Conflicts of Interest

Chapter Five: Conflicts of Interest

Snape looked around the cottage as he entered last of the group. It was exactly as he expected it to be from the outside. With the exception of a couple of pieces furniture dating from about twenty years back and apparently cast offs from the farmer who owned the 'holiday home,' one might as well have stepped back into the eighteenth century.

Around him, each of the other members of the party with him seemed to be having a different reaction to the old Muggle dwelling. His uncle Steven stood in the centre of the open plan, stone-clad floor, his arms folded, and looking for all the world like an exceedingly pleased king of a rather cramped, very dilapidated castle.

Beside his uncle and standing on the back of the manky old fifties style brown couch, which marked the start of the living area and had decidedly seen better days, was a highly disapproving and now once again visible house-elf. Elly's frown was etched like stone on her broad brow as with arms akimbo, she looked around her, the occasional sniff of displeasure emanating from her as she saw something else she didn't like. It sounded rather like she had a bad cold.

Next to Snape stood Paidea with an absolutely fascinated expression on her face. Something, he supposed, was rather akin to the one he himself had had the day he had first set foot in Diagon Alley after a childhood spent exclusively in the Muggle world. He could see it in her eyes -- the old slightly lopsided oaken table in the kitchen, the near translucent yellow and brown curtains hanging limply in the wood framed windows, the ancient stone fireplace with its cracked mantle -- everything seemed magical to her. Or at least it did for the moment, he mused inwardly as he restrained the urge to shake his head. Unlike Diagon Alley or Hogwarts, the Muggle world's practicalities had a tendency to tarnish one's view of things quickly.

Taking one more appraising look around the place himself, he quickly, succinctly, and in a matter of fact tone came to his first point. "This place is tiny and unless I'm very much mistaken there's only one bedroom."

"One bedroom?" came the aghast high-pitched voice of the house-elf, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Elly will fix this at once!"

"No!" barked Snape, who though in general agreement with the little being's sentiments for once, suspected that as 'Muggles' it was probably best their tiny cottage didn't turn into a palatial villa virtually overnight. Pointing a finger and fixing Elly with a 'don't you dare' look, the teen turned his eyes to his uncle, who was after all in charge of this place and those who dwelled under its roof...something he very much hoped wouldn't come down on them all given the first stiff breeze.

Steven nodded and gave the diminutive being another very firm look. "Severus is right, Elly. If we start throwing large amounts of magic around, someone...especially those we are trying to avoid...may detect it and hone in on our location. The Fidelius Charm should protect us, but let's not take any chances. From this point on, we will not be using magic unless absolutely necessary." He arched an eyebrow at her.

Elly appeared suitably chastised. "Of course, Auror Steven, sir! Elly would never do anything to harm the Mistress!"

Paidea blinked and turned her attention back to the others as though coming out of a trance. "Well, I think it's charming!" she enthused. "We're 'roughing it,' I believe the term is...and as there is only one bedroom, shall I sleep on the couch?"

Her house-elf's mouth practically fell open in abject dismay.

"No," Steven told the young woman, trying to stifle a smile. "You can have the bedroom, Counsellor, and Elly can sleep with you, if she wishes. Severus and I will camp out out here."

"Oh, joy," Snape muttered as he looked again at the old brown couch that no doubt would be quite comfortable to sleep on...if all the stuffing had not already slipped inside the frame.

Paidea nodded, a slight look of disappointment on her face that Snape could barely credit. "Of course," she replied as Elly collected the miniaturised trunks and scampered into the bedroom, her mistress following in her wake.

As the two men began to move about, a loud shriek erupted, causing them both jump. Looking at each other, both grabbed their wands and ran to the bedroom, Snape's mind racing through several spells, ready to pick one and launch it at whatever threat was inside the bedroom.

But nothing flew, roared, or shot at them as they charged in. Instead they found Elly standing on the bed with the same horrified look on her face as before, this time pointing to a freestanding sturdy, dark mahogany wardrobe, one of its doors hanging open.

"What...?" Snape stared from her to the wardrobe. "Was there something inside it?" His eyes scanned the room quickly in case something had slipped out -- a Boggart or...perhaps something worse. He peered into the shadows under the rustic, wooden queen size bed, considering the possibility of a Lethifold. It was certainly warm enough for one.

"No, Counsellor, stay back!" Steven ordered as Paidea, who had been standing near the foot of the bed, moved towards the half open wardrobe and looked inside, her eyes widening at what she saw. "What?" The older wizard stared at her. "What is it?"

"It's...it's...small!" Elly squeaked, still staring at the perfectly functional wardrobe. "It is the same on the inside as on the outside! Elly will never get Mistress's beautiful things into that...that...thing! Not without..." She gulped, her voice lowering in revulsion. "Wrinkles!"

Snape's wand hand dropped to his side, his eyes widening and then narrowing to near slits. "Wrinkles?" He turned on the house-elf, his voice like the sharp and pointed edge of a knife. "A few stupid creases...that's what you are worried over? That you thought worthy to scream like a banshee over, making us think you and your mistress were about to be..."

"Elly," Steven cut in with a sigh, slipping his wand back into his robes and trying to diffuse an argument between his nephew and the house-elf before it began, "it is quite simple -- unpack only what you think the Counsellor will need over a week...and then rotate out as needed."

"We should rotate her out as needed," growled Snape, moving away from the little being.

Elly's arms flailed nervously as she glanced at her mistress. "But Auror Steven, sir, there is not enough room for even two days of the Mistress's clothes!"

Steven's eyes widened as they shot to the trunks, now enlarged and opened for unpacking. "How...how much did you bring?" he asked, staring at contents.

Paidea coughed, her cheeks flushing, as Snape folded his arms and looked at his uncle. "I did warn you."

"The Mistress," Elly announced, "requires her morning attire, her luncheon and dinner gowns, and her afternoon attire...as well as any clothing changes that may be needed depending on the Mistress's activity." She pointed to the wardrobe again, this time a little more imperiously, risking a sharp look at Snape. "There is not enough room. Where should Elly put the shoes?"

"Morning...lunch...dinner?" Snape hissed, not reacting at all kindly to being surreptitiously taken to task by a house-elf and sick of both her and her mistress's seeming inability to take in what was important and what was not. "Where in the nine hells do you think we are? Buckingham bloody Palace?" He bore slowly down on her and the bed. "Take a look around you. We're in the middle of nowhere in a hovel! And considerin' where I come from that's flamin' sayin' summat!"

