. Her father put down the quill he was writing with and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.

"Come and sit down, Evelyn."

Dragging her feet, she sat down in a chair in front of his desk and mimicked his posture. "I haven't done anything wrong," she said defensively. "

"I didn't insinuate that you had."

"Then why am I here?" she huffed. "The evenings are free time...And you're wasting mine."

His expression darkened. "Careful..."

He was verging on transforming into Professor Snape. Evelyn thought that maybe she had gone too far, but she wasn't going to apologise for it.

She shrugged her shoulders. "So, what do you want?"

"I wish to explain something to you."

"What?"

"The dog you fed your sandwiches to," he started, holding up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. "It is not what you think it is."

Evelyn wrinkled her nose in confusion. "What do you mean? I don't understand."

"Do you remember last year you asked me if Dementors could sense the presence of animals?" he asked. Evelyn nodded that she did. "And do you also recall that the entire Wizarding community was mystified as to how Sirius Black managed to escape from Azkaban?"

An uneasiness crept into Evelyn's stomach. "Yeah, I do..."

He abruptly stood up and she flinched in her seat. He took a few steps towards a book shelf and began to idly peruse the titles. Evelyn eyed him strangely, wondering why he didn't just answer his own question. He stretched out a long, pale finger and took a book from its place and opened it. As he flipped through the pages he finally said, "Well, it has since come to light that Sirius Black is an animagus, which explains why he managed to get past the Dementors." He looked over his shoulder at her. "The form he takes is that of a black dog – a large, black dog."

Evelyn felt sick. She had given Sirius Black sandwiches; she had sat right next to him...She had told him who her father was – him: a mass murderer and Voldemort's loyal servant.

"Is Dumbledore going to get him? Why aren't there Aurors here looking for him?" she blurted out, panic-stricken.

Her father continued to flick through the book. It was like he was discussing the weather rather than the Wizarding world's most wanted fugitive. "Sirius Black was not responsible for betraying the Potters or for murdering thirteen Muggles."

Evelyn could only stare at him dumbfounded.

He finally closed the book and turned around. "It is too complicated to go into the full details now, but it's enough to say that Professor Dumbledore has given Black refuge here at Hogwarts. You were not supposed to know – indeed, no one apart from the headmaster and myself was supposed to know."

"Why?"

"Professor Dumbledore used Legilimency on Black – and I had access to a certain memory of his too. The Ministry would never have listened to either of us and Black would have received the Dementors Kiss. The headmaster also decided it would be safer for Black, and for the staff at the school, if his whereabouts and innocence was kept secret."

"So...Sirius Black isn't dangerous?"

"It depends." There was a slight sneer on his face. "Suffice to say, I would not trust Black with the knowledge that you are my daughter."

Evelyn's thoughts were a roiling mess. What if Black told her father she had revealed her real identity to him? Tension coiled inside of her. He would be furious. He would know that she had lied to him...And her father hated liars.

"I can see this has come as a shock to you," he said, "but I hope you understand why I wish for you to keep away from Black in his animagus form."

She squirmed slightly in her seat. A small voice urged her to be honest, to tell him what she had done. But she was too frightened; she knew how quickly he could snap and lose his temper.

Swallowing hard, she looked at him as innocently as she could. "Yeah, Dad, I understand."

"Good," he said, seemingly relieved.

Evelyn slunk out of her chair. "Is that all you wanted me for?"

"Yes, you are free to go now if you want."

She heard the invitation in his voice: he would like her to stay. But she was too unnerved to remain in the same room as him. What if he sensed that she was hiding something from him?

"I've got loads of stuff to read for homework, so I better go," she said, avoiding his gaze.

"I see – then I had best not keep you from it."

She heard the undertone of disappointment in his voice and she had never felt so bad.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dad. Good night."

"Good night, then."

Evelyn was almost consumed with guilt as she walked back to the Slytherin common room. But it was too late to go back now. As she skulked along the dimly lit corridor, she thought about Sirius Black, suddenly becoming very angry with him. If he was supposed to be hiding at Hogwarts then why was he approaching students? He might not be dangerous but he certainly seemed rather stupid. Hadn't her father or Professor Dumbledore bothered to talk to him, to warn him to remain out of sight?

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Talk to him...

That's what she needed to do. She needed to find Sirius Black and talk to him, convince him not to tell her father of her mistake. But how? Where would she even begin to look for him? She could always go back to the same place where she had seen him before, but then he might have been there purely by chance. Perhaps, though, that is what she was would have to do: wander the grounds until she spotted him. It could all come to nothing, but she had to at least try.

Tomorrow was Sunday...She would go looking for him then.

Chapter 23: Chapter 22

Hello! Here's a new chapter. I hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter 22

Evelyn flopped down on a stone bench in the main courtyard, exhausted, trainers muddied, and strands of chocolate hair sticking out at odd angles. She rubbed her hands together to get some warmth back into them, wriggling her toes at the same time. The plan, her only plan, was never going to work. It had taken two hours of trudging through the school grounds for her to realise that. She had walked down to the lake, crossed the open fields and past by Hagrid's hut; she had even skimmed the edge of the Forbidden Forest, but there was no sign of Sirius Black, not even a paw print.

Defeat loomed over her, high and strong and as imposing as the castle walls. Scaling it seemed almost impossible. She had no other grand idea on how to locate Sirius, apart from splashing a giant message across the sky: SIRIUS BLACK, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. THANKS, EVELYN HARPER. And that just screamed subtly. No...There was only one thing she could do now: she would have to tell her father the truth. He was going to be angry, furious even, but it would be worse if he learnt through Sirius that she had lied to him – far worse.

"Hey! Evelyn!"

Turning her head, she smiled and waved. "Hi Ed."

"Where've you been? I've been looking everywhere for you."

She raised her feet slightly to show off her mud-encrusted trainers. "I went out for a walk."

"Good for you," he said quickly then grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. "Come on, we need to go..."

"Go where?" she said, managing to twist her arm free of his grasp.

His eyes suddenly lit up. "Durmstrang challenged Hogwarts to a friendly – and it's starting like right now."

Suddenly Evelyn forgot all about Sirius Black. "Wow...That's wicked!"

"I know!" Edmund said as he grasped her hand, pulling her along with him. "Which is why we need to hurry."

Despite having trekked about for two hours, Evelyn discovered a renewed strength as she ran with Edmund down to the Quidditch pitch. As they got closer she could hear the chants, cheers, and whistles of the crowd, and excitement thrummed through her. When they finally reached the pitch they scrambled up the steps to the high stands, taking their seats only seconds before Madam Hooch blew her whistle and threw the Quaffle into the air.

"It's a bloody dream team out there..." Edmund said almost in awe. "There's Digory, the Weasley twins, Bell, Davies, Bletchley, and Smith."

"It must have been a tough call between Digory and Potter."

Edmund shrugged. "Why should he get to play? He's been a total git.

Maybe he had a point.

Although she had to agree with Edmund: the team was pretty amazing. And it was almost...magical to see the entire school waving Hogwarts flags and banners – she conveniently ignored the fact that each house still stuck exclusively to their own stands. A few teachers had shown up; she saw Professor McGonagall and Hagrid on the stand next to hers, but didn't see her father anywhere.

A small voice prodded her: perhaps this is the perfect time to go and talk to him.

But the match, she argued back, it's epic...I don't want to be the only one to have missed it.

She then promised herself that she would talk to her father before dinner. It was only a few hours away. But a flicker of doubt made her frown. What if Sirius Black was on his way to talk to her father right at that very moment?

"OI REF!" Edmund waved his hands around above his head like a demented caveman. "ARE YOU BLIND? THAT WAS A BLOODY PARKIN'S PINCER!"

Pulled abruptly from her thoughts, Evelyn looked and saw Katie Bell spiralling towards the ground. There was a collective gasp from the crowd but Katie managed to pull up just before she slammed head first onto the grass. She flew back up to rejoin the other players, her jaw set, her gaze honing in on the Durmstrang boy who had collided with her, like a wolf selecting its next victim. She flew straight, fast, and with a cheeky little dig to the boy's ribs, she caused him to drop the Quaffle right into her hands.

"Ha!" Edmund shouted. "Serves you right, you turd-faced wan –"

"I would not finish that word if I were you, Mr Lowsley," a calm but deadly voice said behind them.

Both Evelyn and Edmund whirled around to see her father standing right behind them. When had he arrived? But then relief rained down on her; if he was here then there was no way Sirius could talk to him. She was safe...for now.

"Sorry, Professor..." Edmund said, shoving his hands into his pocket.

After giving him a stiff nod, her father shifted his gaze to her. It was piercing, as if he could see right into her mind. Evelyn panicked and she looked down at her trainers. Fear clawed its way up her throat; the reality of having to be honest with him suddenly seemed a lot more terrifying than it had in her head. When she dared to glance up at him again he was staring out over the pitch, his arms folded across his chest, his expression indifferent.

"Are you enjoying the game, sir?" Edmund asked, trying but failing miserably to sound casual after his telling off.

Evelyn kicked his foot to try to shut him up.

But he kept talking. "I think the match is an excellent way to bring the whole school together..."

"Continue with this brownnosing, Mr Lowsley," her father said without taking his eyes of the game, "and you will be writing lines after school."

She saw pink spots appear on Edmund's cheeks as he turned to face the pitch again. Despite her own private worries at that moment, a chuckle slipped out, earning her a cutting glare from her friend.

Edmund's sullenness only last for a few minutes as Viktor Krum suddenly plunged towards the ground. The crowd started to scream when Cedric Digory sped after him, but the Hufflepuff Seeker quickly pulled back and shot off in the opposite direction.

"Did you see that?" Edmund's eyes were wide with shock. "Krum tried to pull the Wronski Feint, but Digory was having none of it. He's a bloody fantastic player – I mean, for a Hufflepuff."

"Yeah..." Evelyn said a bit dreamily. "And he's really handsome too..."

Behind her she heard her father clear his throat, loudly. She peeked over her shoulder and saw him staring down at her, with an unusual yet somehow disapproving, look on his face. What had she done wrong now?

The match ended when, to no one's surprise, when Viktor Krum beat Cedric to the Snitch. Durmstrang had won: one-hundred and eighty to two-hundred and twenty. The crowd seemed to deflate like one big balloon, but then the Hufflepuffs started clapping and cheering. Soon everyone joined in, except for a few staunchly Slytherin students, who kept their arms crossed tightly and gave out dirty looks to those around them.

It wasn't long before everyone filed out of the stands and students began to stream back up to the castle. Evelyn managed to lose her father in the crowds; she was afraid he would find some excuse to tell her to go to his office once she reached the castle. She knew she needed to tell him the truth, but she wanted time to think, to prepare herself for the enviable.

She and Edmund were halfway back to the castle when he reached into his pocket and pulled out at least thirty chocolate frog cards, all held together with an elastic band. He flicked through them until he found the one he wanted and then took it out.

"Want to swap me one your cards for this?"

She looked from the card to him. "Uric the Oddball? No, it's all right – you can keep that one."

"Aww, come on, let me just see what cards you have."

Rolling her eyes, she reached into her pocket to get her cards out, but they weren't there. She tried her other pocket but it was empty too.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"My cards, they were in my pocket when I left the castle this morning." She groaned. They could be anywhere between here and the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

"Maybe you dropped them down at the pitch."

She bit her lip. It was the best place to start, the only place, really. There was no way she was going to retrace her steps from her walk earlier. She didn't have the patience or the energy, and besides, the cards didn't mean that much to her.

"I can go with you," he offered.

"It's all right; I'll go on my own." He hesitated. "I'll be fine, Ed. I've walked to it loads of times on my own."

"OK. I'll see you back up at the castle."

Everyone had gone by the time Evelyn reached the Quidditch pitch, even the players had left, but there were empty sweet wrappers and half-eaten sandwiches littering the ground. She looked at the mess with mild disgust. Had no one ever heard of a bin before? Climbing up the wooden stairs to the stand she had sat in, Evelyn found the right row and stooped down to look for her cards. There. She saw them, hiding in the shadows. After slipping them into her pocket she stood up and went back down the stairs.

But just before she reached the last step she froze. Snuffling through the sweet wrappers and half-eaten sandwiches was the big black dog – Sirius. He stopped, cocked his ears and then turned his head to where she was standing. Evelyn swallowed, hard, not quite believing that he was right in front of her.

"Hey boy," she said a little nervously, "Remember me...?"

The dog – Sirius – merely continued to stare at her, like it was trying to weigh her up. She remembered what her father had said, that he wouldn't trust Black with the knowledge that she was his daughter. Perhaps he had been overacting; if Sirius had wanted to harm her in any way then wouldn't just be sitting looking at her.

Finally gathering up courage, Evelyn said, "You know my parents, don't you? You went to school with them."

Suddenly, as if she had said the magic words, Sirius transformed from the dog into his true self. Despite what her father had told her about him, about his innocence, her stomach still lurched. Beneath the scruffy mop of hair and the unevenly trimmed beard, his skin was pale, waxy almost. He stood and leaned against a wooden post, with his arms casually folded; he oozed cockiness, and yet, a haunted look seemed to ghost his once-handsome features.

"You know," he said pointedly, resting his head on the wooden post and talking up to the sky, "I was under the belief that only Dumbledore and Snape were supposed to know I was on the school grounds...And yet, here you are..."

Evelyn shifted nervously from one foot to another.

He lowered his gaze to hers, his mouth curving condescendingly. "Sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong must run in the family."

"My dad only told me because I spoke to you –"

Sirius bristled. "So it's my fault, is it?"

"No, it's not." She then worried her bottom lip for a brief moment. "You see...No one knows that Professor Snape is my dad..."

He snorted. "I wouldn't want anyone knowing either."

She narrowed her eyes coldly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

A low laugh rumbled in his throat. "Oh, you're Snivellus' daughter all right."

"My dad's name is Severus."

"I know that." His lips then twisted into a cruel smirk. "But Snivellus suits him much better, don't you think?"

"Leave him alone," she said angrily. "What did he ever do to you?"

Sirius sneered, baring his yellowed teeth. "He's done plenty. Don't believe me? Well, let me enlighten you then."

He pushed himself away from the wooden post and straightened up to his full height. He then took an imposing step towards her. "You remember Remus Lupin, don't you? Well, he has a condition..."

"I know he's a werewolf," she said matter-of-factly, feeling smugly satisfied at Sirius' shocked expression.

He recovered and quickly bit out, "I bet Snivellus never told you he tried to get Remus expelled."

Her eyes widened and it was his turn to look smug.

"He was always snooping around, sticking his big nose in where it wasn't wanted. Me and James, we always tried to protect Remus, but Snivellus saw him during the full moon and went running to Dumbledore."

"What happened...?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Well, Dumbledore knew all about Remus; he wanted to give him a chance. But your father," he said, spitting the words out like they had left a bad taste in his mouth, "wanted rid of him. He threatened to expose Remus' lycanthropy to the Wizarding world. Of course, Dumbledore made a few threats of his own and Remus got to stay on at school. But, it's the reason why Snivellus hates Remus so much."

Evelyn's throat tightened. "Professor Lupin told me last year my dad didn't like him because he didn't stop his friends bullying him."

"Typical Remus...He always had to play the martyr." Sirius then gave a short, sharp laugh. "If anyone was the bully, it was Snivellus. He even called a good friend of mine a Mudblood."

Evelyn gasped in horror. "No, that's not true..."

"Ask him yourself if you don't believe me." He faced then darkened. "Though, he'll probably lie about it – just like he lied all those years ago in front of the Wizengamot, just like he's lying to Dumbledore now..."

She clenched her hands tightly. "My dad is a good man."

"Yeah," he said scornfully, "then why not ask him about his fascination with the Dark Arts – everyone knows that's why he joined You-Know-Who..."

Evelyn pressed her hands over her face. "Stop it!" she cried. "You're lying!"

"It's the truth, but suit yourself..." he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Me and James tried to warn your mother about Snivellus." He looked at her knowingly. "Clearly, she didn't listen. I bet she regrets it every bloody day that she hooked up with a Death Eater."

Evelyn pulled out her wand; she was so angry she could barely keep her arm from shaking. But Sirius merely laughed at her, holding his hands out, almost daring her to attack an unarmed man. Her heart thumped in her chest; the desire to hurt him was so strong it scared her. But, she couldn't do it.

"Well, if you're not going to hex to me, I've got places to be." He turned away from her and just before he transformed back into the dog, he said, "Nice chatting to you...Snape."

He quickly disappeared into the shadows beneath the stands, leaving Evelyn shaken and numb.

She barely remembered the walk back up to the castle. But when she entered the Slytherin common room she managed to slip into her dorm without Edmund seeing her. He would want to know what was wrong with her and what had taken her so long. She could lie – she had become very good at that recently – but it was lies that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

Once she was in her dorm she climbed onto her bed and drew the curtains around it. She didn't want any of the girls to see her upset either. Sitting cross-legged on the mattress, she cradled her chin in her hand, resting her elbow on her leg. Why had she ever thought talking to Sirius Black would be a good idea? He was rude and arrogant and downright horrid. And yet, she could not get the things he had said about her father out of her mind.

He tried to get Remus expelled...

He was a bully...

He was fascinated with the Dark Arts...

We tried to warn your mother...I bet she regrets it...

Evelyn didn't want to believe any of it. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true...Could it? She squeezed her eyes shut. Her mind was like a battlefield, thoughts firing back and forth; and just when she had managed to take an assailing thought out, a louder, more aggressive one took its place.

Your father is a horrible man...You know he is.

You see how treats the other students, the way he belittles and terrifies them at every opportunity.

And how many times last year was he nasty to Professor Lupin – even though Lupin was civil and polite to him.

As for your mother...

"No," Evelyn groaned. "Mum loves Dad..."

Maybe so. But do you really think she has been happy all these years? Do you think this was how your mother imagined her married life would be? She's tied to a man with a dark past – you saw for yourself what Death Eaters are capable of. Your mother could have died at the Quidditch World Cup. What if she wishes her life was different; if she had married another man...had other children...

Hot tears burned her eyes as she drew her knees to her chest, rocking the bed, like a lost and frightened child. "It's not true. It's not true," she repeated over and over in a weak, pathetic whimper.

...

Severus knew there was something wrong with Evelyn. He didn't just sense it, he could see it. All through the Potions lesson he had kept a surreptitiously watchful eye on her. She lacked her usual enthusiasm for the subject; her shoulders were slightly slumped and she merely regarded her friend, Edmund Lowsley, with half-hearted nods and smiles.

It was almost the end of the lesson when Severus stopped by Evelyn's desk and inspected the contents of her cauldron. It was two shades lighter than it ought to have been. He shifted his gaze from the cauldron to his daughter, staring at her with hard, critical eyes. This should have been an easy lesson for her; she had helped him brew Sleeping Draught many times in the cellar at Spinner's End. What was more, he could see clearly that Evelyn knew that too.

"See me at the end of class," he said coolly before moving on to the next table.

It was perhaps unfair of him to single her out, considering that other students had not even managed to get their potions anywhere on the green spectrum. Some were a nauseous yellowy colour while others were a riotous shade of pink. But, he wanted to get to the bottom of what was bothering his daughter. He suspected, though, that it was linked to her uneasiness with him at the Quidditch match the day before. She had almost seemed frightened when she had met his gaze, and that unnerved him. What could have happened that would make her afraid to even look at him?

When the bell finally rang Severus dismissed the class, closing the door as the last student left. Evelyn remained at her desk, her posture now tense and rigid. Slowly, silently, he approached where she sat and when he placed a hand on her shoulder she flinched. He withdrew it immediately, stung by her reaction. Had he done something to upset her? He quickly began to think over the past few days. The only glaringly obvious incident had been their argument over Sirius Black, but he thought that had been resolved.

He rounded the desk and sat down on a stool in front of her. She refused to meet his gaze but looked past him, her eyes fixed on a spot on the wall behind him.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked.

"No. I'm fine."

"Then why won't you look at me?"

It seemed like she hadn't even heard his words but eventually her gaze slid towards his. Ever since the Quidditch World Cup her eyes had been tinged with a darkness that had robbed them of their innocence. She had seen things no child should ever have to. And it galled him that he had played his part in it. Yes, he had brought her and Deirdre to safety, but he was still haunted by the crushing betrayal that had been etched on her face as the true nature of Death Eaters became a living reality to her. Yet, somehow, she had found the strength to forgive him...to continue to trust him.

"Has something happened?" he pressed evenly.

"Nothing's happened." Her mouth then flattened into a thin line. "Is this because I messed up the potion? I'm sorry. I'll do better next time."

He frowned. "You were not yourself the entire lesson."

She fidgeted in her seat. "I just didn't sleep very well last night."

"Is that the only reason?"

"...Yes."

The slight hesitation was enough for Severus to know that she had lied to him. There was something else wrong, but it seemed she was not going to tell him anytime soon. It annoyed him, even angered him a little, that she would not let him in. He only wanted to help her. She was his daughter; he cared for her wellbeing, and when she was upset he felt it keenly in his own heart. But, he knew he could not force the truth from her; that, as he had learned, was possibly the worst thing he could do. Yet, as he continued to search her charcoal eyes, he could sense that whatever was bothering her was almost tearing her up inside.

"Can I go now?" She pushed her stool back, picked up her schoolbag and stood up. "I've a lot of homework to do."

Severus took out his pocket watch and looked at it. "Come with me to my quarters first."

She stiffened slightly. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason to ask my daughter to join me for tea?"

"No..." She gripped her schoolbag strap tighter. "But I need to do my homework."

He arched an eyebrow questioningly. "You have never turned down tea and scones before."

Evelyn squirmed where she stood; his comment had clearly thrown her. Severus' patience with evasiveness was beginning to grow taut, but if he wanted her to go with him peacefully, then he needed to remain calm. It would not do for him to arrive in his quarters with Evelyn, in a full body bind, being pulled along behind him.

"All right," she said, finally caving. It was obvious that she had been unable to come up with a plausible excuse. "I'll come, but only for a little while."

Severus nodded. "Very well."

The corridor outside the Potions classroom was deserted. After locking the door to the room, he walked in the direction of his quarters with Evelyn following silently behind him. He stole a quick glance over his shoulder. She was a picture of gloom and melancholy. What had happened to her? Two days ago she had stood her ground with him, glaring up at him defiantly, challenging his instruction that she stay away from that mangy black dog. Was it possible the revelation that Sirius Black was an animagus had upset her that much? But why would it? True, she had shared her sandwiches with him, but it was hardly something to break down over. What else could it be then?

When they reached his quarters Severus gave the password to the portrait of the Black Prince guarding the entrance. The knight bowed his head regally and then opened the doorway. Candles had already been lit and a glowing fire threw out waves of welcoming heat. A familiar scent also permeated the air; it was sweet and fresh and elegant. Anticipation gave way to reality as he saw Deirdre sitting comfortably on the sofa in the living room. Thick curls of chocolate hair spilled over her shoulders, contrasting perfectly with the royal blue robes she wore. She held a book in her hands, her lips moving silently as she read.

"Mum!" Evelyn's shocked voice sounded behind him. "What are you doing here?"

Deirdre looked up at them and smiled. She closed the book and set it down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. She then patted the empty space beside her. "Come over and give your mother a hug."

Evelyn dropped her schoolbag onto the floor and hurried towards the sofa, where she was swiftly gathered into Deirdre's arms. Severus continued to stand, watching as Evelyn clung onto her mother as if her life depended on it.

"I've missed you Mum," Evelyn said, her voice somewhat muffled. "Did you miss me?"

Severus saw a flicker of disbelief cross Deirdre's face, almost as if she couldn't believe Evelyn would ask such a thing. "Of course I did, Sweetheart. Why wouldn't I?"

Their daughter merely shrugged.

Deirdre looked over at him, mouthing what's wrong with her. It was Severus' turn to shrug. She looked away from him and turned her attention back to Evelyn. He removed his robes and hung them up on the hat stand that stood by the entrance to the hallway. A cup of tea was his next port of call.

As a teabag wallowed in a cup, Severus almost felt like he was back in Spinner's End. Deirdre's arrival had shifted the atmosphere in his quarters; her caring nature, her strength, her resilience, seemed to occupy the room. She had officially been given her own quarters in the guest wing of the castle; however, her suitcase was currently sitting by the staircase. His lips quirked up in a smirk as he guessed what she planned on doing: sleep here but Floo to her own rooms in the mornings, just to keep up appearances. How very Slytherin of her, he thought.

"Mum, why are you here?"

Severus was drawn from his thoughts by Evelyn's question. He continued to stand by the counter in the kitchenette, hoping that Deirdre would have better luck at determining what was wrong with their daughter.

"Madam Pomfrey is ill," Deirdre said, "and she probably won't be well enough to return to Hogwarts until next September. So...I'm here until then."

Evelyn's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes – really. Of course, it will be real chore having to be around your father every day."

Severus snorted at her deadpan witticism as he squeezed the teabag against the inside of the cup with a teaspoon.

"Will I be a chore to be around too...?"

Snapping his gaze towards Evelyn, he stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was simply responding to Deirdre's quip. But evidently their daughter was serious – deadly serious. Deirdre looked like she had been slapped across the face. His patience with Evelyn finally cracked, shattering. He dropped the teaspoon he was holding onto the counter and crossed from the kitchenette to the sofa.

"Whatever this is..." He gestured wildly at Evelyn, his hands almost shaking with anger. "...It has to end. Now!"

"Severus!" Deirdre said sharply, rising from the sofa. "Do you have to be so insensitive?"

"I'm being insensitive?" he scoffed. "She's been moping around all day like she's got a great bloody cloud hanging over her."

"Have you even asked her what is wrong?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Of course I have, but she insisted she was fine."

Deirdre placed her hands on her hips. "Well is it any wonder when you come charging at her like at a rampaging Minotaur. Honestly, Severus, there are times when I –"

"Stop it, both of you – just stop it."

The choked voice followed by a ragged sob brought their argument to an abrupt end. Severus looked at Deirdre, both of them silently acknowledging that they should not have lost their tempers, not in front of their daughter.

Deirdre sank back down onto the sofa and placed a comforting hand on Evelyn's shoulder. "Sweetheart," she said gently, "Please, tell us what's wrong?"

"I can't."

Deirdre stroked Evelyn's hair. "Why not?"

"Because...I did something awful...and you'll only hate me if I tell you."

An uneasiness began to churn in the pit of Severus' stomach. But he sat down on the other end of the sofa and took her hand in his. "Evelyn, listen to me; there is nothing you can do that will ever cause us to hate you."

"He's right, Sweetheart," Deirdre said.

Evelyn took a tissue from her pocket to control her sniffing. "OK..." she said shakily. "That day I met the dog – I mean, Sirius Black – I told him that Dad was...my dad..."

Severus bristled, his free hand balling into a tight fist. But Deirdre shot him a severe look: don't you dare say a word.

"What happened then, Sweetheart," Deirdre said, coaxing her to continue.

"I don't even know why I started talking to it...it just happened." She started to cry again. "And then Dad told me it was really Sirius Black. I was frightened in case I got into trouble... So I lied."

Severus' lips flattened into a thin line. Had she been afraid of the consequences of her mistake, or had she been afraid of him? Even now his anger simmered dangerously close to the surface, and though it was directed mainly at Black, without Deirdre's mediation he probably would have erupted with the force of Mount Vesuvius. And watching her now as she shook with ragged sobs, he was almost thankful she had not told him the truth when he had confronted her in the Potions classroom.

"You would not have been in trouble," Severus said stiffly. "It was not your fault Black chose to deliberately disobey Professor Dumbledore's instructions."

"But you still should have told the truth," Deirdre added in a firm but gentle tone.

"I know..." Evelyn sniffed. She looked down at the crumpled tissues in her hands. "But I thought I could fix things..."

A cold dread seeped through Severus as she recounted her attempt to locate Black and convince him not to expose her slip-up. She told them about losing her Chocolate Frog cards and going back to the Quidditch pitch to look for them.

"...And then I saw him sniffing through all the food lying on the ground..."

Deirdre met his gaze over the top of Evelyn's head. She seemed to sense, as he already had, where this story was leading to. Her eyes almost pleaded with him: whatever she says, please, keep calm. Severus clenched his fisted hand tighter, his nails biting into his palm. He would try.

"I...I said he knew you, that you went to school with him," Evelyn continued, unaware of the silent exchange between her parents. "That's when he changed from a dog into...well, him."

Deirdre rubbed her back soothingly. "Did he say anything to you?"

She remained quiet.

Severus lightly squeezed her hand. "Evelyn, what did he say to you?"

When she lifted her gaze to his, he almost wished he hadn't said anything. The rawness of her reddened eyes stood in stark contrast to her pale skin, and her eyes were filled with such anguish that it disturbed him to his core.

"He...he said you tried to get Professor Lupin expelled," she said, her voice trembling. "And that you...you were a bully, and you called someone a...a Mudblood." Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. "He said you love the Dark Arts...and it's the reason why you became a Death Eater..."

Severus let go her hand; his whole body was shaking violently. He stood up so abruptly that Evelyn recoiled from him, seemingly terrified that he was going to lash out at her. White hot rage burned within him, his ears pounded, his face rigid as a thirst for retribution flared in his eyes.

To hell with consequences.

He turned on his heels and stormed from the living room.

He had almost reached the portrait guarding the entrance to his quarters when he a hand clamped onto his arm. Deirdre's fingers dug into his arm painfully as she strained to hold him back.

Yanking his arm free, he narrowed his eyes coldly. "Get out of my way."

"Have you completely lost your senses!" she raged at him.

He sneered. "Did you not hear what Evelyn said?"

"Of course I did, but raining curses down on Sirius Black's head isn't going to solve anything."

"So you're suggesting I should simply do nothing?" he spat.

She drew in a deep breath, releasing it, slowly. "No, that's not what I'm suggesting. But what kind of a message is it going to give to Evelyn if you out there and harm an unarmed wizard?"

Her reasoning almost felt like a stab of betrayal.

But then she splayed a calming hand on his chest. "Severus, she needs to hear the truth of what really happened."

Severus clenched his jaw, his mouth grim.

Bookish and solitary, Severus had been an easy target at school for Potter and Black. He had suffered through years of taunts and threats and sometimes creatively cruel physical aggression. The helplessness and loneliness were still a part of him, as was the pain and humiliation. Sometimes he wished he could reach inside and rip out the raw, weeping, wounded part of his soul.

How could he begin to explain to Evelyn what it was like to be victimised for simply existing? Indeed, he didn't even want to try to. She was his daughter, his only child; he did not want to seem weak in her eyes, a pathetic creature to be pitied.

"This is exactly what Sirius wants," she pressed. "He's a bastard for saying what he did, but you can't let it drive a wedge between you and Evelyn."

Cracks formed in his pride, weakening it. He looked down at Deirdre; there was no hint of pity in her eyes, just a determination to see things set right.

"All right," he finally said, "I'll talk to her."

The walk back up the hallway to the living room had never felt longer. The wounded teenager in him shouted, demanded, for revenge; the father in him wanted to protect his daughter, even if that meant he had to bear the pain of old scars.

Evelyn was still sitting on the sofa, her knees drawn up against her chest. She looked so small and vulnerable, like the gentlest of nudges would cause her to break into pieces. And suddenly his anger was stoked again. He clenched and unclenched his right hand; he could almost hear the satisfying crunch of cartilage as his fist connected with Black's nose.

"Sweetheart," Deirdre said softly, brushing past him to sit down beside Evelyn. "It's all right, come here." She gathered their daughter into her arms, lightly stroked her hair. "Your father wants to talk to you."

Evelyn looked up at him, her bottom lip trembling as fresh tears pooled in her eyes. Pain lanced his heart at the look of anguish in her eyes. Severus had always thought Black had done his worst to him, but he was wrong.

He sat down on a wingback chair facing her, resting his hands on its arms. The air in the room suddenly became hot, almost claustrophobic. Gripping the arms of the chair, he drew in a deep breath. Deirdre was the only one he had ever spoken to about what happened in school, and that had been many years ago.

"Evelyn," he began, "When at school, I was curious about Lupin and why he kept disappearing for a few days every month. Then in fifth year, Sirius Black told me how to get past the Whomping Willow, which would lead me to the Shrieking Shack. I had almost reached the shack when...another student stopped me, but not before I saw a werewolf..."

He saw Evelyn's eyes widen. "Did Sirius Black know Professor Lupin had transformed into a werewolf?"

"Yes, he did." A muscle jerked in Severus' jaw. "He thought it was hilarious. Needless to say, I did not."

"You could have been killed..." she said, clearly horrified.

"Indeed. I went to Professor Dumbledore and asked for Sirius to be expelled. Of course, he did not think Black's prank warranted expulsion. He also swore to me secrecy concerning Lupin's lycanthropy."

"And you've kept that secret ever since." There was a hint of pride in her tone. Evelyn then bit her bottom lip. "What about the other things Sirius Black said?"

Severus tensed. This was the part he was dreading.

He cleared his throat. "Do you remember I told you about a friend who stopped speaking to me because I called her a cruel name?"

Evelyn nodded but then she gasped. "You called her a...a..."

"I did," Severus cut her off before she could say the word again.

"Why?" Her voice broke.

Severus closed his eyes but when he opened them again he found Deirdre's gaze. There was an indignation in her blue eyes, a fierce righteous anger. He knew if she had been the one to have defended him instead of Lily, not only would she have used her wand against Potter and Black, but he knew she would have understood his humiliation; she would have forgiven him for calling her such a foul name.

Somehow that gave him the strength he needed at that moment.

"Black and Potter were bored after our O.W.L.s in fifth year, and so they decided to alleviate their boredom by humiliating me." Severus paused, his throat suddenly tightening.

"That's horrible..." she said.

"Yes, it was. My friend tried to stop Potter; she told him to leave me alone..." His fingernails dug into the fabric of the chair. "I was angry, mortified, and I took it out on her. I called her a name I never should have."

"But you didn't mean it, did you?"

"No, I did not."

"OK..." She then looked down at her hands. "Did Sirius Black warn Mum to stay away from you because you were fascinated with the Dark Arts?"

Severus froze in his chair. "What?"

"He said that Mum must regret marrying you...and having me."

Tension filled Severus until he lunged out of the chair. He strode as far as the fireplace and placed his hands on top of the mantle. His chest heaved like bellows as he struggled to deal with the rage threatening to consume him.

"Sweetheart," he heard Deirdre say, "Don't listen to those lies. I could never regret having you. I love you so, so much." Her voice was clogged with emotion.

"What about Dad...?" Evelyn said so softly Severus almost didn't hear her.

He heard Deirdre sigh. "I didn't exactly envision my married life to be like this..."

Severus winced. Of course she hadn't.

"But I would always choose your father above anyone else."

Slowly turning around, Severus locked gazes with Deirdre. He loved her, desired her; she had woven herself so intricately into every fibre of his life that he would be lost without her.

Evelyn wriggled free from Deirdre's embrace, slid off the sofa and hurried over to him. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Dad...I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth from the very beginning."

Severus held her close. "There's no need to talk about it anymore."

As far as he was concerned, he never wanted to discuss this with Evelyn again. He had purposely left out certain details, such as being hung upside down with his underpants on show for everyone to see. Or that Potter had used the Scouring Charm on him, to 'wash out his mouth' after he had called Lily a Mudblood. And he especially did not want her to know how relentless Black and, to an extent, Potter had been in their attempt to drive Deirdre away from him.

But what he had told her had been enough to expose Black's words for what they were – lies.

Eventually Evelyn let go of him and went back to sit down on the sofa. He left her to chat quietly with Deirdre while he went back over to the kitchenette. His tea was cold. Lifting the kettle, he filled it with water again and used a spell to heat the water up quickly. As he waited for the tea to brew, he glanced over at Deirdre. There was a hardness in her eyes that had not been there earlier. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps he would have to act fast if he wanted to be the first to exact some sort of retribution on Sirius Black.

Chapter 24: Chapter 23

Hello! Firstly, I am sorry it's taken me so long to update but life has been incredibly crazy. This is a short chapter but I do have another one waiting in the wings so it won't be too long before I update again (I hope!).

Enjoy.

Chapter 23

Indignation flared in Evelyn's charcoal eyes as she looked at the photograph in front of her. The teenage boy in it had a broom slung casually over his left shoulder; he oozed as much arrogance as Sirius Black had the previous day. He flashed a smug smile then raked a hand through a mass of unruly black hair. She had never thought it was possible to dislike someone she had never met so much, but the tight ball of anger in her chest only grew bigger the more she stared at James Potter.

She had not slept much the previous night, because all she could think about was her father being humiliated. He had not told her how he had been humiliated, though it had not stopped her mind from throwing up plenty of horrible scenarios. When she had finally fallen asleep she had dreamt she tried to help her father, but she could not push through the crowds of students who were pointing and laughing at him.

Her anger boiled over into rage, like dark clouds eclipsing a blue sky. She clenched her hands, almost tempted to rip the photograph of James Potter out of the book on the table. Instead, she slammed the book shut. Even so, the conceited Gryffindor Seeker still seemed to mock her through the closed pages.

Why had she even bothered coming to the library? She should have known that looking for information on James Potter would only cause her more upset. After all, hadn't all her searches into her father's past led her to hot, angry tears? She blamed her incessant curiosity on Mum and her Ravenclawness. Her mother could never be satisfied until she understood all facts and, apparently, neither could she.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed back her chair and stood up just in time to see Hermione Granger and Harry Potter emerge from one of the rows. She quickly sank into the shadows, unable and unwilling to communicate with Harry in anyway. Did he know how mercilessly his dad had tormented hers? Did he even care? They came closer, Harry stopping almost right beside her table. Evelyn held her breath, hoping neither of them would look too intently into the alcove where she was cloaked in semi-darkness.

"...How can you be so sure it's her?" Harry said, clearly continuing on their conversation.

"Honestly, Harry, it's not that difficult to figure out," Hermione replied as she climbed up a set of ladders to get a book. "The name is the same for one thing and she hasn't changed that much from the photograph I showed you."

"I suppose."

"There's no supposing about it – it is her."

"All right, whatever you say." Harry suddenly grimaced. "Hermione, you don't think that...you know...they still..." Harry held his hands a few inches apart, twisting them awkwardly, like he was trying to clasp them together but couldn't quite do it.

Hermione threw a disapproving look at him. "There's no need to be so vulgar, Harry. But, I don't think they are still...involved. I mean, have you seen them even look in each other's direction?"

"No, now that you mention it." Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Maybe they had a falling out."

Hermione came down the ladder with a book in her hand. "I think you might be right."

"But that still doesn't explain why he won't acknowledge...you know..."

"I've thought about that too," Hermione said, "And I was thinking, perhaps we could write a letter to Snuffles and ask him what he knows."

Harry nodded his head readily. "Good idea! I'll send him a letter in the morning, but I'll ask him if he'll meet us somewhere. We'll be able to talk more freely that way."

"Do you think he will?

Harry shrugged and smiled. "Of course he will. He's my godfather."

"Honestly," Hermione suddenly said and pushed past Harry. She scooped up Evelyn's book from the table – Hogwarts' Quidditch Teams: 1975-1985. "Is it so hard for people to put books back where they got them from?"

Harry took the book out of her hands. "I bet my dad is in this." He opened it and flicked through the pages. "I was right. There he is. He was the best Seeker Gryffindor ever had."

"Well, I think you're every bit as good as him."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Hermione smiled at him. "Yes, I do. He'd be really proud of you, Harry."

He stared at the photograph again. "I'm proud to be his son."

Evelyn's lips thinned. How could he be proud of someone who had found enjoyment in humiliating others?

She waited in the shadows until Harry and Hermione finally moved on. When she did emerge from the alcove, she walked in the opposite direction to them. As she wound her way through the library she wondered who they had been discussing, and what the ridiculously named Snuffles had to do with it.

...

An overwhelming sense of betrayal ripped through Severus as he left Dumbledore's office. For a brief moment he had felt like he was fifteen again, when the headmaster had let Sirius Black off with a mere warning, despite having almost succeeded in luring Severus to his death. He still remembered the smug smile that had crept across Black's lips, along with the remorseless gleam in his eyes as Dumbledore had forced Severus to shake hands with him.

'It is for the best, Severus' Dumbledore had said later.

The best for whom – it had certainly not made his life any easier. In fact, Black and Potter had believed themselves to be untouchable after that, even to the point of humiliating him to alleviate their boredom.

The gargoyles guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office jumped to one side as he reached the bottom of the staircase. Severus' robes billowed behind him as he strode through the corridors towards the dungeons, his obsidian eyes cold, hard.

He had given Dumbledore an account of what had happened between Evelyn and Black the previous day. Severus had tried to remain calm but recalling his daughter's tears had snapped the fine threads of his composure. Pacing in the headmaster's office, he had vented his fury; he was disgusted by the new level Black had stooped to, and all because he was too cowardly to face Severus himself. But instead of supporting him, Dumbledore had merely reminded him of the debt he owed Black.

Severus had narrowed his eyes coldly at the old wizard. As far as he was concerned that debt had been paid the moment he agreed to keep silent on Black's whereabouts. However, Dumbledore disagreed with him: Following my instructions and aiding Black out of your own volition are two very different things, Severus.

Dumbledore's words had been like salt in an open wound.

He had left the headmaster's office before he said something he would later regret.

A knot of Slytherin students gathered at the bottom of the dungeons stairwell quickly separated when they saw him approach. A prefect pulled a first year out of Severus' path, but it didn't save him from receiving a withering glare from his head of year. Severus ploughed on through the dimly lit corridor, deciding at the last moment to go to the private laboratory annexed to the Potions classroom rather than to his office – he was less likely to be bothered there.

When he entered the cool, dark laboratory he used wandless magic to light several candles and then removed his robes. Selecting one of his leather-bound journals from a shelf, he opened it and thumbed his way through it, pausing when he came to a page with Antidote to Veritaserum written at the top. It was a complicated potion and its brewing time was twice that of Veritaserum. Nevertheless, preparing and mixing the ingredients would help in providing him with a much needed distraction.

A sudden, abrupt knock on the door almost caused him to drop a phial of crushed helleborine petals.

He was tempted not to answer, but his damned sense of professionalism got the better of him. "Come in."

The door opened slowly, almost hesitantly. He was about to tell whoever it was to hurry up when Evelyn gingerly peeked her head around the door. Severus' gaze met hers. She looked somewhat brighter than she had the previous day, but her eyes were still tinged with hurt, pain. Another layer of innocence had been stripped away from her.

Severus turned back to selecting ingredients off the shelves. What did she see when she looked at him now? Was he something to be pitied? Or did she believe that there was perhaps a thread of truth in things Black had told her?

The urge to grind Black into a fine powder returned with greater strength, but so too did Dumbledore's warning. Did the headmaster not realise, or did he merely refuse to see that this would only fuel Black's tormenting of him?

Had fourteen years in Azkaban taught Black nothing? Clearly it hadn't. Black was not like Lupin, whom Severus, albeit begrudgingly, admitted had changed since his school days.

"Dad, is it OK to do my homework in here?"

Severus, drawn from his thoughts, turned to face his daughter again. She stood looking up at him expectantly, almost determinedly. It seemed she was not prepared to take no for an answer. Deirdre had reassured him the night before that Evelyn didn't think any less of him, but he hadn't allowed himself to believe her – until now. At that moment the tension that had been coiled around him slackened and fell away.

"There is some space on the bench over there," he said, pointing to where a workstation was sandwiched between two bookcases.

She offered him a smile. "You'll hardly know I'm here."

Somehow Severus doubted that.

When the ingredients for the Antidote to Veritaserum had been prepared, Severus picked up a cauldron from the floor and set it onto a cast-iron tripod. The dull clunk caused Evelyn to flinch; she then swivelled around on her stool.

"What are you brewing?"

"Antidote to Veritaserum."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Are you worried that someone in the school has Veritaserum?"

"No."

"Then why –"

"Evelyn," Severus said, his tone bordering on annoyance, "finish your homework – quietly."

She started to turn back towards the workbench but then stopped midway.

After pursing her lips for a second, she said, "Dad, do you know of a wizard named Snuffles?"

He snorted. "What kind of an idiotic name is that?"

She shrugged. "I thought it was pretty stupid as well."

"Where did you hear about him?" he asked as he dropped three dragon scales into the cauldron.

"I overheard some students talking about him in the library." She tapped a finger against her chin. "Maybe Mum knows who he is."

Severus levelled his gaze at her. "Why are you so interested in finding out who this Snuffles is?"

She stared at him silently for a moment, almost as if she was wrestling with whether it would be wrong to keep something from him again.

"OK," she said, releasing an exaggerated breath. "I heard Harry Potter say Snuffles was his godfather, and he was going to talk to him about someone who'd fallen out with someone else."

"I see." He added crushed liverwort leaves to the potion. "If I were you I would not concern myself with Potter, or his godfather."

Of course Black would have disregarded Dumbledore's instructions and told Potter he was living on the school grounds, Severus thought scathingly.

She lowered her gaze then. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm sorry I didn't mean to –"

"Evelyn – stop."

Severus placed his hands palm-down on the island worktop. He saw a familiar panic in her eyes, one that had her convinced she had said something to upset him. It was a look he hated.

"You have no reason to be sorry. I don't..." He paused, disliking where his words had almost taken him. He took a breath to steady himself; he was not quite ready to make himself vulnerable to her again. "Have you finished your homework yet?"

The panic in her eyes faded. "Almost, but I'm stuck on an incantation for Charms. Professor Flitwick is going to test us on it tomorrow."

Severus waved a dismissive hand at her. "Go and ask your mother. She enjoys all that silly wand waving."

Evelyn giggled.

"But before you go," he said, "I need you to add in these crushed helleborine petals a pinch at a time while I stir the potion."

Her face lit up and she all but leapt off the stool.

As she rounded the island workbench and climbed up onto a stool, Severus reached for a glass stirring rod. But, suddenly, he flinched, hissing through his teeth. The sharp, shooting pain up his left arm went as quickly as it came. He ran his fingertips along the thick material of his frock coat, almost in disbelief. Still, something dark, evil, uncoiled inside of him and dread seeped through him like venom.

"Dad, are you OK?" Evelyn said, looking at him with a slightly worried expression.

Severus lifted the glass stirring rod. "I'm fine. Shall we begin?"

Chapter 25: Chapter 24

Hello! I've actually lost count of how many months it's been since I last posted a chapter...I'm terrible, I know. But, I've finally finished one – and it's rather long one. A little author's note: I have taken some of the dialogue and narrative from the GOF book; however, it has been used in a somewhat AU setting.

Enjoy...!

Chapter 24

Severus gripped the edge of the sink as he stared hollowly at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He was numb inside, cold, like icy water ran through his veins rather than blood. He drew in a raspy breath and looked down at his left arm again. The Dark Mark was barely visible, like someone had taken a quill and finely penned the outline of it. But, it had changed; it was responding to the call of the one who had branded his arm with it.

His fingers trembled slightly as he traced the pale skin around the mark. Dumbledore had predicted this would happen over fourteen years ago, on the night the Potters were murdered. His prediction had never really seemed real, but Severus had trusted Dumbledore because he often saw what others missed. Even when he had seen the Dark Mark appear in the sky during the Quidditch World Cup, he had not really believed it was signalling Voldemort's return. Yes, it had disturbed him, but he had not known of any Death Eaters outside of Azkaban who would want or welcome the Dark Lord's return. Now, though, he had to accept the ominous reality of the headmaster's prediction.

Tearing his gaze away from his arm in disgust, he rolled down his sleeve. Already he could sense a shift inside himself; darkness was spilling into the greyness of his soul, mixing with it, polluting it. He knew he would have no other option but to rejoin the ranks Voldemort's Death Eaters. He would be hunted down and killed if he did not. Besides, it was the only way to ensure Potter's safety and, ultimately, the safety of his family. That one fact alone was held high above all others: Deirdre and Evelyn were everything to him. He had to protect them, to ensure they survived the inevitable coming war, even if he did not.

Leaving the bathroom, he quietly slipped back into his bedroom, thankful that Deirdre was still asleep. He lay down beside her, listening to her deep, even breaths. Then, reaching out, he drew her closer, moulding his body around hers. She moaned softly before relaxing against him. An ache started in his heart and spread through him, causing his limbs to grow heavy. He knew this time would be different. He had had nothing to prove fourteen years ago; he had been a young wizard on the outskirts of Voldemort's inner circle. Now, he was the one who betrayed the Dark Lord...The one who embraced his most hated enemy – Dumbledore.

Severus shut his eyes, tightening his hold on Deirdre. Would she understand what he would have to do to re-earn Voldemort's trust?

Almost against his will a memory he had buried a long time ago forced its way to the surface:

Severus hissed through clenched teeth as a searing, needle-like pain tore through his arm. He grasped it with his other hand, cursing under his breath: no, not now.

Springing out of the chair, Deirdre grasped hold of his arm to see what was wrong, but as he pulled it away his sleeve rolled up, revealing two serpents entwined around a grotesque skull. Horror and disbelief filled her face as she backed away from him, drawing her wand.

"Put that away," he said, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

Pale faced, she kept her wand trained on him. "Y-You're one of them!"

He reached out to her. "Listen to me –"

"Don't come any closer!" Her lips trembled. "I trusted you, Severus, and all this time you've been serving him."

Severus' mouth twisted with bitterness as he held out his left arm. "Do you think I wanted this?"

Hot, angry tears brimmed in her eyes. "You tell me, Severus."

"I thought you knew me better than that," he said, sneering.

"So did I!"

Keeping a firm hold of her wand she backed across the living room, and without another glance at him she walked out the front door.

It left him reeling, but he refused to believe that Deirdre would react like that again. She had reconciled herself to his dark past, hadn't she? Otherwise, why would she have married him? Why would she have remained by his side all these years? And hadn't she told Evelyn she would always choose him above anyone else?

...

He awoke hours later to the comfortless grey of dawn. Gently untangling himself from Deirdre he climbed from the bed, silently left the room and went downstairs. A copy of the Daily Prophet was sitting on the kitchenette table, like it was every morning. Severus glanced at the headlines: THE FIRST CHALLENGE TO TAKE PLACE TODA Y. Most of the front page was taken up with a picture of Potter, Krum and Fleur Decor. Digory could just about be seen in the background. He left the paper where it was and filled up the kettle to make tea.

As he waited for the tea to brew, he tugged at the sleeve of his shirt and looked at the Dark Mark again. Dumbledore needed to know. Potter was in potentially greater danger than the headmaster first thought; there was little doubt in Severus' mind now that whoever had put the boy's name in the Goblet of Fire was directly connected to Voldemort. Was it Karkaroff? Had he known of the Dark Lord's return before coming to Hogwarts? Perhaps this was his attempt to redeem himself, to earn Voldemort's pardon for his cowardly actions and disloyalty after the first war.

Or was there someone else? Not everyone who supported Voldemort had had the Dark Mark branded on their left arm, as had been the case with Peter Pettigrew.

The floorboards creaked upstairs and Severus promptly fixed his sleeve back into place.

When Deirdre came down the stairs a few minutes later, Severus took two cups out of the cupboard to make tea for both of them. He knew she needed to know the truth; she deserved to know the truth. Yet, he feared the shift that would undoubtedly enter their relationship once she saw the Dark Mark. He would not blame her if she distanced herself from him. How could he?

Perhaps it would be better if she did – for her sake and for Evelyn's.

...

The hallways were still empty as Severus made his way to the headmaster's study. He barely registered his walk there; his thoughts were centred on the unspoken questions he had seen in Deirdre's eyes. Even though she had talked about the First Challenge, he had seen her studying him, attempting to gauge his thoughts. Had she sensed the change, sensed the gathering darkness inside of him? He wished he could rip it out, but it was a part of him; a part that no matter how much he hated, he could not escape. However, he had not given her a chance to confront him; he had abruptly left the table with the excuse that he had to speak with Dumbledore.

When he reached Dumbledore's study he was stabbed with a short, sharp sting of guilt. Was he betraying Deirdre by confiding in the headmaster instead of her? Perhaps he should turn around, go back to his quarters and confess everything to her. She was his wife, the only person who had ever cared for and loved him...for him. Severus squeezed his eyes shut as he sank deeper into his thoughts that were bubbling and boiling like an unwatched cauldron. But then a quiet voice began to reason with him: if he spoke with her now he might do more harm than good. After all, wasn't it Dumbledore who had convinced him all those years ago that Voldemort would return; surely, then, he would know how long it would take Voldemort to fully regain his strength. What was the point in worrying Deirdre when it could be many months, perhaps even years before he returned?

Finally and fully assured of his own rightness, Severus retook control of his emotions. After giving the password to the gargoyles that guarded the entrance to the headmaster's study, he made his way up the spiral staircase.

"Come in," he heard Dumbledore say after knocking on the door.

Severus opened the door, but he had only stepped over the threshold when he saw that Dumbledore was not alone. He froze, his body going rigid. What is he doing here, he thought angrily, bitterly. His fingers twitched with a need for revenge, but he clenched his hand into a tight fist instead of reaching for his wand.

"Ah Severus," Dumbledore said, looking over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. "Perfect timing – Sirius was just informing me of an interesting chat he had with Harry yesterday afternoon."

"And that concerns me how?" Severus said looking at the headmaster; he refused to acknowledge Sirius' presence.

Sirius snorted. "It doesn't."

"Perhaps..." Dumbledore said, turning to Sirius, who stood with his hip leant against the headmaster's desk and his arms crossed, "you would care to fill Severus in on what happened yesterday?"

Severus narrowed his eyes coldly. His emotions were rolling through him like a thunder storm rolling across the sky, wild and destructive. All he could picture was Evelyn's anguish-filled eyes as she had recounted the twisted truths Sirius had told her.

"He can have nothing to say that I care to hear about."

"Do not be so quick to dismiss what Sirius has to say, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly.

Severus clenched his hands even tighter.

"So what do you want me to tell him?" Sirius asked, straightening to his full height. There was a malevolent glint in his eyes; he seemed to know rightly that it would only antagonise Severus further.

"Just repeat what you told me," Dumbledore said. "Now if you will excuse me, I have an important floo call to make."

Severe annoyance brewed inside Severus. "Albus, I really do not think this is necessary."

"Hear him out, Severus," Dumbledore said evenly.

Something in the headmaster's tone told Severus that Sirius actually did have important information to share with him. Even so, he could not understand what Potter could have said that would possibly affect him, and why Dumbledore felt the need for Black to convey it to him.

"So, Snivellus..." Sirius said as he flopped down onto a wingback chair, lazily stretching out his long legs in front of him. "Where to begin..."

Severus merely stared at Sirius like he was an irksome insect that kept buzzing around him.

Well, firstly Harry and Hermione wrote a letter wanting to talk to me," Sirius then gave an arrogant smirk. "So I talked to them."

"Concerning...?" Severus asked coolly, almost indifferently.

"All sorts of things," he said, idly scratching his beard with a dirty fingernail.

Sirius' obnoxiousness grated on Severus. "Such as...?"

With a casual wave of his hand, Sirius said, "Hermione's obsession with house-elves."

Severus' lips flattened into a thin line. He had had enough of this absurdity. If Dumbledore wished for him to hear this story, then he could recount it to him at another time. "As fascinating as this is little tale is, Black, I came to speak with the headmaster regarding a matter of real importance. I will come back later when you have gone back to wherever it is you...go."

Severus made to turn around but he stopped when Sirius said, "I don't know about that, Snivellus, considering what I have to say concerns you."

Folding his arms, Severus said dryly, "Humour me."

This time, Sirius seemed all too eager to plough ahead with an explanation of what had happened. "Harry and Hermione wanted to know about two former Hogwarts' students, and why they fell out – youbeing one of them."

Severus stiffened as Black's words brought back a conversation he had had with Evelyn a few days ago. He remembered her words clearly: I heard Harry Potter say Snuffles was his godfather, and he was going to talk to him about someone who'd fallen out with someone else.

Had Potter gone to ask Black about his friendship with Lily? But how had he known of it in the first place?

Lupin, of course...

Lupin must have told him last year. Clearly, though, he had not told the boy enough, which was why he felt the need to seek out his godfather to 'fill in the gaps' for him.

"I have heard quite enough, Black," Severus said darkly. "I am well aware of your retelling of what happened."

Sirius' lips suddenly twisted into a gloating grin, his yellowed teeth stark against his pale skin. "You think it was about Lily? You do! Ha!"

Severus gritted his teeth.

"You know, I was almost tempted to tell Harry what you called his mum. But considering he knocked you out in the Shrieking Shack last year just for being an irritating arse, I wouldn't want him to be sent to Azkaban for killing you outright," Sirius said, cackling cruelly.

Severus' composure was now as fragile as ice skimming the surface of a pond. Nevertheless, he tilted his head slightly to one side and said softly, "Why ever not? Did you not enjoy your thirteen year stay there?"

Sirius suddenly leapt out of the chair and took four long strides towards Severus. "Yeah, well Harry knows all about you and Harper – and your daughter," Sirius slung at him hotly.

"What?" Severus' face paled with indignation.

Sirius laughed mockingly. "Of course, Harry didn't believe it at first – who would?"

"You had no right to tell him!" Severus raged.

"He already knew before he came to see me," Sirius spat back. "And then Harper showed up at Hogwarts; not exactly keeping things subtle are you? What did you have to do to get her to come here anyway, Snivellus – drug her? You know, Me and James, we always figured Harper had a weird fascination for pathetic things, but we didn't figure she was that desperate."

Severus' nostrils flared. "Do-not-say-another-word-about-her," he said lowly, threateningly.

"Still fancy yourself in love with her?" Sirius gave another short, nasty laugh. "It's Evelyn I pity the most– you should have seen her face when I told her how her mother must regret having her because –"

Sirius stumbled backwards as Severus' fist met his nose with a satisfying crunch; he tripped over a chair and fell awkwardly to the floor with a solid thump. Tears welled in his eyes as blood flowed from his nose mingling with his matted beard. For a few seconds he stared blankly at the ceiling, like he had been hit with a Stunner, but then anger flashed in his eyes. He tried to struggle to feet but Severus stood over him; his wand was drawn and he pointed it menacingly at him.

"Go on," Severus whispered, "say something else – I dare you..."

"Enough!" Dumbledore's voice, full of authority, resonated through the study.

Suddenly, like invisible ropes had been lassoed around him, Severus found himself being dragged to opposite corner of the room. Then, as quickly as he had been bound, he was loosened. His body still trembled with righteous anger but he was no longer blinded by rage. Tucking his wand away, he watched as Sirius climbed back onto his feet with Dumbledore's help. He tried to put weight onto his right leg but he winced, although he was quick to shake off the headmaster's suggestion that he sit down.

"Can I use your bathroom to get cleaned up?" Sirius asked Dumbledore.

"Of course," he replied, "and by the looks of things, you will need your nose reset."

"No thanks to Snivellus," he grumbled, glaring venomously in Severus' direction.

Once Sirius had left the room, Dumbledore turned to address Severus. "Did it make you feel better?"

Severus crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "He deserved it." Then he abruptly changed the subject. "What does Potter know?"

"Enough to satisfy his questions for the time being," Dumbledore replied.

"Meaning...?"

"Despite what you might think, Sirius knows very little about your relationship with Deirdre, or with Evelyn," Dumbledore said softly.

"Well, that makes it all better, then, doesn't it?" Severus said scathingly.

Dumbledore sat down behind his desk and picked up a letter, ignoring him. "What was it you wished to speak to me about?"

The tension in Severus' chest suddenly morphed into the same dark heaviness that had pressed down on him in his quarters. His anger towards Sirius Black was swallowed up by the reality that Voldemort posed a greater threat to his family than Sirius ever could.

"I believe Potter may be in greater danger than we first believed."

Still reading the letter, Dumbledore asked, "You will have to be more specific, Severus."

Severus undid the buttons of his jacket and shirt sleeves then rolled them up. He held out his left arm to show Dumbledore the Dark Mark. "Look!"

Slowly setting the letter down, Dumbledore stared at the Dark Mark for a long moment. "When did it appear?"

"Three days ago and it has been growing darker ever since."

When Dumbledore remained silent, calm even, Severus frowned. "You do not seem overly surprised."

"I must confess I am not." Dumbledore steepled his fingers and pressed his forefingers against his chin. "There are some things I need to share with you, Severus; Bertha Jorkins' disappearance being one."

Severus frowned. "Bertha Jorkins – what does she have to do with this?"

"Miss Jorkins took a holiday to Albania not too long ago; a holiday she has not returned from. I have learnt that Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman have insisted there is no reason to be worried; they claim Miss Jorkins often got muddled and confused, but that she would eventually return home."

"As I recall, Bertha Jorkins had an excellent memory for gossip – even if she was somewhat of a dimwit," Severus said.

Dumbledore rose from his chair and began to pace behind his desk. "There are those at the Ministry who will not be sorry at her disappearance; it would explain why little effort has gone in to locating her whereabouts."

"I still fail to see what Bertha Jorkins has to do with the Dark Mark," Severus said, impatience creeping into his tone.

Dumbledore stopped pacing and looked at Severus. "Voldemort was last rumoured to be in Albania. You will remember Quirrell went there, believing he would find him; and he did find him, or rather what was left of him."

Severus arched an incredulous eyebrow. "Surely you don't believe Jorkins went to Albania with the same intention?"

"No, I do not," Dumbledore confessed. "However, I am not willing to rule out the possibility that she may have inadvertently encountered him. She was an easily manipulated girl at Hogwarts, and I have reason to believe she has not changed much since then."

"She would have known the Triwizard Tournament was happening this year," Severus said grimly.

"Indeed, she would have."

Severus placed his right hand on his left arm. The events of the past few months no longer seemed like random, isolated events; everything was beginning to make sense: the Dark Mark at the World Cup; the attempted attack on Moody the night before he was due to leave for Hogwarts; Potter's name coming out of the Goblet of Fire.

"I also have reason to believe Voldemort has returned to Britain."

Fear suddenly slithered out from the dark corners of Severus' mind. "How can you be so certain?"

"Sirius informed me, although rather unknowingly," Dumbledore said softly.

Severus scoffed. "You aren't honestly basing this on Black's insight, are you?"

"I am." Dumbledore held up a hand to silence Severus. "Before you proceed to lecture me, I must tell you that Sirius had a letter from Harry near the end of the summer holidays. In it he said his scar hurt, and the last time his scar had hurt was when Voldemort was at Hogwarts."

Severus remembered vividly that Voldemort had somehow found a way to possess Quirrell's body. Right from the beginning of the year, both he and Dumbledore had suspected the stuttering Dark Arts professor. It was only after the mountain troll had been let into the castle that their suspicions had been confirmed. Yet, it was not until Quirrell's death that the headmaster had revealed to him the exact reason why he had been obsessed with obtaining the Philosopher's Stone – to enable the Dark Lord to return in full strength.

"That makes no sense, Albus," Severus said, "the boy is protected while he is at the Dursley's; was it not for that very reason that you placed him there as an infant?"

Dumbledore began pacing behind his desk again. "For some reason Harry's scar reacts to Voldemort's presence; it is little wonder, considering the way in which he received it. But, I find it strange that Harry never once felt his scar hurt until his first year here, and again this year. I am convinced Voldemort is close by, biding his time until he has regained his strength."

Severus' lips thinned. "And you didn't think to tell me any of this before now?"

"I saw no need to concern you until I had absolute proof." He motioned his head slightly at Severus' arm. "But now it seems there is."

"Is there anything else I should know?" he asked cynically as he rolled down his sleeves, buttoning them and fixing them into place so that the cuffs of his jacket skimmed the tops of his knuckles.

"Is there anything else you thinkyou should know?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

As Dumbledore's steady gaze met his, Severus felt the sharp smack of his own hypocrisy. What right did he have to be annoyed when he was keeping the truth hidden from Deirdre? Suddenly the weight of the betrayal he thought he was experiencing exploded into something real, something unbearable. If he did not tell Deirdre soon, the breach of trust would do more damage to their relationship than the reappearance of the Dark Mark could ever do.

"No," Severus replied flatly.

Dumbledore began to stroke his beard thoughtfully. "Has Igor approached you yet?"

Severus folded his arms. "He burst into my classroom yesterday afternoon, demanding to talk with me. He showed me his mark but I refused to discuss the matter openly with him as Evelyn was in the room too, completing her homework."

"No doubt he wanted reassurance that his Dark Mark was not the only one that has changed. I suspect he is terrified by what is happening."

"You do not believe he is responsible for placing Potter's name in the Goblet of Fire, then?" Severus asked sceptically.

"Igor betrayed Voldemort after the war; he would not seek for his return; even Harry's death would not be enough to absolve him."

Unbidden, a cold chill raked down Severus' spine. "How can you be so certain, then, that I will be forgiven?"

Dumbledore looked intently at him. "You have something that Igor does not have, Severus: my implicit trust."

"Indeed."

Despite the headmaster's reassurance, Severus knew that if Voldemort did not believe he had betrayed him with the intention of infiltrating the Order, and then positioned himself in Hogwarts after the war to gain Dumbledore's trust, he would not survive his first encounter with the Dark Lord.

"I think it is time to see to Sirius' injuries," Dumbledore said, bringing their conversation to an end. "Pip."

Suddenly a house-elf appeared with a pop. She was small, even for a house-elf. Pip bowed deeply to the headmaster, her long nose almost scrapping the floor.

"What can Pip do for Professor Dumbledore?" she asked in a squeaky voice.

"Please find Healer Harper and ask her to come to my study. Thank you, Pip."

Pip bowed again. "Professor Dumbledore is most welcome."

She quickly disappeared with another pop.

Glowering at Dumbledore, Severus said, "Deirdre is not going to attend to Black."

Dumbledore held his gaze for a few seconds, unfazed. "Need I remind you, Severus, that Deirdre is the school nurse? Of course, if you would prefer to heal Sirius yourself –"

"Fine," Severus snapped.

Whatever other objections he might have wished to voice were cut short as Sirius hobbled back into the main study. The pain in his knee seemed to have gotten worse. His beard was no longer matted with blood, however his nose was swollen; the darkening bruises stood in stark contrast to his pale skin. Severus felt a sense of vindication as Dumbledore directed Sirius down into the parlour, and yet, it was also an empty victory. If he was honest with himself, Severus knew that striking Sirius was a poor recompense. Sirius' wounds would heal quickly, and he was so arrogant he would have himself, and others, convinced that he'd been attacked without provocation. That is what angered Severus the most – Sirius' complete lack of remorse. While he had not exactly warmed up to Lupin last year, he had developed a begrudging respect for the man; and even then it was only because Lupin had not shown the same cowardly indifference to Evelyn that he had shown towards him when they were students.

Almost minutes later, and much to Severus' annoyance, there was a knock on the study door. He had not wanted to be here when Deirdre arrived. She would wish to know details; she would want to understand why it had happened. But, he was not prepared to repeat Black's words; even just thinking about what he had said made his anger froth like crashing waves.

"Come in." Dumbledore said.

As Deirdre entered the study Severus abruptly rose from his chair. His robes spilled to the floor, pooling around him like black liquid. He stood straight, rigid, and agitation brewed in his dark eyes. Deirdre's gaze flickered from Dumbledore to him. She looked confused at first and then a veil of worry seemed to fall over her face.

"What's the matter? Is it Evelyn?"

Severus' jaw tightened in annoyance, not at her, but because he should have known what her first reaction would be.

"Evelyn is perfectly fine," Dumbledore said reassuringly, "I believe she is in Transfigurations at the moment."

Deirdre visibly relaxed, although she still did seem somewhat confused. She looked at Dumbledore as she asked, "I don't mean to sound rude, Professor, but what's going on?"

"I'm afraid there was an unfortunate incident earlier involving Sirius Black," Dumbledore said

She blinked at him disbelievingly and then glanced at Severus, who narrowed his eyes coldly. "Sirius Black?" she repeated slowly, as if to be certain she had heard him correctly.

"Yes," Dumbledore said, "His nose is quite broken and his knee is badly swollen."

"How did that happened?"

"As I said, there was a rather unfortunate incident."

"Where is he now?"

"He is currently nursing a cup of tea in the parlour."

"I see." Deirdre glanced at Severus and he knew that she suspected he was somehow involved. "Well, I suppose I had better take a look at him."

...

Sirius silently seethed as he waited in the parlour. He gripped the arms of the chair he was sitting in, hating Severus more and more with each passing moment. Why had Dumbledore ever allowed him to set foot in Hogwarts again? Not that he should have been let in the first time. From the moment he'd laid eyes on Severus, Lily's weird and greasy-haired neighbour, he had taken a great dislike to him. There was just something about Snape, something inherently dark and disloyal. James had agreed with him; Remus never openly said it, but Sirius knew he felt the same way too. It had taken Lily longer to realise it, but at the cost of being called a Mudblood. Sirius could imagine what his friends would think if they knew Snape was their son's teacher – they would be furious. Of course, Sirius had voiced that to Dumbledore, but the headmaster took little heed of his protests.

Maybe after today Dumbledore would realise how unstable and dangerous Snape was.

Sirius gingerly reached out and touched the tender skin around nose. He would have to remember to thank Harry and Hermione; it was partly their fault that he was suffering. He hadn't intended on telling Dumbledore about their conversation; he had only gone to ask about the First Challenge, but before he knew it, he had recounted the entire exchange to the headmaster:

Sirius waited patiently for Harry and Hermione at the stile at the end of the road out of Hogsmeade. It was quieter out this way; not as many wizarding folk around. He wasn't supposed to have made his presence at Hogwarts known to Harry at all, but as his godfather he couldn't do that, especially after Harry had written to him and told him that his scar had hurt.

"Hello Sirius," Harry said when he and Hermione reached the stile.

The scent of food wafted from a bag Harry was carrying. Sirius sniffed it, his stomach grumbling. Anxious to eat, and also to hear what Harry and Hermione had to say, he led them across a scrubby patch of ground which rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. He brought them to a cool, dimly lit cave; it was where he was living, along with Buckbeak. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but Dumbledore had said it would be the safest place for him to stay.

As he munched his way through a chicken leg, Harry questioned why he was there, and why he wasn't somewhere safer, some place the Ministry could not find him. Sirius made glib remarks about his duty as a godfather and that he was pretending to be a loveable stray. When Harry's anxiety failed to be placated, Sirius had quickly brought up the letter Harry had sent him.

"What is it you two want to talk to me about?"

"Well..." Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "We sort of want to ask you something..."

Sirius chewed slowly on a bit of chicken. "About what?"

"What can you tell us about Professor Snape and Deirdre Harper," Hermione said forthrightly.

Sirius almost choked as he swallowed his food. "Why do you want to know about them?"

"We've – well, Hermione, really – have discovered Snape was friends with her at school," Harry said, settling himself on a smooth rock. "She's a healer now, and she's working at Hogwarts."

Sirius' brow rose in surprise. "She is? Why?"

"Madam Pomfrey contracted spattergroit," Hermione explained, "and so Healer Harper has replaced her temporarily."

Out of all the healers in the wizarding world, why had Dumbledore chosen her? Was it deliberate? Had Snape talked him into it? Perhaps Snape had thought to reconcile with Harper. Sirius knew they'd had a falling out or something; they had to have, otherwise why would Snape have hit him after an Order meeting for suggesting that she had finally seen sense and left him? Was it before or after Evelyn was born? He couldn't quite remember.

"So what can you tell us about them?"

Sirius reached for another chicken leg. "Snape and Harper became friends in sixth year. We all thought she was mad. He was a loner; completely fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was." Harry grinned that that comment. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year."

"Why do you think she became friends with him?" Harry asked. "Neville had to go and see her two days ago in the hospital wing; he said she was really nice. How could someone nice be friends with Snape?"

Snorting, Sirius said, "I tried to figure that out for several years."

"We've been watching them for days and they haven't even looked at each, never mind said hello," Hermione added.

Sirius tore a hunk of bread from the round loaf Harry had brought. "It wouldn't be the first time Snape has ruined a friendship."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Never mind," he said dismissively, immediately regretting his remark. Sirius was not prepared to discuss Lily and Snape's so-called friendship. Harry also did not need to know that Snape once fancied himself in love with Lily, or that he called her a Mudblood. Sirius did not want Harry's image of his mother to be tainted by that.

"There's something else we've found out," Hermione said, glancing at Harry. "They have a daughter..."

Sirius arched an eyebrow. "You don't miss anything, do you?"

"You don't seem very surprised," Harry said. His eyes then widened. "You already knew about her!"

Sirius tossed a chicken bone to Buckbeak, who quickly gobbled it up. "I might have."

"So did they fall out after Evelyn was born or before?"

Sirius used a dirty fingernail to pick food out from between his teeth. "My guess is Harper woke up one morning and finally realised she'd made a right bloody mess of things." He looked at Harry and smiled wistfully. "James and I tried to warn her in school that hanging around with Snape would only bring her trouble – looks like it did."

"Do you think Snape knows about his daughter?"

"I'm pretty sure he does."

"Why won't he openly acknowledge her then? Her surname isn't even Snape – it's Harper."

"There could be all sorts of reasons," Sirius said, and then he laughed mockingly. "It could be he just doesn't want anyone to know what a complete balls-up he made with Harper."

Harry laughed too but Hermione did not seem very amused.

"Well, I think he is probably concerned with how it might affect her," Hermione stated very matter-of-factly. "Professor Snape switched sides during the war; he could still have enemies who might want to harm her to harm him."

"Think what you like," Sirius said, "but you don't know Snape like I do. He doesn't care for anyone but himself. You saw it for yourself in the Shrieking Shack; he didn't want to listen to the truth, all he cared about was getting even for a silly prank I pulled in school. I could've received the Dementor's Kiss, and Remus could have been sent to Azkaban..."

Harry's face darkened. "He's right, Hermione. And Snape hates children; he makes that pretty obvious any time he looks at any of us. He'd be the worst dad ever...I bet Evelyn would hate for anyone to know she was related to him – I know I would."

Hermione, it seemed, was not prepared to admit defeat. "If he does not care about anyone, then why did he save your life in first year, Harry? Why didn't he just let you die?"

"I dunno – maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out."He scratched his head. "What d'you think, Sirius?"

"I agree with you, Harry," Sirius said, "He did it for self-preservation. Snape's got quite a cushy job here; he'd not want to risk losing it."

Hermione sat back and folded her arms; it was clear by her stern pout that she totally disagreed with him.

Footsteps on the stairs drew Sirius from his thoughts. Dumbledore entered the parlour followed by someone else – a woman. There was something very familiar about her; the brown curly hair, the pretty yet delicate features; that air of quiet confidence. Then it struck him – it was Harper.

Sirius almost laughed out loud. Snape had thought she would want to play happy families with him.

"Deirdre is here to set your nose and take a look at your knee," Dumbledore said.

"Is Snape gone?"

Dumbledore replied evenly, "Severus is not your concern, Sirius,"

"Aren't you going to make him apologise?" Sirius huffed.

Deirdre looked at Sirius; her blue gaze was cool, clinical even. "Why would he need to apologise?" she asked.

Sirius sneered. "Do you think I hit myself? Snape attacked me..."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "You may need to check Sirius' memory, Deirdre; it seems it might have been damaged as well."

Sirius sank back into the armchair, pressing his lips together sullenly. Why did Dumbledore continue to defend Snape? He had been prepared to use his wand, just like he had in the Shrieking Shack last year. He was dangerous, untrustworthy. No matter how many times a snake shed its skin, it still remained a snake.

"Sit up straight," Deirdre said, taking her wand out. "Or else you might end up with a crooked nose."

He looked at her, trying to gauge if she was being serious or not. However, he did not have much time to ponder over it as she pointed her wand right at his face.

"Episkey!"

There was a short snap of cartilage as his nose was put back into place. Breathing became much easier and he no longer felt like he had cotton wool shoved up his nostrils.

"Let me see your knee," Deirdre said.

"Are you always this friendly with your patients?" he said sarcastically as he pulled up his trouser leg.