A slight flush coloured his cheeks as he heard his language suddenly degenerate into the dialect of his early childhood -- the language of the streets he had grown up on and the one he had used before his mother had begun weaning him off it to help him 'improve' himself. It had been a long, long time since he had last lapsed. Clearing his throat rapidly he calmed himself, his voice modulating itself to quiet derision. "Who is it precisely you think we're going to need to impress with all that? One set of clothes a day will more than do."

"Perhaps, Elly," Paidea suggested, touching Snape's arm, "we could forgo normal clothing etiquette and find other ways to make space? We could shrink what we need and fit in that way. It's a very light spell and shouldn't cause any ripples that could be traced." She turned and gazed at the elder man enquiringly.

"Hmm?" Steven seemed to snap out of an almost trance like reverie, looking a little like a rabbit caught in headlights as he stared at the contents of the open trunks, some of which displayed rather sheer garments. "Oh...shrink...light...ripples. Yes...umm...excellent idea!" he over-enthused, already rapidly making his way out of the room. "I'm sure that will work. Um...I'm going to check out the perimeter! Ehh...Severus, why don't you help the Counsellor and Elly settle in and get things organised and so forth..." he suggested before disappearing outside.

Snape's black eyes regarded his uncle in disbelief as Steven left, leaving him with this mess. "So that's how delegation works..." he snarled under his breath before, with a barely controlled sigh, he turned back to the females in the room. "Very well...shrink the clothes," he said to Paidea. "But, I ask you to remember where we are...try and keep what you choose to a minimum and practical? In fact, in that vein...for Elly's bed?" He regarded the room about him. "I have a canvas rucksack that we could stuff it with the clothes you aren't going to use. It should make a good mattress."

She arched an eyebrow and turned to Elly, who was already unpacking. "No...thank you, but we packed a travel cot for Elly already. We can set it up over by the window, I think." She bit her lip as she scrutinised the room before turning to take in Elly's clothing suggestions.

"A travel cot?" Snape repeated and looked back outside at the lumpy couch...and the slated stone floor in front of the fire, the latter of which was probably where he was going to end up...especially after witnessing his uncle's 'delegation' techniques. "Yes," he said vaguely, wishing the one in charge of 'him' had thought of something like that, "good idea."

Picking a soft lavender gown that was simple and flowing, Paidea gave her 'guard' a sympathetic smile. "I could transfigure you a featherbed from the rucksack, if you like?" she suggested as Elly shrank the dress and hung it carefully in the wardrobe, a pair of satin and beaded lavender slippers following it in.

"No." He shook his head reluctantly. "The less magic we use the better...and that," he nodded towards the shrinking, "is more than enough. Elly...do them all together, not one at a time!" he chastised in exasperation. "One quick burst!"

The house-elf looked to her mistress, who nodded, and with a sigh, laid aside the clothes that failed to make the grade and reached for another set of five. "Yes, Auror Severus," she agreed.

"Good." He nodded, attempting not to bristle at the way the small servant sought her mistress's go ahead before accepting what he said. Instead, he drew himself up a little, trying to remember house-elves worked differently. "And once you're done, we'll decide on the work rota. Given the amenities we have, there will probably be a fair bit to do. But with four of us it shouldn't be too bad."

Paidea nodded absently, picking several more gowns and other clothes till the wardrobe was filled before turning her attention to the next set -- a variety of nightgowns. Her cheeks flushed as she glanced over at the teenager, feeling a little off balance again.

Looking down at the nightgowns, Snape blinked rather rapidly at the sheer silk, satin, and lace. "Yes...well..." He clasped his hands behind his back, his knuckles whitening as he tried to keep his thoughts relatively untouched. "As I say, when you're done." Turning on his heel, he slipped back outside.

Taking a seat by the fireplace, he laid out his rucksack and unpacked his clothes, leaving everything but his underwear stacked on a chair or hanging over the back of it, wrinkles really not a high priority on his level of consciousness. Satisfied, he tested the carpet which lay before the fireplace. It proved old, but reasonably thick...if he added a couple of blankets and it would be adequate enough.

He spent the next while scouting out the house. With its dark stone slab floors and old brick walls slathered in a thick rough white washed plaster which had crumbled in some places, the place was cool in the summer. And no doubt when the large fireplace was ablaze and the old range hot from cooking, it was warm and cosy during the winter. But by Merlin, it was basic, he thought again to himself.

There was a functioning hand pump over the wide porcelain sink; though the sink itself was stained yellow with age. But there was no heated water, which meant the one bath in the place, which coincidentally was attached to the one bedroom, would have to be filled by water heated on the range. This in turn meant that despite the fact it was high summer, fuel would have to be bought or gathered every day.

He gazed out the kitchen window over the sink into the small forest across the road. Someone would probably have to go gathering wood there for the range. Not that he minded that so much...it would allow him to get away for a while on his own to search for some potion ingredients just as he did in school.

Paraffin was another thing they'd need as well as food from the local village. There was a healthy supply of paraffin lamps but the fact that there was no electricity meant that they would have to go into the village more than twice a week. Fresh foods like milk, eggs, and meat could be stored in the dark cool open larder, but would have to be used and replenished as needed.

Apart from that, there would be the usual domestic chores, something he was well used to helping his mother at home. Clothes would have to be washed by hand in the sink, and the place would have to be swept every day, the chalky ground beneath the house finding its way through the cracks between the slabs of the floor to create a film of dust. There would be general dusting and cleaning as well and of course, the cooking.

Sitting at the large oak table that marked the boundary of the kitchen as it segued into the 'sitting room,' he started his work on the rota, laying all four of their names out on top of a piece of paper he had taken from his journal.

Half an hour later, his charge and her servant, the little being now dressed in a pair of more functional baggy pants and shirt, reappeared, announcing that they had finished unpacking just as Steven returned carrying several bags. Taking a seat on the couch, Paidea rolled up her shirtsleeves, having shed the coat due to the warmth of the cottage, as Elly made her way to the kitchen. Immediately, the diminutive being began hunting through the cupboards and pulling out pots and pans.

Steven set his bags down on the table next to Snape. "I bring...what's the term...oh yes! Groceries!"

Looking up briefly at him, Snape nodded and checked off something on a side list. "Good, that's that taken care of, at least." He looked down at the framework he'd drawn up and addressed the busy house-elf absently. "What are you doing, Elly? You won't be cooking tonight."