She looked at him and for the first time he saw a flicker of her fiery temper. "Usually my patients haven't demeaned my daughter's father to her face."

That comment took Sirius by surprise, but she seemed genuinely angered by what he had said to Evelyn. Yet, he was not willing to let it go without nudging a few doors to get some answers. "Why would you care? It's only Snape."

Deirdre's eyes spat fire at him. "Contrary to what you might think, I have not spent the last thirteen years regretting my daughter's birth, or who her father is."

With that she turned around and walked towards the stairs.

"What about my knee?" he whinged after her.

She threw a dismissive hand into the air but did not turn around. "It's a bruise; you'll get over it."

Sirius twisted around in the armchair and looked at Dumbledore, who was reading the Daily Prophet. "Aren't you going to make her come back?"

"Are you willing to apologise?" he replied without taking his eyes off the newspaper.

"For what?"

Dumbledore closed the newspaper and folded it up. "I will leave you to consider your answer while I go and eat breakfast."

Sirius swore under his breath as Dumbledore left the parlour. Why was he being blamed for everything when he was the one who had been punched in the face? But, as he sat in the silence of the room, he began to mull over what Deirdre had said: Contrary to what you might think, I have not spent the last thirteen years regretting my daughter's birth, or who her father is. Had she meant she was not repulsed by the fact she had borne Snape's child, or was there something more to it?

...

Deirdre entered the Great Hall through the staff door and scanned the High Table for a free seat. Her gaze briefly landed on Severus, who was sandwiched between Sybill Trelawney and Aurora Sinistra. He did not look as agitated as he had done in the headmaster's study, although she could fully understand why he had been – she had almost re-broken Sirius' nose after what he had said.

It quickly became clear that there was only one free seat left, and it was beside Alastor Moody. He was shovelling a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth as she sat down. His magical eye stopped spinning for a few seconds and locked onto her. It was really rather unnerving but very quickly it restarted its frantic, circular dance in the artificial socket.

"Good morning, Professor," she said, not quite comfortable in calling him by his given name.

Moody merely grunted in response as he speared a sausage with his fork. He then inspected it, sniffing it before taking a bite. Severus had not been wrong when he said that Moody was suspicious of everything.

She stole another quick glance in Severus' direction. Was Sirius the reason why he had seemed so troubled during their pre-breaking cup of tea in his quarters? She wasn't sure. But, she would have to wait until later that evening to confront him. He would be teaching until lunchtime, by which time she would already be in the first-aid tent in the arena, ready for the First Challenge.

"You're Eoghan Harper's sister," Moody said abruptly, gruffly. It was a statement not a question.

Deirdre arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Yes, I am," she replied somewhat tentatively, "how did you know?"

He did not reply right away, instead he wiped sausage grease from his lips with the back of his hand. "Dumbledore told me. Harper was a damn good Auror; it's a real shame he decided to join those Yanks."

A hint of a smile tugged on Deirdre's lips. Her father said something similar when Eoghan announced he'd taken a job in Boston. It wasn't that her father didn't like Americans; he just disliked their abuse of Irish traditions, and in particular, their silly notion of pinching someone for not wearing green on St. Patrick's Day.

Moody took a swig from his hip flask. "Harper is yours, then?"

It took a moment for Deirdre to register what he meant. "You mean Evelyn? Yes, she's my daughter."

He dropped the flask back into his pocket. "She's got a knack for duelling," he said, his crustiness making it difficult for her to tell if he was praising Evelyn or not.

"Remus Lupin said as much last year too," she replied, wary of giving away too much information.

Moody picked up a hardboiled egg from a plate. "He did, did he?"

"You seem surprised by that," Deirdre said coolly as she poured milk into her tea.

Moody's good eye seemed to bore into her. "Lupin might have missed it last year, but it's staring me right in the face. When you've fought as many duels as I have, you pick up on certain things...certain abilities."

A flicker of panic sparked inside of Deirdre. "And what things have you picked up on?"

Once again Moody did not answer right away, but took another swig from his hip flask. "She's been getting lessons outside of class."

"Oh, you've discovered my secret then," she said, "I probably shouldn't be giving her lessons, but surely you won't mark her down because of it?

Chewing on the egg thoughtfully, Moody said, "Aye, I suppose not."

"I appreciate it, Professor."

Having had enough of their conversation, Deirdre went back to eating her breakfast, missing the quick, subtle flitting of Moody's magical eye between Slytherin table and Severus.

...

The hospital wing was a sanctuary after the morning's events. Deirdre sat in the cosy office, warmed by the soft glow of the fire. A long scroll was spread across the desk, one end held down by an ornate paperweight. She needed to take an inventory for the upcoming winter months, when staff and students alike would be smote by colds and flu.

"Hi Mum!"

Deirdre looked up from where she was counting bottles of cough relief potions. "Hello Sweetheart, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be rushing to get good seats in the arena."

"Well, you see, Ed and I were kind of hoping you'd let us watch the First Challenge from the first-aid tent."

Deirdre dipped a quill into an inkpot and wrote down how many bottle of cough relief medicine she would need Severus to brew for her. "I don't see why not."

"Yes!" Evelyn said, grinning and clenching her hands in excitement. "Thanks Mum."

"You'll still need to ask your father, though."

Evelyn looked puzzled. "Why?"

"He's your head of house; I'm technically not allowed to give you permission to do anything that requires his approval first."

"Oh." Evelyn then moved very unsubtly towards a plate of biscuits. "Can't you just send him a note or something? If I got the whole way down to the dungeons to ask him now, I'll be late for Charms."

"I suppose..."

Evelyn smiled as she took a bite of a custard cream. "Thanks!"

As she counted phials of Pepperup potion, Deirdre asked, "Did you get all of your assignment for Professor McGonagall finished yesterday?"

"Yeah, I did." Evelyn then frowned. "But..."

"But what?" Deirdre gently coaxed.

"Professor Karkaroff burst into Dad's classroom yesterday; he said he needed to speak with him. He seemed really wound up about something."

Worry began to gnaw at her but she wasn't certain why. "What did he want to discuss?"

"Dad doesn't know I saw anything, but I was only pretending I wasn't listening. So you have to promise you won't tell him I told you."

"...All right..." Deirdre said somewhat hesitantly as the gnawing grew stronger.

Evelyn drew in a deep breath. "OK, so I heard Dad tell him he was busy and to come back later, but Professor Karkaroff wouldn't leave. He followed Dad up to the front of the room; he looked worried but Dad just seemed really angry. Then Professor Karkaroff pulled up the left sleeve of his robe and showed Dad something."

Deirdre's stomach twisted, but she managed to calmly ask, "What happened next?"

"Professor Karkaroff asked Dad if he could see it – whatever it was. He then said it hadn't been that clear since..."

"Since when?" Deirdre asked, her voice almost catching in her throat.

Evelyn shrugged. "I don't know. Dad cut him off and told him they would talk about it later. What do you think Professor Karkaroff was showing Dad?"

Deirdre saw the innocence in her daughter's face, and she almost wept. "I'm not sure."

She then turned away from Evelyn and pretended to look her something. Her hands trembled as she pulled open a drawer of a bulky mahogany filing cabinet that sat in the corner of the office. Cold fear raked up her spine, threatening to encase her in it.

The Dark Mark had returned.

"Mum, are you OK?"

Deirdre looked over her shoulder. "I'm fine, Sweetheart. The bell will be going any moment, why don't you head off to class. I'll send that note to your father about this afternoon."

"Brilliant," Evelyn said. "Thanks."

The moment Evelyn left her office Deirdre shut the filling cabinet drawer and rested her back against a wall. The emotions she had been fighting to control pounded to be realised, until, finally, she could not hold them back any more. Slowly sliding to the cool surface of the wall, Deirdre sat on the floor and drew her knees up against her chest.

Evelyn said Karkaroff had spoken to Severus yesterday. How long had the mark been visible for, days, weeks? Why had he kept it from her when he was haunted by it? She had seen it in his eyes in his quarters, but he had said nothing; worse, he had walked away when she had silently questioned him.

Deirdre raked her hands though her hair, grabbing fistfuls of it. Why? Why would he not tell her?

Did he not trust her enough?

Was he afraid that she would not want to go through this again with him? Did he fear that she would walk away and take Evelyn with her?

Her throat tightened and burned as tears she had fought to hold back slipped freely down her cheeks.

All the horrors of the war came flooding back to her, slamming down on with unforgiving force. She knew what Severus had had to do; she had seen the mangled bodies, the glassy, lifeless stares of those killed by Death Eaters. She had wrestled with conflicting thoughts, but always she had held onto Severus' word that he had not killed anyone. Everything else she had attempted to process in the wider context of the war. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made; people were made to suffer so that others could live. It did make things any easier for her to accept, or even understand, but she knew this was not what Severus had wanted; he had not chosen this life, it had been forced upon him.

Voldemort's return would surely signal the start of another war, and Severus would be dragged into the dark heart of it. She was not foolish enough to believe that he would escape this time around. She had dedicated her adult life to studying curses, and the only way to break the curse of the Dark Mark was through death: either Voldemort would have to die, or Severus would.

Deirdre drew in a shaky breath as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. A dark shadow now shrouded their future; their lives would never be the same again. Yet, she would not force Severus to tell her the truth; he had to make that decision. It was almost crushing to think he would rather face the darkness alone than trust her, and her love for him.

Chapter 26: Chapter 25

Hello! I have finally got another chapter written and ready to post. Thank you to everyone who has been following this story...and thank you all for your lovely reviews! I have used some direct quotes from the Goblet of Fire, although they have been taken out of context, mainly because this is an AU story.

Enjoy!

Chapter 25

~x~

Severus took a slow sip of his tea as he read the letter a house-elf had delivered to him. It was from Dumbledore. The headmaster had taken the liberty of telling Deirdre of Potter and Miss Granger's knowledge regarding Evelyn. There was no mention of what she had said, although he could probably guess her reaction, and no doubt she suspected the incident with Sirius Black had something to do with it all. Severus had left the headmaster's study when she had gone to see to Black, even though he had known he would offend her in some way; yet she would not have appreciated him stepping in to defend her – they were too much alike in that respect.

In the last paragraph of the letter, Dumbledore outlined what he had said to Black before sending him back to his cave: he has been instructed that he is not free to discuss any aspect of your private life with Harry again. Sneering, Severus placed the letter in the top drawer of his desk. Black would pay as much attention to this particular instruction as he did to every other one Dumbledore had given him, which was to disregard them altogether. And yet, he would always have some excuse as to why he felt it was necessary to do so.

It infuriated him that Potter, of all people, knew Evelyn was his daughter. Black had not told him how the boy had found out, but Severus was certain he had not figured it out on his own. He suspected Granger had something to do with it. She was not only a know-it-all, she was highly observant too. After all, she had been the only student to uncover Lupin's lycanthropy. Of course, Severus had taught a lesson on werewolves; he had even set homework on it, so he knew he had given significant clues to the students, not that any of them had had the astuteness to make the connection between Lupin and lycanthropy – except Miss Granger.

However, in regards to Evelyn, Severus was certain he had not given away any clues about his connection to her; even staff members had not suspected their relationship. How, then, had Miss Granger managed to establish that Evelyn was his daughter? And why had she felt the need to share it with Potter? She might pride herself on her intelligence, but clearly she had not given any thought to the fact that maybe he concealed his daughter's identity for a reason. Now, two more individuals were aware that he had a child.

Severus' lips flattened into a thin line.

The reappearance of the Dark Mark had changed everything. Severus was no longer trying to keep his daughter's identity safe from those who held a grudge against him from the war; he wished to keep her safe from Voldemort himself. If her existence were known to him, Voldemort would threaten her to control him; she would bear the punishment for his failures. He had seen this happen before. Death Eaters, who had ruthlessly murdered and tortured Muggles and Muggle-borns, were reduced to whimpering wrecks the moment the Dark Lord mentioned their children's names.

But Severus would never allow Evelyn to be used in such a way. He was her father, it was his duty to protect her – and he would, no matter the cost.

A knock on the door drew Severus from his thoughts.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened and Evelyn poked her head around it. "A prefect said you wanted to see me?"

"Yes." He pushed the heavily-warded drawer with the letter in it closed. "Sit down."

"Have I done something wrong?" she asked hesitantly as she shut the door.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Have you?"

"I don't think so..."

He gave a soft snort as she settled herself into a chair in front of his desk.

"Did Mum ask you about watching the first task from the first-aid tent?" she said.

"I received a note from her." He set his mug of tea onto the desk. "But I wish to discuss something else first."

"OK."

"I spoke with the headmaster this morning," he said. He deliberately did not mention Sirius Black. "It seems Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are aware you are not only a Harper, but a Snape too."

Evelyn all but leapt off her chair. "I didn't tell them, Dad! I swear to you I –"

"Sit down, Evelyn." He waved his hand in an irritated manner. "I was not accusing you of informing them; I merely stated they know."

"How did they find out then?" she said as sat on the chair again. "Even Ed doesn't know you're my dad, and we're in the same house – in the same year. I mean, I've only ever spoken to Harry and Hermione once – no twice..."

Severus frowned. "When?"

Evelyn fiddled with the green braiding on her robes for a moment before answering him. "It was last year. The first time I talked to them was in Professor Lupin's classroom. Hermione was nice enough and I suppose Harry was too, although he didn't say much, but that Weasley boy...he was really horrible..."

As she talked about Ronald Weasley and what he said to her, her brow lowered in a frown, her eyes narrowing slightly. Severus was silently struck how much she resembled him at that moment. Of course as her father he had always seen a resemblance; she had the same dark eyes as him, the same pale skin, and straight hair, although hers was a rich chocolate rather than black. But the way she was looking at him, with an expression so decidedly like his own, he began to understand why someone as observant as Miss Granger might have suspected she was related to him.

"...and that's when Professor Lupin came into the classroom."

Severus picked up his mug again and took a sip of his tea. "And the other time you spoke?"

"It was at the Quidditch World Cup; I went to get water for Mum and me. I was just waiting in the queue and Weasley started on me; that's when you came past and told him off for calling me a 'bloody Slytherin', remember?"

Severus did remember.

Had he inadvertently caused Miss Granger's suspicion to grow because of his actions? Perhaps she had not seen the head of Slytherin defending one his students, but a father protecting his daughter.

"It makes sense now, though."

He returned his attention to her. "What does?"

"I saw Harry and Hermione in the library last year. They were looking at the Hogwarts annuals and she showed him a photograph of you and someone else...and, well, I think it might have been Mum...because after that Harry just kept staring at me in the Great Hall, and any other time he saw me."

"I see."

How like Granger to trawl through the library until she had satisfied her curiosity, he thought derisively.

Severus thought he knew what photograph she might have shown Potter. He and Deidre won the Slime and Potion Concoction Award in upper sixth, and their photograph had been taken for that year's annual. He had a copy of it in his quarters. The same scene played over and over: Deirdre looped her arm around his, smiling up at him before looking back at the camera. It was obvious they were good friends, perhaps even more than that – and they probably would have been if he had not been so frightened to tell her how he felt. That photograph had most likely convinced Miss Granger of Evelyn's parentage, as not only had she inherited certain features from him, she was also strikingly similar to her mother.

"What if they start asking me questions?" she asked wide-eyed. "What will I tell them?"

Severus took an unhurried sip of tea. "You will tell them to come and speak with me."

"But...they'd never talk to you about that!"

"Precisely."

She smiled with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. "I bet they'd never ask me another question about it again."

"One can only live in hope; they are Gryffindors after all."

This time she giggled.

Severus hid a smirk behind his mug. Despite the seriousness of the matter, he thoroughly enjoyed moments like these with his daughter. A few years ago he could not have imagined this scene; he could not have pictured her being so relaxed in his presence.

"Dad, do you think they'll tell anyone else I'm your daughter?"

The same thought had occurred to him earlier. However, it seemed that since Potter and Miss Granger had not already divulged their discovery to Ronald Weasley, they were unlikely to tell anyone else. He did not know why they had decided to keep it to themselves, but he intended to keep that way, even if he had to threaten Miss Granger with a Troll in Potions and Potter with a detention every Saturday for the rest of his school life.

"I am confident they won't."

"Ok..." She then began to fiddle with the braiding on her robes. "Dad, can I ask you a question?"

"As long as it isn't about the tournament."

"No...it's about something else."

He gave a slight nod of his head. "Proceed, then."

She drew in a deep breath, and it seemed to Severus that she must have been contemplating this particular question for some time. "Why is everyone so terrified of the Dark Mark?"

Severus' grip tightened on the handle of his mug, and although his left arm was covered up he suddenly felt exposed. While he had Deirdre had never spoken to her about the Dark Mark, nor had she ever seen the faded tattoo on his arm, it did not come as a surprise to him that she had heard about it in the Slytherin common room.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, thinking of the best way to explain it to her. There was little point in denying her an answer, as she would only seek one out for herself; at least this way he could control and filter what she wanted to know.

"It was used by You-Know-Who, as well as by Death Eaters during the war," he said steadily, "and it quickly became associated with their acts of violence against Muggles and Muggle-borns."

"Did...did you ever..."

""Did I ever cast it? Yes, sometimes," he answered honestly, even though it pained him to see her squirm in her seat. "You-Know-Who saw that it instilled fear into the Wizarding world. He ordered every Death Eater to use it...but I soon discovered I could use it to help those being attacked. You see, Aurors would Apparate within minutes of the Dark Mark appearing in the sky, so I would cast the spell before anyone could be seriously injured."

"Did no one suspect what you were doing?"

"No."

Severus had always been careful never to use his own wand to conjure the Dark Mark. It had been easy enough to disarm a Muggle-born witch or wizard and use their wand; attacks on Muggles had proved trickier, but with a little Slytherin cunning he had successfully misled other Death Eaters into casting the spell prematurely.

"Why were the Death Eaters at the world cup frightened by the Dark Mark, then, if it was their symbol?"

Severus slowly traced a finger around his mouth as he considered his answer. "When the war ended, all those who remained faithful to You-Know-Who were either killed or given life sentences in Azkaban. However, there were a sizeable number who gained their freedom. Some denounced You-Know-Who, while others claimed they had been forced into following him."

"The Dark Mark has not been seen for more than thirteen years, particularly since it was declared a punishable crime to conjure it. And as it is possible to force a wand to reveal the spells it has cast, no one has dared to risk their freedom. It is therefore possible to assume that the Death Eaters believed You-Know-Who had returned, and they feared a reprisal for their disloyalty to him."

She wrinkled her nose in confusion. "Why would they think he had returned? That's just silly. Everybody knows he's dead."

"Indeed." He set his mug down, picked up a slip of parchment from his desk and held it out to her. "This is permission to watch first task from the first-aid tent. Do not leave it. Is that understood? You will already be much closer to the dragon enclosure than everyone else in the stands."

"I understand." She took the note. "Thanks Dad."

"You may go now."

She offered him a small smile as she slid off her seat. "I'll see you later."

When she had gone Severus pushed his chair back with considerable force, almost toppling it. He crossed to the fireplace and placed his hands on the mantle top, closing his eyes. What would happen to his relationship with his daughter when she witnessed the horrors of the coming war, for there would surely be one when Voldemort returned. Would she be able to understand that he had to become a Death Eater again? Would she accept that he was doing it for her, to protect her? He did not know.

He moved away from the fireplace, growing increasingly agitated.

Stopping halfway between the fireplace and his desk, Severus grasped at his left sleeve, pulling it up to reveal the Dark Mark. The eyeless skull looked up at him, almost mocking him. This – this thing was tearing his life apart again.

After he had rolled down his sleeve, Severus turned around and walked to a locked cupboard. He opened it and lifted out a Pensive. Once it was on his desk, he took out his wand and placed the tip of it at his temple. Closing his eyes, he focused on the memory he wanted to extract. He had not viewed it in a long time, but right then he needed the comfort of it; he needed that one moment when his life had been perfect.

Dropping a glistening silvery strand into the Pensive, Severus stood over it and watched as a hospital ward became clearer. He then gripped the sides of the large stone bowl and lowered his face towards the swirling memory.

Severus stood in the ward and watched as his younger self stared down at his daughter for the first time. His hand trembled slightly as it hovered over her in the cot. His younger self glanced at Deirdre, who motioned for him to pick her up. There was a trace of fear on his face as he lifted Evelyn's fragile body, carefully placing her in the crook of his arm. When she whimpered he almost panicked, but she quickly settled as if she instinctively knew she was safe in his arms.

Drawing up to his younger self's side, Severus took in the wisps of downy hair, the tiny hands clenched into fists and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Even after all these years his heart began to beat faster as he was swept up in the unconditional love her had for his daughter. From that exact moment everything had changed. He could no longer imagine his life without her, and he never wanted to. She was his – she would always be his, a part of him, his own flesh and blood. She was his to care for. She was his to protect.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" Deirdre said.

Severus nodded silently with his younger self.

Severus almost envied him as he stroked Evelyn's smooth cheek in wonder. There was a time when he thought he would never be a father; he thought he would die in the war or be locked up in Azkaban; or worse, live his life alone, pining after the woman he loved. But she had agreed to marry him and he would always be thankful for precious gift she had given him.

"She's got you wrapped around her little finger already." she said, laughing softly.

"What's that?" his younger self replied, barely taking his eyes off of Evelyn.

She shook her head, still laughing. "Never mind."

The perfection of those few hours washed over him again. Thoughts of Voldemort, the Order and the ongoing war had ceased to exist. All that mattered to him at the time was the sleeping child in his arms and the exhausted woman lying in the bed beside him.

A nurse approached them. "I'm afraid Mrs Snape needs her rest now."

With great reluctance, his younger self placed Evelyn back into the cot. He stood over her for a long moment before running a finger along her cheek one more time. Severus knew what he was thinking: he would do anything for her...

The hospital ward began to fade as Severus pulled himself out of the Pensive. Far from being comforted by the memory, the fear of what he could lose had never been greater.

...

Evelyn watched Harry Potter dismount from his broom with the golden dragon's egg tucked under his arm. Professor McGonagall, Hagrid and Professor Moody were gathered around him, congratulating him. Harry beamed as each one of them spoke to him. Evelyn had to admit, he had done a pretty decent job of it, what with using a Summoning Charm to get his Firebolt and everything.

Edmund had raced off to find the boys in his dorm almost as soon as Harry had landed, although his excitement had nothing to do with Harry's more-than-better performance. It was because Viktor Krum had said hello to him, even though she had pointed out to him that a scowl and a grunt did not constitute a greeting.

She couldn't see what all the fuss over Krum was anyway. Secretly, though, she was thrilled that Cedric Digory had actually said hello to her. Her stomach had gone all fluttery and she had given him a lopsided grin; she had probably looked like an idiot.

Evelyn looked over her shoulder to the cubicle he was in. He had not seemed too badly injured, but she would ask her mother later; subtly, though, as she did not want her parents to know she had a crush on a sixth year. That would just be embarrassing.

"Right then, Potter, the first-aid tent please..."

Professor McGonagall's firm voice drew Evelyn's attention back to Harry.

As he walked towards the mouth of the tent, the smile on his face faded, and Evelyn realised it was because he had seen her.

Oh right, he knows.

She tried to be casual, to pretend she hadn't noticed him, but their gazes met and suddenly Evelyn was just as uncertain as he was.

Harry was the first to speak. "I thought only the Champions were allowed to be here."

Evelyn folded her arms. "I've got a permission slip. Do you want to check it?"

Seemingly annoyed, Harry took a step towards her. "Has anyone ever told you –"

"Mr Potter..." her mother's voice sounded behind her.

He snapped his gaze away from Evelyn. "Er...Professor McGonagall sent me here."

"There's a free cubicle in there," she said, motioning with her hand where he was to go. "I'll be with you in a moment."

Her mother placed a hand between her shoulder blades and gently nudged her forwards. "Why don't you go and find Edmund."

"I wasn't going to tell him anything."

"I know; it wasn't you I was worried about. Now, away you go."

Evelyn remained where she was. Her mother had been rather uptight for most of the afternoon, but Evelyn assumed she was just stressed out by the dragons and everything. Nevertheless, she decided to press her luck. "Can't I wait for you? We can walk back up to the castle together."

Her mother sighed. "All right, but I'll be here for another while."

"That's OK, I don't mind hanging about."

About a minute after her mother had gone in to see to Harry, Evelyn crept as close to the cubicle as she could. She saw him sitting on a bed while her mother examined his shoulder.

"You're fortunate it's not a deep wound," her mother said.

There was a clink of bottles as her mother rooted around in an old, leather bag with the faded words first-aid kit written on the side of it. She then cleaned the wound with an anti-septic potion before using her wand to seal it up. Harry just stared at her mother in the same way he looked at her, like she was some kind of bizarre zoo animal.

It made her angry, but she didn't know why.

He scratched the back of his head as he asked, "You're Evelyn Harper's mum, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." She replaced the stopper on the bottle of antiseptic potion. "I didn't know you knew her."

"I...uh...we spoke a bit last year..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah – we got on well."

Evelyn snorted.

At that moment her mother cleared her throat and looked pointedly at the entrance of the cubicle. Evelyn knew she had given herself away, so she retreated back to the mouth of the tent.

Half an hour later, when the last of the four Champions left the first-aid tent, Evelyn and her mother started the walk back up to the castle. As they rounded a corner they saw two wizards standing on the path in front of them. Evelyn recognised one of them instantly. It was Lucius Malfoy. She wasn't sure she could ever forget him, not after her encounter with him last year. The other wizard had his back to her, but she distinctly saw his outstretched arm. It was his left arm, and the sleeve had been rolled up.

Evelyn gasped.

Her mother took her hand and squeezed it gently. "It's all right, sweetheart," she whispered, "just keep walking."

Clearly her mother thought she was frightened by the sight of the two wizards rather than by what she had seen. Had Mum seen it too? It was just like yesterday, when Professor Karkaroff had shown his left forearm to her father.

They had almost reached the two men, when Mr Malfoy said something to the other wizard, who quickly rolled down his sleeve before turning around. Her mother stopped in her tracks and Evelyn almost collided with her. She looked up at the man and swallowed, hard. She had seen his picture before in the Daily Prophet. It was her mother's cousin, Aodhán Harper. He was tall and thin, fine-boned like her mother; he could have passed for her brother rather than her cousin, yet the condescending manner in which he held himself and the cruel gleam in his blue eyes set him worlds apart from her.

He smiled coldly at her mother. "Hello Deirdre."

She tightened her grip on Evelyn's hand, tugging her closer to her. "Aodhán – what are you doing here?"

"These sorts of events don't fund themselves." The contempt in his voice stripped his lilting accent of all its charm. "But I wouldn't expect you to understand the importance of maintaining a family's reputation."

"A relative of yours, Aodhán?" Lucius asked in a smooth, controlled drawl.

"Yes – my Uncle Fergal's daughter."

Lucius' top lip curled in disgust the mention of Evelyn's grandfather. "Ah, the one who married a Mudblood?"

Evelyn felt her mother stiffen beside her, but she didn't react to Mr Malfoy's derogatory remark.

Aodhán nodded. "Regretfully."

It was then Aodhán seemed to notice Evelyn for the first time. His steely blue eyes narrowed as he studied her. "Your daughter, I suppose."

She slid a protective arm around Evelyn's shoulders. "Yes."

"And who, dare I ask, is her father?"

When her mother remained silent, Aodhán's face hardened with disdain. "Oh, I see – a bastard child to add to humiliation of having a Mudblood in the family."

Her face paled in outrage. "How I live my life is none of your concern."

"As long as you continue to use the name Harper, it most certainly is my concern." Aodhán smirked at the shocked look on her face. "Oh, I know quite a bit about you, cousin. I know how hard you have worked to become head of the Anti-Curse department in St. Mungo's...and yet, it could all be gone," He snapped his fingers. "...just like that."

"Am I supposed to be frightened?"

Her mother's voice was strong, unwavering, but Evelyn could feel a slight tremble in the arm wrapped around her shoulders.

In one quick, fluid motion, Aodhán pulled out his wand and pointed it right at mother's throat. "Perhaps this will make things clearer for you...or maybe..." He lowered his wand so that it was level with Evelyn's head. "...this will."

"Expelliarmus!"

Aodhán was flung backwards by the force of the spell, landing on the ground in an undignified heap.

"Don't even think about drawing your wand, Malfoy" a gruff voice said.

Evelyn whirled around and saw Professor Moody, grim-faced with his wand clenched tightly in his hand.

"I thought I smelt a couple of ferrets," he growled.

Mr Malfoy had gone the colour of sour milk; he knew Professor Moody was referring to when he had turned Draco into a ferret.

Aodhán, clearly enraged, picked himself up off the ground. "This is a family matter, Moody; it does not concern you."

"That's where you're wrong, Harper," he said, stumping forward. "You see, Dumbledore has me here to keep an eye on the likes of you. The Ministry might fawn all over you like an overgrown Leprechaun, but I don't believe in second chances –I say there are spots that don't come off. Spots that never come off, d'you know what I mean?"

Suddenly Aodhán did not seem so cocksure, and neither did Mr Malfoy. In fact, Evelyn thought they looked worried – but why? What had Professor Moody meant by 'spots that never come off'?

"We do not take well to threats," Aodhán said through clenched teeth.

Moody laughed. "Why don't you put it into a letter and send it to someone who cares. Right now, I think it's about time you both left." He then thumbed behind him. "The school gates are that way."

Lucius sneered. "How dare you order us around like children!"

"You can walk there on your own, Malfoy, or I'll drag you to the gates myself." Moody leaned back on his walking stick. "It's your choice."

There was a tense silence and Evelyn thought she was going to be caught in the middle of a duel. But finally Aodhán stalked off in the direction of the school gates; Mr Malfoy reluctantly followed.

"That's an unfortunate family connection you have, Harper," Moody said, his magical eye following the two retreating wizards.

"Yes," she replied, clearly shaken, "but you can't choose your family."

"Aye, it's a pity." Moody said, his good eye looking at Evelyn, who quickly looked away, unnerved by him. He then removed a hipflask from his pocket and took a swig. "You can go on up to the castle in peace now."

"Thank you, Professor," her mother said. She then turned to Evelyn. "Come on, sweetheart, let's go."

...

Severus stood in the hallway by the main entrance, his arms folded over his chest. He scowled at the students from beneath his dark fringe as they returned to the castle. Potter had come through the doors a few minutes ago, swaggering along with the golden dragon's egg tucked under his arm and his broom slung over his shoulder. He had been flanked by Miss Granger and Weasley. Evidently he was on speaking terms again with the redhead again – a pity. Potter had shown a glimmer of potential in Potions over the past few weeks; of course, that was mainly due to the fact that Miss Granger had been his Potions partner. But he would quickly revert back to his natural state of mediocrity with Weasley as his partner.

All through the first task he had kept a close watch on Potter. He remembered how Quirrell had tried to hurl the boy from his broom in first year; only Severus' counter-spell had saved him. And this afternoon it would have been all too easy for someone to have sent Potter right into the jaws of the Hungarian Horntail. But nothing had happened. Indeed, the boy had done better than anyone could have predicted.

The next task was not until February. Yet, Severus doubted he would have much success in discovering the identity of Voldemort's proponent before that. Whoever it was had taken great care to conceal themselves, but to what purpose? Why not kill Potter and be done with it? After the task, Dumbledore had made a passing comment that he should consider utilising Sirius' ability to roam the school grounds undetected. Severus had made no response. He had taken it as a suggestion rather than a direct instruction, and as such, he had chosen to dismiss it.

Another group of students came through the main doors, the girls' piercing laughter jarring Severus from his thoughts. Directly behind them were Deirdre and Evelyn. Deirdre whispered something to their daughter, who looked up at her and then nodded reassuringly. After giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze, she let Evelyn go her own way. Neither of them noticed him standing in the shadows, but it was obvious to him that something had happened.

Twenty minutes later, when his supervision duty ended, Severus headed in the direction of the hospital wing. He made the decision to speak with Deirdre rather than Evelyn, mainly because he had already called Evelyn to his office once before that day, but there was also the fact that he could take a blunter approach with his wife.

When he reached the hospital wing, Severus hoped that Deirdre had not acquired any patients within the past twenty minutes. The beds, however, were all empty when he entered the ward. The door to the Nurse's office was open and Deirdre was seated at a large, mahogany desk, her head down as she penned a letter. Severus stood in the doorway and cleared his throat. She stopped mid-sentence and looked up at him.

"Shall I come back later?" he asked.

"Is it important?"

Her features might have been a picture of calmness, but he knew her better than that.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Something has upset you."

She went back to writing. "I'm fine."

He folded his arms. "And I'm a hippogriff..."

She heaved a sigh. "I ran into my cousin, Aodhán," she said, dipping the nip of the quill into an inkwell, all the while avoiding his gaze. "Neither of us was thrilled about it."

"Was Malfoy with him?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"It was the usual rant about my mother being a Muggle-born."

Severus was not convinced it was the whole truth of what happened. "Did he threaten you?"

He saw the nib of the quill she was using falter briefly. "Professor Moody was there."

That's not what I asked you," he said, his impatience growing. "What are you hiding from me, Deirdre?"

She glared up at him. "That's a bit rich coming from you."

Something lurched in his stomach but he ignored it. "Meaning what exactly?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Dammit Deirdre, stop being so difficult!"

"Feel free to leave, then, if I'm being such a pain in the arse."

Severus had had enough. He slammed the door of the office closed and covered the short distance to her desk. "I want to know now what this is about."

Tossing the quill in her hand onto the desk, she stood up and leaned across the desk, leaving only inches between them. "Tell me, Severus, how long has the Dark Mark been visible? A week? A month?"

Severus' blood went cold.

She knew.

"How...?" he managed.

"It doesn't matter how I know," she said backing away from him. She crossed to the fireplace and wrapped her arms around herself, almost as if she suddenly felt as cold as he did.

Severus remained where he was, not knowing what else to do. When the silence between them became almost unbearable, he said, "I admit I should have told you..."

She looked over at him. "Then why didn't you?"

He covered his left forearm with his right hand. "Things will be different this time, Deirdre.

"You don't think I know that?" She raked an unsteady hand through her hair, the first sign that she felt something other than anger.

Severus gripped his forearm tighter. "I will have to do things... I will have to allow things to happen..."

She grimaced.

His mouth twisted with bitterness. "I disgust you."

"That thing disgusts me."

"It won't cast curses, though...will it?

"What are you trying to do, Severus?"

"I am only telling you the truth."

She let her arms drop to her sides as her eyes spit blue fire at him. "Is this where I am supposed to run away, to realise what a terrible mistake I have made with my life?"

"Only you can answer that, Deirdre."

Suddenly she drew her wand.

Severus stiffened. "What are you doing?"

She placed the tip of her wand to her temple. "It's the only way I can make you understand..." She drew out a glistening strand and placed it into a phial. "I made my decision about you – about us – a long time ago."

Deirdre set the phial onto the desk. "Take it."

For a long moment Severus stared at the phial. What memory had she given him? Did he even want to see it?

Finally, he picked it up and slipped it into his pocket.

He looked over at her again but she had turned her back to him. She was trembling. She seemed so vulnerable. He realised then how much pain he had caused her. He had let fear and self-loathing consume him. It had caused him to doubt her.

Leaving the nurse's office, he took the corridor that led back to the dungeons.

Once he had reached his office, Severus removed the Pensive from its locked cupboard. He heaved it onto the desk for the second time that day. He then removed the phial from his pocket and poured Deirdre's memory into the stone bowl. He bent forwards, closed his eyes, and plunged into the silvery substance.

Severus found himself in the living room at Spinner's End. Deirdre sat on the sofa, her attention fixed on Evelyn asleep in her arms. Their daughter could not have been more than a few weeks old. There was a knock on the front door and Deirdre looked up; he knew straight away that she had not slept properly in days. She carefully laid Evelyn in a Moses basket beside the sofa and went to answer the door.

As he followed her into the hallway, he saw a tall outline through the frosted glass. Deirdre drew her wand, and he almost reached for his but then he remembered it was only a memory. Even so, he took a protective stance behind her as she opened the front door.

"Professor Dumbledore..." Deirdre said, her voice shaking. "What are you doing here?"

He nodded his head in greeting. "Good evening, Deirdre. May I come in?"

"Yes, of course." She opened the door wider so he could enter. "Have you seen Severus? He hasn't been home for days..."

"Severus is the reason I am here." Dumbledore replied grimly as he stepped into the house.

Deirdre closed the front door. "Where is he?"

The desperation in her eyes tore at Severus' heart.

"I'm afraid he was arrested three days ago," Dumbledore said. "I only learnt of it this evening when he was finally allowed to contact someone."

"No!" Her legs buckled underneath her but she grasped at the sideboard for support. "He can't have been – he was in the Order!"

"Severus' role in the Order was only known to me."

"Then why aren't you at the Ministry? Tell them he was in the Order!"

"Unfortunately it does not work like that," Dumbledore said softly. "There will be a trial in a few weeks and I will have the opportunity to speak on his behalf before the Wizengamot."

"A few weeks?" Her face paled. "Where will he be until then?"

"He is to be taken to Azkaban in the morning."

Horror filled Deirdre's face. "Azkaban..." she whispered. "That place...it is...it will..."

"I will do my utmost to ensure he is set free," Dumbledore said, concern for her in his periwinkle eyes evident.

"And if the Wizengamot won't listen to you?"

He grew solemn. "He will receive a life sentence in Azkaban."

Deirdre covered her mouth with her hand, attempting to stifle an anguished cry. She looked ready to break. Severus wanted to hold her, to reassure her that he was a free man, but she was just a memory. He could only look on helplessly as she struggled to compose herself again.

"Let me go with you," she finally said, "I'll testify too. They can give me Veritaserum, use Legilimency, or whatever it takes for me to prove to them he was loyal to you and not to that...that monster."

"My dear," Dumbledore said gently, "the very reason Severus agreed to join the Order was to ensure your safety. There is a lot of fear and confusion in the Wizarding world right now; you are the wife of a Death Eater and you will be treated with suspicion – perhaps with even more than that. It would be best if your relationship to him is kept secret; Severus would not want you to endanger yourself, or your daughter."

Severus saw the subtle shift in her eyes when Dumbledore mentioned Evelyn. She then worried her bottom lip like Evelyn often did when she was contemplating something – he knew she was not ready to accept complete defeat.

"I'll do as you say, but I want to attend the trial."

Dumbledore's expression grew grave. "You may not like what you hear, Deirdre."

She drew in a deep breath. "I won't pretend I don't know what sorts of things Severus has been forced to do. I work at St. Mungo's; I've seen what Death Eaters are capable of." She blinked back tears. "But, I also know him, and he's not an evil man, Professor – he's not."

"You are quite right, my dear," he said. "And I will do my best to convince the Wizengamot of it."

"Thank you, Professor." She raked a hand through her hair. "What about the Potter's son...is he safe?"

"Yes, he is safe with his aunt."

She looked at him. "I know about the oath; Severus told me before...before he was arrested."

"I assumed he would tell you,"

"What will you do if...if..."

"You do not need to concern yourself with that, my dear," he said gently, but then his voice took on a grave tone. "However, securing Severus' freedom, Deirdre, will also risk his future. He will be considered a traitor by Lord Voldemort."

She flinched at his use of the Dark Lord's name, but she met the headmaster's gaze with a hint of defiance in her eyes. "I'm not going to resign my husband to a lifetime in Azkaban. When You-Know-Who returns, we'll face it – together. I'm not so naive that I don't know what Severus will have to do to regain his trust – but I know how important he will be to the Order. You won't be able to fight another war without him."

"Spoken like a true Ravenclaw," he said with a small smile. He then placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "I will keep you informed of when the trail will be."

"Thank you, Professor."

When the headmaster left, Deirdre stood at the front door for a long moment, almost sagging against it. She was beyond the point of exhaustion. "Please..." she whispered, almost in a desperate prayer, "let him come back to me..."

Severus had seen enough. He quickly withdrew himself from the Pensive, but he remained hunched over it, gripping the sides tightly. That was a memory he would never take any pleasure in. But he understood why Deirdre had given it to him.

...

Deirdre had just returned to her office after giving a third year student a pain-relief potion for a headache, when she heard a pop behind her.

A house-elf bowed low then said, "I is begging your pardon, Healer Harper, but Professor Snape is giving you this."

She took the phial and folded up parchment from the house-elf. "Thank you."

"Healer Harper is very welcome."

The house-elf disappeared with another pop.

Deirdre sat down at her desk and unfolded the parchment. There were two sentences written on it in Severus' spiky handwriting:

Forgive me for doubting you. I hope you know that without you and Evelyn there would be nothing to fight for.

Severus.

...

A week had passed since the first task, yet Evelyn could not stop thinking about Professor Karkaroff or her mother's cousin. The fact that both of them showed a former Death Eater their left forearm had to mean something – but what?

She had spent as much time as she could in the library, searching for any information on Death Eaters. There were plenty of books on the war, but most of them simply gave lists of Death Eaters who had been imprisoned, as well as those who were set free.

But, then, she had come across a book tucked away on a bottom shelf in the war section. It was entitled Death Eaters: The Grisly Truth. She had not been sure if she would even be allowed to borrow it, but the assistant librarian on duty – a fifth year Slytherin – had not challenged her. The book was simply stamped with a due date and handed back to her.

She had quickly gathered why grisly was in the title. There were graphic descriptions of Death Eater attacks, most of which she had skipped over, as well as detailed biographies on some of Voldemort's most dedicated followers. After reading a few, Evelyn hoped she would never have to come face to face with the likes of Antonin Dolohov or Bellatrix and Rabastan LeStrange, who had tortured Alice and Frank Longbottom. Evelyn had wondered if they were related to Neville Longbottom, the timid boy in Gryffindor...

"Miss Harper. Miss Harper!"

Professor McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Transfiguration classroom. Evelyn jumped, quickly removing the hand that had been cradling her chin, and sat up straight.

Everyone was watching her as Professor McGonagall peered over the rim of her glasses. She looked as amused as a drenched cat.

"Yes Professor...?"

"The question, Miss Harper – when you are quite ready I would like an answer."

She had no idea what the question was. If she asked for it to be repeated, she would only be given a lecture on how not listening in class would be detrimental to her education. She knew because other students had been lectured on it in the past.

What was the last thing they had been discussing?

She bit her bottom lip. Then it came to her: their homework, which had been to research and write about amphibians that are the most difficult to transfigure.

"Er...A South American tree frog."

Sniggers rippled through the class.

"No Miss Harper, that is not one of the Five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration."

More sniggers were heard throughout the classroom. Evelyn cheeks grew hot and she wanted to slip off her chair and hide under the desk, but Professor McGonagall's stern gaze was still locked onto her.

"Pay attention, Miss Harper."

"Yes Professor."

"Now that you are all listening" Professor McGonagall continued, "I want you to turn to page eighty-three in your textbooks and make detailed notes on the Five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Remember, you must give specific examples and make reference to the historiography surrounding the development of the five principal exceptions."

Evelyn quickly turned to page eighty-three and began reading. She did not want to be caught off-task again.

Beside her, Edmund twirled a quill between his thumb and forefinger; she could see it out of the corner of her eye, and it was as distracting as it was irritating. But then he must have twirled it too much because it flew out of his hand and onto the floor. He gave an annoyed grunt before he slipped off his chair to pick it up.

"Merlin's pants!" Edmund hissed from under the desk.

Evelyn glanced down. "What's wrong?"

"I stood on my quill – have you got a spare one?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Great!" he said as he reached for her schoolbag.

"No..." Evelyn quickly got down off her chair too. "Let me get it."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Opening her schoolbag, she lifted out several books so she could look for a quill, including the one she borrowed from the library last night.

"Miss Harper," Professor McGonagall said, causing Evelyn to flinch and almost bang her head on the underside of the desk, "what are you doing?"

Evelyn came out from beneath the desk. "I was looking for a quill for Ed, Professor."

"Very well..." she said but then her eyes narrowed slightly, "let me see that book in your hand."

Glancing down, Evelyn realised she was holding the book on Death Eaters. Her fingers covered the title, but a photograph of the Dark Mark rising into the night sky was clearly visible. "It's nothing, Professor - really."

Professor McGonagall's mouth tightened. "I will be the judge of that – now, give it to me."

Knowing that the professor would not hesitate to send for her head of house, Evelyn reluctantly handed the book to her.

Professor McGonagall glanced at the title, and Evelyn did not need to be a Legilimens to know she was not impressed. "See me at the end of the lesson, Miss Harper."

"Yes Professor," Evelyn said grimly.

When the lesson ended, Evelyn remained seated at her desk. Edmund had given her a sympathetic look as he had slung his schoolbag over his shoulder; they both knew that McGonagall took no prisoners.

As the last student left the room, the door closed with an almost condemning thud.

"Come here, Miss Harper."

Rising from her chair, Evelyn walked to the front of the room.

The professor swept a hand over the book. "Are you aware that only sixth years have permission to read this?"

"No Professor..." When Professor McGonagall raised her brow in suspicion, Evelyn quickly added, "I didn't get it in the sixth form section; it was just in the normal section, and no one told me I couldn't borrow it."

"I take it Madam Pince was not on the issue desk at the time."

"No..."

"I shall have to speak to her about this," Professor McGonagall said more to herself than to Evelyn. She then took a moment to adjust her glasses. "Frankly, I am shocked at you – reading something like this. It is completely unsuitable for a second year student. Therefore, I am going to have to inform Professor Snape. It will be up to him to decide what further action should be taken."

Evelyn groaned internally. "Can't I just do a week's detention with you?"

Annoyance flashed in Professor McGonagall's eyes. "No, you may not. You are fortunate I did not send you directly to the headmaster."

Evelyn almost wished she had.

Professor McGonagall took out her wand and summoned a Patronus. A silvery cat materialised from the end of the wand and landed gracefully on all fours. It then bounded across the room, passing through the door.

All Evelyn could do now was to wait for her father to arrive.

Chapter 27: Chapter 26

I am SO sorry it had taken me a YEAR to update this story! I am pretty certain it will not take me that long to get the next chapter posted. Thank you to everyone who follows this story. I have used some material directly from GOF, so all credit goes to JKR, and not to me.

Enjoy!

Chapter 26

Evelyn glanced at the clock on the wall but barely a minute had passed since the last time she had looked at it. She turned her attention back to her Transfigurations textbook, to the same page she had been staring aimlessly at for the last ten minutes. It was difficult to concentrate, not when her father could come through the classroom door at any moment.

She didn't really understand why Professor McGonagall had reacted so badly. Compared to what other students got up to around the castle, her misdemeanour barely registered on the scale. She had even heard rumours of how Harry Potter and his friends had snuck into the Restricted Section of the library, and they were never punished for it.

Professor McGonagall was generally a strict but fair teacher, but on this occasion Evelyn thought she had leaned too much to the strict side. Maybe being a Gryffindor, or rather, being in Harry Potter's inner circle did offer a certain level of immunity, at least where ex-Gryffindor-now-professors were concerned.

Suddenly, a silvery shape burst through a wall and glided into the room. Evelyn quickly saw that it was a raven: her father's Patronus. It landed elegantly on Professor McGonagall's desk. Evelyn leaned forward, wanting to hear what message her father had sent, however, it was unintelligible to her ears; it was his voice but it sounded like a really bad signal on a Muggle radio. Clearly, though, Professor McGonagall could understand every word. She nodded a few times, as if in agreement with what was being said, but all the while her features remained quite serious.

As the raven faded, Professor McGonagall stood up and, motioning with her hand, she said, "Pack away your things, Miss Harper."

"I'm free to go?" Evelyn replied, feeling hopeful.

Professor McGonagall peered over the rim of her spectacles. "Of course not."

"Oh..."

It was wishful thinking to believe her father would have told Professor McGonagall that she was overreacting, and to let Evelyn go on her merry way.

"Your things - pack them away, quickly now."

Evelyn frowned slightly. "But I thought you said –"

"Professor Snape asked to see you in his office."

"Why?"

"Because that is what he has requested."

"What else did he say?"

"It is none of your concern, Miss Harper."

Evelyn heard the sharp undercurrent in Professor McGonagall's tone and decided not to push her any further. Clearly, being the Head of Slytherin's daughter did not give her any special status in the professor's eyes.

Closing her Transfiguration textbook, Evelyn put it into her schoolbag, along with a quill and a bottle of ink.

"You had better take this with you too." Professor McGonagall motioned towards the offending book with a nod of her head. "It is not to leave your schoolbag until you reach Professor Snape's office. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, professor," Evelyn replied.

There would be no time to read it anyway. Professor McGonagall would more than likely let her father know when she left the Transfiguration classroom, and it took a little under five minutes to walk to the dungeons. If she was late, her father would demand to know why.

As Evelyn slid off her chair to get the book, the door to the classroom banged open, causing her to jump. Turning around, she saw Professor Moody lumber through the doorway, his grizzly features set in a kind of grim determination.

"Can I help you, Moody?" McGonagall asked.

Moody leaned on his long staff. His good eye was fixed on Professor McGonagall while his magical one spun in frantic-like circles in its socket. His good eye had not yet clocked Evelyn, which probably meant that he was not there because of her.

"I'm looking for some books," he said gruffly.

"Books?" Professor McGonagall replied with evident surprise in her voice.

"Aye, on the Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"And you came to a Transfiguration classroom looking for them?"

"I haven't gone completely mad," Moody growled.

"I was under the impression you did not use books in class," Professor McGonagall added disapprovingly.

"No, I don't; a waste of bloody time they are," Moody said. He lifted his hipflask from his pocket and took a long swig of it, then wiped his mouth the back of his hand. "These books belong to the library."

"The library?"

"Aye."

Professor McGonagall's brow rose slightly. "Why are you hunting down library books?"

"Madam Pince complained to Dumbledore..." Moody took another drink from his hipflask. "...because I might have removed the Age Restriction Spell on them."

"Might have?" Professor McGonagall said, clearly aghast.

"If younger students are going to read about the Dark Arts, I don't want them reading about Gnomes and Cornish pixies; it won't do them any good when they come face to face with a dark wizard. Might as well let them know what they'll really be up against."

Evelyn watched as Professor McGonagall's lips flattened into an almost non-existent line. It started to make sense to Evelyn why the professor had reacted so badly to her having the book: her teacher must have thought she had removed the Age Restriction Spell – or had someone do it for her. It also explained why the professor had wanted to involve her father; tampering with those sorts of spells in school could lead to expulsion.

"Moody, there is a reason why first and second years learn about those things – a very good reason," Professor McGonagall said, her voice steadily rising. "They are children, Moody, not Aurors."

Moody scratched his chin unconcernedly. "I suppose..."

"There is no supposing about it," Professor McGonagall said sternly. "From now on you will follow the curriculum set out for each year group. Do I make myself clear?"

"Aye...Perfectly." Moody replied, seemingly unfazed.

Evelyn doubted he would follow the curriculum but his answer seemed to satisfy Professor McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall picked up the book on Death Eaters. "Now, I believe this is one of the books you are looking for. I confiscated it off a student."

"Which one?" he asked, taking the book from her.

"Miss Harper..."

Moody's magical eye stopped dead and focused on her. Evelyn tried not to flinch under its unnatural gaze. There were rumours that he could see into people's minds and read their thoughts, and even though her father had told her it was utter nonsense, at that moment she was tempted to believe it was true.

"...but you do not need to concern yourself, the matter is being dealt with."

"By Snape, I suppose."

"Professor Snape is her head of house," Professor McGonagall said.

Moody scoffed. "A good lot that'll do; we both know where Snape's real loyalties lie –"

"That is quite enough, Moody," Professor McGonagall said firmly. "If you wish raise a concern about a member of staff then do so – in private."

Evelyn clenched her hands as Moody simply grunted at Professor McGonagall before taking another swig from his hipflask. She hated how everyone refused to accept her father's importance to the Order during the war, and how some, like Moody, continued to believe he had been a willing supporter of Voldemort.

Moody wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Just to be certain, I'd like Miss Harper to empty out her schoolbag. There are still several other books unaccounted for."

Professor McGonagall gave an irritated sigh, one that seemed to say that enough of her afternoon had been taken up already. Nevertheless, she motioned to Evelyn that she needed to open her schoolbag.

Undoing the buckles, Evelyn took out several sheets of parchment first, on to which she strategically set her textbooks. She then lifted out two quills, a bottle of ink and a purse with a few Sickles and Knuts in it; she also added trading cards to the pile, as well as a bag of Jelly Babies, the contents of which were beginning to turn into a gelatinous ball, a few sweet wrappers, a used tissue, and a sock that had randomly found its way into her bag.

Evelyn, smirking slightly, stepped back and let Moody inspect everything. Professor McGonagall did not seem amused by her facetiousness, but Professor Moody had wanted her to empty everything out of her schoolbag; she was simply doing what she had been told to do.

He stared at the pile of books for a lot longer than Evelyn thought was necessary, considering she had set them with their spines facing him, so that he could see the title of each one clearly.

"I only have my own textbooks, Professor," Evelyn said, addressing Professor McGonagall.

"Evidently – you can put all of it away again." She then turned to Moody. "I will be sure to keep an eye out for any students who are not reading age-appropriate books."

Moody tapped the book he was holding with a meaty finger. "I'll hold on to this one until the others are found."

Evelyn sensed Moody's gaze on her as he spoke, but she kept her head down as she gathered up her things. Very quickly a sense of thankfulness spread through her that it had been Professor McGonagall that had caught her with the book, and not Professor Moody.

As he stumped from the room she counted herself lucky. Not every teacher in the school could have stood their ground with Moody as firmly as Professor McGonagall had done. Her Transfigurations teacher did not seem remotely intimidated by the ex-Auror. Evelyn wondered if, perhaps, they had known each other for a long time; maybe they had been students at Hogwarts together.

Evelyn took her time packing up her schoolbag, to ensure Moody would be far away from the Transfigurations classroom by the time she left too.

"I'll be sure to let Professor Snape you are on your way." Professor McGonagall said as Evelyn slipped the straps of her schoolbag around her shoulders.

"Yes Professor."

Evelyn had known she would.

The Transfiguration corridor was empty when Evelyn left the classroom. Turning left, she took the shortest route the dungeons. The corridors were virtually empty, which wasn't very surprising since it was a Friday afternoon; most students were either relaxing in their respective common rooms or wandering about outside in the fresh air.

Thankfully Professor Moody was nowhere in sight.

She had almost reached the corridor that led straight to the dungeon staircase when she heard her name being called. She turned around and saw Moody; he had obviously been waiting for her.

"Come with me Harper."

"But I am supposed to go straight to Professor Snape's office."

"Snape can wait," he growled.

Too afraid to argue with him, Evelyn followed him up the staircase that led to the Defence Against the Dark Arts corridor, and to where his office was too. It had been Professor Lupin's office last year. Evelyn still missed him. She wished he hadn't resigned; Defence classes had been so much better when he was her teacher. He had actually taught the class interesting things, and not just 'constant vigilance' all of the time.

The dull clunk of Moody's staff echoed up the spiral staircase. It was a strangely ominous sound. Even though Professor Moody had intervened and saved her and her mother from Aodhán Harper and Mr Malfoy, she was still wary of him; she had not forgotten how he had hurt and humiliated her in her first Defence class. And neither had she forgotten his overt animosity towards her father.

Moody unlocked the door to his office and Evelyn followed him into it.

"Sit down," Moody said, and Evelyn sat, looking around.

She had visited this office under its previous occupant. When Lupin had lived here, you were likely to come across a specimen of some fascinating new Dark creature he had procured for them to study in class. Now, however, the office was full of a number of exceptionally odd objects that Evelyn supposed Moody had used in the days when he had been an Auror.

On his desk stood what looked like a large, cracked glass spinning top; Evelyn recognised it at once as a Sneakoscope, because her best friend, Edmund, owned one, though it was much smaller than Moody's. In the corner on a small table stood an object that looked something like an extra-squiggly, golden television aerial. It was humming slightly. What appeared to be a mirror hung opposite Evelyn on the wall, but it was not reflecting the room. Shadowy figures were moving around inside it, none of them clearly in focus.

Evelyn wanted to ask him what everything was for, but somehow she did not think Professor Moody had brought her to his office for a friendly chat.

Moody sat down at his desk and stretched out his wooden leg with a groan. "We'll get right down to business, Harper. Let me see those sheets of parchment you have in your bag."

"What for?"

"I want to have a proper read of them."

Evelyn's eyes widened slightly.

"You thought you were being clever by hiding them under your books, didn't you?" he said, and gave a short, harsh laugh. "I haven't survived this long by being stupid. Now, give me the parchment."

Evelyn stomach went into knots; his magical eye must have enabled him to see through three thick textbooks. Once again she was too terrified to argue with him, so she had no other choice but to what he had asked. Opening her schoolbag, she lifted out the sheets of parchment and turned them over the professor.

He laid them out on his desk, side by side, poring over them intently. He seemed to take his time in reading one particular piece of parchment. Evelyn craned her neck slightly to see what it was. She recognised the dense paragraphs and she knew they were parts of a chapter she had copied from the book.

"These are some very detailed notes you have here," he said finally, watching her closely. "What's it for?"

Evelyn swallowed, hard. "A sixth year is paying me to do some research for him."

The squiggly golden aerial in the corner of the room suddenly began to hum louder.

"You hear that," Moody said, "it's a Secrecy Sensor. It's been humming ever since I got here; too much interference – students in every direction lying about why they haven't done their homework. But if someone were to tell lies right and close to it, it'd hum just like it is now."

"Professor Dumbledore brought me here this year to keep an eye on things," he continued menacingly, "so if what you've been doing is meant for harm –"

"It's not, I promise."

The humming softened.

"Go on..." Moody said.

Evelyn thought quickly, knowing she would need to be careful about how much she said.

"Well...there's been odd stuff happening lately..."

"Like what?" Moody said sharply.

Evelyn thought quickly. "I've read things in the Daily Prophet..."

The squiggly golden aerial hummed like it had when she first came into his office. It struck Evelyn then that the Secrecy Sensor, while it could detect outright lies, it could not tell when someone was only conveying part of the truth.

"Then there was the Dark Mark at the World Cup and the Death Eaters and everything."

Moody rested his right elbow on the desk and leaned forward. "It still doesn't add up, Harper. I've never come across a second year who was so fascinated with the Dark Mark..." He paused briefly. "...Not since a student by the name of Barty Crouch..."

Evelyn screwed her nose up. "That stuffy man from the Ministry?"

Moody gave a gruff snort. "His son – but he's dead, so we won't waste time on the likes of him."

His response would have shocked Evelyn if she didn't already know how much he hated dark wizards, and Mr Crouch's son, it seemed, had been one.

"What I'm saying Harper, is you don't want people to get the wrong impression of you, considering who you're related to..."

Evelyn stiffened slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Aodhán Harper was in You-Know-Who's inner circle. He was one of the worst; he would have gotten life in Azkaban, maybe even the Dementor's Kiss for what he did." Moody slammed his hand on the desk, causing Evelyn to jump. "But he got away, didn't he; damn, bloody coward, faking his own death..."

Moody lifted his hipflask from his coat pocket and took a drink from it; it seemed to calm him down.

"The thing is, Harper, you don't want people thinking you're a supporter of You-Know-Who."

Horror filled Evelyn's face. "But I'm not!"

"Anyone who finds this is going to think just that," he said, tapping his finger on a sheet of parchment several times.

She stared at him, not knowing what to say. If she tried to justify herself, she might end up digging a hole big enough for her and her parents to be dragged into. Instead, she worried her bottom lip, attempting to look as innocently ignorant as she possibly could.

"My advice to you is to stay away from all this talk of Death Eaters and the Dark Mark."

As if to stress his point, he gathered up the sheets of parchment and tossed them into the fireplace. Evelyn watched helplessly as all of her research went up in flames. She had not yet had time to figure out how all the different pieces of information fitted together, and she would not have another chance to, at least not for a few years. Professor Moody had the book, and once it was returned to the library the Age Restriction Spell would be placed on it again.

"You're free to go now, Harper," he said.

"Thank you, sir," she replied quietly.

She got up from her chair and went to the door.

"Harper..."

Evelyn turned around. "Yes sir?"

"I'll be keeping a close watch on you, just in case you're tempted not to take my advice."

"Yes Professor," she said.

Without giving him time to say anything else, Evelyn left his office. The moment the door closed behind her she hurried along the corridor and down the stone steps, taking them two at a time.

...

Severus signed his name at the bottom of a letter to be sent home to the parents of a delinquent third year, Boris Scroggs. The letter not only reiterated the correct behaviour during Potions lessons, it also contained a detailed list of every piece of equipment and ingredient that needed to be replaced. Scroggs had dropped magnesium strips into another student's cauldron, causing it to light up like a fireworks display on Guy Fawkes Night. Despite a few singed eyebrows and globs of Antidote to Common Potions splashed everywhere, no one was seriously harmed in any way. However, if Severus had had his way, Scroggs would be on the Hogwarts Express back to London, but as he was a Gryffindor it was not within his authority to expel him - a pity.

He had just picked up a piece of sealing wax when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in..." he said.

Briefly glancing up he saw Evelyn come through the doorway.

"You're late," he said, focusing on melting the sealing wax over a candle flame.

"I know – I'm sorry."

Severus let a few blobs of wax drop onto the envelope. "Sit down."

He heard her sigh as she removed her schoolbag and slumped into a chair.

After pressing the Hogwarts seal into the wax, he set the envelope to one side. He would take it with him to Hogsmeade tomorrow, as he had a few parcels to collect from the post office there.

"Why are you late?" he asked, "I received a message from Professor McGonagall over fifteen minutes ago that you were on your way."

"Professor Moody wanted me to speak with him in his office."

Severus frowned. "What did he want?"

"He came into Professor McGonagall's classroom a few minutes after you sent your Patronus; he was looking for some Defence books." Evelyn's eyes then widened slightly as she sat forward in the chair. "Professor Moody took the Age Restriction Spell off Defence books; that's why all those sixth year books were in the normal section of the library."

Severus did not even so much as blink. "Yes, I am aware of that."

Minerva had sent him another Patronus to tell him Evelyn was on her way to his office, as well as an explanation on how she had gotten her hands on the book. He was relieved she had not been involved in tampering with the school's precautionary spells. Even so, by Minerva's tone he had sensed she was still concerned by the fact that Evelyn had wanted to read the book in the first place. Severus chose not to address that particular issue in his response to her; indeed, he was under no obligation to do so.

"We will discuss your choice of books shortly," he continued in low but firm tone, and Evelyn slowly shrunk back in her seat. "For now, I want to know what Moody spoke to you about."

"He still doesn't know you're my dad," she replied.

Severus levelled his gaze at her. "That is not what I asked."

She smoothed out imaginary creases in her skirt before answering him. "I had copied some things out of the book I'd borrowed; Professor Moody saw them in my bag with his magical eye. He made me hand it over to him, and then he threw it all into the fire."

"What did you copy out?"

There was a slight hesitation before she answered. "Why does it even matter?"

"The very fact you borrowed that particular book is reason enough."

She folded her arms. "Well, I don't have the book anymore. Professor Moody took it."

Severus sensed she was being defensive, both about the book and what Moody had said to her in his office. There was little point in trying to force an answer out of her, so he decided on a different approach.

He pushed his chair back and stood up, crossing to a small bookshelf in the corner of his office. While Severus had never been appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, much to his chagrin, it had not stopped sixth form Slytherin students from seeking his help with their N.E.W.T.s. As such, he kept a collection of Defence textbooks in his office.

Running a finger along the spines of the books, he found the one he was looking for and removed it from the shelf. He looked at the front cover, at the picture of the Dark Mark rising into the night sky. It was an image he had hoped never to see in real life again, but the Quidditch World Cup had ended that hope. And now, with the Dark Mark on his arm becoming clearer with every passing day, it would not be long before Voldemort plunged the Wizarding world into another war.

He brought the book back to his desk and set it down in front of Evelyn.

She kept her arms folded, although Severus saw a flicker of interest mixed with uncertainty in her eyes.

Severus was not angry with her, contrary to what she might think. She had every right to know about the past, even if it meant uncovering distasteful facts about his role in it. However, it did not mean that he was comfortable with it; in fact, there were times when he would rather be a hypocrite and ban his daughter from all war-related material than have her know what he had been forced to do.

"This is first and foremost a history book," he replied evenly as he sat down, "but the Board of Governors did not deem it suitable for students under the age of sixteen. However, since the Defence Against the Dark Arts in sixth year focuses on much darker forms of magic, it is important students have a firm grounding in areas such as curses, and how they can be deflected. The war is full of such examples."

"I wasn't interested in reading about spells," she said, not looking him.

"What were you interested in then?"

The question hung in the air for a long moment before Evelyn lifted her gaze to his.

"I wanted to know more about Death Eaters."

Severus leaned back his chair, steepled his fingers and regarded her with a thoughtful expression.

"We discussed this openly in my office last week," he said, reminding her of their conversation before the First Task. "You could have spoken with me if you had any further questions."

"But this was different..." she started but then she stopped abruptly.

Severus' brow furrowed slightly. "Different? How?"

She began to worry her bottom lip but Severus did not push for an answer. It mattered to him that his daughter answered him because she trusted him, and not because he had forced an answer out of her.

"I saw some things I don't think I was supposed to."

Severus' insides tensed, but he asked her smoothly, "What did you see?"

She fell silent, but once again Severus did not push her for an answer.

"OK..." she finally began with a deep breath. "That day in the Potions classroom, when Professor Karkaroff burst in, I saw him show you something on his left arm. I asked Mum what it was but she said she didn't know."

"I see."

Severus was already aware of this. A few days after the confrontation in her office, Deirdre had informed him that their daughter had inadvertently told her that the Dark Mark had returned. They both agreed there was not need to address the matter any further, as Evelyn appeared to have been clueless as to what Karkaroff had shown him. However, as she spoke to him he suspected she now knew far more than he would have ever wanted her to.

"And then after the First Task I saw mum's cousin show Mr Malfoy something on his arm. I couldn't see what it was, but it seemed odd that two former Death Eaters were showing their left arms to two other...well...you know..."

"Yes, I know," he said, understanding that she was referring to him.

Severus did not blame her that she found it difficult to accept that her father had been a Death Eater, especially after what had happened to her mother at the Quidditch World Cup. But, he was thankful that she had chosen to see him as he was now, and not what he had been.

He slid the book towards her. "Show me what parts you copied out."

She picked up the book and flicked through it, stopping about a third of the way through the book.

"Here," she said, handing it back to him, "it was this page."

Severus took it off of her and began to read.

...After the Giant's defeat, the tide of the war began to turn. Death Eaters Evan Rosier and Silas Wilkes met their ends at the hands of Aurors, now given permission by the Ministry per and edict from the office of Bartemius Crouch Sr. to employ the Unforgiveable Curses against their enemies...battles between Aurors and Death Eaters grew bloodier...little mercy was shown on either side...

...Upon disposing of the bodies of the two Death Eaters, it was discovered they had the Dark Mark tattooed on the underside of their left forearm. Ministry officials simply deemed the tattoos to be clear evidence that these men had been fanatical in their support of You-Know-Who...

...It is not known if every Death Eater had such a tattoo on their forearms, or elsewhere on their bodies. There may well be documented evidence of it somewhere in Azkaban's prison records, but the former Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold, had them closed off to the public after the war, and the current Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has never revoked his predecessor's statute...

Severus closed the book and set it onto the desk.

"Has this helped you to understand what you saw?" he asked, wanting to gauge how much understanding she had gleaned from it.

"Sort of..."

Severus tilted his head slightly to one side. "Explain."

"I think that Mum's cousin and Professor Karkaroff have the Dark Mark too." She looked down at her clasped hands. "I heard the professor tell you that it had not been as clear since...I don't really know when because that's when you told him to leave the classroom." She lifted her gaze to him again. "I think it must be magical or something."

"Magical? He is a wizard, Evelyn," he said dryly.

She huffed slightly. "I know that. But, for someone as scary as Professor Karkaroff to be frightened of a tattoo; well, it's got to be more than what it seems, doesn't it?"

"What has brought you to that conclusion?" he asked, deflecting the direction of the conversation back on to her.

"I thought maybe it had something to do with dark magic and You-Know-Who. We learned in Defence lessons that a witch or wizard's magic only remains active for as long as they are alive; once they die, their magic dies too." Evelyn pressed her lips together for a moment before continuing. "But I heard someone in the common room say that their parents said that You-Know-Who didn't really die, he just sort of got the magical stuffing kicked out of him."

"I see."

"Do you think they're right?"

She looked at him in such a way that seemed to suggest that his answer would settle all her questions on the matter.

Severus was quiet for a moment as he decided on how best to address the matter. Lying to her would be the easiest option; it would also be the worst option. When Voldemort did finally return, how could he explain it to her without weaving more lies? In the end he would only become trapped in his own web, as well as losing his daughter's trust.

"I believe something of You-Know-Who remained," he said smoothly.

"So...he's alive?"

"Not exactly; he is more of a disembodied spirit – alive but not living."

"He's a ghost, then?"

"No, he isn't."

Evelyn wrinkled her nose slightly, clearly not understanding such an abstract concept.

Severus understood her confusion; he had felt the same way when Dumbledore had first told him that Voldemort was still alive. For as powerful as Voldemort had been, not even he could have survived the Killing Curse. His soul would have passed on to whatever lay beyond death. However, Dumbledore was convinced something had kept it bound to this earth. The headmaster had not told him why he was so certain, but Severus had believed him nevertheless.

Of course, wizards and witches had tried to cheat death for centuries, Nicolas Flamel being the most recent one he had heard of. It was an area of the Dark Arts Severus had read a lot about, although he was not personally interested in prolonging his own life beyond its natural course. There was one area, however, which he knew little about: the Horcrux.

One of the few books that contained information about Horcrux, Magick Moste Evile, mentioned it almost in passing: "Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction..." But he had managed to piece enough information together over the years to know that a Horcrux could contain part of a person's soul; they would be able live on even after their body was destroyed.

It was only after the incident with the Chamber of Secrets, and Riddle's diary, which had been pierced through with a basilisk fang, that Severus began to suspect that Voldemort had created Horcruxes. It explained how the Dark Lord had not died when faced with something far more powerful that magic: Love – pure, sacrificial love.

There had once been a copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art in the Hogwarts' library; the only book that did provide specific information on to create a Horcrux. But it had been hidden away by Dumbledore when he became headmaster of Hogwarts.

Voldemort, or Tom Riddle as he was known then, had attended Hogwarts when Armando Dippet was headmaster. And as much as Dippet was charmed into trusting Riddle – according to Dumbledore – even the former headmaster would not have allowed a student to take a causal stroll through the Restricted Section of the library. Nevertheless, Severus was certain that Riddle had somehow managed to get a hold of the book before leaving Hogwarts.

How else would have learned the secrets of the Horcrux?

"Do you think You-Know-Who will ever come back as himself?"

The question drew Severus from his thoughts.

It was something he had asked himself many times. It was obvious that Voldemort did not require his original physical form to wield influence in the world; Quirinus Quirrell had been the evidence of that. Still, Severus did not believe Voldemort would ever be satisfied with a parasitic life, of having to share another's body. He would want to have the command of a body that was solely his. To acquire that,however, he would need to use the darkest of magic.

"Perhaps," he said, not missing how Evelyn stiffened in her chair.

"When?"

"I do not know," he answered truthfully.

"Why is Professor Karkaroff so scared, then? He acted like it could happen really soon."

Severus interlinked his fingers, rested his hands on the desk and leaned forward slightly in his chair. "What I am going to tell you must never be repeated. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said as she shuffled her chair closer to his desk.

"After the war, all of You-Know-Who's most loyal followers were given life-sentences in Azkaban."

"Are they all still there?" asked in barely a whisper.

Severus sensed her unease. "Yes, they are, although I know of one who died not long after he was sentenced."

"What if they escape, like Sirius Black did?"

"If any were Animagi, then they would not have been caught in the first place." He then sneered slightly. "Even if they had been arrested, not all witches and wizards would have taken thirteen years to realise that Dementors are far less tuned to animal emotions than they are to human emotions."

She tried to be serious in her response, but Severus saw that a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of Evelyn's mouth. "What has the Death Eaters being in prison got to do with You-Know-Who's return?"

"There is such a thing as a Regeneration Potion. Dark wizards in the past have used it. It can be used to restore those who have suffered bodily harm," Severus said gravely. "There are various potions, depending on the severity of the damage inflicted. However, they all share a common ingredient: the flesh of a loyal follower, willingly given."

Evelyn grimaced. "That's disgusting."

"Indeed."

"But if everyone who was loyal to You-Know-Who is locked up in Azkaban," she said, scratching the back of her head, "how would he be able to get what he needed?"

"That, Evelyn, is the reason why I am not certain when he will return."

Severus leaned back in his chair, a heaviness pressing down on him. He had purposely not told his daughter about Peter Pettigrew. He had not been seen since the incident in the Shrieking Shack. And while it was possible he was eking out an existence as a sewer rat, he could not ignore the fact that Pettigrew had always been a simpering coward. Life in a sewer would not suit him. He would need protection, though, from the Ministry, as well as from Lupin and Black. His only hope for safe refuge would be to search for the Dark Lord.

The very idea of Pettigrew successfully finding his old master disturbed Severus greatly.

Evelyn folded her arms and laid them on his desk, resting her chin on top of them. "There's no way You-Know-Who would try to break into Azkaban. I bet even he's afraid of Dementors."

"It remains to be seen," Severus said, not wanting to discuss his belief that Dementors were untrustworthy creatures, who had the potential to change their allegiance to any dark wizard who could offer them more victims than the Ministry.

She opened her mouth as if to ask something else but then she seemed to change her mind. Severus, believing he had already said too much, did not push her to ask her question.

"So..." she said, sitting up straight, "are you going to give me a detention?"

Severus leaned back in his chair. "You will come to the Potions classroom next Monday and Tuesday evening at seven."

"Two detentions!" she protested. "That's so unfair."

A smirk threatened to pull at the corner of his mouth but he held it at bay. "Of course, if you would rather not assist me in brewing Veritaserum..."

Suddenly her eyes lit up. "You're actually going to let me help you?"

"You have shown yourself to be quite proficient at potion making."

She smiled, clearly pleased with his comment. "I can't wait!"

"Yes, well, you had better make sure you don't look so eager on Monday evening."

"Oh, yeah, right," she said, "it's supposed to be a detention."

Severus picked up the book to return it to the shelf. "You are free to go now."

"Thanks, Dad," she said, picking up her schoolbag.

"And Evelyn," he said as she headed towards the door, "you are not to repeat anything we have discussed."

"I won't tell a soul, not even Otis."

Severus snorted softly at the mention of her owl.

...

Over a week later, Evelyn, having difficulty with a defensive charm that Professor Moody had set for homework to learn, went to father's quarters to ask for help. She had practiced with Edmund and a few other second year Slytherins in the common room, but none of them seemed particularly keen to put any real force behind their attacking spells, Evelyn included. Technically they were allowed to duel outside of class, if either a teacher or a senior prefect was present. However, the senior Slytherin prefects had been crowded around a radio in a sixth former's dorm room listening to a Quidditch match – the Ballycastle Bats had thrashed the Chudley Cannons two-hundred and twenty to fifty.

She did not expect her father to put any real force behind his spell either, but since he was a fully grown wizard – and a powerful one too – his spells would provide more of a challenge for her. Added to that, he usually gave her advice on her overall form in duelling. Sometimes, though, she hated when he bossed her about: 'Stand up straight!' 'No, you're leaning too much on your right foot.' 'How many times do I have to tell you – do not lower your wand arm!'

When she reached his quarters, she gave the password to the Black Prince, the knight in the portrait that guarded the entrance to his quarters. As usual, he bowed regally to her before revealing the doorway. Padding along the short hallway to the living room, she slowed when she heard voices. She paused for a moment, but then she realised that it was a programme her mother liked to listen to on the WWN.