The bags floated up and filed into the kitchen, items putting themselves away. "Elly cooks!" she announced plainly. "Elly is an excellent cook. It is Elly's duty to cook and care for the Mistress."

"Stop that!" Snape turned around quickly. "No magic!"

The remaining items froze and lowered themselves onto the counter. "Apologies!" she exclaimed, abashed, and put down a pot to do the rest herself.

"It may be your task to cook and care for your mistress at home, but here we shall all do what is needed. Without magic you are..." he looked her over, "too short to do everything that is needed."

Paidea rose and crossed over to take a seat next to Snape. "What are you doing?" she enquired as Elly gave him an affronted glare and while he wasn't watching, dragged a chair over and continued her unpacking and dinner preparations.

He frowned a little at the young woman. "What I told you I would be doing -- preparing the rota."

She gave it a careful once over. "Oh yes! I have used these in committee meetings." Her brow furrowed. "I think...it may be best though, if I may suggest this that is, that Elly does do the cooking. I..." She paused, her expression more than a little apologetic. "I do not know how to, but I would be happy to help with the tidying up."

He stared at her. "You don't know how to cook? Even with a wand?"

She shook her head. "It is not a skill my family thought was warranted for me. Besides I am often too busy to do such things."

"Ridiculous." He shook his head and gazed down at his rota which would now have to be redrawn. "It's an absolutely essential skill no matter who or what you are. Not warranted." A light snort escaped him. "They may as well have handicapped you...if you can't so much as boil an egg what're you going to do if you end up in a situation where you can't use magic, like now...and Elly, did I or did I not tell you to stop!" he barked in irritation as she started to clatter around behind him again.

His Muggle pen slapped down on the table as he looked back at Paidea. "Just how can we expect her to cook? Look at the size of her and the size of those iron pots...without magic she'd have to stand on a chair to even reach the top of the range...and her arms won't reach all the way in without clambering on it! The work is too awkward and heavy for someone of her stature. She can share the duties of cleaning, dusting, sweeping, washing clothes, and looking after the fire with you. Uncle and I can take care of the cooking, and I'll teach you that as we go, too."

Elly frowned, deeply insulted, and once again turned her gaze to her mistress for guidance, as Steven sighed and rubbed his head. "Severus...house-elves are very sensitive about their duties. Why don't we let her try? If there is a problem, then we'll step in." He glanced at Elly, who preened and gave the teenager a smug look. "Counsellor, perhaps you could start gathering some wood from the pile outside with Severus?" He gave his nephew an encouraging smile and pat on the arm. "An excellent job on the rota, Severus...but I think it can wait till after dinner? We can all make lists of our strengths and then work it out...it will save you from having to constantly rewrite it."

Snape looked at up at him, his manner icy. "You left me to do this."

Steven blinked. Even though his nephew's words emerged as a simple statement of fact, there was no denying the accusation that underlay them. Rising to his feet, Snape slid the paper and the pen at him before moving to the door and slipping out.

"Teenagers!" the Auror muttered under his breath while sighing and rubbing his head. Glancing sheepishly at the young woman nearby who was trying her best not to have noticed the contretemps, he cleared his throat. "Perhaps you could set the table instead?" he suggested to her before following his nephew outside.

Walking across the lawn, he called over to the teen. "Severus!" He ground his teeth when the boy didn't stop and quickened his pace till he came upon him gathering wood. "Severus, what the devil was that back there?"

"What?" the teen rummaged through the woodpile for what he deemed suitable smaller pieces to start the fire in the range with.

"That wonderful show of teenage dramatics, that's what," the older man pointed out as he grabbed some larger logs for later.

"Teenage dramatics," Snape replied in a voice that would cut glass as he turned to look at his uncle. "You asked me to get things settled and organised. If you did not wish me to do as I did, you should have outlined what you wished before you ran away from dealing with the counsellor, her servant, and other feminine things...instead of contradicting my decisions afterwards." He drew himself up. "Thank you for undermining me, Uncle. I'm sure it will do my standing with that house-elf a power of good."

Steven looked a little embarrassed at having so clearly been caught dead to rights on his actions. "Yes...well...perhaps I shouldn't have," he agreed and then sighed. "But damn it, Severus, I'm just not good with...women! All their frippery and nonsense. And house-elves are extremely touchy about their duties and masters at the best of times. And you get along rather well with the Counsellor..." He sighed again. "I should have been more specific...but I was also trying to keep the peace. We are stuck with them for the foreseeable future."

"Yes, and I was trying to be kind to the elf," Snape replied swiftly, his voice still cool. "Instead, we will now have to watch her try to struggle with pots that are too big for her, risk being burned as she tries to reach things she can't, and we have enabled the Counsellor in her wealth induced helplessness," he pointed out. "In addition, now every time I ask that house-elf to do something, she will not only look to her mistress but to you too before she listens to me. Yes, that will undoubtedly keep the peace."

He inhaled a lungful of the sea air. "If, as you say, Uncle, we have to stay with them for the foreseeable future, then you will have to learn to deal with women and reel in your own dramatics...because I assure you frippery and nonsense seems damned important to this one!"

Steven sighed again, wrinkling his nose. "Very well..." he agreed. "But I stand by Elly at least trying. If it's obvious she's having trouble, then I won't stop you from reining her in. As for the Counsellor...she has agreed to help, so it's not that bad. I'm sure she's open to the cooking lessons you suggested as well. For all her wardrobe nonsense...she does have a hardy and helpful spirit. Probably why she's done so well so quickly in her work."

"Yes, most probably," Snape agreed as he grabbed a few more pieces of wood. "But, I would appreciate it if you restored a little of my loss of face with her servant. If something goes wrong I need to know she will obey me without having to go through an entire chain of command!" he pointed out pragmatically before his lips curled up a little as he turned to go back to the house with his load. "And if you don't mind, Uncle, you can inform the elf she can't do it when she starts to struggle. If you think it's hard telling her she can't do it now when it is just our being cautious...imagine what it's going to be like when you tell her to her face that she failed at it."

"All right," Steve said weakly, knowing his nephew was right, before picking up another log and following him. "But the Counsellor is still all yours to deal with when it comes to Muggle training. My knowledge is strictly survival...as in not getting clipped by your mum!"