"Hi Mum," she said, crossing over the threshold into the living room.

"Oh, hello sweetheart," her mother said, turning down the volume on the radio. "This is a nice surprise. I thought you'd be busy with your friends today."

"I was, earlier, but Ed and a few others went down to the Quidditch pitch to see if Viktor Krum would be out on his broom. They're obsessed with him."

Her mother picked up a cup of tea from the coffee table. "He is rather famous."

Evelyn's face remained unresponsive. "Yeah, I know, but that doesn't mean I have to spend my Saturday watching him do laps around the pitch on a broom."

Her mother laughed softly. "You sound just like your father."

Evelyn looked around the living room. "Where is Dad?"

"He is on supervision duty in Hogsmeade."

"When will he be back? I need him to help me with my homework."

Her mother took a sip of tea said, "What is it? I might be able to help you."

Evelyn really wanted her father's help, but not wanting to offend her mother, she said, "Professor Moody wants us to learn a deflection spell for Monday."

"Another spell?" her mother said, frowning slightly. "Has Professor Moody ever set you a written homework?

"No, we don't even use books in lessons." Evelyn made a fist with one hand and smacked it against her other palm. "Constant vigilance! That's what Professor Moody is always going on about. He says books are a waste of time."

"That man says a lot of idiotic things."

Evelyn giggled. "Now you sound like Dad."

Setting her tea down, her mother stood up and took out her wand. "Shall we begin? What's the incantation you need to learn?"

"It's Praesidium."

"Ah, I remember learning that in school. Did I ever tell you that I was in the Duelling club at school?"

"You were?"

"Yes, and your father too; we won the mixed doubles Duelling Cup in our final year at school."

Suddenly Evelyn remembered what Professor Lupin had told her last year: her mother had been an excellent dueller. She had even managed to disarm her father. Perhaps her mother could teach her a trick or two; that would really catch her father off guard the next time they duelled.

Evelyn crossed to the other side of the living room while her mother cast a few spells, moving the sofa, wingback chairs and coffee table out of their way.

"Deflection spells can be a bit tricky to begin with, especially when you're faced with an unexpected attack," her mother said. "It's crucial that you pronounce the incantation right. We'll try a simple spell to begin with. Ready?"

Evelyn took a deep breath. "Yes, I think so."

Taking her usual duelling stance, Evelyn readied herself for the spell.

"Titillando!"

"Praesidium!"

Magic coursed through Evelyn's wand arm; the spell her mother had cast seemed to bounce off of Evelyn's wand like she had swatted it with a cricket bat. Nevertheless, her incantation must not have been perfect because it suddenly felt as if someone was tickling her under her arm, relentlessly.

"Make...it...stop," she managed to say through the laughter.

Her mother quickly cast a counter-spell and the tickling ceased.

"Did you have to use a tickling charm?" Evelyn said, catching her breath.

Her mother laughed softly. "Well, I had considered a Bat-Bogey Hex..."

"You wouldn't dare!" Evelyn said, not entirely sure if her mother was joking or not.

"Let try this again," her mother said. "Only this time lower your wand slightly."

"OK."

"No, keep it level with your chin."

Both Evelyn and her mother looked over towards the entrance of the living room. How long had her father been standing there for?

"I believe I am conducting this lesson, Severus," her mother said.

He shrugged off his outdoor robes. "I was merely making an observation."

Her mother folded her arms, frowning slightly in his direction. "It is always best to keep your wand low when defending."

"Holding it higher will confuse your opponent. They will be unsure if you are preparing to attack or defend," he said, hanging his on robes on the coat stand.

"So...what way should I hold it?" Evelyn asked, not wanting to offend either parent.

"How about you let your mother and I demonstrate," he said coolly, "and then you can make an informed decision."

"You seriously aren't suggesting we duel?" her mother said, seemingly taken aback by his suggestion.

Evelyn saw the corner of her father's lip curl ever so slightly.

"I understand if you don't want to."

"Meaning...?"

"It has been some time since you duelled properly. Your reflexes might not be as sharp as you think."

"Well," her mother said, readying her wand, "we'll see about that."

Evelyn glanced at her father; he had deliberately goaded her mother. She might be a level-headed Ravenclaw in most things, but she could not completely suppress her hot-headed, quick-to-fight Irish nature.

While her mother and father eyed each other up from opposite ends of the living room, Evelyn took up a relatively safe spot at the bottom of the stairs. There was a sort of nervous tension building in the pit of her stomach. She was excited but at the same time she was worried in case one of them got hurt, although, if she was honest, she was more concerned about her mother...

"I'm ready when you are, Severus," her mother said, her wand held considerably lower than where Evelyn had been taught to hold it.

He merely nodded in acknowledgement.

The air seemed to crackle with magic, and just when Evelyn thought her father was never going to cast a spell, a jet of blue light streaked across the room. Her mother blocked it, but the force of it caused her to take a few steps backwards.

Arching an eyebrow, her father said, "Try holding it level with your chin next time."

Without responding, her mother cast a non-verbal spell. Her father parried it with ease before sending another spell her way.

Green.

Red.

Silver.

Blue.

The spells flew back and forth across the room with a speed Evelyn had never witnessed before. Her mother, who was a bit rusty to begin with, was almost matching her father spell for spell. But rather than turning nasty, like she had heard duels tended to do, her parents seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Finally, though, her father managed to get a spell past her. It was as if someone had slide-tackled her mother; her legs gave way and she hit the floor with an oof!

Evelyn quickly jumped up to help, but her father reached her mother before she did. He held out a hand to her and gently pulled her to her feet.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she replied, squeezing his hand gently before letting go. "I've been hit with worse spells than that. Do you remember the time Sirius Black hit me with a Full Body-Bind?"

Evelyn stared at her mother, gobsmacked. "He did that to you – in school!"

"Yes," her father replied sharply, "and she spent two days in the hospital wing because she hit her head on the edge of a table as she fell."

Evelyn could sense her father's outrage, even though it had happened almost eighteen years ago.

"It was a long time ago, and I was fine," her mother said, looking pointedly to her father. "Madam Pomfrey made any student who hit their head stay in the hospital wing for two days, regardless of how serious the injury was. It was merely a precaution."

"What happened to Black?" Evelyn asked.

I believe he was made to clean the boy's toilets in the east wing of the castle for a fortnight, without magic."

Evelyn winced at the thought.

Her father grunted as he set about putting the furniture back to the way it was. Evelyn knew without him saying anything that he thought the punishment should have been more severe.

Secretly she agreed with him. She did not like Sirius Black, and now she had another reason not to. Why had he been so cruel to her mother? Had he disliked her too? Or was there more to it? Maybe he had done it purely to upset her father.

Git, Evelyn thought angrily.

After spending another hour with her parents, Evelyn decided to go back to the common room. As much as Edmund was obsessed with Viktor Krum, she did not imagine he would spend more than two hours in the cold watching him fly around on a broom. If she wasn't in the common room when he got back, he would ask her questions on where she had been. She hated having to make up stories; it would be easier if he assumed she had spent the afternoon doing homework in the common room.

However, when she was halfway down the corridor she realised she had left her jumper in her father's quarters. Turning around, she headed back to get it.

Evelyn entered the living room. "Dad, I forgot my jumper."

He did not look up from the book he was reading. "Your mother put it somewhere."

That's really helpful, Evelyn thought, making a face.

After looking in several obvious places, she found her jumper folded up on chair by the dining table. As she lifted it to put it on she heard a dull thud followed by a painful intake of breath. Leaving her jumper where it was, Evelyn rushed to her father. The book he had been reading was lying open on the floor; his left arm was clutched against his chest, almost as if he was trying to protect it from an invisible attacker.

Alarmed by his obvious distress, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "Dad, are you OK?"

He suddenly snatched his arm away as if her touch had burned him. "Get away from me!" he ground out between clenched teeth.

Scared and confused, she backed away from him. "What's going on, Dad?"

"Get out! Go back to the common room."

Evelyn did not know what was going on but she could not leave here father, not when he was hurt. "I want to help."

"I do not need your help," he spat angrily.

Her throat tightened and burned. "Why are you being like this?"

"Dammit, Evelyn! Are you deaf?" He pounded his right fist onto the table by his armchair, causing a cup to rattle on a saucer. "I told you to leave!"

Tears pooled in her eyes. "Please Dad –"

He rose sharply, towering over her menacingly. "Get out – now."

Evelyn backed away from him like a frightened animal. He had never looked at her so coldly before. It was as if she was staring into the face of a complete stranger. Forgetting about her jumper and the pain her father had obviously been in, she turned and ran from his quarters, genuinely terrified of him for the first time in her life.

...

Severus slumped into the worn wingback chair by the fire, his mind numb and is legs limbs wooden. The look of fear and betrayal on his daughter's face threatened to tear him apart. He gripped the arms of the chair tightly, his fingernails biting into the faded material. What kind of a father was he?

The worst kind.

The accusatory voice pressed down on him, trapping him under the weight of him own guilt. He could not forget how Evelyn had cowered before his anger. Memories of his own childhood flashed through his mind. Was he becoming a monster like his father had been, or had he always been one?

What had happened kept playing over and over in his head, like a Muggle television set on automatic replay. He wanted to rip the memory out, to forget what he had done, but he couldn't. He deserved the torment. Evelyn had been concerned for him; she had only wanted to help.

Severus rolled up his sleeve and sneered at the grotesque snake and skull on the underside of his arm. He had not wanted his daughter to see it, to see a symbol of evil branded on his arm. But instead of reassuring her that she did not need to be worried, he had allowed his fear and pride to consume him.

Eventually he dragged himself over to the desk in his quarters. Marking homework on a Saturday evening seemed like an appropriate way to punish himself. He leafed through the piles of parchment to find his worst students, a list of names which included Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

He had only begun to mark the first homework when green light lit up the fireplace. Deirdre stepped out of it, brushing specks of soot from her robes. She never entered his quarters through the main entrance; after all, she had little reason to be in the dungeons at any given time, unless she was called to an emergency.

She smiled at him. "How was your day?"

His insides lurched at the affection in her tone – if only she knew how he had behaved earlier.

"It was fine," he replied smoothly.

"I thought you would have had a bottle of wine open and ready," she teased him lightly, "or would you prefer it if I left you and your marking alone?"

Severus set the quill in his hand down and stood up. "Red or white?" he asked.

"Definitely red."

He raised his brow slightly. Red always meant she had had an exhausting shift in the hospital wing. He took a bottle of Pinot Noir from the wine rack and used wandless magic to remove the cork.

"Did you have a good evening with Evelyn?"

He looked over at her to ascertain if she was being genuine. It seemed she was.

"What do you mean?" he asked, taking wine glasses out of a cupboard.

She sat a stack of parchment onto the dining table. "Since I didn't see either of you in the Great Hall, I assumed you had dinner together."

A sharp pang of remorse stabbed at him. "No, we didn't."

Deirdre stopped sorting through the administration work she had brought from the hospital wing. "I saw all of her friends. Why would she not be there too?"

Severus clenched his jaw.

Worry began to fill Deirdre's face. "She wouldn't just skip dinner like that; maybe she's not well. Perhaps you should go and check on her."

Severus closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. "Evelyn and I had a disagreement before dinner."

"Over what?"

He clutched the stem of the wineglass he was holding so tightly it threatened to snap.

"Severus," she said slowly, "what did you argue about?"

He set the glass down, afraid he would break it. Keeping his back to Deirdre, he said, "The Dark Mark is burning every few days...the pain is becoming more acute. Evelyn came here when it happened. She wanted to know what was wrong...and I lost my temper."

She let out a deep breath.

Severus closed his eyes, once more reliving his angry outburst.

He stiffened slightly at the gentle touch on his shoulder, but then relaxed into Deirdre's embrace as she wound her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his back. Some of the tension drained away as he drew strength from her.

"You need to talk to her, Severus," she said softly.

"She won't listen."

"You don't know that."

"You weren't here...You didn't see..." He could not finish the sentence.

She tightened her hold on him. "Tell her the truth, Severus."

Severus turned in her embrace and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing the Dark Mark. "There is a reason why grown witches and wizards are terrified of this, what makes you think Evelyn will see it any differently?"

"She was not alive during the war –"

"She has not forgotten what happened to you at the world cup." He had not forgotten that nightmarish evening either. "She knows what Death Eaters are capable of."

Deirdre took his outstretched hand and carefully, tenderly, pulled down the sleeve.

"The world is full of evil people, Severus," she said softly, "but you are not one of them. Evelyn knows that too. Find her – talk to her."

Severus tightened his fingers around hers, sighing resignedly. Despite his gnawing fears, he knew she was right.

...

Evelyn was not in the Slytherin common room.

Severus clenched his hands in frustration. She could be anywhere in the castle.

As he began to walk through the dungeon corridor, however, he thought about the places he used to escape to when he was a student. He ruled out the school grounds; it was too dark outside. He also dismissed the library. It was never a place he had gone to brood. There was only one other place he could think of that provided a degree of isolation from the rest of the school.

The climb to the top of the Astronomy Tower had never felt so long. When he reached the main observation room, Severus placed a simple ward on the entrance; it would warn him of anyone else's presence. He then cast a Silencing Spell as an extra precaution.

When he walked further into the room he saw Evelyn. She was standing by the railing with her back to him, looking out over the school grounds. Severus remained where he was. How long had she been up here? He could see her arms were huddled close to her body, a feeble attempt to protect herself against the cold. He remembered then that she had left his quarters without her jumper.

Moving silently through the room, he joined her by the rail.

"You will catch your death if you remain up here any longer," he said, gazing out over a blackened landscape punctuated by light from Hagrid's hut and Hogsmeade.

Startled, she let go of the railing and stepped back from him. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to talk to you."

"Well, I don't want to talk to you."

Severus sighed heavily. "I understand you are angry with me –"

She pointed an accusing finger at him. "I only wanted to help and you went mental."

"It is complicated...and I wanted to protect you."

She huffed. "Protect me – yeah, right."

"You are still a child, Evelyn."

Her dark eyes flashed. "I'm thirteen, not six."

"I am aware of that," he said, gripping the railing. "But until you turn seventeen you are still a child."

"Kkh!" she breathed dismissively. "Stay up here if you want, I'm going back to the common room."

She turned around and walked away from him, back through the main observation room. Severus silently cursed himself.

"Evelyn – stop!"

The sharpness of his tone had the desired effect.

"What?" she said, her arms hanging limply by her side.

Severus had never felt so distant from his daughter He could see the mistrust in her eyes; but more than that, he saw the hurt. His shoulders sagged slightly at the full realisation of actions.

"I want you to listen to me," he said calmly, despite the roiling turmoil inside.

"Why should I?"

Because I am your father.

Those words seemed so hollow. What right did he have to demand that she listen to him?

Severus knew he had to earn her trust; she needed to know she could trust him. He did not want his daughter to hide secrets from him because she believed he did not always hold her best interest above his own.

Removing his robes, he laid them on a bench behind him. He unbuttoned his left coat sleeve and then his shirt sleeve. He could sense Evelyn's gaze on him as he pushed the material up his arm. The Dark Mark was almost as black as it had been before Voldemort's demise.

Severus held out his arm to Evelyn.

Her eyes widened. "Is that...the...the."

"The Dark Mark? Yes, it is," he said bluntly. "Every Death Eater was given this mark by You-Know-Who himself. This afternoon, in my quarters, you witnessed what happens when the mark begins to burn."

"Burn?"

"It is imbued with dark magic connected to You-Know-Who; it can almost sense his blacker moods."

By the blank look on her face he knew she did not understand what he was saying.

"I was not completely honest with you in my office last week," he said, "when we spoke about the Dark Mark."

"Why have I never seen it before?" she said as a new wave of betrayal washed over her face. "Did you use a Concealment Charm to hide it?"

Severus took once last look at the mark before rolling his sleeve down again. "It faded significantly when You-Know-Who tried to kill Potter – on the night you were born. It has always been there; only most never know to look for it. Over the past few weeks, however, it has begun to darken again."

"Why?"

"You-Know-Who is regaining his strength."

Evelyn narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "I thought you said You-Know-Who needed the flesh of a loyal follower to come back."

"He does," Severus replied evenly, "but that does not mean he cannot inhabit a temporary body in the mean time."

Frustration began to show on her face. "How is that even possible?"

It was too complicated to begin to explain to her how Voldemort still had the power to persuade others to do his bidding, as was the case with Quirrell. Only now the Dark Lord did not have to share a body with another wizard; he did not have to expend precious energy on bending him to his will.

"There was once a wizard who was obsessed with a dark form of magic called galvanism. He successfully pieced together a human form..." Severus decided not to go in to further detail. "...and brought it to life. However, it lacked the very essence of what it means to be human. The creature eventually turned on its creator and killed him."

Severus saw that he had Evelyn's interest so he continued. "You-Know-Who was familiar with all types of magic, including galvanism. But unlike the unfortunate wizard before him, You-Know-Who himself would be able to inhabit the body, and therefore be able to control its actions."

Her tone was less accusatory than before as she asked, "Then why does he need the Death Eaters if he can do that?"

"For the simple fact that it is not his body," Severus said. A chill raked up his spine as he recalled that no trace of Bertha Jorkins was ever discovered. "It has been crudely fashioned from something else. With no magical core for his spirit to bind with, You-Know-Know would not be strong enough to face a first year student, never mind a powerful wizard like Dumbledore."

"It would, however," Severus continued, "give him the ability to walk freely in the Wizarding world, to ascertain if, indeed, he has any loyal followers outside of Azkaban."

Something akin to panic flickered in her eyes. "What if he comes to Hogwarts?"

Severus held his daughter's gaze. "As long as Professor Dumbledore is headmaster of Hogwarts, you can be certain you will safe."

Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself and began to rub her bare arms. "What if he stops being headmaster?"

Severus, seeing it was a mixture of uncertainty and the cold, lifted his robes from the bench. He slowly, tentatively closed the gap between them, and draped the robes around her shoulders. When she did not draw back, Severus caught her chin in the crook of his finger and gently tilted her head upwards.

"I will always be here to ensure your safety, Evelyn."

A rogue tear slipped down her cheek. "Do you promise?"

He saw in her eyes that she did not see him as an evil wizard; she saw him as her father, and she wanted his reassurance that he would protect her from the very real and terrifying evils in the world.

"I promise."

He then wiped away the tear on her cheek. "I am sorry for how I spoke to you earlier."

There was no hesitation as she said, "I forgive you."

Severus was taken aback by his daughter's capacity to forgive him, but he did not dare question it.

A sharp wind had risen since Severus had come up to the Astronomy Tower, and he could now feel the cold bite of it through the thick material of his jacket.

He gave Evelyn's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It is time you returned to the common room."

"Yeah, OK," she replied.

"You will need to return my robes," he said, looking down at where they pooled around her feet like a puddle of ink.

She smirked. "It might be kind of fun to tell everyone in the common room that I stole Professor Snape's robes."

"Yes, and then you can tell them how fun it was scrubbing cauldrons for a week in detention."

She huffed slightly as she took off his robes and handed them back to him.

It seemed strange to him. Ten minutes ago his daughter had refused to speak to him; she had not wanted to be near him. He had begun to realise, however, that his daughter was not the little girl he often imagined her still to be; and for their relationship to strengthen he needed to be vulnerable with her at times.

"Dad, do you think I can stay in your quarters tonight?"

Severus raised a brow slightly. "And what will you tell your friends tomorrow when they ask where you were?"

She gave a conspiratorial smile. "I'll tell them I was with my Mum, which is the truth."

A Slytherin through and through, he thought.

"Please Dad..."

He took out his wand to remove the wards and Silencing Spell he had cast earlier. "I'm sure your mother won't mind."

She hugged him tightly. "Thanks Dad!"

He smoothed his hand across her hair, then said, "Well, are you ready to go, or do you want to stand up here all night and wait for Mrs Norris to catch you out of bed?"

"Mrs Norris wouldn't dare come near me if I'm with you you. She'd be terrified she might end up in one of your potions."

Severus snorted softly. "Do not tempt me, Evelyn..."

She giggled as he led the way down the staircase.

Chapter 28: Chapter 27

Hello! I realise that it has been almost TWO YEARS since I last posted a chapter, and I am truly sorry, but life just happened. Hopefully from now on, though, I will be posting chapters a bit more regularly.

Very quickly, I want to give a shout out to MetamorphmagusLupin. Thanks for all your support!

I have included some direct quotes from TGOF - belongs to JKR, not me.

Enjoy!

Chapter 27

Severus' lips thinned into a grim line as he stared at the deranged glee on Barty Crouch's face. He was responsible for putting Potter's name into the Goblet of Fire, and for all of the madness that had ensued after that.

There was complete silence in the room now, except for the house-elf's continued sobs.

Then Dumbledore said, "And tonight…"

"I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner," whispered Barty Crouch. "Turned it into a Portkey. My master's plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honoured by him beyond the dreams of wizards."

"Did you plan to return to Lord Voldemort tonight?

"Yes, with news that would have made me his dearest, his closest supporter…"

"What news?"

"That Potter was dead by own hand and that I had punished the Death Eater who had betrayed him."

Dumbledore did not flinch. "I assume you are referring to Severus? Were planning to harm him?"

"No," Crouch said as an insane smile lit up his face, "there are far better ways to torture a person."

A disquieting sensation grew in the pit of Severus' stomach.

"Tell me what you were going to do," Dumbledore said.

A dark shadow fell over Crouch's face as he said, "Not every man is as cold and heartless as my father was. He did not care whether I lived or died. He was only ever concerned with how he appeared to others. Snape might be a faithless, worthless bit of filth who double-crossed my master, but he would care if any harm came to his daughter. I planned to make her suffer. Snape would regret he ever betrayed my master – and when he slunk back like the worm he is, begging for my master's forgiveness, he would know never to deceive him again."

A primal rage rose up from deep within Severus' gut and he gripped his wand tightly, turning his knuckles white. If Crouch wanted to get anywhere near Evelyn then he would have to get past him first. And he would fight to his last breath to protect his child. A gentle touch on his arm caused him to break the venomous stare levelled at Crouch. He saw that Minerva had moved closer to his side. Her eyes were flooded with alarm but she shook her head slightly, seemingly to warn him not to do anything foolish. He gritted his teeth. Of course he was not stupid enough to attack Crouch with Dumbledore in the room.

"How did you find out about Severus' daughter?"

Severus' gaze slid in the direction of Potter. Oath or no oath, he would make that boy's life a living hell if he had given Crouch the slightest hint that Evelyn was his daughter.

"At first I thought she was Aodhán Harper's spawn," Crouch began, "but when her mother arrived I questioned myself. After some digging, I discovered the Harper woman had been disowned by her paternal grandfather because his son married a Mudblood. I didn't give the girl another thought after that, until she began to show duelling skills which were too advanced for a second year.

"I knew she was being tutored and I was certain Snape was teaching her. I remember how he used to duel during the war - he had an instinctive understanding of his opponents' potential actions and responses. I saw that same ability developing in her. So I decided to test my theory. I asked her mother where she was getting extra lessons from – she said she was teaching her. It was a lie, of course – a poor one. I asked myself why she would do that, and I came to the conclusion that she wanted to conceal the fact that the girl was being tutored by her father."

"What made you connect Deirdre Harper with Severus?"

"I remember Snape was friends with Harper at school. Then during the war I saw them together – they were clearly a couple. I reported it to my master but he chose to believe Snape over me." His jaw tightened as if he still the felt the sting it. "After she came to Hogwarts, I watched them for weeks before I was sure they were still involved. It was subtle things, and only someone who was paying enough attention would have seen them."

"Why did you not carry out your intentions towards Miss Harper before tonight?"

"I had to fulfill my mission first – I had to get Potter into the maze. I could not risk anyone being suspicious of me. Harming the girl too soon may have set Snape on my trail, and I could not have risked him exposing me before my master could return – and he has returned."

The insane smile lit his features once more, and his head drooped onto his shoulder as Winky wailed and sobbed at his side.

Dumbledore stood up. He stared down at Barty Crouch for a moment with disgust on his face. Then he raised his wand once more and ropes flew out of it, ropes which twisted themselves around Barty Crouch, binding him tightly.

He turned to Minerva. "Could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry upstairs?"

"Severus," Dumbledore said, "please tell Healer Harper to come down here. We need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go down to the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour's time if he needs me."

Remaining outwardly impassive to Dumbledore's instructions, Severus nodded and swept out of the room. But out in the corridor his composure faltered as hatred slithered into his veins like a serpent, wrapping itself around his heart. He clenched his fists as he walked, forcing himself in the direction of the hospital wing. The desire to willfully hurt another person had never been so strong. But Dumbledore, presumably, had left Minerva to guard Crouch for that very reason. The headmaster did not want him harmed, and despite his own feelings, Severus understood the need to keep him alive. The deranged wizard was a witness to Voldemort's return; Potter's account alone would not be sufficient. And without the full support of the Ministry Voldemort would be left in peace to rebuild his dark army.

The hospital wing was empty when he arrived, although light coming from the nurse's office signalled that Deirdre was most likely in there. She had not attended the Third Task, but had chosen to remain at the castle instead. The rules of the Triwizard Tournament had been very clear: no medical assistance was to be given in the Third Task until after the Cup had been claimed. So rather than fret over an injured student she could not help, she asked for someone to notify her once the Task was over.

He found her in the nurse's office, sitting on a worn sofa with a book in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

"Deirdre," he said.

She did not look up from the page she was reading. "It's over then?"

"Only if you are referring to the tournament…"

This time she looked up, staring at him for a moment. "I know that tone, Severus, "she said, setting her book down, not bothering to reinsert the bookmark that was on the arm of the chair. The mug of tea was swiftly set on top of the book. "What has happened?"

"There was a fatality."

"Oh my gods!" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Who was it?"

"Cedric Diggory."

"That poor boy," she said, emotion straining her voice. "How did it happen?"

"You-Know-Who."

Her eyes widened with disbelief and fear. "You mean…he's returned?"

He placed a hand over his left arm. "Yes."

"I don't understand – how could Cedric have been killed by You-Know-Who?" She drew in a sharp breath as horror spread across her face. "He's not here, is he?"

"No, he is not. The Triwizard Cup was turned into a Portkey; it took both him and Potter to a location somewhere in the countryside. Diggory was killed almost instantly but Potter witnessed You-Know-Who's resurrection. He somehow managed to get a hold of the Cup again, along with Diggory's body, and returned to the castle."

"How is that even possible? Who at Hogwarts would do such a thing?"

"There is too much to explain," he said, "but in short, Barty Crouch Junior has been impersonating Moody all year. The real Moody has been kept prisoner in one of his trunks."

"Crouch?" she said incredulously, "I thought he died years ago."

"I can assure you he is very much alive, and was tasked with bringing Potter to You-Know-Who." He could see that she was struggling to process everything, but there was more she needed to know. "Albus wants you to go to the Defence office and bring Moody here. Crouch is in there but he's bound and Minerva is guarding him."

She stood and crossed to where her Gladstone bag sat on a workbench and opened it. Bottles clinked softly as she checked that she had everything she needed.

"When you are there, I do not want you to talk to him - and you must ignore anything he might say to you."

She lifted a bottle of brownish-orange liquid from a shelf above her head and placed it into the bag. "Why?"

"He knows Evelyn is our daughter."

She stiffened and her voice was barely a whisper as she asked, "How?"

He clenched his fists. "It's my fault. I should have been more careful."

"No, Severus, you can't start blaming yourself for this." She closed the distance between them and placed her hand on his arm. "We knew there would be risks in sending her to Hogwarts. And yes, Crouch might know who she is, but he hasn't harmed her, even though he's had plenty of opportunities to."

He felt hatred's poison seep through him again. "He planned on it tonight – he was going to torture her."

A strangled cry caught in her throat and her legs buckled but he caught her, encircling his arms around her as she clung to the front of his overcoat. Her whole body trembled. He quickly questioned if he had done the right thing in telling her, but Evelyn was her daughter too, and she deserved to know the truth. And how could he have let her face Crouch without knowing his plans; what if he had hurled threats against Evelyn and she had broken down in front of him? It would have galled him if that sadistic wizard had got even a shred of satisfaction from it.

Her voice shook as she said, "I want her here, Severus. I want her where I can see her…"

Tightening his hold on her, he said, "I'll find her. She won't leave either of our sights until Crouch is removed from the castle."

She nodded, and with her head still tucked under his chin she asked, "Has he summoned you yet?"

"Yes – but I didn't go. I would not have reached Albus in time to inform him of what was happening, and I was not prepared to leave Hogwarts without his permission."

She pulled back slightly and looked up at him, fresh fear in her eyes. "But...he'll think you're a coward for not going."

"He may well think that..."

She gripped the front of his overcoat tighter. "You told me he hates cowards."

"He does, but he lost many followers during and after the war. He cannot afford to kill those who come willingly to him, even if they are somewhat tardy."

She seemed to take little comfort in his words. She looked away from him as she asked, "When will you go?"

"Whenever Albus asks me to." He placed a hooked finger under her chin and gently forced her to look at him. "You do understand I have to do this, don't you?"

She blinked back a rogue tear. "I do."

Leaving the hospital wing a few minutes later, he took the staircase that would lead him to the main entrance of the castle. By the time he reached the Quidditch pitch the other professors were trying to herd the students into their respective houses, so that they could dismissed house by house. He scanned the tight knots of students, hoping to catch sight of Evelyn. He wanted to make sure she was safely with him before he spoke with Fudge. He finally spotted her among a group of first year Slytherins. She looked in his direction and he could see that she was distressed. Rumours of what had happened that evening in the maze were no doubt spreading, causing even more panic.

He gave her a slight nod of his head and she nodded back. She seemed to understand that he wanted to speak with her privately, but to do that they would have to put on a small performance.

"Miss Harper, come here immediately!" he shouted above the roar and screams around him.

The entire group looked over at him. They shared confused glances with one another, but finally Evelyn broke away from them and walked towards him. He saw that she deliberately dragged her feet, to make it appear that she was being unfairly singled out.

"Come with me," he said, motioning to a spot which had virtually been cleared of students.

When they stopped walking, she said, "I'm scared, Dad. What's going on? Is it true Cedric Diggory is dead?"

"Yes, it's true. He was murdered."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Who killed him?"

"I will explain everything to you later, but for now I want you to stay with me. Once I have spoken with the Minister for Magic I will bring you up to the castle."

"OK."

With that, he turned around and negotiated his way to where Fudge was talking with another Ministry official. He checked once to see that Evelyn was following him – she was.

"Wait here," he said to her when they were five feet or so from Fudge. "I won't be long. However, you might want to appear more...indignant. You are supposed to be in trouble, after all."

She folded her arms and glowered at him. "Like this?"

He smirked before walking towards Fudge.

"Minister," he said, "may I have a word with you?"

"Of course." He nodded to the other minister, who duly removed himself from the conversation. "What is it, Snape?"

"We have apprehended the person behind tonight's murder."

"Oh! Who is it?"

"Barty Crouch Junior."

Fudge laughed as if Severus had told him a particularly witty joke. "Come now, we all know he died in Azkaban years ago."

"Obviously not, since he is currently in the Defence Against the Dark Arts office," he said dryly. "He was tasked by You-Know-Who to bring Potter to him, and he succeeded. Cedric Diggory was killed by Peter Pettigrew, after which, You-Know-Who's resurrection was witnessed by Potter."

Fudge glanced around nervously, as if to make sure no one else was within earshot. "Are you listening to yourself? Pettigrew? You-Know-Who resurrected? You sound like a madman."

"The headmaster," Severus continued, ignoring Fudge's comment, "thought you might want to speak with Crouch before he hands him over to the Ministry for questioning. You might also be interested to know he is responsible for the death of his father, and was complicit in the murders of Bertha Jorkins and a Muggle man at the old Riddle mansion.

Fudge's demeanour seemed to change. "Who knows about this?"

"Dumbledore, Minerva, myself, and Potter."

"And you say you have Crouch in the castle at this moment?"

"Yes."

Taking out his pocket watch, Fudge looked at it then said, "I shall meet you at the castle entrance in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Minister."

His duty done, Severus motioned for Evelyn to follow him, although he led her through a gap in the stands to avoid the main body of students. They would take a different path up to the castle, one which they could talk freely on.

"So…are you going to tell me what happened to Cedric?" Evelyn asked as they rounded a bend and the Quidditch pitch slipped out of sight.

"We discovered this evening that Moody is not who he claimed to be," he began, "he is an imposter - a man named Barty Crouch Junior."

"But - but he's supposed to be dead? His father sent him to Azkaban because he was a Death Eater."

Severus stopped walking and put a hand on her shoulder to stop her too. "How do you know that?"

"Remember when I borrowed that book from the library - the one that had the Age-Restriction spell removed from it? When I was in Moody's office, he told me he hadn't seen a second year as interested in the Dark Arts since someone called Barty Crouch. He said he was dead and that his father sent him to Azkaban because he hated Death Eaters."

He wondered why Crouch had chosen to tell her that. Perhaps he had lost control for a moment, as Severus was aware that there were detailed accounts of trials after the war in the book. And Evelyn may well have copied down information on Crouch's trial. Or perhaps he was simply paranoid, worried that she might uncover his secret. It would certainly explain why he burnt all of her research.

"Wait…!" she said then shuddered slightly, "are you saying that I've been taught by a fanatical You-Know-Who supporter all year?"

"Yes."

"Why is he even here? Why did he pretend to be Professor Moody?"

"There's no time to go into that now. He has been apprehended, though, and is currently under guard in the castle. The reason I asked you to come with me is because he knows who you are – and he would not hesitate to harm you if he managed to escape."

She wrinkled her nose in confusion. "I've been alone with him loads of times this year. If he wanted to hurt me, why didn't he do it then?"

A muscle jerked in his jaw. "He had his reasons. But until Crouch is removed from castle, I want you to stay with either your mother or myself. Do you understand?"

She nodded and moved closer to him as they began walking again. "Is he the reason why Cedric is dead?"

Severus continued to look straight ahead. "He is."

He did not want to discuss Voldemort's return with her out here. That was a conversation he wanted to have with her in the safety of his quarters. He was not sure how she would react and he wanted to ensure she was in an environment where she felt comfortable enough to express her feelings.

They continued the rest of the way to the castle in silence, both of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts. When they reached the main entrance of the school they were met by Fudge, who had ambled up by another path. There were still no students about, but Severus guessed that they would come stampeding up the hill soon enough.

"Shall we go in?"

"Not yet," Fudge said, looking around him as if he was expecting something to drop from the sky. "Ah...there we are."

Before Severus could turn to see what Fudge had spotted, the air froze and all his worst fears and traumas were brought to life. Cloaked in a dark hood, its slimy-looking, decaying hands visible, a Dementor floated silently to Fudge's side. Evelyn moved as close to him as she could, trembling with fear. Instinctively he moved to put himself between his daughter and the foul creature, lightly flexing his fingers, ready to reach for his wand if he needed to.

"Why is that here?" Severus demanded.

"Barty Crouch is a dangerous criminal and I refuse to see him without some form of protection."

"Of course – I had forgotten Dementors are our benevolent defenders."

Fudge bristled. "Don't take that tone with me, Snape!"

Severus did not blink. "The headmaster will not tolerate you bringing one of those creatures into his school."

"His school?" Fudge countered. "May I remind you, Snape, that I am the Minister for Magic and Dumbledore does not have the authority to bar me from Hogwarts."

Severus knew he would not get anywhere by arguing with him, so instead he said, "Very well, but I will accompany you."

He had no intention of letting a Dementor loose in the castle, even if it was with Fudge. He motioned for Evelyn to remain behind him, although he was certain she would have done so anyway. She would have to go with him to the Defence office because he was not prepared to let her wander off on her own. Although he would ensure that he cast a Silencing Charm around her during Fudge's interrogation of Crouch, to spare her from the grizzly details.

Minerva stepped out into the corridor when she heard their footsteps. For a brief moment she stared in horror at the Dementor, but then she bore down on the Minister for Magic with a tempest's fury.

"How dare you bring that thing into the school!" she shouted at him, "the headmaster will not stand for it."

"I am the Minister for Magic!" he roared back, "I can decide what I choose to bring into the school. Now - out of my way."

Fudge pushed past her, the Dementor floating silently behind him. Severus hurried towards the Defence office, Minerva close on his heels. But they were too late. The moment the Dementor entered the room, it swooped down on Barty Crouch, locked its jaw onto his mouth and a low, rasping death rattle filled the silence in the room.

Severus heard a stifled cry beside him and quickly realised Evelyn had followed after him. She turned away from the macabre scene, grasping a hold of him and burying her face in his chest. He put a protective arm around her, not caring at that moment if Fudge saw them. But he barely noticed them as he ushered the Dementor from the room, muttering something about it being no real loss. Minerva followed after him, screaming that he had better remove 'that abhorrent creature' or she would send for the headmaster. He had never seen her so livid in all the years he had known her.

Once they were alone, Severus moved them away from the doorway of the office and gently pried his daughter from him. He then lowered himself so that he was level with her.

"Evelyn, look at me," he said softly. When she did, the terror in her eyes stabbed at his heart. "It's gone. You are safe."

A tear rolled down her cheek. "That was…it was…"

"I know," he said, wiping her tear away with the pad of his thumb. "I would never have wanted you to see that."

Her mouth quivered as she said, "Why did the Minister let that happen?"

"Fear can cause people to make misguided judgments."

She looked past him, down the corridor to where the office was. "Is he…dead?"

"Without his soul, he will merely exist."

Her hands began to tremble but he took hold of them, wanting to soothe her in any way he could.

A perturbed look tinged her dark eyes as if an awful realisation had suddenly taken shape in her mind. "That could have happened to me."

The worst sort of dread hit him in one great nauseous wave. "But it did not – and you mustn't dwell on thoughts like that."

She nodded even though he knew what he had told her was not as easy to put into practice. "I don't want to be here anymore."

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before he stood up. "Come, I'll take you to your mother."

As they walked down the corridor, away from the office, he glanced over his shoulder. Despite the unjust way in which Barty Crouch had been sentenced to a fate worse than death, he felt nothing but a great sense of relief that a very real threat to his daughter's life was gone.

...

An hour later, Severus entered his office. He closed the door behind him, removed his robes and hung them on a peg on the wall. Crossing the room to a bookshelf, he ran a finger along the spines of the books, stopping at a well-worn volume called The Secrets of Stonehenge. With a gentle tug he tipped it to a forty-five degree angle, only pushing it back into place when he heard a soft click. The shelf creaked as it swung open to reveal a hidden cupboard, put there by a former head of Slytherin, and imbued with a Concealment Charm powerful enough to shield it from the likes of Moody's magical eye. He then took out his wand and waved it through the air in a series of intricate circles until the lock gave way. There was moment of hesitation before he opened the door to reveal his Death Eater robes.

They hung from a hook like a ghostly shroud but he remained indifferent as he took a rough hold of them. When he had put them on he reached up to the top shelf in the cupboard and lifted down the Death Eater mask. He held it in his hands, staring in disgust at the ancient arabesque patterns that glorified war, death and power.

Albus had asked him in the hospital wing if he was prepared to confront Voldemort. No one had understood his cryptic instructions, except for Deirdre. She had paused and looked up from whatever routine check-up she was carrying out on Potter. Their gazes had met briefly but he had drawn strength from the determination in her eyes; she clearly believed he could fool Voldemort as easily as he had done before. Then, without another word to anyone, he had swept out of the room.

He lifted the mask to his face and for the first time in thirteen years he viewed the world through its lens. His life had been very different when he had first put it on at the still-vulnerable age of eighteen. He was not a husband or a father then. No one had depended on him, and indeed he never thought he would be needed by anyone. But then Evelyn had been born and he recalled the many times she had looked at him with dark, expectant eyes, loving him without condition and willing to listen to whatever wisdom he could impart. She had changed him in ways he could not begin to describe.

Drawing in a deep breath, he began to mentally prepare for his meeting with Voldemort. The Dark Lord would penetrate his mind almost immediately, searching for the truth of why he had abandoned him for the Order – for Dumbledore. He was careful only to suppress those feelings and memories which would contradict what Voldemort wanted to see. It would be important that his old master believed he had gone to his most hated enemy with no other intention than to earn his trust – that was the reason why he had not gone to search for him after his demise. Lastly, he buried every shred of emotion connected with his family deep into his subconscious, surrounding it with an impenetrable wall. And like a medieval keep, he surrounded the wall with a deep moat of false memories.

When he was finally ready, he left his office and made the short journey to the school gates. Once he was outside the castle grounds he placed the mask over his face and Disapperated.

...

Evelyn awoke with a start, sitting up as she freed herself from the twisted bedcovers. She began to breathe normally when she realised she was safe in the spare room of her father's quarters, and not trapped in a room with a Dementor. She rested her back against the headboard and drew her knees up close to her chest.

Today had been a day of living nightmares. Cedric Diggory was dead, her professor had really been a Death Eater, who then had had his soul sucked from his body by a Dementor, and, worst of all, Voldemort had returned. She recalled the outburst in the hospital wing, and how Cornelius Fudge refused to believe Dumbledore's claim that Voldemort was back. She, too, had not wanted to believe it, but then her father had pulled up his sleeve and shown Fudge the Dark Mark. She could still hear his words, and they terrified her: We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned.

She thought she would have felt a torrent of emotions when Voldemort returned, that she would be terrified to her very core. Instead, she had been filled by a strange nothingness as she half-listened to Dumbledore send Sirius Black and various members of the Weasley family on separate missions. Then the headmaster had called her father's name. He had not said what he wanted him to do, but he clearly understood nevertheless. His skin had looked slightly paler than usual, and his black eyes had never been so cold.

When he had left she convinced herself that the headmaster had asked him to see to Barty Crouch's body. It would explain why he had appeared so troubled. She could not have done what Dumbledore asked; indeed, she wasn't sure if she could ever go into that office again without reliving the Dementor's Kiss.

The hospital wing had soon fallen quiet. She looked over to where Professor Dumbledore spoke quietly with Harry; then to her mother, who was tending to the house-elf, Winky. Molly Weasley fussed about, earning herself irritated huffs and grunts from her son, Ron. Everything seemed so normal, as if the worst thing that had happened that night was that Harry got roughed up in the maze.

Voldemort's return seemed to have changed very little. And she hoped it would stay that way.

Looking at the candle clock on the bedside table, she saw that she had been asleep for barely an hour. She sighed heavily. She didn't really want to go back to sleep, not after the nightmare she'd had. She quickly decided that if she was going to be awake all night, then she would rather sit in the living room by the fire with a cup of hot chocolate.

A few minutes later she made her way downstairs, not overly surprised to see that her mother was still awake. She sat at the kitchen table, staring absently at the wall in front her; the mug of tea cocooned in her hands was still full, untouched, the bread she had put in the toaster popped and ready, but clearly forgotten about.

"Mum…?" she asked tentatively, "are you OK?"

Drawn from her thoughts, her mother turned to her. She smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. "It's been a long day, sweetheart – for all of us."

Evelyn joined her at the table, sitting on a chair opposite her. "Where's Dad? I thought he would have been back by now."

"Professor Dumbledore asked him to go somewhere tonight…"

"Go where?"

Her mother's lip quivered slightly as she said, "Do you recall what your father said about the Mark on his arm, about how You-Know-Who used it to summon him? Well, you see –"

She stopped abruptly at the sound of a short pop and a house-elf appeared in the dimly lit hallway, along with her father. Quickly bowing, the house-elf disappeared without saying a word. Evelyn wondered why he had entered his quarters that way, but when he tried to walk she saw that he could barely put on foot in front of the other.

"Severus!" her mother cried, rushing to him.

She put his arm around her shoulders, stooping slightly as she bore the brunt of his weight. But she had spent years lifting and supporting patients, and she was soon guiding him into the living room. Evelyn gasped when he came into the light. His left cheek was a hideous hue of black and purple, blood still trickled from one corner of his mouth and his right eye was swollen shut.

She choked back tears as she said, "Mum, what happened to him?"

"Evelyn, go upstairs."

"I want to help."

"Upstairs - now!"

There was a forcefulness in her voice that Evelyn rarely heard, but she knew better than to argue with her. She went upstairs, but only as far as the first bend in the spiral staircase. She sat down on the step, making sure she kept to the shadowy area. Her mother would be furious if she spotted her, but she couldn't go back to her room without first knowing if her father was going to be all right or not.

He grunted with pain as he was lowered onto the sofa, and she knew then that he had more injuries than just those on his face. Tears pooled in her eyes. Who had done this to him? All of a sudden fear raked up her spine as she recalled what her mother had tried to tell her just before the house-elf had appeared. A lump formed in her throat, tightening it, as she realised Voldemort had done this to him.

Reality hit her with the force of a rogue Bludger, almost forcing the air out of her lungs.

Voldemort's return had changed everything.

Suddenly feeling cold, she wrapped her arms around her, watching as her mother removed his overcoat, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor . She then began to unbutton his shirt, and even from her hiding place on the stairs she could see her fingers were trembling. When the last button was freed she peeled the material back, gasping in horror at the sight she was met with.

"Those shitty bastards!"

Evelyn's mouth dropped open. She had never heard her mother swear before in her life. But when she got up to retrieve her wand from the kitchen table, she saw why she had chosen to use those words. His torso looked like it had been used as a punching bag. Red and purple discolourations of various sizes were scattered across his chest and abdomen.

She choked back sob, hating the monster that had brutalised him.

When her mother returned, she ran her wand down the length of his body, most likely checking for broken bones. It appeared she found several, because when she pressed a fingertip onto his ribs he hissed with pain. She pointed her wand at the broken ribs and a silvery lights emanated from the tip. Her father gritted his teeth but she still heard his muffled groans. She hid her face in her hands when his body jerked, unable to watch as his ribs were magically reset with an audible crack.

Her mother then lifted a wooden case up onto the table and opened it. It folded out into a portable medi-kit. There were all sorts of phials and bottles. She searched through them until she came to the one she was looking for. It was a deep indigo colour. She pulled out the stopper and brought it to her father.

"Severus," she said softly, "I need you to drink this. It will help with the after affects of the Cruciatus."

Blood drained from Evelyn's face.

She felt sick.

The Cruciatus was supposed to be the worst imaginable pain.

Her father did not open his eyes but nodded his head in acknowledgement and parted his lips. Her mother put her hand on the back of his head and raised it up slightly. As she poured the potion into his mouth he gagged but swallowed it all down. Soon the acute pain on his face seemed to fade but it was obvious he was still in agony.

Unable to watch any more, she stood up and crept back to her room.

...

Severus winced as he shifted slightly on the chair. Magic could do a lot of things but it could not repair one's body over night. Deirdre had done the best she could, given that all she had to work with was a medi-kit. He had finally fallen asleep on the sofa after she'd given him a Sleeping potion. When he had awoken this morning she was fast asleep in the armchair opposite him. He was annoyed at her for not going to bed, but he also knew that if the situation was reversed he would not have left her alone.

"Good morning, Miss Snape," Dumbledore said, drawing him from this thoughts, "there is no need to go back upstairs, I'm about to leave." He turned to Severus again. "I will inform the students tomorrow morning. It would be best if you are able to be present."

Severus nodded. "I understand."

He knew what it might look like to the more astute students if he was missing from the staff table when Dumbledore announced Voldemort's return.

After the headmaster had left his quarters there was a thick silence in the room, but he could sense that Evelyn had listened to Dumbledore and not gone back to her room.

"Do you want breakfast?" he asked, unable to twist round in the chair to see her, "there is some bacon, eggs and toast left."

After a moment she appeared at the table and sat down opposite him. She stared at his face briefly and then lowered her gaze to the food on the table, taking two slices of toast and some rashers of bacon to make a butty.

"You don't seem overly surprised by what you see," he said.

"I…I…"

"I distinctly heard your mother tell you to go upstairs."

"You saw me?"

He arched an eyebrow in an affirmative response.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she said, her mouth trembling, "I was just so frightened. I wanted to make sure you were going to be OK."

"I see."

She stared down at her untouched breakfast, then said, "You-Know-Who did that to you, didn't he?"

"Yes."

She looked up at him again. "Why?"

Severus took a slow sip of his tea, buying himself a few seconds. Why – that one word carried so much weight with it. He hated that he was having this conversation with her. Yes he was the one who had insisted she stayed in his quarters, but he had not counted on her being awake and in the living room when he returned. The last time he had felt so helpless was when James Potter had turned him upside down, revealing his underwear to half the school.

As she waited patiently for him to answer he knew he had a choice before him. He could keep the barrier between them at a distance he was comfortable with, or he could shift it, allowing her access to a part of his life that he had kept shielded from her for so long.

She was stronger than he believed her to be, yesterday's episode with Dementor had proven that. He had come to realise that, perhaps, he didn't know her as well as he thought. They were so similar that sometimes looking at her was like staring at his own reflection. He thought he could predict what she would think, do and feel in any given circumstance. But he accepted now that he had based many of those judgments on his own childhood experiences. Evelyn was his through and through but she was not his mirror image, and she never would be.

He knew that if he wanted to know his daughter better then he would have to be honest with her, vulnerable even. It was a daunting prospect, but just like when she had let go of the sofa and taken her first unsteady steps as a toddler, he decided it was time that he let go of the misgivings he had been holding on to for years.

"You-Know-Who craves power," he began in a low, measured tone, "for him it is an insatiable hunger. One of the ways in which he feeds it is in his dominance over the Death Eaters. The more fearful they are of him, the more powerful he feels. Any of his followers who threaten that power are made examples of – even for something as minor as tardiness.

A memory seemed to click with her and she said, "I remember you saying in the hospital wing that you had felt the Mark burn. But you didn't go to him right away, did you?"

"You are correct."

"So…he punished you for being late?"

"Yes."

"He used the Cruciatus Curse on you, didn't he?"

"He did."

"Did it hurt a lot?"

Severus took another sip of his tea as his thoughts drifted to the night before.

"Severus…!" Voldemort had hissed softly when bowed before his old master, "you are either very brave or very foolish for coming here tonight."

"Forgive me, my Lord."

"Why have you come here, Severus, if not to beg for your life?"

Severus dared to look up at Voldemort. His slitted, red eyes gleamed with malevolence. "I have come to explain my reasons for joining the Order…"

Voldemort sneered at the name, but before Severus could continue he felt another's presence in his mind. He did not resist as the Dark Lord sifted through his thoughts, passing by some while lingering on others.

"You have done well, Severus. Dumbledore trusts you completely." He stared at him for a long moment. "You are forgiven. You may stand now."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"But…" he said coldly, "you were late and I will not permit dissension of any kind. For that, Severus, you must be punished."

He pointed his wand at him and said, "Crucio!"

Severus screamed as he fell to the floor, writing in agony. It was like a thousand white-hot knives were boring into his skin.

He took a deep breath before he said, "I have never experienced pain like it before."

She swallowed, hard. "Did You-Know-Who give you those bruises too?"

He shook his head. "These were compliments of the other Death Eaters."

As he lay on the ground, his chest heaving, someone grabbed him and roughly pulled him to his feet. A semi-circle of masked Death Eaters had formed around him. The one holding him forced his arms behind his back, keeping them in place with a vice-like grip.

"Who's first," he laughed mockingly.

"Me."

The first punch hit his cheek with a sickening crunch, jerking his head to one side. The fist came at him again, connecting with his right eye this time. Pain exploded from his tear duct to the bridge of his nose. Within minutes it had swollen shut. After one more smack to his face they seemed to grow bored and decided on a new target – his torso.

Once the Death Eater holding him let go he slumped to the ground, mentally and physically exhausted. He tried to push himself up but his body protested so much that he almost passed out with the pain.

"Macnair, Goyle," Voldemort said, "remove him from here. Take him back to Dumbledore."

With no consideration for the brutal beating he had suffered, he was hauled to his feet again and in seconds the two Death Eaters on either side of him Disapperated. When they Apprated at the main gates of Hogwarts they dumped him onto the ground without ceremony, Macnair connecting his steel-capped boot with Severus' side before Disapperating.

Minutes passed before he felt strong enough to even reach for his wand. Pointing it at the gates, he murmured a few words and they groaned and squealed on their ancient hinges as they opened. Dragging himself across the threshold, he managed to get himself into a sitting position against the gates. It felt like hours had past before he was finally able to stand on his feet. Once he had achieved that, he summoned a house-elf.

"You're going to get better soon, right?"

He was drawn from his thoughts by her question. "Yes. Your mother tells me I will make a full recovery."

She nodded and then said, "Dad, I want to say I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For all those times I got angry because you wouldn't let me tell anyone who I really was." She stared down at her hands again. "I understand now why you didn't want me to."

"You have no need to apologise. Evelyn – look at me." He waited until she held his gaze. "I may not have always expressed myself in the best way, but my concern was not for my own safety – my first priority has always been you."

She sniffed as a tear rolled down her cheek. "I almost messed everything up."

"You did no such thing."

"But you got hurt."

He regarded her with a severe look. "Listen to me very carefully. What happened to me had nothing to do with you. I became a Death Eater before you were born, even before I married your mother. You-Know-Who was as harsh in his punishments then as he is now. He would have treated me in the same manner had I been a childless bachelor."

"But…"

There was a bite of irritation to his voice as he said, "You are not at fault here, Evelyn. I had to face You-Know-Who tonight. This Mark is imbued with dark magic, and it gives me no other choice but to respond to him when he summons me."

Of course, he did have another choice. But he did not want to be hunted and slaughtered like a pig, which was the fate that awaited Igor Karkaroff.

She finally seemed to accept his response. After a long silence she asked, "Will he hurt you like that again?"

Severus chose his next words wisely. "If I am careful he won't."

"What's going to happen when we leave Hogwarts for the summer?" she asked, fear tingeing her eyes. "And what about Mum – she won't be coming back here in September."

"Your mother is a grown witch," he said evenly, "and a very gifted one. She knows how to take care of herself."

He said it as much to calm his own fears as hers. With Voldemort's return the Death Eaters would feel emboldened, attacks would become more frequent. Deirdre could not hide behind anonymity this time around. Her cousin, Aodhán Harper, was fully aware of who she was, and he hated her; she was a living reminder that her father had married a Muggle-born witch.

"Are we going to still live in Spinner's End?"

"I don't know, Evelyn," he said truthfully, "I will need to discuss it with your mother first. There is a possibility you can both stay at the Order's headquarters until I can be certain Spinner's End will be secure enough for you to remain there."

"You wouldn't be living with us?"

He shook his head. "No, it will be too dangerous."

He could see that she was not happy with his proposed plan but she did not question him on it. Instead, she asked, "Where is the Order's headquarters?"

"Professor Dumbledore has not decided on that, although it will most likely be in London somewhere."

"London? Why there?"

"That's where the Ministry of Magic is. If You-Know-Who wishes to take control of the Wizarding world, then he must take control of Whitehall first."

She worried her bottom lip. "You'll come and see us, won't you?"

"Of course."

She breathed out a sigh of resignation. "I suppose living in London won't be that bad."

Chapter 29: Chapter 28

Hello! So...I kept my word and here is another chapter. I'm back to work tomorrow, so chapters might be a bit slower in getting written, but it won't take two years - I promise.

Enjoy!

Chapter 28

Evelyn folded down the flaps of a cardboard box and placed her arm on it while she wrestled with a roll of Sellotape, trying a bite a strip off with her teeth. After making sure it was sealed properly, she slid it across the carpet to join a stack of other boxes. Today was her last day in Spinner's End; that night she would be sleeping in a strange room in the Order's headquarters.

She didn't want to leave, but she understood why she had to go. While Voldemort was unlikely to use Spinner's End as his base of operations, not when other Death Eaters had mansions, the house had to be available to him should he chose to come. Her father was a very skilled Legilimens, but even he would have difficulty explaining why there was a woman and a girl living there. His bruises had completely disappeared, but she never wanted to see any on him ever again. He'd told her it wasn't her fault, and she accepted that now, but she was determined that he never would get hurt because of her.

There was not much left to pack. All of the boxes were being sent to a Muggle self-storage unit somewhere in Manchester. Her parents said that there couldn't be a single trace that anyone other than her father had lived in the house over the last thirteen years. Getting down onto her stomach, she wriggled halfway under the bed, feeling about for shoes she had put under there some time ago. Finding them, she wriggled out again and set the shoes onto her bed. She wanted to take all three pairs with her, but there wouldn't be enough room in her trunk for them.

Switching off her Walkman, she pushed the headphones off of her head so that they hung about her neck. She needed advice for a decision like this. Her mother would be able to tell her which ones she should take.

"Mum?" she called when she'd reached the bottom of the stairs.

"She's gone to the shop," her father said from the living room.

"Maybe you can help me, then," she said entering the room. "I can't decide which shoes to take with me."

He closed the newspaper, although he kept his thumb and forefinger in between the pages he had been reading. He looked at the shoes, then said, "I fail to see what the dilemma is; they're all identical."

"Says you, who has five suits that are exactly the same."

He opened the newspaper again, flicking it so that the pages made a short, sharp crack. "The buttons are different."

She pressed her lips together to keep herself from laughing. She had no idea he was so sensitive about his clothes. Still looking in his direction, her attention was drawn to the headlines on the front page.

NECESSARY IMPROVEMENTS NEEDED AT HOGWARTS

"Dad, who's that woman in the photograph?"

"Dolores Umbridge."

She looked just like a large, pale toad. "What has she got against Hogwarts?"

He stopped what he was reading and turned to the front page. "Inadequate teaching…low expectations…poor management by the headmaster…students' skills not sufficiently developed..."

Evelyn scoffed. "What does she know"?

"As a Ministry official, she has an insight into education that experienced teachers can only dream of," he said dryly.

"She can't actually change anything at Hogwarts, though, can she?"

"Perhaps," he said, folding the newspaper and setting it onto his lap. "She has been appointed as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."

She grimaced. "Why?"

"The Ministry wants a full report written about the school, so they decided it would be easier to just send one official to Hogwarts. The Board of Governors agreed. They outvoted the headmaster in regards to Umbridge's appointment."

"Who did Professor Dumbledore want?"

"Someone who is not a bureaucrat." He stood up and placed the newspaper into the magazine rack. "Are you all packed"?

"Yeah…nearly…"

His brow creased slightly. "It will only be for four weeks and then you'll be back at Hogwarts."

"I know, but…"

"What?"

"It's nothing, I'm just being silly."

"No, tell me."

"I really wanted to brew a Larungao Potion. I saw some in a shop window in Diagon Alley last week. It looked…fun."

He arched an eyebrow, clearly wanting her to define her definition of 'fun'.

"I wouldn't use it on anybody else, just me."

He folded his arms and looked down his hooked nose at her. "You do realise that potion was designed for opera singers?"

She giggled. "Yeah, but if you took enough of it you'd sound like you were on helium. I read up about it. Adding Billywig sting slime as the base ingredient makes your voice go higher, but if you use Fluxweed it makes it go lower."

"I am aware of how to make it."

Her smile faded. "But I doubt there's a potions laboratory in the Order's headquarters."

He sneered. "You will not find anything remotely academic in that house."

She looked at him oddly. He never said anything, but she had sensed over the past few weeks that he was really not happy about the house Professor Dumbledore had chosen as the Order's headquarters. And after the comment he had just made, she wanted to ask him why he had such a problem with it. But she assumed he couldn't talk about it because, while she was his daughter, she wasn't part of the Order. He would have told her otherwise, she was certain of it. Things had changed between them since the Dementor's Kiss and his first encounter with Voldemort. He told her things now. In turn, though, she had come to understand that there was information he could not share with her – for her own safety.

…

Evelyn stood in the living room, unable to swallow the large lump in her throat. Packing her trunk was not the same as waiting to step into the fireplace, leaving behind her father and the only home she had ever known. As she glanced around the room, taking one last look, she hardly recognised it at all. There were no family photographs on the mantelpiece or on the walls; the carpet was gone, leaving only the naked floorboards, and instead of light beech-coloured furniture, the walls were lined with dark oak bookshelves that heaved under the weight of the books crammed into them. The three piece suite was gone too; in its place was a grotty armchair that looked as if a cat had used it as a scratching post.

Her stomach clenched. He was going to be living here, like this, by himself. It really did look as if she and her mother had never existed. Sadness filled her as realised that this was a realistic reflection of what his life would have been like, had he chosen to remain single. She was glad he had married her mother, though, and that he hadn't spent the last thirteen years all alone.

"It's your turn now, Evelyn," he said.

Her mother had already stepped into the fireplace and Flooed to Diagon Alley. They were to meet someone from the Order there who would take them to the house. But now it was just and her father. Suddenly she felt like she used to when he went off to Hogwarts and left her here, but only this time it was a sharper, keener sort of pain. It made her heart sore. She felt like she was only beginning to know the real him, and now she was being taken away from him.

She felt throat close over. "I know…"

He put his hand on the back of her head and gently drew her to him. She pressed her face into the woollen material of his overcoat, breathing in a scent that was distinctly him: sandalwood and the pungent smell of brewing potions.

He lightly brushed his fingers over her hair. "This is only a temporary arrangement. We will be under the same roof again soon."

She nodded, choking back tears. "When will you come and see me?"

"There is an Order meeting on Thursday."

She squeezed him tighter. "OK."

He removed his arm from around her and stepped back. "It's time to go now."

She simply nodded, afraid that if she said something now she wouldn't be able to stop herself from becoming a sobbing mess. As she stood in the fireplace, she took once last look at him before she threw a handful of Floo powder into the cold grate. When the green flames died away he was gone and instead she was met by her mother and a woman she had never seen before.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" her mother said, dusting soot from her denim jacket.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Her mother gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Evelyn knew she had not found saying goodbye easy either.

"Evelyn, this is Tonks. She's an Auror and she's going to take us to the house."

"Wotcher, Evelyn," she said.

She looked at Tonks and her eyes widened in shock. "Your hair…it's pink! It was black a minute ago."

Tonks laughed. "I'm a Metamorphmagus."

Evelyn grinned. "That's wicked."

"Well, we should get going," Tonks said, "you'll want to claim a room before the rest of them arrive."

She wrinkled her nose. "How many people will be living in the house?"

Tonks began to count off people on her fingers. "The Weasleys, minus Charlie, Bill and Percy, will be arriving this evening; so will Hermione. Remus arrived about a week ago. My cousin lives there too, it's his house actually. You might know him; he sometimes goes by the name of Snuffles?"

She felt as if someone had dropped a lead ball into her stomach. Sirius Black. She understood now why her father had been so uptight about the house. Glancing at her mother, she saw that her mouth had flattened into a thin line. She didn't know if it was because she was hearing this for the first time as well, or because she had just been reminded that he lived there too.

"Yeah, I know him," she said, then forced a smile, "I met him last year."

The walk from Diagon Alley to the house took them past St Paul's Cathedral, the Museum of London, and through a warren of narrow lanes lined with pubs, book shops, high-end clothes shops, and the occasional gift shop selling overpriced, tacky souvenirs. When they had walked for about forty-five minutes, Tonks turned onto a street named Grimmauld Place, and stopped outside a row of run-down Georgian townhouses. They did not look welcoming at all. Black bags of uncollected rubbish were piled on the footpath, wafting a foul odor through the air as the food in them rotted in the hot July sun. Thisis where she was going to be living?

Tonks handed her a piece of paper and said, "Read this."

She took it and looked down at it. It said: The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.

When she looked up again, Tonks took the paper and set fire to it with the tip of her wand. She then said, "Think about what you've just read."

Evelyn did, and suddenly a door appeared in between numbers eleven and thirteen. It was as if the walls of the houses on either side of it had been pushed out of the way to make room for it.

"Come on, follow me," Tonks said.

She and her mother followed the pink-haired Auror up stone steps, stopping outside a black door that had a dull, brass twelve on it. There was no keyhole or letterbox, but Tonks took out her wand and tapped the door once, unlocking it.

As Tonks pushed the door open, she was greeted with a long, dark hallway. It looked like the entrance of a cave that led straight to a troll's den. It smelt like one too: rotten and damp. At least, that was how Newt Scamander described a troll's den in one of his books.

She tentatively followed her mother into the house, while Tonks told them not to make any noise until they passed through the hallway – she didn't want them to wake anything up. Evelyn eyed the walls nervously, wondering if something sinister was hiding in them. From looking at the walls, though, it was obvious that the Blacks had wanted to make a statement with their house. But it seemed as if it had suffered from years of neglect. Sumptuous wall tapestries were now nothing more than dull, moth-eaten rags; wallpaper that had once boasted rich colours such as gold and deep burgundy had faded, and most of it had peeled away from the walls.

Tonks led them into a large kitchen, and sitting at a table in the middle of the room was Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. She wanted to turn around and walk straight out of the room, but Lupin had already stood up and was coming towards them. She sneaked a glance at Sirius, but he was busy picking his fingernails, clearly wishing to ignore them.

"Deirdre, Evelyn," Lupin said, "welcome to Headquarters. I hope you'd a good trip here."

"Yes. It was fine," her mother said. "Is there somewhere we can put our things."

Evelyn could tell she was not in the mood for small talk.

"Ah…yes," he said, "on the first floor. The two rooms left of the bathroom.

"Thank you," she said, then turned to Evelyn, "come, and we'll get sorted."

"I'll see you shortly, then," he said, smiling kindly at them.

Evelyn returned his smile as she followed her mother out of the room. She was pleased he was living here too. At least she'd have someone to talk to when her mother went to work.

"Which one do you want?" her mother asked as they stood outside the bedrooms.

"I don't mind," she said, "neither of them is really appealing."

She gave a soft laugh. "No, they're not, are they. You take the one nearest the bathroom, then."

"OK," Evelyn said and lugged her trunk into the room.

She surveyed her new surroundings, her lip curling in slight disgust at the grubby windows; patches of the ceiling were discoloured due to damp, and paint flaked off the walls like it had a bad case of dandruff. She sat down on the bed gingerly, the springs squeaking as the mattress dipped. The only other furniture in the small room was a desk and a threadbare armchair.

Less than two hours had passed since she left Spinner's End, but she was already missing it. She wanted to be back in her own room, where everything was familiar. She wanted to listen to her mother hum happily to herself as she pottered about the house, and to be able to go down into the cellar and help her father with whatever potion he was brewing that day.

Four weeks suddenly seemed like an awfully long time.

…

After a fortnight living at Grimmauld Place, Evelyn was bored to the point of distraction. She had already read through her textbooks for the coming term, as well as the other books she had packed in her trunk. Lupin had had his 'furry little problem', as Sirius called it, at the beginning of the second week, so he'd stayed in his room for most of the time. Tonks called in regularly; she really liked her, but a lot of the time she sat with her cousin in the kitchen. She had asked her to join them, several times, but Evelyn would rather wrap herself in the Doxy-infested curtains than have afternoon tea with Sirius Black.

A knock on her bedroom door drew her from her thoughts.

"Come in," she said.

The door opened and Lupin entered, a large box floating behind him.

"What's that?"

"I don't know, but it's heavy, and it's for you."

"For me?"

"Yes. Tonks brought it."

Lupin used his wand to guide the box onto the floor. "Would you like me to open it for you?"

"Yeah, please."

With the tip of his wand he broke the seal around the box. He then stepped back to let her to see what was inside.

"Oh…whoa!" she breathed.

It was a potions set. Inside the cauldron there was an envelope with her name on it. She recognised the spiky but neat handwriting straight away. It was from her father.

Evelyn,

At last I've found a small enough potions set to fit in your room. I will be visiting in a day or two, by which time I will expect you to have brewed the enclosed.

Dad

Looking into the box again she found a rolled up piece of parchment. She removed the string around it and then unrolled it. Her eyes lit up as she saw the name of the potion written at the top of the parchment: Larungao. He had carefully written out what ingredients and the amount of each she would need, as well as a methodology for the brewing process.

"A gift from your father?"

She nodded as she lifted the cauldron from the box, her lips parting slightly in astonishment as she realised it was a copper one. They were the most expensive cauldrons, costing at least twenty-five galleons. She set it onto the desk carefully, admiring it; it was one of the best gifts she had ever received. The stirring rods were copper too, and he had even managed to find her a dinky set of scales. She suddenly wished he was with her so that she could tell him how much she loved her present, and that she was incredibly thankful to him for buying it for her.

"He put a lot of thought into it, didn't he?" Lupin said as she continued to place the contents of the box onto the desk.

"Yeah, he did. Look at these," she said, "he even put in different kinds of knives. This one is for thinly slicing something; this one cuts through tough ingredients, like roots and things. And this one here, it shreds rather than cuts."

He smiled at her. "Anyone listening to you would think you're a potion master's daughter."

She laughed. "I've picked up a trick or two"

"Well, I suppose I should leave you to get brewing."

"Thanks for bringing it up here for me, Professor."

He gave her a look of feigned annoyance. "I've told you, I'm not your professor anymore. You can call me Remus. Or Lupin."

"OK…I'll try to remember."

An hour later she had managed to create a base potion using Billywig sting slime. Her father had given her Fluxweed too, but she wanted to make the potion that caused the voice to go higher in pitch first. She opened the window slightly to let the fumes escape, and she was just about to start slicing some pickled slugs when there was a light rap on the door.

She frowned. The only people who ever came to her bedroom were her mother or Lupin. And that knock didn't sound like either of theirs. Putting the knife down onto the table, she wiped her fingers on the apron she was wearing – her father had thought to put one of those in box too.

Opening the door, she arched her eyebrows, surprised to see Hermione Granger standing there. "Yeah?" she said.

"Hello," Hermione began, "I was coming down the stairs and I couldn't help but smell Billywig sting slime, and...well…I'm just curious as to what you're doing in there."

"I have a potions set," she said.

Hermione's eyes widened. "You do? Can I see it?"

A strange, possessive feeling came over her. She didn't' dislike Hermione, but the potions set was a gift from her father, one that he had put a lot of thought, time and money into, and she did not want to share it with anyone else.

"I'm in the middle of something right now," she said evasively, "maybe later."

"Oh…" Hermione said, clearly disappointed.

"See you later, then."

Evelyn closed the door but she then heard heavy footsteps stomp along the landing.

"What are you doing here, Hermione?"

It was Ron Weasley.

"Why are you here, Ron," she bit back.

"Mum told me to tell her dinner is ready."

"Don't be so rude. Her name is Evelyn."

"Whatever," he said, "why is she even here? She's a Slytherin. They all end up on You-Know-Who's side."

"Don't make such idiotic comments, Ron," she said, her voice rising. "Where the Sorting Hat places a student when they are eleven doesn't determine who they'll be in the future. I thought you would have learnt that from Scabbers."

"Stay here if you want, I'm going downstairs to eat."

Hermione made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and then Evelyn heard her march down the landing after Ron, shouting, "Why do you always have to be so pig-headed!"

Even when they were gone she continued to stand where she was, staring at the door. She hated that people like Ron Weasley only saw Gryffindor's main rival when they looked at her. He thought he was so much better than everyone in Slytherin, but the fact was, he was just as prejudiced as Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson.

Taking a deep breath, she went back to the desk and carried on where she had left off. As she sliced the pickled slugs she he tried not to think about how much she wanted to go home; about much she missed her father. She wished things could go back to the way they were before Voldemort's return. But that wasn't going to happen any time soon, and no matter how much her parents tried to reassure her, she knew their current living circumstances was going to last much longer than a few weeks.

It was past eight o'clock when her stomach rumbled loudly. She had been ignoring the gnawing hunger for some time, as she had not wanted to sit in the same room as Ron. So she decided to wait until the noise in the kitchen had faded, and everyone had scattered throughout the house.

The potion was finished, but it needed to sit in the cauldron for twelve hours before it would be properly ready. After ensuring everything was correctly put away, she turned off the gas lamp and headed downstairs.

"Good evening, Evelyn," Lupin said as she came into the kitchen, "Molly said you'd come down at some point. She kept some dinner for you – it's in the stove."

"Thanks," she said, not looking at Sirius Black, who was also at the table. She would rather not sit in his company, but she was too hungry at that moment to care.

"How is your brewing going?"

Evelyn put on an oven glove and opened the stove door. "OK."

"Playing with a Chemistry set like daddy does?" Sirius sneered.

"Sirius!" Lupin said and shot him a disapproving look.

She didn't know if it was a decades-old insult or not, but she understood the meaning. Muggles were incapable of making potions; they turned out more like soups with health benefits – or deadly poisons, depending on the ingredients used. As a result, Muggle apothecaries were lumped with the Muggle science of Chemistry. In effect, Sirius implied that neither she nor her father had any aptitude for potion-making.

"At least he didn't get a Troll for Potions in his O.W.L.S.."

Sirius' lip curled back in a snarl. "How'd you know I got that?"

"I didn't – but you've just told me."

Lupin laughed softly. "She outwitted you there, Sirius."

"You're taking her side!"

I'm not taking anybody's side."

Sirius stood up abruptly from the table. "I don't know why I ever agreed to let a Snape stay here."

He stalked out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

"Ignore him," Lupin said, "he's just sick of being cooped up in this house all the time. It's driving him mad."

She set the plate of food onto the table and sat down. "You don't have to make excuses for him. I know he hates my dad, and I think when he looks at me it's him he sees."

"Perhaps…" Lupin said, his tone neither confirming nor denying what she had said.

She poked at the mash potatoes on her plate then said, "My dad told me about what Sirius did to him at school, about luring him to the Shrieking Shack…"

"Yes," he replied soberly, "I'm just thankful James was there to stop your father from going inside."

"Harry's dad? I thought he hated my dad too."

Lupin gave a wistful sigh. "He did hate your father, but James always thought Sirius took things too far with that prank."

Anger balled in Evelyn's chest. "But why did they hate him? What did he do to deserve it?"

"Your father did nothing. In fact, that's partly why I think they tormented him over so many years. He refused to give them the reaction they wanted. It took until fifth year before they achieved that."

She clenched the fork in her hand tightly. "That's when he called his friend the 'M' word. She never spoke to him after that. Dad says she's dead now. He wouldn't tell me her name, though."

Lupin hesitated a moment before he spoke. "Yes, I knew her too. I did try to speak to her about it at the time, but she had already made up her mind. You see, your father was interested in the Dark Arts at school and she believed he was aspiring to become a follower of You-Know-Who."

"That's not true," she said, banging the butt of the fork on the table, "he didn't want to become a Death Eater. And he's not a dark wizard."

"I know he's not," he said softly, "but sometimes people only choose to see what they want to."

"Why did they bully him?"

Lupin sighed heavily. "Sirius was very arrogant as a teenager; I'll go as far to say that he had a big ego. He loved being a rebel, and he saw himself as somewhat of a rockstar. He picked on a lot of other students, but Severus got the worst of it."

He paused to take a sip of his tea. "You see, Severus was very clever, he still is, of course, and he got top marks in all his classes. Sirius wasn't interested in his studies, but he hated that the professors paid more attention to Severus than to him. And he always had a quick-witted response for Sirius' taunts, which angered him even more. James was just as arrogant, and the pair of them made your father's life a misery."

She looked at him, anger still balled in her chest, and he began to wobble on the pedestal that she had placed him on.

"Why didn't you try to stop them?" she asked.

Something akin to shame crept into his eyes. "I never had friends as a child; James and Sirius were the first real friends I ever had. They knew what I was and still they accepted me. I was afraid of losing their friendship, so I kept quiet. When I look back now, I regret that decision. James and Sirius might have been annoyed at me for sticking up for Severus, but they would never have disowned because of it."

"If they broke him in fifth year, why did they keep bullying him and my mum in sixth and seventh year?"

"I don't think I should be the one to –"

"Please, Proff…Remus…" she said pleading with him, "I already know they did horrible things to them. My mum said Sirius once put her in a full Body Bind, and she hit her head when she fell. I just want to know why they did it."

He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "By sixth year James wasn't as interested in tormenting your father anymore; he was more interested in someone else – his future wife, Lily. Sirius, on the other hand, seemed outraged that Deirdre had become friends with Severus."

"Why?"