---

The next two days managed to run for the most part rather smoothly. Though Elly did a decent job making salads and preparing items ready for cooking, it did tend to fall on either Steven or Snape to actually do anything that involved pots or the stove. That seemed to irk her quite a bit at first, but she was, the men realised, a rather sensible house-elf and acknowledged her limitations...albeit grudgingly.

Paidea, however, found the novelty of being in a small environment beginning to wear off, and after her hot water had again run cold on her the third morning, she found she was actually rather irritated and homesick -- longing for the amenities that she'd always taken for granted.

Yet, she did love the scenery and environs that they were ensconced amongst. The sea especially drew her. She'd always been drawn to the ocean and being near it once more provoked happy reminisces of when she'd been small and her family had gone on holidays to various exotic seaside locales...or she'd merely run free to the shores of her family estate. She remembered making sandcastles with her sister and running down the beaches with her before having contests about who could swim further out. But most of all it was the memory of floating amongst the waves...and the simple freedom that went along with it.

And so she'd found herself often escaping the small cottage and sitting on the lawn, or under trees, or simply taking a blanket to sit on the beach with her guards to read or prepare for the hearing, should it ever be resumed and it deemed safe for her to come home and attend. Not that she'd let that stop her in the slightest.

Snape, too, had found both pros and cons to the place. Even though the bulk of his year was spent in the crowded halls of Hogwarts he had long since found ways to maximise his time alone. In a school that size there were always places to go to be by one's self, to work, study, write, and contemplate. With four in this tiny cottage it was not so easy, especially at night. At nights he was used to spending his time committing his words to his journal or textbook -- depending on what he felt like. But with his uncle lying on the couch behind him as he lay on his makeshift bed by the fire, both were out of the question. On top of that, his uncle was...as ever...chatty.

More often then not they would go to bed at eleven, after playing cards or an evening's conversation, only to still find himself awake at one in the morning, his uncle waxing lyrical, mostly about his childhood with Eileen. It occurred to Snape as he was lying there on the second night that his uncle seemed to be talking almost to avoid the inevitable silence or having to think too much. Though about what he wasn't entirely sure. It couldn't be about their situation, for they had discussed the who and why of what was happening with Paidea quite openly. It was something else...or someone else.

To make up for this loss of privacy, first thing in the morning, Severus would rise and while the early morning mist still lay on the ground, the heat of the early day burning the dew from the ground, he would head out to the still and silent wood. Carrying his samples case with him, he would collect wood and fill his case with what he could find. Then, on finding a peaceful spot, he would sit and write for half an hour before returning to the cottage to refill the wood bin, providing him with his second bright spot.

The wood bin was in the garden -- the garden overlooking the sea. Here he found Paidea alone before breakfast seated on the stone bench, gazing out over the view or the garden itself, generally in a dressing gown that would quite ably pass for an evening gown on someone else. While he felt cramped and crowded inside the house with the others, when alone with her that feeling never materialised. Even if they didn't talk, their silences were companionable. He was comfortable around her, and she put no pressure on him to talk and in doing so, she made it easy for him to do just that, and he surprised himself with the length of his eloquence.

With Elly confined to the house, the men accompanied Paidea down to the beach, giving her space but never leaving her completely alone. And while she remained in long light dresses, Snape stayed solidly in jeans and a shirt, simply moving under an umbrella or opening his shirt a little if it got too warm during the day. However, the teen was aghast at Steven's display, his uncle making something of a show of his Muggle beachwear.

The swimming trunks his uncle had chosen to buy and bring for them both were...in his opinion...too small, too orange, and decidedly too snug to be decent to wear. Though Steven seemed oblivious to the surreptitious glances he was getting from their charge and the outright glares he was getting from his nephew.

Snape watched Paidea as from time to time as her eyes couldn't help but be drawn to his uncle and his well chiselled torso and...sundry other features. A stab of jealousy slipped through the teenager, Steven's muscular and tanned physique not making him any keener on parading his own attributes around in front of her. Having said that though, he was smug to note, he could at least match if not outstrip his uncle in one salient department.

Lunch was eaten at the house to give Elly some company, though it seemed she hardly missed them. On the first day, they returned to find her covered in grime but the old range newly blacked and sparkling. The house-elf, having found a tin of black and some polishing rags in the back of a cupboard, had joyously spent the morning making the stove look new. On the second day, she had concocted some kind of cleanser from vinegar and other domestic products, and both the yellowing porcelain sink and the bathtub had been virtually restored.

She was breaking the rota of course, and she knew it. But she evidently had picked up some diplomatic tips from her mistress along the way, which she deployed upon their return. Ignoring both her mistress and Steven, she bounced up to the teenager as he arrived. Apologising profusely for getting carried away with herself, she explained excitedly to him how she wished to show him how useful she could still be to them all. Her eagerness was only augmented by playing up being slightly mournful over her inability to cook without magic, her big round eyes wide and sad as they looked up at him.

Snape knew full well he was being conned, but appreciated the house-elf making him the focus of her show of respect in front of the others, a silent balance being struck between them as she did so. He had to admit, too, to being impressed with her work, and the fact that house-elves' training seemed to extend beyond the magical. At this rate, the Muggle owner of the cottage would be able to double the price for the place by the time they left. Once the proud little elf's work had been inspected and they had all eaten lunch, they would then decide upon dinner before leaving it up to Paidea to decide how she wished to spend the rest of her day until the evening meal, which took place as the sun began to set.

For all his uncle's playful behaviour and gabbiness, Snape could see the older man was keeping a keen eye out around their surroundings. And often Steven would take Snape with him as he conducted the careful sweeps of the perimeter and checked on the wards that helped protect their environs, using their current situation as a perfect means of on the job training. Nothing was taken for granted, though Steven's manner remained ever cheerful, ever determined to enjoy himself while they were here and keep their little household's mind off any danger.

On the morning of their third full day there, Snape awoke to find his uncle reading a letter, a deep frown on his face as one finger brushed back and forth over his lip. Though as soon as he noticed his nephew was no longer asleep, the letter immediately found its way into a pocket on his nightshirt. "Morning, Severus! Sleep well? It's going to be a scorcher today...I can feel it," the older man said chattily as he got up to fill the kettle.

"No doubt," the teen agreed watching him closely. "Anything important?"

"Hmmm?" Steven asked in distraction, placing the kettle on the stove before bending to bolster the fire.

"The letter." Snape sat up and stretched, his muscles always a little stiff after a night on the firm floor.