"Well, for the simple reason that he could not comprehend that anyone would want to be Severus' friend. It only got worse when your mother refused to listen to him and distance herself from your father. When it became clear to Sirius that your parents cared deeply about each other, he decided he could hurt your father best by hurting your mother."

Evelyn stared at the uneaten food on her plate for a long moment, and then looked up at him. "Did he think my mum would just give up and stop being friends with my dad?"

Lupin sighed heavily again. "That's what he would have liked to have happened, but he underestimated your parents – especially your mother. She wasn't intimidated by Sirius in the least. She even threatened to….um…castrate him."

Her eyes widened. "Whoa…! My mum said that? Why?"

"Let's just say he didn't keep his hands to himself."

She made a disgusted face. "Ew…!"

"Yes…" he said, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably on his chair. "I think I've told you quite enough for one evening. You…ah…won't mention to anyone what we talked about, will you?"

Evelyn pretended to pull a zip across her mouth. "I won't say a word, Remus."

"I appreciate it."

They sat in comfortable silence while she ate her dinner. As hard as it had been for her to hear how Sirius had treated her father, she was glad Lupin had told her. She felt she understood him better, that she had a deeper connection with him somehow.

…

A week later, Severus arrived at Grimmauld Place shortly before an Order meeting was due to begin. He knew the residents of the house would be finishing up their evening meal, but he wanted to be able to see Evelyn before she was ushered out of the kitchen with the rest of the underage wizards and witches. He entered the room quietly, choosing to stand slightly in the shadows.

Evelyn saw him, though, and he felt a warmth spread through him as her eyes lit up. She then gave Deirdre a gentle nudge and whispered something to her. It was obvious when she looked at him that their daughter had informed her of his arrival. A faint but soft smile graced her mouth and a hunger stirred inside of him.

He missed them both, desperately. It was not the same as when he used to leave them to go back to Hogwarts, when he was free to come home on the weekends he was off-duty. He could also keep in frequent communication with them through letters or Fire Calls. Every holiday was spent with them, and since Evelyn, then Deirdre, had come to the castle he had gotten used to seeing them on a daily basis. But he had spent the last three weeks having minimal contact with them, and it was torturing him.

"Well, I think we…" Black stopped mid-sentence and clamped a hand around his throat. "My voice! What's happened to it?"

Everyone in the room went quiet and stared at him, but the silence was broken when Evelyn snorted into her pumpkin juice. Severus looked at her and realised what had happened. She had somehow managed to slip Larungao Potion into his drink – a lot of it. Despite breaking her word that she would not use it on anyone, he was more than impressed that she had successfully brewed such a complex potion.

"He sounds like someone kicked him in the balls."

"Ron!" Molly scolded him.

"Well, he does…" Ron said to Hermione, who was sitting beside him.

Lupin got up out of his seat and went to Sirius. "Give me your cup," he said and then sniffed it, his werewolf nose capable of detecting scents a human nose could not. "There's definitely something in your drink."

"Who did this?" he said, as ripples of laughter spread through the kitchen. "It was one of you bloody kids!"

Evelyn had covered her mouth with her hand, but by the way her shoulders were shaking it was apparent she was thoroughly enjoying Black's high-pitched voice.

"Fred! George!" Molly shouted, "If I find out either of you –"

"Don't look at us," the twins said simultaneously, holding their hands palm-up in a gesture of innocence.

Severus could see the fury and discomfiture on Black's face. He hated being made fun of, which was rather hypocritical, considering he had spent his school years publicly humiliating him. And even now he seemed to enjoy mocking him and his family at every possible opportunity.

"There's no harm done, Sirius," Lupin said, attempting to calm him down, "it's just a silly prank."

Black turned on him. "What if I'm stuck like this? I sound like a bloody choirboy!"

Evelyn, clearly unable to contain herself anymore, convulsed with laughter, tears streaming down her face. Black's head snapped from Lupin to her, his body tensing as he clenched his fists.

"You!" Black growled, pointing at Evelyn, "I know it was you. You've been playing with that bloody Chemistry set all week."

Severus, not prepared to tolerate him speaking to his daughter in that manner, stepped fully into the light. "What's the matter, Black?" he said softly, "I thought you enjoyed a good prank."

Black slowly turned his head as he stood up and glared at him. Severus stared back with an almost bored expression, unfazed by his obvious hostility towards him.

"No one asked for your opinion, Snape."

"You'll have to speak in a lower tone," he said smoothly, "my ears aren't tuned to a dog whistle's frequency."

Sniggers filled the otherwise quiet room.

"You are responsible for this!" Black snarled.

Severus folded his arms casually. "Do enlighten me."

Lupin moved to stand beside Black, seemingly uncomfortable in the way his friend was behaving. "Sirius, maybe Severus can help you."

He scoffed, "I'd rather crawl inside a dead Blast-Ended Skrewt!"

At the word 'Skrewt' Black's voice dropped to its normal pitch, and his whole body visible relaxed. But almost immediately he slumped down in his chair again, his face sullen as he began shovelling the rest of his dinner into his mouth.

Severus looked over at Evelyn, who had stopped laughing, but she appeared to be very pleased with herself. He could see that Deirdre had found it amusing too, and he suppressed a smirk when her attempt to give their daughter a disapproving stare only caused her sense of triumph to grow even more.

A few hours later, the Order meeting finally ended. Severus, anxious to speak with his family properly, turned to leave, but he was stopped by Dumbledore. Refraining from heaving an irritated sigh, he crossed the kitchen to where the headmaster was still seated.

"What is it, Albus?" he asked.

"Harry Potter was attack by a Dementor this evening."

"What?"

Dumbledore took a custard cream from a plate of biscuits on the table and dunked it into his tea. "Oh, he's fine and so is his cousin."

"I thought Mundungus was supposed to be watching him."

"He left his post."

"Typical," Severus sneered. He had not forgiven the shady, self-seeking wizard for abandoning his post during the war, causing him to miss his daughter's birth.

"I need you to find out if Lord Voldemort was responsible for ordering the Dementor attack," Dumbledore said, "and I shall investigate whether Cornelius Fudge was responsible."

Severus frowned. "Fudge?"

"I believe he fears the truth of Voldemort's return so much that he is willing to silence all those who speak it."

Severus recalled the Minster for Magic's uncontrolled fury in the hospital wing at Hogwarts a few weeks before. All the evidence had been right in front of him, but he had refused to believe it. He had even executed a key witness without trial. That was something he thought only ever happened in the Magical Congress of the United States of America; their barbaric execution chambers were the stuff of nightmares.

"There is one other thing I wish to speak with you about, Severus."

"Yes…"

"It concerns Deirdre."

He stiffened somewhat then said, "What about her?"

"The Order could use her expertise –"

"No," Severus said plainly, cutting him off, "she is in enough danger as it is because of her association with me. I swore an oath in order to protect her, not so that she could chase down Death Eaters."

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. "I am not suggesting, Severus, that she goes on the front lines. But her knowledge of curses would be an invaluable asset to the Order, as would her skills as a healer."

Severus considered the headmaster's proposal as his initial, instinctive reaction to protect his family gave way to more level-headed reasoning. In reality, he did not have the right to dictate his wife's role in the coming war. She was a grown woman and not an underage witch who needed his permission.

"I will ask her," he said, "but if she has no wish to join the Order then I will not force her to do so."

"Very well, Severus," Dumbledore said as he bit into his second custard cream.

Leaving the kitchen, he made his way to one of the two parlours at the front of the house. While Lupin and Black preferred to lurk in the kitchen, the Weasleys and Miss Granger had taken one of the rooms, leaving the other for Evelyn and Deirdre, so that they could enjoy some sort of privacy in the overcrowded house.

When he entered the parlour, the gas lamps had been dimmed to a soft glow; soothing instrumental music played quietly on the radio, and the cedarwood-scented candles burning on the mantelpiece had taken the edge of the fusty smell in the room. Evelyn was curled up on the sofa reading a magazine, while Deirdre dozed in an armchair, the book she had been reading still open on her lap.

"Dad!" Evelyn whispered when she saw him. She climbed off the sofa and hurried to him, throwing her arms around him. "I've missed you so much."

He returned her embrace. "I have missed you too," he said then added, "and I see you've successfully brewed the Larungao Potion."

She shrugged. "I guess so."

He arched an eyebrow. "Was Black justified in his accusation, then?"

"Maybe." she said, giggling, "But, Dad, did you hear his voice? It was hilarious."

"Quite."

She placed her hands on her hips. "You were smirking. I saw you."

"Yes, well, I did not buy you a potions set so that you could slip your creations into people's drinks – even if that person happens to be Sirius Black."

"I promise I won't do it again."

"See that you don't."

He went and sat down on the sofa; she followed and snuggled up close beside him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"The potion turned out perfect, though, didn't it?"

"Yes, very impressive," he said then added, "do you like your potions set?"

"I love it. Thank you so much."

"What would you like me to send you to brew next?"

"I don't know. You can choose for me."

"Preferably something that isn't going to blow the house up if mistakes are made."

He snorted at Deirdre's sleepy comment. "Do you think anyone would notice a difference if she did?"

She laughed softly. "Probably not.

If anything, it would be an improvement on the place, he thought.

"Will you come and visit us tomorrow again?" Evelyn asked, sounding hopeful.

"I'm going to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Oh…" she said, "but there's still a week of the holidays left."

"Contrary to what students might think, lessons do not plan themselves and the store cupboards are not self-replenishing."

"Can I come with you?"

"No," he said, "I won't be there all of the time, as I have Order business to attend to as well."

"Yeah…I understand," she said, "but you'll be careful, won't you?"

He lightly brushed his fingers over hair. "I will."

When she finally fell asleep beside him, he gently moved her so that she could lie down on the sofa. He lifted a blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa and covered her with it. For a brief moment he allowed himself to believe they were back in Spinner's End and that today had been another normal day, and tomorrow would be just the same.

He sighed.

Only one more week and then she would be back at Hogwarts.

Chapter 30: Chapter 29

Hello! Here's the next chapter of my story. It is a LONG one - sorry about that. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 29

Evelyn sat cross-legged on her bed, idly reading an article about Hairy MacBoons in a Magizoologly magazine she'd bought in Diagon Alley earlier that day. They were perhaps one of the most bizarre creatures she had ever heard of, not least because legend said they were Transfigured wizards. When she finished a paragraph that claimed the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was close to creating a variation of the Draught of Living Death powerful enough to tranquilise the man-eating Qunitapeds, she scooted off the bed, eager to find her father. But as she slipped her feet into her trainers she realised she wasn't at Spinner's End, he wouldn't be in the living room or in the cellar, willing to discuss potions and beasts with her.

The horrible feeling of separation that had shadowed her for weeks suddenly seemed to grow in strength. While other members of the Order frequently dropped in and out of the house, he only came when Professor Dumbledore called a meeting. Sometimes he stayed, but most of the time he left straight afterwards. She might not like it, but it was important no one suspected he had a reason to remain behind, as only Remus, Sirius, Harry and Hermione knew she was his daughter – and he wanted to keep it that way. At one time she would have argued with him, accusing him of being paranoid, but she understood now that it was for her own protection, as well as for his and her mother's.

She kicked off her trainers and flopped down on the bed. She never thought she could miss him so much. For a long time she had been unsure if he really loved her, as he always seemed to put his work first, but when she had started Hogwarts their relationship began to slowly change. She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when she realised he had always loved her fiercely, even more than she had ever dared to believe, but she thought it was around the time she had encountered her first Boggart.

Closing the magazine and setting it to one side, she looked around the bedroom. It was as bare as when she had first arrived, although it was perhaps less of a health hazard since Molly Weasley had declared war on every inch of dirt, grime, and mould in the house. She had tried to make it as familiar as possible, and the potions set her father had bought her was perhaps the closest it had become to feeling like home.

The packed trunk at the bottom of her bed was one of the few spots of sunshine in what had been a gloomy summer. She was going back to Hogwarts tomorrow and she would see her father again. But an empty feeling still clung to her as going back to school meant leaving her mother. She had tried to tell herself that every other student had to leave their parents behind, but then she'd be reminded that their parents didn't have a Death Eater cousin who loathed their very existence. She wished she could continue on in her role as the school's hospital matron, but the likelihood of Madam Pomfrey catching another contagious illness was next to zero – not that she wanted her to get sick again.

A gentle knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in."

The door opened and her mother entered the room. "Are you ready?"

"Do I have to go?"

"Molly invited us. It would be rude for you not to go."

"But I hate mingling."

Her mother gave a soft laugh. "You're your father's daughter all right. Listen, sweetheart, you don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to, but at least let Molly see you there, then you can come back upstairs."

"Ok…" she said with a sigh that sounded like she was being compelled to bottle troll snot for use in some ghastly potion.

She followed her mother across the landing and down the stairs, past the shrunken heads of house-elves mounted on the walls. She found them fascinating in a morbid sort of way, but it was also deeply disturbing that they'd been put there because they had supposedly outlived their usefulness. The whole house reeked of dark magic, and no amount of cleaning by Mrs Weasley could ever remove it. It was as if the house itself was possessed by it.

Sticking close by her as they passed the now-sleeping portrait of Mrs Black, they walked quietly along the hallway, taking the stone stairs down to the kitchen. The closer they got to the door the louder the voices became. It sounded like the room was packed with every Order member who wasn't on duty that evening. For a second a jolt of excitement spread through her, only for it to be extinguished just as quickly. If she did not want to spend an evening in a crowed kitchen talking about inconsequential things, then the odds that her father would want to were almost nonexistent.

When they entered the room she and her mother were almost immediately sucked into a knot of Order members, who welcomed them warmly. She stood quietly beside them, mildly interested in what was being said, but when someone turned the conversation to the over-inflated price of broomstick insurance, she managed to edge away without being seen.

She found a less packed spot near the door and from her vantage point she was able to survey the room. A large banner had been hung up congratulating Hermione and Ron on becoming prefects. It was evident why Hermione had been made a prefect, but she found it difficult to understand why he had been chosen. Surely there had to be a more mature and responsible Gryffindor boy than Ron Weasley.

She searched the room for a glimpse of Molly. If she could catch her eye and nod politely, then she would be able to leave. Most of the Order was there, including Tonks and Moody – but there was no sign of her father's tall, black-clad figure. She eyed Moody for a long moment. He was as mad as his impostor had been but he didn't frighten her half as much, and he certainly didn't have the same intense hatred for her father. Sirius was there, obviously, as he never left the house, and standing beside him was Harry Potter.

Harry still looked as miserable as he had when he arrived the week before. She had not been downstairs when he was brought in under a Disillusionment Charm and under guard, but she had heard him shouting angrily in Ron's room, which was above hers. The next morning at breakfast she had seen him staring at her unsubtly over the rim of his mug. No doubt Ron had already told him she was living there too, but he did not look at her with the same mistrust as his red-haired friend. Rather, it was as if he was attempting to figure out whether her father was capable of actual human relationships or if she was the result of a drunken one-night-stand. She knew he had heard what Barty Crouch had said under the influence or Veritaserum, about her parents still being involved with each other, but clearly he had not accepted it as a solid fact.

"Hello, would you like some cake?"

Evelyn, drawn from her thoughts, turned her head in the direction of the voice and saw Hermione standing there, a plate of cake in each hand.

"Yeah, thanks," Evelyn said, taking a plate, not wanting to be rude.

Hermione smiled at her. "I don't think we've been properly introduced – I'm Hermione Granger."

Refraining from responding with a sarcastic remark, knowing she was just being friendly, she said, "Evelyn Harper."

"Are you excited about going back to Hogwarts tomorrow?"

"I suppose so."

"I am – I really want to get started on work for my OWLS." Hermione used the side of her fork to slice off a piece of cake. "It's a shame your mum won't be there this year, though, I really like her."

"I'll miss her."

"It must be very strange having a parent at school."

Evelyn shrugged. "You get used to it."

"I can't imagine my parents being here."

"Yeah…" she said as she scraped chocolate icing off the rounded edge of her cake slice.

"I don't know which of my parents I would prefer at Hogwarts. I think maybe I'd like both of them to be there."

Evelyn could see that rather than trying to avoid the Erumpent in the room, Hermione was going straight for its jugular. She could let her keep going on like this, making not-so-subtle hints about her father, but she decided it would get very boring very quickly.

"I know you know about my dad," she said quietly.

Hermione almost choked on a piece of cake. It seemed she had not expected her to be so blunt about it.

"I also know Professor Dumbledore made you swear you wouldn't tell anyone." From across the room she saw Ron glaring at her. "Are you sure you want to be seen talking to me."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder. "I don't care what Ron thinks."

They fell into a somewhat awkward silence as they ate their cake, but then Evelyn asked, "So…how did you find out about, you know…"

Hermione thought for a moment then said, "It was a look you gave Ron – we've been on the receiving end of that look from Professor Snape quite a few times."

Evelyn's eyes widened slightly. "You figured it out from one look?"

"Not exactly," Hermione said, "but it's what caused me to consider the possibility that you were related to Professor Snape in some way."

"So…you didn't immediately think he was my dad?"

"Um…no, it wasn't my first thought. I mean, he is quite intimidating…"

She sensed that what the older girl was trying to say was that she never pictured him as the fatherly type.

"It's just his way," she said, not wanting to get into a debate with her about how he presented himself in school.

"Hmmm…." Hermione responded unconvincingly as she finished her last bite of cake. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but did you see him much before you started Hogwarts?"

Evelyn took her time eating the cake she had just put into her mouth. She suspected Hermione was snooping for confirmation of what Harry had heard Crouch say – so much for Dumbledore swearing him to silence.

"Why wouldn't I have, he's my dad, isn't he?" she said, neither confirming nor denying that her parents were still together.

"I…um…never mind," she said somewhat flustered, but she quickly rallied. "So what's it like having him for a father?"

"It's too horrible to explain," Evelyn said dryly.

Pink spots appeared on Hermione's cheeks. "Sorry…I didn't mean for that to sound so rude."

"It's OK…" she replied softly, knowing her apology was genuine.

Hermione absently moved a few crumbs of cake around her plate with her fork then asked, "Have you made many potions over the holidays?"

"A few."

She then seemed to remember something. "Was it you who slipped that potion into Sirius' drink?"

Evelyn smirked. "Maybe."

Hermione smiled, betraying that even she had a mischievous side, then said, "How did you make the –"

She was cut short, though, as Harry approached them and said, "Hermione, Ron wants you. He said it's urgent."

"Honestly," she said, bristling slightly, "why couldn't he have just come over here himself, like a normal person?"

Hermione marched across the kitchen, but Harry remained where he was. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but he just stood there like he had a Snitch stuck in his throat. She didn't really know what to say either, apart from, 'did you know your dad made my dad's life hell for most of his time at school?' Despite the noise in the kitchen there was a great uncomfortable silence between them, and neither of them, it appeared, wanted to be the first to break it. Finally Harry seemed to decide that what he had to say wasn't so important after all, and he quietly slipped out of the kitchen.

Later that evening, just after Evelyn had snuggled under her duvet, her mother came into the bedroom. She sat down on the edge of her bed, tucking the covers in around her before brushing loose strands of hair away from her face.

"Did you have a good conversation with Hermione? She's a nice girl."

"Yeah, she is."

"What did you talk about?"

"Just school and stuff…"

"Speaking of which, it's time you were asleep. You've a long day tomorrow."

"I wish you could come with me."

"I do too, but Madam Pomfrey is back to full health, and it is her job."

"Yeah, I know. It's just…are you going to be OK here on your own?"

"I've been on my own before, during your first year."

"But you were at Spinner's End then, not in this grotty place."

Her mother smiled as she gently stroked her hair. "Professor Dumbledore will most likely send your father here on a regular basis with information for the Order. He'll keep an eye on me. Besides, there are others living here, too, so I won't be completely on my own."

Apprehension uncoiled in Evelyn's stomach as she said, "What about your cousin? I heard Dad say he lives in London."

There was a slight hesitation before she answered. "London is a big place, sweetheart. Besides, he's got other things to occupy his thoughts; I'm the least of his concerns right now," she said then leaned down and kissed Evelyn's forehead. "Get some sleep. Good night."

"Night, Mum."

As she left the room, closing the door behind her, Evelyn pulled the covers tighter around her, reminding herself of what her father had told her before the summer holidays: 'Your mother is a grown witch and a very gifted one. She knows how to take care of herself.'

…

Evelyn awoke early the next morning. She yawned, giving a bone-cracking stretch before sliding out of bed. Shafts of light shone through small holes in the curtains, creating a complex criss-cross of beams. Dressing quickly, she checked to make sure everything was in her trunk. Her gaze then fell on the potions set on the desk. She wished she could bring it with her but there would be nowhere to put it; besides, brewing potions in the common rooms and dormitories was forbidden. But her mother had promised her she would look after it, and that she would ask Sirius to give Kreacher strict instructions that he was not to enter the room, so that the house-elf couldn't steal any of the potions set.

The house was very quiet as she made her way down to the kitchen. It was barely six o'clock, but her mother wanted to go to St Mungo's to clear up some paperwork before she took her to King's Cross Station. She had said she would go with her, even though it would be rather dull sitting in her office, but she wanted to spend as much time with her as possible.

Lupin and Sirius were sat the table along with her mother when she entered the kitchen, but it didn't really surprise her that they were also up early as neither of them seemed to sleep very much.

"Morning, Mum," she said, slipping into a seat beside her.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she said. "Are you hungry? There's plenty to eat."

She wasn't particularly hungry, but she knew it could be a while before she got anything else to eat. Selecting toast, sausages and bacon, she made a butty for herself. As she took a bite of it she glanced up at Sirius, who sniffed his cup before taking a small sip from it. She suppressed a giggle; he had been doing that ever since she had pranked him.

"Are you looking forward to going back to Hogwarts?" Lupin asked.

Sirius suddenly coughed into his cup as if he had swallowed liquid down the wrong way, but Evelyn was certain she heard him say, 'Good riddance'

"Yeah, I am," she said, ignoring him. She then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand only to have her mother silently slide a napkin towards her. The message was clear: she hated bad table manners – much like her father did.

"You'll get to go into Hogsmeade this year, too," Lupin said with a smile. "I can still remember my first visit there; I think I spent every knut I had in Honeydukes."

"I can't wait to go there; Mum's already signed my permission slip," she said then took a gulp of pumpkin juice. "We've also got another new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year."

"Who's that, then?" Lupin asked curiously, although she detected a slight trace of envy in his eyes. She wished he was taking up the post again and not that toad-like Ministry official.

She swallowed the food in her mouth and said, "Dolores Umbridge."

This time Sirius actually choked on his drink, while Lupin sprayed his over his breakfast. Both of them, though, had a distinct look of disgust on their faces.

"What's Dumbledore playing at!" Sirius growled. "Doesn't he know how bloody awful that woman is?"

"He didn't have a choice," her mother said calmly. "The Ministry forced Dumbledore to hire her."

Sirius scoffed, "Is that what Snivellus told you?"

"Don't Sirius," she said sharply, glaring at him, "just don't…"

He quickly seemed to sense that it would be safer to wrap himself in a Lethifold than to keep baiting her, so he went back to eating his breakfast without saying another word. Evelyn felt anger flare up in inside of her. Why did he have to be such a prat all of the time?

"The Ministry has been threatening action against Hogwarts for weeks," Lupin said, breaking the tension. "I'm not surprised they've forced her on the school."

"What's so bad about her?" Evelyn asked.

"She hates half-breeds," he said reproachfully, "and she was responsible for legislation that makes it virtually impossible for those like me to get employment."

"That's awful! Is she…a Death Eater?"

Sirius snorted. "The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters."

She looked at him strangely. It was the most sensible thing she had ever heard him say.

"I reckon she's going to make life difficult for Dumbledore," Lupin said, "Fudge wants rid of him, and he's sending Umbridge there to find evidence that he's incompetent."

Her mother took a sip of tea then said, "I'd like to see her try and outwit Dumbledore. I've had dealings with her in the past; she carried out an inspection of St Mungo's last year. She's a terrible human being, but she's predictable. You just have to let her think she's in control."

"How much control will she have?" Evelyn asked, disliking her new professor even more.

"However much Fudge decides to give her," Lupin said gravely. "It's the Ministry that funds Hogwarts, after all. But they can't just give Dumbledore the boot, they need concrete evidence he's mismanaging the school, otherwise they can't dissolve his contract."

"It's magically binding," her mother added, "and Fudge knows that."

Evelyn set her half-eaten butty onto the plate in front of her, having completely lost her appetite. She had never heard her mother or Lupin speak so contemptuously of anyone like that before. It caused her apprehension to grow to the point that her insides twisted into a tight ball at the thought of having Umbridge as her teacher.

"Look at the time," her mother said draining the last of her tea. "We need to get going."

…

Evelyn hadn't been inside her mother's office for a few years, but it looked exactly the same. It was neat and ordered, as she expected any Ravenclaw's workspace to be. One wall was lined with shelves which were filled with books on jinxes, hexes, charms and curses. There were also a few books on general magical healing; she noticed one or two Muggle medical volumes, too, but she guessed her mother never consulted those in front of wizarding folk.

"Make yourself comfortable," her mother said. "I'm going to the tearoom, is there anything you want?"

"A hot chocolate would be nice."

"OK. I'll be back shortly."

After she left, Evelyn dropped her school bag onto the floor beside her trunk and walked over to the shelves. She ran a finger along the spines of books, looking for a title that interested her. She stopped at one entitled, Quackery: A History of Muggle Remedies. Flipping through the pages, she paused on a chapter about medieval cures, piquing her interest even m more.

Kicking off her trainers, she curled up on the sofa and began to read. The chapter opened with a quote by a wizard named Gaius Froissart, who stated in 1362 that, 'Muggle physicians need only three qualifications: to be able to lie and not get caught; to pretend to be honest; and to cause death without guilt.' The more she read the more she began to see why wizarding folk considered Muggle doctors to be mad and Muggle cures to be ludicrous, barbaric even. She squirmed as she read about a cure for the Black Death; it claimed that the buboes could be healed by cutting up a pigeon and rubbing it all over an infected body. And a modern-day Healer commented rather disparagingly, that, 'Some Muggle 'potions' used to relieve pain or induce sleep during surgery were potentially lethal. An example was a concoction of lettuce juice, gall from a castrated boar, briony, opium, henbane, hemlock juice and vinegar…The hemlock juice alone could easily have caused death."

It was little wonder that the title of the book had included the word quackery.

The door to the office opened and her mother entered with a teacup and saucer in one hand and a mug in the other.

"It was manic in the tearoom," she said. "I think the entire morning shift was in there. Here's your drink."

"Thanks, Mum," she said, taking the chipped, white mug. The wizarding world had not quite caught on to the idea of disposable cups yet.

"Oh, you're reading that book," her mother said with an amused expression on her face. "Your father bought it for me years ago, not long after I'd passed my final Healer exams. He said if I left it on my desk it would keep potentially difficult patients quiet, they'd be too afraid to give me cheek in case I resorted to Muggle remedies."

Evelyn laughed. "That sounds like Dad."

Her mother laughed too as she sat down at her desk and then started into the mountain of paperwork that was on it. Evelyn made herself comfy on the sofa again, carefully balancing her drink on the arm of the chair as she continued to read. Somehow knowing that her father had bought the book made her want to read it from cover to cover.

The mug of hot chocolate was long finished when a commotion in the corridor interrupted the comfortable silence in the office.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't go in there, not without an appointment."

Her mother stopped writing and looked up at the clipped tone.

"Do not sir me! I am the Minister for Anglo-Irish Relations."

Evelyn froze as she recognised Aodhán Harper's lilting but charmless accent.

"Even so, Minister, you will need an appointment."

"Get out of my way!"

The tall, thin outline of her mother's cousin appeared in the frosted glass of the office door. As he fumbled with the doorknob, her mother frantically said, "Quick, get behind that screen."

"What about my stuff?"

"Go – now!"

She ducked behind the privacy screen seconds before Aodhán barged into her office, slamming the door behind him. Through a small gap between the individual screens, she saw that he was white with fury as he marched up to her mother's desk and slapped a piece of parchment onto it.

"What. Is. This?" he demanded.

Her mother looked down at the page that had caused him to storm the hospital in search of her. "I would say that it is rather poor journalism."

"Don't get smart with me," he snapped, jabbing a long, manicured finger at her. "I warned you not to bring any more shame onto the Harper name."

"That meeting was supposed to be private," she replied coolly.

"Clearly not," he said patronisingly. "The Ministry official you spoke with went straight to the Daily Prophet; it is only because the Editor is a personal friend of mine that this filth didn't end up on the front page this morning."

"Why are you here, then," she responded in an equally patronising tone, "as you can see I am quite busy."

His nostrils flared as he snatched up the parchment again and began to read aloud:

'Yesterday, during a meeting with a junior Ministry official, Healer Deirdre Harper, cousin of the Minister for Anglo-Irish Relations, Aodhán Harper, criticised the Ministry for continually failing to crack down on overt prejudice by some members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, who, since the nineteen-thirties, have refused, in one way or another, treatment from Muggle-born healers when admitted to St Mungo's. Healer Harper, 35, was reported to have said, 'When is the Ministry going to put an end to this intolerance that discriminates against Muggle-borns? Certain members of so-called Scared Twenty-Eight should not be free to encroach on the rights of others; indeed, they need to face facts and accept that Muggle-borns are not 'unnatural' or 'contaminated' in any shape or form.'

When he finished reading he glared murderously at her. "This is Mudblood propaganda!" he ground out as he ripped the parchment into bits, throwing it all into the fire. "And I won't tolerate it, especially in my own family!"

"I spoke the truth, Aodhán. Facts are facts, they can't be changed."

He banged the flat of his hand onto the desk, causing a teacup to rattle on its saucer. Evelyn's insides jolted, too, but her mother remained still, impassive.

"As if your polluted blood wasn't enough," he said in a low, loathing tone, "you've dared to bring even more disgrace on the Harper name – on me!"

"That was not my intention."

He sneered at her as he noticed Evelyn's trunk, schoolbag and discarded trainers, his lip curling in disgust. "And I suppose it wasn't your intention to inflict a bastard child on our family, either. I sincerely hope she knows better than to tell anyone what an ignominy she is."

Her mother stood up abruptly, her blue eyes spitting fury. "Get-out-of-my-office!"

"Not until you agree to keep your repugnant opinions to yourself."

"No."

"I will give you one more chance to make the right decision, Deirdre."

"Leave now or I will send for security and have you forcibly removed."

"So be it," he said coldly, "but you can't say I didn't warn you."

She said nothing but continued to hold his gaze defiantly.

Evelyn wished that her father was here, too; he would never have allowed Aodhán to speak to her mother in that way.

Aodhán gave her one more disgusted look and then left. The glass in the door rattled as he threw the door closed behind him, rudely and loudly dismissing the secretary who had tried to stop him from entering the room a few minutes before.

Evelyn hurried out from behind the screen. "Mum, are you OK?"

"I'm fine," she said calmly as she sat down, although her face was pale and hands were trembling. "He thinks he can bully me into doing what he wants."

"He can't get you fired, can he?"

"Not for that," she said shakily. "Go and get your things together; we need to head to the station shortly."

While she got herself organised she saw her mother write a short letter on a piece of parchment and then put it into an envelope. She didn't seal it or write on the front of it but simply put it into her handbag.

…

The journey to King's Cross Station was perhaps the worst Evelyn had ever experienced. All through the taxi ride across London her mother had tried to be her usual, good-humoured self, but there was a disquietedness that never left her eyes. No matter how much she tried to distract herself, she could not get the confrontation with Aodhán out of her mind; the malevolence in his voice still frightened her.

When they reached the station and had passed through the wall onto platform nine and three-quarters, Evelyn wasn't surprised to see Lupin and Moody standing beside Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys. She also saw a huge, black dog, quickly realising it Sirius. For a moment she was transported back to that night when he had saved her from a Dementor attack, and she conceded to herself that he might be the world's biggest git, but he wasn't an evil git.

"Let's just wait here," her mother said, stopping close by the other Order members.

She soon understood why she didn't want to go further on down the platform; Lucius Malfoy was there with his wife and Draco. His steely grey eyes were fixed in their direction, but he seemed more interested in the black dog than in them.

"Mum, are you OK?" she asked quietly. "Your hands are shaking."

"I'm a little agitated, that's all," she said with a faint smile. "Aodhán tends to have that affect on me."

Evelyn wasn't convinced; she hadn't been this upset when he had threatened her during the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament.

"Will you be all right getting back to work?" she asked.

"Don't look so worried, sweetheart," she said gently, "Lupin, Moody or Tonks will go with me."

Evelyn looked over at the others. "Tonks is here?"

"Lupin said last night she'd be here; she's probably in disguise."

"And will the dog go with you, too?"

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Don't start me on him…

Despite how she was feeling, Evelyn giggled.

Her mother then took something out of her handbag and slipped into Evelyn's jacket pocket. "I want you to give this letter to your father," she whispered, "I don't trust sending it by owl."

Evelyn lightly touched her pocket as if she'd just been given a thousand galleons. "I'll make sure he gets it."

"I know you will."

The Hogwarts Express whistled loudly, drowning out the voices on the platform. It was the signal that it was time to go. She hugged her mother tightly before she took hold of her trunk, wheeling it towards the bright red train. Her stomach felt like it was being tossed about like a Quaffle, but she boarded the train and quickly found an empty compartment. Looking out of the window she saw a tall, tweedy woman with iron-grey hair standing beside her mother, and she assumed it was Tonks.

Her mother waved to her once and Evelyn saw that she was fighting to keep her emotions under control. She waved back, swallowing the large lump in her throat. Part of her wanted to get off the train and stay with her, but she had to go back to school. Besides, she'd been entrusted with a letter for her father, and she wasn't going to let her mother down.

"Hey, Evelyn!"

She turned around and saw her best friend, Edmund, standing in the doorway. She smiled at him, genuinely glad to see him. He looked tanned from his holidays in South America. She was rather jealous that he had gone hiking in the Andes and visited Machu Picchu. He had also grown at least two inches.

"Hi, Ed!

"How was your summer?" he said, lugging his trunk into the compartment.

She stared at him for a moment as the holidays flashed across her mind, and thought, 'Oh, you know, I had nightmares for weeks about the Dementor's Kiss and my father being tortured by You-Know-Who. I also had to move into a creepy house in London, which incidentally is the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix – Dumbledore's secret anti-You-Know-Who organisation that my parents are members of. I've sat at the same table as Sirius Black, the fugitive mass murderer; Harry Potter was there too. Did I mention my father's a Death Eater? Yeah, well, he's also Dumbledore's chief informer. And then just this morning my mother's Death Eater cousin showed up at St Mungo's and threatened her.'

"Yeah, it was great," she said with a smile.

After he had put both their trunks on the racks above their heads he fished something out of his pocket. "I got you this from Peru. It's not much, but the bloke at the stall assured me it's a royal llama."

She took a necklace with a silver llama pendant from him. It was beautifully carved and it had a red blanket with black diamonds painted onto its back. "I love it, Ed. Thank you!"

"Here, let me help you put it on."

She gave it to him and then pulled her hair back so that he could put it on. He fiddled with the clasp for a few moments, muttering to himself. She tried not to giggle. He had just fixed it into place when someone cleared their throat.

"I'm not interrupting something, am I?"

They both turned to see that their other friend, Gregory, had joined them in the compartment.

"Ew – no…" both of them said together as they stepped away from each other.

"Ed was just helping me put a necklace on."

He smirked but said nothing as he put his trunk on the rack above the seats. "Did you hear Malfoy got made a prefect?"

"Ugh! Why him?" Evelyn said.

"Probably because Daddy paid for it," Edmund said in a snobbish voice that sounded eerily like Draco's.

"You better watch yourself, though," Gregory said. "He gave two second years a detention before the train even left the station."

"What a git," Edmund said.

"Now, Ed," Evelyn said dryly, "you can't talk about prefects like that."

"Yeah, you're right; I meant to say he's a complete arse."

The three of them laughed, and for the first time that day the problems looming over her seemed to loosen their grip.

"Hey, look who it is…" Gregory said, "It's Potter. He's by himself; I wonder where Granger and the Weasel are."

"They got made prefects," Evelyn said.

He snapped his head around. "How'd you know?"

"I have my connections, too, Greg," she said with a smirk.

"Well, my parents think Potter should have been expelled," he said, "after all the crazy things he said about You-Know-Who. They don't like Muggles much, but they certainly don't want him coming back."

"Yeah," said Edmund, "my dad seriously considered transferring me to Durmstrang. He said Dumbledore's gone mad, but my mum convinced him to keep me at Hogwarts. I've been told to keep out of trouble this year, though; my parents want me to have as little contact with Dumbledore as possible."

"My mum was upset about me going back to Hogwarts, too," she said, pretending to be as cagey as they were. "There's been a lot of weird stuff going on."

Soon the trolley lady passed by and they bought enough sweets and chocolate to last them until they reached Hogsmeade Station.

"You know what's going to be great about this year," Edmund said as he bit into a Liquorice Wand, "Quidditch is back on."

"Are you going to try out for the team?" she asked as she bit a Jelly Slug in half.

"Definitely! Derrick and Bole both left last year so there are some openings."

Gregory snorted. "As if Montague would pick you to be a Beater, you're skinner than a beanpole."

"Oi, watch it! I could be a Beater if I wanted to, but I'm going to be a Chaser."

"Derrick and Bole were Beaters, though…" she said softly.

"I know," Edmund said, beginning to sound exasperated, "but Montague will kick someone off the team like that…" He snapped his fingers for effect. "…if he finds someone better than them."

"How about you, Evelyn, are you going to try out for the team?" Gregory said. "I mean, Potter is a Seeker and he falls off his broom all the time."

She threw a withering look at him. He knew how much she hated flying, especially after she fell off her broomstick in first year.

He just grinned impishly at her.

"I think we'll beat Gryffindor this year," Edmund said, eyeing his Nimbus Two Thousand that was propped up by the window. "I can feel it."

Gregory opened a Chocolate Frog and caught it before it hopped away. "Maybe you'll get into Professor Snape's good books if the team wins."

"It's not me that needs to worry about Snape," Edmund said, "Evelyn's the one who always seems to end up in detention with him."

She reached into a paper bag and took out another Jelly Slug. "Yeah, he's had it in for me since day one. I don't know why, though."

"I think he just doesn't like you," said Gregory as he snapped off the head of his Chocolate Frog. "I mean, even the Gryffindors in our year don't get as many detentions as you do."

Edmund nodded. "He has a point, you know."

"Thanks, you're both so encouraging," she said, feigning annoyance.

Under other circumstances she might have been somewhat offended by their comments, but it actually worked to her advantage that they thought their head of house disliked her. They wouldn't question her if she ended up in frequent detentions with Professor Snape; they'd just pity her.

The Hogwarts Express finally came to a squealing halt at Hogsmeade Station. It was dark outside but there was enough light from the gas lamps on the platform to see where they were going. The new first years were herded towards their traditional spot, but instead of gathering around Hagrid it was the substitute teacher from last year, Professor Grubbly-Plank, who called them over. Evelyn wasn't overly fussed at having a different teacher for the Care of Magical Creatures, as Hagrid wasn't exactly the best teacher in the school.

As she and her friends made their way to the horseless stagecoaches they crossed paths with Hermione and Ron, who were finishing up their prefect duty.

"Watch where you're going, Weasel," Gregory sneered as Ron accidentally bumped into him.

Ron's face almost went the same colour as his hair. "Detention – for all three of you!"

"WHAT!" Edmund shouted angrily. "We didn't even do anything wrong!"

Ron, who was a good few inches taller than Edmund, towered menacingly over him. "Keep talking to me that way and I'll make it a week's worth of detentions."

Evelyn dug her elbow into Edmund's side, warning him to keep his mouth shut. The last thing she wanted on her first week back was to spend every evening in the Detention room.

"Ron…" Hermione hissed. "Stop this now!"

"Stay out of it, Hermione," he shot back, clearly irritated that she was interfering in his new-found power over Slytherins. "You three, get onto a stagecoach now, and if you don't show up to your detention I'll report you."

Edmund muttered something foul under his breath as he turned away from Ron. Hermione threw a quick, apologetic look in her direction but then hurried away to join Harry, who was getting into a carriage with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom.

"I really detest him," Evelyn said as she climbed into an empty carriage.

"Maggot," Edmund said.

"Tosser," Gregory said.

Edmund sat back in a cushioned seat with a huff. "Knob Head."

Gregory slammed the carriage door. "Bell End."

Evelyn wondered if they were going to go through every possible insult they could think of, but once the stagecoach started to move they fell silent. The happiness she'd felt on the train faded rapidly and she was dragged back into the reality of all that had happened that morning. She reached into her pocket, checking that the letter was still there. She needed to give it to her father that night, and she'd need to think of a good excuse as to why she wanted to speak to him.

On entering the Great Hall she saw that the professors were already seated at the High Table. She spotted her father, who was in deep conversation with Professor McGonagall; Madam Pomfrey was also at the table, the picture of perfect health. Her stomach lurched, though, when she caught sight of Umbridge sitting next to the headmaster, knowing that beneath her sweet-looking exterior lay something dark and cruel.

After the Sorting Hat's song about the importance of house unity, and the Sorting Ceremony itself, Evelyn found herself only picking at the start-of-term feast. She didn't know if it was because she had a belly full of sweets or if it was the anxious tension that had been building in the pit of her stomach all day.

"Are you OK?" Edmund said to her. "You shouldn't let Weasley get to you."

"Someone needs to talk to Snape," Gregory said waving a chicken drumstick about angrily. "It's not fair."

Edmund frowned at him. "We wouldn't have a detention if you hadn't called him Weasel."

"Well, he is a weasel."

"You just can't keep your mouth shut, can you?"

"Will you two stop bickering," she said with a huff of frustration, although she had also spotted her opportunity to see her father that evening without causing too much suspicion. "I'll talk to Professor Snape."

"Are you sure?" Edmund said, almost sounding concerned at her suggestion. "He's not going to be too happy about being badgered on the first night back."

Gregory gulped down a mouthful of pumpkin juice then said, "You'll probably just make it worse for us, considering you're his least favourite Slytherin."

Mrs Black's portrait had more tact than he did.

"Why don't you go, then?" she said.

"I only suggested someone should speak to him; it's not the same thing as volunteering to do it."

"Well, since Ed isn't jumping up and down with enthusiasm, who else are you going to get to speak to him – Malfoy?"

She saw his gaze slide to where Draco was boasting to the students around him about how his father was a personal friend of Professor Umbridge, and how she was going to take a firm stance in order to straighten the school out.

When he kept quite she said, "It's settled, then, I'll speak with Professor Snape after the feast is over."

Half an hour later she could barely wait to get out of the Great Hall. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and Umbridge as possible. Her patronising speech was as ridiculous as her dress sense. What did she know about Hogwarts or teaching? Or anything else that wasn't dripping in Ministry-approved regulations.

She waited until she saw her father leave, then she told her friends she was going to try to catch him in his office before he retired to his quarters. Winding her way through the stream of students leaving the hall, she walked out into the main entrance and then took the staircase that led down to the dungeons.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached his office, and some of the tension left her body as she knocked on the door.

"Enter."

She turned the doorknob and pushed open the door. His office was much the same as it had been before the summer holidays; jars of dead creatures floating in amber liquid still lined the shelves, although she noticed that he had charmed the dragon's heart in the large jar by his desk to pump at regular intervals. As she approached his desk she saw an urn-like pot sitting on it with the words 'ashes of problem students' engraved onto it.

"Really, Dad?" she said as she picked it up and found that it was filled with Floo powder.

He glanced up from the ledger he was writing in. "It will serve to keep any would-be trouble makers on the straight and narrow."

She set the pot down again. "Whatever you say…"

"I didn't expect to see you until the morning," he said, continuing to write what she assumed was an inventory of the all the potion ingredients he had ordered for the coming term.

"Yeah, but I needed to talk to you."

"What excuse did you give to your friends this time?"

"They were actually the ones who asked me to come here."

He stopped writing and looked at her with a questioning expression. "Well…?"

"Ron Weasley gave Greg a detention for calling him a weasel; he gave Ed and me one, too, but we didn't do anything wrong."

"I did warn Minerva…" he muttered.

"We were wondering if…if you could get us out of detention."

He arched an eyebrow slightly. "No."

"What? Why not?"

"Staff make it a point not to undermine prefects," he said smoothly, "otherwise students would do exactly what you are doing every time a prefect gave them a detention."

She sat down in a chair opposite him with an irritated sigh. "Greg thought you'd say no. He thinks you don't like me, that I'm your least favourite Slytherin."

He stared impassively at her. "Is that so? In that case you'll have a detention with me this week – on top of the one Mr Weasley gave you. I can't have anyone thinking I've gone soft on you."

She groaned loudly then said, "Greg is going to be unbearable when he hears about this. Can I at least do both of them with you? The Detention room is awful; you have to sit in silence for two hours and just stare at the wall in front of you."

"I am well aware of that, Evelyn, but tell me, why would I want to suffer through two detentions with my least favourite Slytherin?"

She glared at him through narrowed eyes. "You're not funny."

His lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile. "For your detention with me, however, I have decided it would be best put to use if I furthered your duelling skills."

She brightened. "Really?"

"Yes, but not in my classroom; and since we will be moving to a more advanced stage of duelling, there are too many items in there that could be broken or damaged."

"Where will we practice, then?"

"Through that door, "he said motioning to a door behind his desk."The Potions professor before me, Horace Slughorn, had the storeroom enlarged so that he could hold his 'Slug Club'."

"His what?"

"Do not make me waste five minutes of my life explaining it to you. Ask your mother the next time you see her; we were both invited to it several times."

At the mention of her mother she suddenly remembered the letter she had been entrusted with. She removed it from her pocket and held it out to him. "Mum told me to give you this. She said she didn't want to send it by Owl."

He took it without question and opened it, his frown growing deeper as he read through it.

She knew it was the same letter her mother had written after Aodhán had left her office. "Is it about what happened with Mum's cousin?"

His eyes snapped to her. "How do you know that?"

"I didn't read it" she reassured him. "I was in Mum's office when Aodhán came in. She told me to hide behind a privacy screen, so he didn't know I was there at the time."

He carefully folded the letter and slid it back into the envelope. "Tell me precisely what happened."

Taking a deep breath, she told him everything that happened. He didn't interrupt her but simply listened, slowly tracing his mouth with one long, thin finger.

"How did your mother seem after he left?" he asked when she had finished.

"She told me she was fine, but I could tell she was scared," she said as her throat began to tighten. "Aodhán wouldn't do anything to hurt her, would he?"

He didn't answer her, but instead he opened a drawer in his desk and took out a polished, black box about the size of a brick. He lifted the lid and inside was two stones, both no bigger than a Snitch. One was royal blue and the other forest green.

"What are they?" she asked.

"Tracking stones," he said, "I bought them during the war. The blue one is for your mother and the green one is yours; I got it on the night you were born."

She noticed that they were the exact shades of Ravenclaw and Slytherin. "So…you've always wanted me to be in Slytherin?"

"A father is allowed to have aspirations for his child, isn't he?"

She smiled to herself, imagining him silently willing for her to be placed into Slytherin during her Sorting Ceremony in first year.

"Would you have been happy if I'd ended up in Gryffindor?" she asked.

He regarded her unblinkingly. "I would have disowned you."

Evelyn gave a soft but amused snort.

He picked up the blue stone and said, "These are imbued with a rare type of magic, it enables the holder to track another witch or wizard, regardless of what anti-traceable spells they may have used."

Her eyes widened slightly. "You mean anyone could track Mum or me if they had these stones?"

"No, they couldn't. As I said, the magic in these is very rare; it is based on the type of bond the holder has with the person they wish to track. For example, Aodhán Harper might have a blood bond to your mother, but as he has no meaningful relationship with her it would only allow him to track her across a very short distance, say from one room to another. However, because I have a strong relational bond with her I would be able to locate her easily over a much larger distance."

"And you'd be able to track me because we share a strong bond, too."

Her words seemed to please him. "Yes. Naturally."

"Can the stones tell you if someone is in danger?

"Yes, they grow warm and glow."

"So, if I was to fall and hurt myself you'd know about it?"

"It's more complex than that. If the stones responded to every bump or scratch, it would make it difficult to know when a life-threatening situation presented itself. Therefore, they only respond when an external danger is present."

By that she assumed he meant a would-be attacker, like a Death Eater.

"Why have I never seen them before?"

"There was little need for them after You-Know-Who's demise."

She nodded then said, "But since he's back now you need them again."

"Indeed," he said softly. "I will keep your mother's stone in my pocket at all times; the moment she is any sort of danger I will go to her straight away."

She tried to sound confident, but her mouth trembled as she said, "What if you can't get to her in time?"

There was indomitable glint in his eyes that she had never seen before as he said, "I swear to you, Evelyn, nothing will stop me from getting to her."

Suddenly the strain of that day broke through and a rouge tear slipped down her cheek.

"Come," he said softly, opening his arms to her as he stood up.

She went to him, and as she was enveloped in his embrace she finally lost the emotional battle she had been fighting for weeks, ever since she had been separated from him. Shoulders shaking, she sobbed into the front of his frockcoat; all the while he silently ran a soothing hand over her hair, allowing her to freely weep over their family that had been torn apart since Voldemort's return.

…

Two weeks later Severus stood in the opulent drawing room of Malfoy Manor, waiting for the Dark Lord to arrive. Voldemort often kept them waiting, sometimes for hours. It was yet another way in which he exerted his dominance over them; no one ever dared to leave or complain, because no one wanted to suffer their master's displeasure.

"Would Severus Snape care for a drink," asked a fearful-looking house-elf in a filthy loin cloth.

"No."

The house-elf bowed, the tip of his long nose almost touching the floor, but he somehow managed to keep the tray in his hand from tipping over.

As the house-elf asked the same question to three Death Eaters standing near him, he watched with intense loathing as Aodhán Harper wound his way through the others in the room, walking straight towards Lucius Malfoy and Eustace Goyle.

"A word with you, Lucius," he said, giving Goyle no more than a passing glance.

Malfoy gave a slight nod and Goyle left them alone. He then motioned for Aodhán to follow him to the marble mantelpiece, where they would be out of earshot of everyone else. Severus, though, knowing that whatever the Irish wizard had to say could prove useful for the Order, whispered an incantation which enabled him to hear every word of their conversation.

"Well," Lucius said, "what have you decided?"

"You were right; this problem needs to be dealt with."

"Indeed. You can't paint something grey and call it Goblin wrought-silver. She will only cause you more trouble if you don't deal with her."

Severus stiffened, but he did not turn his head in their direction. Given what had transpired between Deirdre and Aodhán a fortnight ago, he had the awful, gut-wrenching sensation that they were discussing her.

"Of course, you will need to be discreet," Malfoy continued, "the Dark Lord will not be pleased if you draw attention to yourself; he will not tolerate you putting your desires above his."

"I have already seen to that."

"Oh…?"

"I located a gang of unscrupulous wizards in Knockturn Alley who are willing to make this problem disappear – for a price."

"You hired them anonymously I assume?"

"Of course; their only question was when they would get paid. I agreed to pay them half now and half later. I've told them there will be a bonus in it for them if they can dispose of her in a more…primitive way."

"No magical trace," Malfoy said, "a clever move."

"Indeed," he replied, "and of course the official Ministry reports will record that investigators were unable to conclusively state if she was killed by a wizard or not. I doubt if it will even make it into the Daily Prophet."

"Yes, Cuffe is always most amicable when the right amount of galleons is offered to him," Lucius said, snapping his fingers at a house-elf, who promptly brought a drinks tray over to him.

Rage tore through Severus like a violent storm as they continued to casually discuss his wife's murder. He clenched his fists tightly, forcing himself to remain calm and focused. If he lost control now he would only expose himself, putting his family in even greater danger – he could not risk the Dark Lord learning of their existence.

"Have you considered the possibility that she might simply Disapparate?" Lucius said in a drawling tone.

"Oh, I hope she tries to," Aodhán chuckled darkly. "You see, I recently met a young witch working at St Mungo's who is very willing not only to divulge my cousin's whereabouts on any given day, but she's also kindly agreed to cast a modified anti-Disapparation charm on Deirdre' coat – at the appointed time, of course."

Malfoy gave a throaty laugh."That is abominable even for you, Aodhán, but I approve. And what about her daughter, have you decided what to do with her?"

"I will deal with her if and when she proves to be as troublesome as her mother."

Severus shook with fury as the storm raging inside of him grew wilder, turbulent and unforgiving as it swirled and billowed.

When will –"

Their conversation ended abruptly as the Dark Lord entered the room. Severus immediately detached himself from the violent emotions tearing through him, covering them over with layers of carefully crafted memories. He silently cursed Voldemort's poor timing as he followed the other Death Eaters into the extravagantly decorated dinning room and took a seat at a long, polished oak table; only another minute longer and he would have known when and where the attack would take place.

When the meeting finished an hour later, Severus left Malfoy Manor as promptly as he could. Once he was certain he could not be seen from the mansion he sent his Patronous to Hogwarts, to inform Dumbledore of what he had overheard and that he intended to ensure Deirdre was safe before he returned to the castle.

Disapperating to Grimmauld Place, he quickly discovered that she wasn't there, and without a word of explanation to Lupin he left the house and Disapperated straight to St. Mungo's.

"How can I help, sir?" the receptionist asked when he approached the front desk.

"I need to speak with Healer Harper," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you've just missed her."

"Healer Harper?" another witch behind the desk said. "You might be able to catch her if you're quick; she told me this morning she was going to walk home tonight."

"Veronica!" the other receptionist snapped at her angrily. "We're not supposed to give out information like that."

Severus held the gaze of the witch who had told him of Deirdre's likely whereabouts, and even without entering her mind he knew she was the one who had given Aodhán what he wanted. But as white-hot anger seared his insides he could tell she was simply a naïve witch, who, when faced with the advances of someone as rich and as powerful as Harper, had acted gullibly rather than maliciously.

"Shall I make an appointment for you with Healer Harper tomorrow," the first receptionist asked. "How about –"

He did not wait for her to finish her sentence but instead turned around and left the hospital. He would have to search for her on foot as he could not Disapparate his way round Muggle London. He had just walked through the glass front of the old-fashioned, red-brick department store, when the tracking stone in his pocket began to heat up.

He immediately reached into his pocket and took it out. It glowed softly, but he quickly wrapped his fingers around it so as not to attract unwanted attention from passing Muggles. He brought his clenched fist up to his mouth and said quietly, "Show me where Deirdre is."

For a few seconds nothing happened, but then he felt a gentle pull in the direction behind him. He turned around and allowed himself to be guided by it, moving as fast he could. His pulse hammered but he forced himself to concentrate, to keep vigilant. He understood now what Aodhán had meant by 'the appointed time'. And it seemed he had wanted to wait until she ventured out into London on her own; she would not be able to use magic if Aodhán's hired thugs chose to grab her anywhere in the vicinity of Muggles.

…

Deirdre pulled her cloak tighter around her as she navigated her way through the still-busy streets. It would take over an hour to walk from South Kensington to Grimmauld Place, but she wanted time to clear her head before she returned to the house. Sirius had grown moody and sullen since Harry had gone back to school; he picked a fight at every possible moment. She had little patience for him; after all, she was missing her daughter and her husband, too, yet she did not feel the need to snap at him over every little thing.

As she continued down the main road she saw a man coming in the other direction, his gaze seemingly fixed on her. He was dressed all in black, but even by the standards of a well-dressed Muggle he seemed oddly out of place. He was not the first wizard she had crossed paths with in London, but something in her gut twisted as he slipped his hand into his pocket, almost as if he was reaching for his wand.

At that moment the traffic lights went red and the green man appeared on the pedestrian light; she decided to test whether she was merely being paranoid, and crossed the road. The man followed. Panic rose inside her as she picked up her pace, and when a second and third man appeared dressed in the same black trousers, high-collared shirt and greatcoat, she started to run. Taking a sharp turn into a narrow lane, she knew her only chance was to lose them in the labyrinth of back streets and alleys so she could find a Muggle-free spot to Disapparate.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind her, quickly gaining on her. She pulled out her wand as she ran; ready to use it if necessary. The muscles in her legs began to cry out for relief, but she didn't dare slow down. Suddenly something rammed into her shoulder, knocking her against a wall. Pain exploded on the right side of her face as it scraped along the uneven bricks. She fell to the ground, her hands taking the brunt of the impact as her wand rolled from her grasp. But before she could move she was pinned belly-down on the ground, a knee pressed firmly into her back to keep her still as a rope was wrapped around her throat. It bit into her skin, the crushing pressure on her trachea growing and growing. Her lungs burned for air and her fingers clawed at the rope as her vision blurred and her head swam.

Images of Severus and Evelyn flashed across her mind, almost jolting her back to reality. She was a grown witch, and she was not going to die like this in some dark, dank alley. She reached out her hand and whispered in a faint voice, "Accio wand."

It was enough, and in seconds her fingers curled feebly around it. She twisted her arm awkwardly and mouthed, "Stupefy!"

Almost immediately the weight lifted off her back and the rope slackened as air rushed into her lungs. She coughed as she drew in ragged breaths, her heart pounding in her chest. Her would-be murderer lay on the ground, dazed rather than unconscious, as he would have been if she'd spoken the words of the spell out loud. Finally she managed to climb to her feet; she blinked several times to clear the black spots still swirling in her vision.

She focused her mind on Grimmauld Place, but when she tried to Disapparate nothing happened. She tried again and still nothing. Horror rose up inside of her. What was going on? She looked down at her wand, knowing that her magical core was perfectly intact; otherwise she could not have summoned her wand or cast a spell. She tried one more time to Disapparate, but she was met with the same infuriating result.

Determined voices sounded behind her, and the wizard she'd stunned was regaining his wits. She knew she could not duel three fully grown wizards at once, but an idea sprung into her mind. With the few seconds she had before the other two men appeared in the alley, she pointed her wand at disused light strung across the lane in a zigzag pattern. She then flicked her wand like she was cracking a whip and the string of lights pulled away from the walls, winding their way towards her attackers in a snakelike manner. With another intricate movement of her wand hand, the lights coiled around the wizards, entangling them.

Seizing her window of escape, she turned and hurried down the alley as fast as her still-tender lungs would allow her to go.

"Stop her!" one of them shouted angrily. "We won't get paid anything if she gets away!"

Her blood froze at the words, and she knew then that Aodhán had hired them to kill her.

A spell flew past her head, taking a chunk out a brick wall. Glancing behind her, she saw that one of the wizards had gotten his wand arm free, while the rest of him struggled against the charmed lights. She had almost reached an intersecting alley when a spell sliced through her right calf muscle. She cried out as she stumbled into the alley and came to a limping halt; it felt like there was a white-hot blade lodged in her leg. Blood oozed through her jeans and when she tried to walk again she almost collapsed with pain.

Helpless tears filled her eyes as she realised she would not be able to outrun them. She hobbled pitifully along the dark alley, a ragged sob catching in her throat when the pain in her leg forced her to come to a complete stop. A cold dread seeped through her and she gripped her wand tightly, determined that she wouldn't let them take her without a fight. But before she could turn around in order to face her would-be murderers, an arm clamped around her middle, trapping her. She screamed, but her cries were quickly muffled by a cold hand.

She tried to wrench herself from the vicelike grip, but her arms were pinioned to her sides, making it almost impossible for her to jab a well-aimed elbow into his ribs. Even in her distress, though, she had the wits not to attempt to use her wand or nonverbal magic, as she had no idea whether it was one of the wizards or a Muggle who was up to no good.

"Stop struggling, Deirdre," a voice commanded her softly.

"Severus… thank Merlin…" she breathed, sagging against him as his arm tightened around her, pulling her close to his body. The solid feel of him behind her caused the shroud that had covered her heart to fall away. "How did you –"

"There's no time for that now," he said, letting go of her. "Undo the buttons of your coat."

"Why?"

"Do as I say."

She unbuttoned it and he immediately stripped it off her, throwing it to the ground. He pointed his wand at it and it disintegrated into nothing.

"I will buy you a new one," he said in response to her bewildered look.

Angry shouts and heavy footsteps told her that her attackers had finally freed themselves from the charmed lights.

"Take my hand," he said.

She took it without question, and he Disapperated as the three wizards hurtled into the alley, their wands drawn.

They Apparated outside the Winged Boar-topped gates of Hogwarts, and she whimpered in pain as she put too much pressure on her right leg in an effort to steady herself. Severus reached out and wound his arm around her waist, pulling her protectively to his side as he helped her through the gates.

"Pip!" he called.

A small house-elf appeared and bowed before them. "What can Pip do for Professor Snape and Healer Harper?" she squeaked.

"I need you to take us straight to my quarters," he said softly.

"Yes, Professor Snape, Pip is only too happy to help."

The little house-elf stood in front of them and placed one hand on Deirdre and one hand on Severus, and they disappeared with a pop.

Safe in his quarters, the adrenaline that had pumped through her body in the alleyway subsided. Reality hit her in one great nauseous wave as Severus led her to the sofa, supporting her as she sat down. He then lowered himself so that he was level with her, gently taking a hold of her chin so that he could inspect her wounds.

He jaw tightened as he took in the deep scrapes on the side of her face, but when his eyes lowered to her neck he stiffened. He reached out a hand and lightly grazed his fingers over her throat, where she now knew there was clear evidence of the attempted garrotting. He lifted his gaze to hers, searching her face to find the truth of what he already suspected. The anger and fear in his dark eyes was too much for her, and the single thread holding her together snapped.

"I-I thought I was going to die…" she choked out as tears rolled down her cheeks.

He grasped her hand and squeezed it, but he said nothing. He seemed to understand that she needed to tell him what happened, even if he didn't want to hear it. Gripping his hand tightly, she told him how she was pinned down, that she had felt her life drain away from her; she explained how she had managed to escape, only to end up being hit with a curse on her leg. All the while he just listened, but she knew him well enough to know that underneath his composed features fury spewed like molten lava.

"If you hadn't found me…" she said, trembling, "I…I…."

"Don't dwell on it, Deirdre," he said, "you're safe now; no harm will come to you here."

"I know."She sniffed and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "How did you know I was in trouble?"

"I overheard Aodhán tell Lucius Malfoy before a meeting with You-Know-Who this evening," he said in a strained voice.

She sensed that there had been more her cousin's conversation with Malfoy than that – a lot more. But she did not press him for details, she doubted he would tell her and she was not sure if she even wanted to know what Aodhán had discussed with the blond-haired wizard.

He then stood up and said, "Your wounds need seen to."

Closing her eyes, she listened to the soft clink of bottles and phials as he searched through a potions cabinet.

"Drink this," he said, handing her a small phial.

"What is it?"

"A sleeping potion," he said, "I need to examine your leg and it will be better if you are not awake for it."

She had enough knowledge of curses to know that experimentation was often needed before the correct counter-curse could be found, and it was not always a pleasant experience for the patient.

Taking the phial from him, she pulled out the stopper and drank it down in one go.

…

Severus sat brooding in a chair opposite Deirdre, who slept soundly on the sofa. His stared at the raw, red line around her neck, his fists clenched tightly as the urge to tear Aodhán Harper apart slowly and painfully almost consumed him. The Irish wizard would pay for what he had done to her, but Severus was prepared to wait until the right opportunity presented itself.

Although he had told her not to dwell on what-ifs, unbidden thoughts of what could have happened filled his mind, leaving him hollow. She had woven herself so intricately into his life that to have had her ripped away from him would have torn his soul in two. He drew in an uneven breath. How could he have looked Evelyn in the eyes and told her that her mother had been murdered, after he had sworn to protect her. He buried his face in his hands at that thought. Her grief would have crushed his heart completely.

Deirdre's soft moans brought him back to reality and he stood up and took a blanket from the back of the sofa, carefully draping it over her. He gently touched the area around her cheek where he had applied a yarrow-based poultice; the wounds would heal without much difficulty. His eyes hardened, though, as he thought of the injury on her leg; it had been caused by curse he had never encountered before. His in-depth knowledge of the Dark Arts had enabled him to close up the wound, but he would not know if the pain had subsided until she awakened. He had already spoken with Dumbledore about what had happened, and informed the headmaster that he was not prepared to let her go back to Grimmauld Place until he was confident that she would not suffer any relapses.

The clock struck seven and although he had barely slept for more than two hours, he put on his robes on and left his quarters. He walked along a dimly lit corridor that led to the Slytherin common room and after giving the password he entered the shared lounge area, which was empty apart from two studious seventh years.

"Professor Snape!" one of them said with slight alarm in his voice. "Is there something wrong, sir?"

He realised how unusual it must seem to them, because in the fourteen years he had been teaching at Hogwarts he had never come to the Slytherin common room at seven o'clock on a Saturday morning.

"Nothing you need to be concerned with, Mr Hartwig," he said smoothly and then looked at the other seventh year. "Miss Devereux, go to the third year girls' dormitories and wake Evelyn Harper."

"What will I tell her, sir?" she asked, setting down her NEWT-level Potions book.

"That there has been a family emergency," he said.

She nodded and then hurried through the doorway that led to the girls' dormitories. A few minutes later she returned to the common room with Evelyn behind her, looking rather dishevelled as she hastily pulled a jumper on over her pyjama top. The two seventh years went back to their studies, but he could see them peering surreptitiously over the tops of their books.

"What's going on, Professor?" Evelyn asked him worriedly. "Has something happened to my mum?"

"Come with me, Miss Harper," he said in a detached voice, "we will discuss it in my office."

He swept out of the common room without another word and only checked to ensure she was following him once they were in the corridor. Neither of them spoke as they made their way to his office. When they reached it he unlocked the door and entered; she followed him and he closed the door behind her, casting a silencing charm on it for good measure.

"Sit down," he said.

She sat on a chair in front of his desk. "What's happened to Mum?"

He looked at her briefly and began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, in an attempt to collect his thoughts. How much should he tell her? How much did she need to know? Did he even want to tell her how close her mother had come to being murdered? He clenched and unclenched his fists as his hatred for Aodhán rose again, his black eyes glittering with vengeful intent.

"Dad, you're frightening me…"

The panic in her eyes tore at his heart and he realised how his actions must seem to her. He stopped pacing and gripped the back of a chair. He drew in a deep breath then said, "Your mother was attacked last night."

Blood drained from her face. "What?"

"She was not seriously injured," he said, omitting that she had barely escaped strangulation. "But she has been shaken by the experience."

Her whole body visibly relaxed. "Where is she now?"

"In my quarters."

Evelyn practically jumped off her seat. "I want to see her."

"Later," he said motioning for her to sit down again. "She's sleeping at the moment."

Almost reluctantly followed his instructions. "Who attacked her?" she asked.

"Aodhán Harper was responsible for it."

Nothing in her expression showed that she was surprised by his answer. "Has he been arrested?"

"No, and he won't be. He made sure he could not be connected to the attack."

"Won't he be furious Mum got away?"

"Most likely, but he will not do anything about it. He won't want to confirm to her that he was behind it; and there are certain other individuals he will want to keep the truth from too," he said, thinking in particular of Lord Voldemort.

"Was she on her own when it happened?"

"For most of it."

"Did someone from the Order come to help her?"

"Yes – me."

Her eyes widened. "You?"

He reached into his pocket and took out the blue tracking stone. "I told you I would keep it with me at all times."

She looked down at her hands for a long moment before she lifted her gaze to his again and asked, "Could she have died if you hadn't gotten to her in time?"

He swallowed, hard. "Yes."

His response seemed to send a chill down her spine, but then she looked at him, her eyes glowing with adoration. "I've still got my mum because of you, then."

Severus cleared his throat in an attempt to dislodge the ball of unexpected emotion in his chest.

"Is she going to stay at Hogwarts?" she asked with a hopeful expression.

"For a few days, but she can't stay indefinitely."

She screwed up her nose as if a bad smell had wafted into the room. "Because of Umbridge."

He did not correct for her failure to use the word 'professor', but she was not the only one who was reluctant to bestow such a title on the High Inquisitor.

"Indeed," he said as he sat down behind his desk, interlocked his fingers and rested his elbows on the polished wooden top. "There is something else I need to discuss with you."

Sensing the seriousness of his tone, she sat up a little straighter in her chair. "What is it?"

"As you are aware," he began softly, "Aodhán Harper is obsessed with blood purity and keeping his family from 'contamination'. He regards your mother as a half-blood witch because your grandmother is Muggle-born. You also know that he thinks your mother had you outside of marriage, which in traditional wizarding families is still seen as an outrage."

"Yeah, he's called me the B-word twice now," she said indignantly. "The second time he called me it I thought Mum was going to hex him."

"A pity she hadn't," he said coolly, earning him a shocked but amused look from his daughter. "Getting to my point, it is imperative you do not give Aodhán any reason to suspect you are bringing disrepute on his family's name."

"How would I even do that?"

"At the last Order meeting your mother told me you chatted with Miss Granger during the holidays," he said. "Not only is she Muggle-born, but she is a close friend of Potter's. If you were seen talking with her by another member of Slytherin, word could reach Aodhán that you were associating with Muggle-borns – and perhaps even Potter himself. Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the wizarding world, but even here we are not immune from the present dangers in our world, and if Aodhán believed you were bringing shame on the Harper name he might resort to unsavoury methods."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You mean he'd try to hurt me?"

"Potentially."

"So, basically, I can't talk to anyone outside of Slytherin?"

"No, nothing as drastic as that," he said, "but you will need to be careful with whom you talk to."

"OK," she said then smiled, "and I'll make sure that I go all out in supporting the Slytherin Quidditch team this year."

He pointed a finger at her. "See that you do."

"Can I go see Mum now?" she said, her eyes pleading with him, "I've got clothes in the spare room, I can get changed there."

He took out his pocket watch and looked at the time; the sleeping potion he had given Deirdre should have worn off by now.

"You may see her for a short while, and then you can go to the Great Hall for breakfast," he said, snapping the lid of his watch closed. "If your friends ask where you were, tell them there was a family emergency. Under no circumstances are you to tell anyone that your mother was attacked, or that she is currently in the castle."

"I promise I won't say a word."

"Very well," he said, "come with me."

Deirdre was awake when they entered his quarters. She cradled a cup of tea in her hands and he saw it as a good sign; she had not been able to take a single step the night before unaided, but she had clearly been able to put enough weight on her leg to make herself a morning brew.

"Mum!" Evelyn said brightly, but she drew in a sharp breath when Deirdre turned around and she saw the cuts on her face.

"It looks worse than it is, sweetheart," she said reassuringly as she set her cup of tea onto the coffee table and then opened her arms. "Come and give me a hug."

Evelyn did not need to be asked twice. She hurried past him to where Deirdre sat on the sofa and snuggled against her, resting her head on her shoulder.

He stood where he was, almost like a sentinel between the door and his family, not that anyone would be able to get past the portrait of the Black Prince easily.

'Thank you,' she mouthed over the top of Evelyn's head, and he knew it was not simply because he had brought her to his quarters. She may never have been able to hold their daughter again if he had not tracked her down the previous night.

He nodded as he held her gaze, the intensity in his dark eyes silently conveying to her that he would always find her.

Lowering his gaze to her bandaged calf, he asked, "How is your leg?"

"Fine."

He arched an eyebrow slightly. "You are a poor liar."

She reached for her tea and took a slow sip of it then said, "There's still a dull pain, but it's more of an irritation than anything."

"So…you are not fine, then," he said smoothly. "I will take another look at it later."

"Fine," she said, taking another sip of her tea.

He smirked as he removed his robes and hung them on the coat stand. She might be a Healer, but she did not make a very good patient.

"What actually happened last night, Mum?" Evelyn asked softly. "Dad said your cousin was behind it all."

Turning around, Severus glanced between her and Deirdre, holding her gaze slightly longer than their daughter's. In the space of a few seconds an entire conversation seemed to pass between them, with both of them silently agreeing on an edited retelling of events.

"Yes, Aodhán was behind it," Deirdre began steadily, "but it was three wizards who I'd never seen before who attacked me; they'd been hired by Aodhán. He knew I would be walking home last night from St Mungo's, and he had them follow me."

Evelyn nodded as she looked from her mother's face to her neck, and Severus' insides twisted as he anticipated what her next question would be.

She swallowed thickly then said, "Did one of them use the Incarcerous Spell on you?"

"No, they didn't," she said, her voice wavering. "They didn't want to…to…"

"They did not want to leave a magical trace," Severus cut in as fresh tear pooled in Deirdre's eyes, "so they used an ordinary rope."

He was blunter than he had wanted to be, but she had already figured out the significance of the friction burn on her mother's neck. It would have been pointless to try and lie to her.

Horror crept across her face as the sheer brutality of the attack seemed to sink in.

"How did you escape?" she whispered, looking between him and Deirdre, almost as if she was not sure who would answer. "Did Dad help you?"

One look at Deirdre told him that she would not be able to say more than a few words without breaking down completely.

"It was before I got to her. Your mother was able to reach her wand and temporarily immobilise her attacker. It was then she discovered she could not Disapparate; Aodhán had an anti-Apparition spell placed on her coat," he said tightly.

Fresh horror spread across her face. "He planned it so she couldn't get away," she said more to herself than to him.

"Your father found me in time, sweetheart, that's all that matters," Deirdre said, her mouth trembling, but she seemed to draw on some unseen strength.

She turned round to Deirdre again, whose cheeks were streaked with tears, and said, "Will you promise you won't walk through London on your own again?"

Deirdre smiled faintly at her. "I promise."

Their daughter hugged her fiercely, and Severus was once more hit with the incredible relief that he was not sitting on the sofa attempting to consol his grief-stricken child.

A few minutes later, and as Evelyn began to sound off the possible ways in which Deirdre could still have a life and not be cooped up in Grimmauld Place like Sirius Black, Severus crossed the room to the kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. He preferred to make his coffee the Muggle way, grinding beans in a manual grinder and then brewing it in a caffettiera.

While he prepared his morning elixir, he thought about how satisfying it would be to have Deirdre living with him right under Dolores Umbridge's nose. But the High Inquisitor was already watching the Floo system and he believed it would not be long before the Department of Magical Transportation would be monitoring movement in and out of the castle. And Umbridge would love nothing more than to catch one of Dumbledore's staff of misusing school property. The scandal of being caught with the mother of one of his students in his quarters he could manage, but word reaching Lord Voldemort that he was in a relationship with Harper's 'half-blood' cousin, that was something he wished to avoid at all costs.

He poured the freshly brewed coffee into a cup and inhaled its invigorating aroma. As he took the first sip he turned his attention to Deirdre and Evelyn, their conversation having moved on to her least favourite subject of that year: Defence Against the Dark Arts. He did not blame her. Indeed, it made him all the more determined to hone her duelling skills and to teach her more about the subtleties of the Dark Arts.

He cared little for powers the Ministry had bestowed on their High Inquisitor. He cared even less for the stringent rules she had already implemented, not just for students but for staff as well.

He took another sip of his coffee.

To hell with Dolores Umbridge.

Chapter 31: Chapter 31

Hello!

Sorry that this is not a new chapter!

First of all, I want to thank everyone who has been following this story and for all of your reviews.

Now, where to begin…Well, I started this story in 2012, and more recently (mainly as the HP books have entered their 'darker stages') I have felt that I want to take the characters in a direction that is rather quite different to their current personalities, backgrounds etc. However, as the previous chapters do not reflect this, I have decided, after a lot of thought, to rewrite this story…

I have already posted a new prologue and I am currently working on other new chapters. The story arc will remain mostly the same, with some subplots taking on a new direction/angle. The biggest difference will be the characters themselves; some being more different than others.

I won't be posting any more chapters for this current version of the story.

I'll completely understand if people do not want to follow the rewrite of this story – but I am also hoping that you'll give this rewrite a chance!

Once again, thank you ALL for taking the time to read my story, review it, follow it and favourite it.

1066.