The older man sighed as he added a log to the still smouldering embers. "Oh that...yes...perhaps. A very nice phoenix showed up at our window with it this morning...so I assume it's from the Chief Warlock. Could be a clue...could be nothing..." He shut the door of the stove and locked it, straightening as he brushed his hands. "Worth looking into, I suppose."

"Dumbledore sent Fawkes?" His nephew sprang up and padded across the cool stone floor. "What did he say? Why didn't you wake me?"

"You were sleeping and I'd yet to read it." The older man pulled the note from his pocket and handed it to the teen. "Just some information on what they found after they cleaned up the wreckage of the 'car bomb.'" He smirked a little at his pun. "Sorry...that was bad taste, wasn't it? At any rate, read it if you like."

Taking it and glancing at the still closed door of the Counsellor, Snape moved to the windows that overlooked the garden and opened the parchment. His brow furrowed as he read it over. "The Reflectus," he murmured, "the one they found in the remains...it held workmanship by a man who was supposed to be..." his eyebrows raised slowly, "dead?" He glanced at his uncle. "Max Nevermoon -- a friend of yours who disappeared four years ago near Glastonbury." Lowering the note, he turned to look at the older man. "Do you think he might have defected to 'You Know Who'...or that they might just have some of his equipment?"

Steven let out a loud snort. "Max? Defect? Not bloody likely!" he replied with quite a bit more vehemence than he possibly intended and with a quick glance at his nephew, lowered his voice. "He was a Muggleborn. He wouldn't have been very welcome by Him or his people. Chances are they were the ones that..." His eyes turned to the kettle and a pained expression spread across his face. "That killed him. They probably took his work. Death Eaters may hate those they think are 'beneath' them, but they aren't past scavenging their stuff. Particularly if they were half as brilliant as Max was."

"Was he a close friend of yours?" his nephew enquired as he moved back to table and took a seat.

Steven's attention seemed to be focused rather steadfastly on making preparations for tea. "You might say that," he replied quietly before turning to the teen and mustering a smile. "Hungry? Care for a spot of breakfast?"

Snape shrugged the offer away, intent on the letter in his hand. "Are you sure he's dead...I mean really? What if they took him? What if they're using him? Is Dumbledore going to do something about this? Does he expect you to? He never just sends things like this for no reason," he said quickly.

Filling the teapot with the now boiling water, Steven arched an eyebrow at the deluge of questions. "Very likely he does want me to follow up on it..." he replied, carrying the tray and setting it on the table. "And I honestly don't know if Max is still alive. It's possible...but after four years..." He sat down with a swallow. "I really don't know." Inhaling slowly, he set about pouring them two cups.

Black eyes watched him steadily, the teen unable to put away a growing feeling about his uncle. "Considering the importance of your mission here, you and Max must have been quite close for Dumbledore to even alert you to this, distracting you from your current mission, never mind anything else. If he does want you to follow up on this, he must think you are the only one who should go."

Steven glanced up at the teenager, silently agreeing with the young man's astute point. "Perhaps," he agreed. "But I cannot exactly leave you and the Counsellor alone here either." He gave him a half smile. "That does create quite a conundrum, does it not?"

Taking his teacup with a nod of thanks, the teen enquired, "How do you plan to resolve it? Considering he went to all this trouble, I would imagine he's sent this information to you before it's been released in general. Perhaps he wants you to know before everyone else...before the rest of the Ministry, I mean." He dumped a spoonful of sugar into his tea. "If there is a leak in the Ministry then once the information gets out, it's possible that if there are ways of investigating this they might be quickly cut off, which means..." he stirred his tea slowly, "you have little time to decide."

The older man grimaced. "Caught that, did you?" He took a sip from his cup. "But if I do go...and you get into trouble..." He shook his head. "Inventive thinking and quick reflexes or no...you're not trained to be left alone in this type of situation. And take away all the protocols and possible danger to yourself and the Counsellor...your mum would have my hide."

Snape gazed levelly at him from over his cup. "Perhaps...once he knows you're going to take up the position...Dumbledore will send someone else? Or..." a vague curl appeared at the corner of his mouth, "maybe the old man feels that hiding us here is sufficient caution. After all, 'You Know Who' may be powerful but not even he is going to come looking for us in this place. As long as we stay here, keep our heads down, and don't do any magic, maybe he thinks that will be enough until you get back." He took a sip of his tea. "He is the Secret-Keeper after all."

Steven arched an eyebrow, his green eyes narrowing. "You are not just saying this because you would then be alone with the Counsellor, are you, Severus?" His tone was light and teasing, though his eyes were sharp and serious.

The gaze and words that were returned to him were just as level and pointed. "I would never put her life in danger for my own benefit," the young man paused and sipped some more tea before adding by way of an aside, "And...of course...I have no idea why you think I would wish to be alone with her."

There was a subtle clink as Steven's tea cup came to rest on its saucer. "That's a lovely necklace she wears...reminds me of the one my grandmother used to wear."

"Understandable," Snape murmured, "considering it's the same one." Putting his cup down in a fashion mimicking his uncle, the teen exhaled slowly. "I gave it to her when I was nine, Uncle. I had saved her life and she was kind to me. We were children, and it was an act of friendship. My feelings for her are ones of friendship...and I assure you she has only friendly feelings for me." He picked up his cup again. "No different to the ones you and Max shared."

Steven nearly choked on the tea he had just sipped and hurriedly wiped his mouth with a napkin as he eyed his nephew. "Very well, Severus. If I decide to go, you'll be the first to know." He frowned lightly. "Does your mum know the Counsellor has our family heirloom?"

"Unless she has suffered a severe lapse of memory since last I saw her," the young man replied, his eyebrow still partially raised at his uncle's spluttering reaction to his previous comment. "She was present when I gave it to her."

"I see," the other man said softly, finding his cheeks flushing a little at the teenager's stare like he was the schoolboy caught out and not him. "Right!" he continued quickly. "Breakfast! Weetabix or porridge?"

"It's too warm for hot food." Snape took the last sip of his tea and rose to his feet. "Weetabix is fine. I'd better wash and dress first," he added, glancing down at his singlet and striped pyjama bottoms. "I have to get to the wood. There was a particularly fine batch of margrat grass near the base of an old oak...and I have to get some more wood for the bin." Making his way to the kitchen sink, he pumped cold water into a basin and grabbed the soap he had been using.

As Steven set about making breakfast, Snape grabbed his face cloth, the basin of water, and the garish rainbow towel his mother had packed for him. As the bathroom was out of bounds until the women had risen and done with it, which frankly wasn't worth the wait, he did as he had done every morning and went outside into the morning sun. Making his way around to the side of the cottage that faced away from the road, he removed his shirt and scrubbed himself thoroughly.

After, he looked at the soap in his hand and the water remaining to him before taking a lock of his hair and examining it. With a frown and a quick glance at the house, he sighed and promptly stuck his head in the basin, scrubbing the soap into his wet hair till it frothed up into a lather before dumping the basin contents over his head and onto the ground. Shaking his wet hair out like a dog, he straightened up and grabbed the towel, rubbing it through his hair roughly as he moved back inside to dress.

Steven didn't even look up as his nephew passed, merely held up a brush, waggling it to get the teen's attention as he had every morning since they'd been there. It was one thing if the boy didn't want take care of his appearance at home...quite another if he was on duty, and Steven wasn't about to let their charges think Aurors were unprofessional...even unofficial ones.

Stripping himself of his pyjamas and pulling on his underwear and jeans, Snape glared at the implement in his uncle's hand. "Fine..." he relented with a sigh and trudged over to get it. "It'll just get messed up again though."

"It's the making the effort that counts, Severus," came the same reply that had answered that same gripe over the last three mornings as Steven took another bite of his cereal.

"Not much point when you've got hair like mine," his nephew grumbled. "It's not like it's thick and...flowing...like yours." He raked the brush through his shining, damp, and very fine hair. "Not all of us are blessed with a mane."

Steven gazed up at his nephew with an arched eyebrow. "Nonsense. You have your mum's hair and she manages quite well. If you're that annoyed with it, just cut it off."

His words instead garnered him the look that every parent who had raised a teenager received at least once in their life -- the young man stared at him as if he were quite irretrievably stark raving bonkers...with a smidge of incredibly out of touch thrown in for good measure. "And be even more of an outcast amongst my peers than I already am? In case you hadn't noticed, everyone is wearing long hair these days, Uncle, both in the Wizarding and Muggle worlds. I already attract enough unwanted attention, thank you very much," he sniffed, pulling hard on a knot of hair until the brush finally moved through.

Steven blinked a little at his nephew's look. "Well then, you could always tie it back," he countered, trying to think who he knew with long hair and coming up with no one. Was he really that old and out of touch, he pondered inwardly.

Snape considered his advice, and this time, the sniff that emanated from him was not exactly dismissive as he went back to his own version of brushing his hair -- six more pulls with the brush and it was done. Picking up his black t-shirt, he pulled it over his head, rolling the sleeves up to his biceps. "Are you going to tell her?" he enquired, glancing towards Paidea's bedroom door as he tucked his shirt tails in. "She may not want to stay here if you go."

"Yes," Steven replied, finishing his cereal and rising to his feet. "She has a right to know."

His nephew watched him closely as he took his bowl to the sink and washed it out, taking in the way he was standing, the tone of his voice, even the way he scrubbed out the bowl. "You want to go don't you...quite badly."

With a sigh, Steven turned to the teen. "Wouldn't you?" he asked almost with exasperation, though not with the boy.

"Then you should," said Snape after a momentary silence. Moving to fetch his samples case, he picked it up. "He was your...friend." He looked back at his uncle. "At the very least, you deserve to know the truth of what happened to him. Dumbledore obviously feels you should go. And whether they send someone to replace you or not, I will stay with the Counsellor no matter what happens." Crossing over to the door, he paused, turning back to Steven. "And in the long run, you might do more good for her by going than staying."

The older man nodded quietly as the teenager left.

Snape spent some time in the wood, his explorations made fruitful by his finding of a few rare mushrooms and toadstools hidden in a thicket which he took cheerfully. Dried out and ground or chopped, their combined worth would save him a considerable amount. Money was always tight, and his regular, illicit trips to the Forbidden Forest helped keep what funds he had for the more exotic elements in the alchemists stocks.

Gathering up the wood, he wondered about what would happen if his uncle left, whether someone else would come in...and whether that someone would insist on sending him home. Would he be able to live up to what he'd just told his uncle about staying with her? His brow creased at the idea of having to leave too. Despite the cramped quarters, he was overall enjoying being there and being with her again. But...he thought as he made his way back, his bundle in his arms, if his uncle left and no one came, could he truly look after her? He had saved her life twice, but that was entirely circumstantial, and Steven had been right, he wasn't trained. Yes, his instincts were good, but there were other things -- procedures -- about what was the right thing to do in certain circumstances. He knew what he would do if problems arose...but would they be the right things to do. Still, he decided as he moved up the path to the wood bin by the house, if push came to shove, he would do his best. He would protect her.

On walking in the door, he found Paidea at her breakfast, but more pertinently, his uncle in mid, near silent conversation with her house-elf on the far side of the room and knew then that he was going to have to do just that. At least for a time. "Uncle?" he enquired.

Elly nodded solemnly at something the older man was saying and whispered something equally as quiet before hurrying off to attend to her duties. Steven turned and gave his nephew a grim smile. "You're back," he stated, raking a hand through his hair and crossing over to the boy and helping him with his load. "I've informed the Counsellor of the latest...development...and she has agreed with you. I'm leaving as soon as we're done talking." His green eyes met dark ones. "You'll be in charge, Severus, until I return." He glanced over at their charge before giving a slightly more characteristic smile and in a lower voice added, "And she's even promised to keep her arguments to a minimum."

Snape's tone was relatively casual, and a small tug pulled at the corner of his mouth as he spoke before he nodded at the older man. "I'll do my best, Uncle. You may rely on that."

With a nod, Steven gave his nephew's shoulder a squeeze. "I know...you'll do your family proud. But if you need help, the custard tin has been charmed as a Portkey and the mousetrap as an alarm. If it looks bad, get the Counsellor and yourself to safety. Don't take them on unless you have no other choice, understood?"

"Understood," Snape agreed grimly before glancing at the sitting young woman again and lowering his voice. "You are sure she is happy to remain here with just me alone? She did not ask for someone else? Or seem uneasy or unsure of my ability?"

Steven drew him a bit further away. "She was a little concerned. Not in just your lack of training...but of being the only one here. But she vetoed the replacement suggestion immediately with a rather firm pronouncement that she's not entirely without defensive skills herself." He gave the teen a small smile. "Plus she is rather sure I'll be back soon and this will all be over. So it seems her optimism isn't the least bit dampened."

Snape nodded, a little disappointed in her reaction on both scores but also fully aware that both reactions were entirely understandable and practical -- which made her not asking for a senior Auror even on a short time basis all the more interesting. "Yes," he finally answered, "it seems she is still determinedly positive." His attention firmly on his uncle, his expression turned grave. "Will you be all right alone?" Snape coughed a little. "I know you are fully capable of looking after yourself, but, this strikes me as being a particularly dangerous path. I...I wouldn't want my mother upset by your getting hurt."

Steven nodded, the corner of his mouth curling up just a smidge. "I'll be all right, and..." his voice grew confidential, "just this once...let's not tell your mother."

"Tell her what?" came the quizzical reply as Snape moved to get his breakfast.

"Good lad!" There was a hint of relief in Steven's voice, as the older man turned back to the others. "Now...I'd best be off. Early bird catches the worm and all that." Clapping his hands and rubbing them together, he picked up his robes and headed to the door. "Watch the spending with Muggle money. You should have enough for ages, but be aware we can't replace it without help. Keep an eye on the wards, Severus...do regular perimeter checks, no magic unless strictly necessary, and you crazy kids behave yourselves," he told them with a glint in his eyes.

Paidea arched an eyebrow, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

The dark, quiet teen glanced at the regal diplomat and her diligently working house-elf, before turning back at his relative. "I believe you can trust us, Uncle. Good luck."

"Jolly good! Just don't do anything I wouldn't do," Steven said with a wink before disappearing out the door, Paidea watching through the window as the tall man's long strides took him quickly down the path to the beach steps and out of sight.

Snape considered his uncle's parting words and then glanced at the young woman seated opposite him. Lowering his head to his Weetabix, the only thought that came to his mind was -- to hell with that.

---

At first they had eagerly waited for news back from Steven, or for his return, but it became more and more evident that his new mission was obviously going to take some time. And soon it had been a week since they had been left alone.

Each day fairly much followed the same pattern to Paidea. She would rise, bathe, dress, and roam about outside somewhere, her younger 'guard' in tow. He had taken her down to the Muggle village of Portloe twice in that time, and though she had done her utmost to appear blasé about the whole experience, she knew he had been quietly amused at how excited she was by everything from picking out which piece of ham looked leanest to dealing with Muggle money.

Along with their groceries, he had surprised her by taking her into a small hardware store and while she had stared goggle-eyed at what it actually took to keep to keep a Muggle house in good repair, he had purchased a large can of white paint and a bag of plaster. Though he maintained they were merely to keep the house-elf quiet and productive while they were out of the house, she knew they were gifts of a kind for Elly -- an acknowledgement of just how useful she was, even when working on a Muggle level. Needless to say when Elly saw what he'd bought her, she'd been so touched and grateful that he'd had to grouchily peel her off his leg after she'd clung to it.

On their second visit to the village, he proved himself very patient with Paidea when she'd found a small second hand Muggle bookstore and reacted with wide-eyed delight at a treasure trove of unknown literature. Despite not wanting to stay too long away from the wards of the cottage, he had indulged her almost childlike glee and allowed her to stay for almost an hour, browsing through the stacks and pointing out what she might like and why. Thankfully, being second hand, the books were cheap and he'd acquiesced to the purchase of one or two from their Muggle money budget. They had talked at length about comparative literature after that, and she had been both fascinated and keenly impressed by his knowledge of both worlds' writings.

Their conversations, however, were certainly not restricted to that subject, for as the days passed, they would talk for hours on this, that, or the other. He would tell her stories of his life or she would share similar stories with him. And he would listen -- listen, it seemed, with his entire being -- his attention not wavering for an instant. And his eyes...those eyes that seemed to swallow her up and hold her within a gaze of pure promise and devotion...and she knew when he listened it was with his complete person.

It was amazing...intoxicating...and more frightening than anything she'd faced in her life.

She knew how he felt...it was as plain as the rather prominent nose on his face. She simply wasn't sure what to do about it. Or rather...how she felt about it.

And so there were times when she was glad of his absence. But his absence brought its own difficulties, for despite everything she had just told herself, that was when the thoughts came. Thoughts that she told herself that she had no right to have...and the glimmer of feelings she had even less right to acknowledge. Admonishing herself thoroughly, she would bolster her resolve anew...only then to inevitably seek him out. Some strange compulsion setting in her to be near him...though she told herself she was just needing some form of human company.

She had first realised something was different that afternoon in her bedroom. The look in his eyes had bored deep into her and his intentions had been unmistakable. She hadn't been lying when she'd told him that it had made her feel uncomfortable. But what she hadn't told him was how...or that she'd been more disquieted that she had reacted.

She'd scoffed to herself about it as she'd changed her clothes, insisting that she was only reacting because it had been so unexpected and that she had great shock to her system that day.

But with each passing day at their new cramped quarters, she slowly had come to the realisation that her reaction to him was not just a one time event, and that her mind was only more frequently turning to the young man now that Steven was gone. Even after Elly had pointed out offhandedly one morning that Severus seemed quite attentive on her mistress, especially now his uncle was away, Paidea had a hard time convincing herself, let alone her servant, that the young man was just doing his duty and that he was simply acting out of friendship.

And friendship was where she was intent on keeping it. It would do her no good to develop feelings for a young man who was not even out of school yet. And letting him continue to foster them was certainly out of the question. She could scarcely comprehend what the results might be to their lives...though she did have a fair idea. No...best not to think about it. Indeed, there was nothing to think about. They were friends and that was that.

Still, she was not surprised when she announced one evening a week and a half into their stay that she was going for a walk on the beach to catch the sunset that her stomach flipped a little as he rose up from his chair to accompany her.

"Will you require a cloak? I can fetch it for you?" he enquired.

"No, it is still quite warm outside," she replied, her long braid swinging as she shook her head.

"You're sure?" He eyed her light chiffon gown while trying not to alert her to that fact. With its tight bodice and only thin straps, it was very becoming and...clingy...but rather light. "The sun is already setting and it is apt to be quite chilly once the wind gets up."

She merely smiled. "I think I shall be okay, after all I thought we were not supposed to be out too late after dark," she teasingly reminded him. "But if you insist, I shall fetch a light shawl."

"You don't have to," he said rather hastily under her teasing, "I didn't mean to be insistent...if you're comfortable...of course..."

Her eyes seemed to twinkle at him before she disappeared into her room and returned a moment later with a light cashmere shawl. Folding it over her arm to carry, she gestured to the door with a wide arm. "Shall we?"

The walk down to the beach was rather quiet and comfortably spent in silence. Once they reached the sandy shores, Paidea slipped off her shoes, leaving them there to retrieve when they got back and began to move over the sand, relishing the soft textures between her toes.

Walking beside her, respectfully a foot or so apart, and his hands behind his back, Snape watched her as he always seemed to be doing. In one way or another, his eyes were always on her. Still this time, his gaze contained an element of curiosity as her face betrayed her pleasure. "Will you miss this place? When it comes time to go?"

She continued to look ahead, not showing any awareness his eyes were on her though she knew they were. "Yes. I have always enjoyed the sea. We used to go every day during the summer when I was small. My sister and I would play in the water and build castles in the sand." A nostalgic smile formed on her lips. "My parents would play with us too...it was always a happy time." A sigh escaped her lips. "I would swim out as far as I could...until I felt the tide tug me out...and then swim back. It used to give my mother an awful fright. She was constantly afraid I would be sucked out to sea and they'd need to perform a rescue."

"It does sound a little reckless of you," he admitted, slightly intrigued.

The smile slipped a little off her face. "Yes...it was. But one does reckless things when young." She moved a little closer to where the water was lapping at the sand, allowing it to slip over her bared feet. "Then I grew up."

He looked down at his own booted feet. "Growing up doesn't mean one can't be a little reckless from time to time. One does not just take risks when one is young after all. Some of the most satisfying of achievements and victories come with a little risk attached."

She nodded ever so slightly. "Yes...I suppose. But when one is in public service, everything is so calculated, there is very little need for risks -- especially personal ones." Her eyes stared out over the water, marvelling at how it reflected so beautifully the yellows, pinks, and purples of the setting sun. "You are bound to the people you serve and your duty to them...so in essence you life is no longer yours to risk."

"Then perhaps it is even more important that you should learn to take them in other areas," he suggested. "Especially personal ones. Even small ones."

Perhaps it was something in his tone...perhaps it was something to do with the location...or that his words hit right upon her muddled feelings, but her head turned to him, her eyes taking in his profile in the glowing light as he continued to speak.

"No matter what the area of experience, it's in those moments that one that feels truly alive. Risks present themselves every day. Taking them, is how one knows when life is real...and exhilarating." Turning his head to her, he was surprised to catch her eyes regarding him closely.

She said nothing, though it was quite clear from her softening expression that she was listening and taking in what he was saying. Here was someone who even at this age knew himself so well and was not afraid to feel or speak what he was thinking...or wanted. To be able to live that way, to allow herself the luxury to feel that completely, or...even though every logical thought in her mind was chastising her...to allow herself to fall into that dark gaze...to let go...

His fingers were gentle as he touched her arm. "Even in magic -- in spell crafting or potion making with their strict regimens -- one must take the occasional risk to better understand or get stronger results. There is life beyond public service...even for a public servant. How can you give of your best to the people, if you cease to be one of them...always removed, always methodical and reserved? I'm no expert but it seems to me, in order to best serve, one has to understand people...and how they respond."

She opened her mouth to reply but could not find the words to refute his argument. His point was sound...and though she felt quite able to understand the needs of the people well...he was right. How long had it been since she had been one of them? How long had it been since she even acknowledged she had needs of her own? Even now, she could feel his fingers brush over her arm, feel the ripples of heat and tingles of energy ripple over her.

Alarm bells echoed in the back of her mind, and yet she did not pull away...could not even compel herself to do so.

"You may be a diplomat," he said softly, "but you are still a woman. You should be aware of the difference between a life and the illusion of one. Be careful that the trappings of life don't become your life." His eyes gazed down into hers, as the moment took on the mantle of so many of the dreams he had had. Dreams of her close to him just like this. Emboldened by his own words, he was driven to prove that it was not merely that.

"Don't forget what is real," he murmured a fraction of a moment before he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. His fingers took a gentle hold on her arm as his lips moved again to mingle softly with hers, exulting in how soft they were and how fragrant she was...the sum of all his adolescent dreams combined, and more.

It was though someone had turned a switch on inside her and brought her to life. Every fibre of her was charged and humming, and as he brushed his lips over hers again, she found herself yielding to him and to the pure sensation he was bringing out of her...allowing her eyes to flutter shut and her lips to draw and mingle with his. And as her mind marvelled at how soft and warm his lips were, she finally surrendered to him.

His heart surged at her actions. Not only was she not retreating, she was responding, turning to him. His hands slid to her waist, drawing her close to him, his kiss growing more insistent and intense with each passing moment. She wasn't denying him. She was returning his ardency...his feelings.

And then suddenly, sharply, it was over.

Her mind once more reasserted control of her body and swirling emotions, reminding her he was only seventeen and in school and that to further entertain him or his advances was foolhardy at the least, cruel at the worst. There was no hope in this. No future. Pulling away she took a step back, her face slipping back into one of reserve, the diplomatic veneer trying to hide her guilt, loss, and intense desire to continue.

"I...I shouldn't have done that," she said tightly, turning her gaze back to the sea, partly to concentrate on containing herself and partly so she would not be able to see his face in the darkening light.

He blinked in confusion at her loss from his arms. "But..." he began only to stop on seeing her stance -- erect and stiff, cool and formal, the soft, vulnerable woman in his arms subsumed beneath her 'armour' again. His hopes sank, the fractional allowance of belief...of elation...that had lifted him so high made the fall that much greater, the pain that much stronger. "Of course, my apologies," he murmured.

She didn't say a word for several minutes, merely continued to gaze out into the water before pulling her shawl around her shoulders and turning to gaze at him, taking care to keep her gaze cool but friendly. "We should go back inside," she told him, her tone not as harsh as before, before turning and moving swiftly back over the sand to where she left her shoes.

His hands longed to reach out and touch her, to turn her back to him and start again. But he couldn't. He had taken his chance, and it hadn't been enough to convince her of anything bar a minute and clearly embarrassing loss of control for her. She had lain down the law on it. It was done.

He moved after her, catching up to her when she reached her shoes, the deep hurt of rejection well hidden as he stood dutifully beside her, looking around. A good Auror as his uncle wanted, a good bodyguard as she needed...it was still better than nothing.

---

First Kiss by Perselus

---

Authors' Note: Thank you so much to both our betas, Savageland and Smoke for all your efforts on our behalf.